The Red Badge of Courage Page #2

Forward!

Who says?

- Why, Tom Wilson.

- What Tom Wilson?

Arms out! Forward!

The one who knows

everything in the world.

- That Tom Wilson.

- You can all go...

We can all go up the river, cut across,

and come around in behind them.

Wait till we fall out.

I'll learn you something.

Private Wilson, step forward.

Was that you talking in ranks? Speak up!

- Darn it all, Lieutenant.

- Answer yes or no.

Yes, sir.

Private Wilson, six hours extra duty.

Fall back.

Arms out! Forward!

Two! Dismissed!

I want a word with you, Porter.

All we ever do is drill.

I'm getting mighty sick of it.

Thunder, I joined up to fight!

I want to smell gun smoke for once.

What are these guns for, anyway,

to shoot or to drill with?

Might as well be broomsticks.

We'll get our orders one of these days.

I reckon that day will come soon enough.

Not for me, it won't.

I wish I was as full of fight

as some of you fellas.

Guess I just ain't high-spirited enough

to be a good soldier.

Hey, fellas!

Tom Wilson and Bill Porter

are going to have a fistfight!

- Hit him on the nose, Porter.

- Give it to him, Wilson!

Looks like they're scared of each other.

How about a little action?

What is this, a fistfight or a round dance?

- Can I have the next waltz?

- Come on, let's see something!

Grab your knapsacks! We're marching!

We're going!

Here we go, boys!

He felt alone in space.

No one else seemed to be wrestling

with such a terrific personal problem.

He was a mental outcast.

What did I tell you?

Are we going up the river or ain't we?

Who was right?

Go on. Answer me,

you fellas who were laughing.

You was right. Nobody can deny that.

I heard some officers saying that

we had the Rebs where we want them.

We'll give them a darned good thumping.

They'll wish they'd stayed to home.

I hope this here gun shoots straight.

Wouldn't worry about it if I was you.

More about how steady I was holding it.

I wish I had my dog along.

First time I ever went hunting

without my old dog.

I wonder what the name of

this here battle's going to be.

Company, halt!

At rest!

Go on, miss!

Catch him, hit him with your stick!

How can you tell which one is the pig?

The pig's the cleanest, that's how.

The pig's better-looking, too.

We'll trade you the clean one

for the one in uniform.

Before you say yes, miss,

you better ask the pig.

He might not like it.

And you'd better run!

Henry?

What are you doing here?

Thinking.

You're getting blue.

You're looking thundering peaked.

- What the dickens is wrong with you?

- Nothing.

We're going after them now.

By the eternal thunders,

we're going to lick them good.

This time we're in for a big battle,

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