Charles Egbert Craddock

Charles Egbert Craddock

Summary

Portrait of Charles Egbert Craddock Charles Egbert Craddock The Lost Guidon

Girard had participated in great military crises; he had marshalled his troop in line of battle; as a mere boy, he had ridden with the guidon lance planted on his stirrup, with the pennant flying above his head, as the marker to lead the fierce and famous Dov-inger Rangers into the thickest of the fight; yet he had never felt such palpitant tremors of excitement as when he stood on the hotel piazza of the New Helvetia Springs, where the banqueters had gathered, and suffered the ordeal of introduction to sundry groups of fashionable ladies.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Charles Egbert Craddock Charles Egbert Craddock The Lost Guidon

Many a soldier who might have survived his wounds would succumb to exposure to the elements during the night, debarred the tardy succor that must needs await his turn. One of the surgeons at their hasty work at the field hospital, under the shelter of the cliffs on the slope, paused to note the presage of doom and death, and to draw a long breath before he adjusted himself anew to the grim duties of the scalpel in his hand.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Charles Egbert Craddock Charles Egbert Craddock The Lost Guidon

Fatigue, agitation, anguish, his agonized obsession of the possibility of rallying the squadron, had served to prostrate the soldier's physical powers of resistance. He could not constrain his muscles to rise from the recumbent position against the carcass. He started up, then sank back, and in another moment triumphant nature conquered, and he was asleep—a dull, dreamless sleep of absolute exhaustion, that perchance rescued his reason as well as saved his life.
The old chaplain was a man of infinite prejudice, steeped in all the infirmities and fantasies of dogma
Source: Gutenberg

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