Stephen Crane

Summary

Stephen Crane The Sergeant's Private Madhouse (1899)

The Sergeant, as he came nearer and nearer to this cactus bush -- a number of peculiarly dignified columns throwing shadows of inky darkness -- had slowed his pace, for he did not wish to trifle with the feelings of the sentry. He was expecting his stern hail, and was ready with the immediate answer which turns away wrath. He was not made anxious by the fact that he could not as yet see Dryden, for he knew that the man would be hidden in a way practiced by sentry marines since the time when two men had been killed by a disease of excessive confidence on picket.
Source: Wikisource

Stephen Crane The Sergeant's Private Madhouse (1899)

In the first place, he knew that at night a large or a small force of Spanish guerrillas was never more than easy rifle-range from any marine outpost, both sides maintaining a secrecy as absolute as possible in regard to their real position and strength. Everything was on a watch-spring foundation. A loud word might be paid for by a night attack which would involve five hundred men who needed their sleep, not to speak of some of them who would need their lives.
Source: Wikisource

Stephen Crane The Sergeant's Private Madhouse (1899)

Back at the main camp, whenever the roaring volleys lulled, the men in the trenches could hear their comrades of the outpost and the guerrillas pattering away interminably. The moonlight faded and left an equal darkness upon the wilderness. A man could barely see the comrade at his side. Sometimes guerrillas crept so close that the flame from their rifles seemed to scorch the faces of the marines, and the reports sounded as if within two or three inches of their very noses. If a pause came, one could hear the guerrillas gabbling to each other in a kind of delirium.
Source: Wikisource

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