22 pages • 44 minutes read
Stephen CraneA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Although Collins’s voice is heard first and repeatedly in the first half of the story, all Collins says is that he is thirsty and wishes he had a drink. His voice does not stand out more than the rest until later in the story when, after some goading by his fellow soldiers, he asks officers for permission to get water from a nearby well. Then the story focuses on him, as Crane uses his character to explore the “mystery of heroism.”The officers ask him why he would risk his life for a drink of water, but Collins cannot answer them. As Collins reflects, he admits to himself that others might point to his actions as heroic, but he does not fear and in fact feels rather detached from the whole situation, which makes him question the value of heroism.
Then Collins denies himself the label of “hero” because he feels his petty actions of the past mean he is unable to be considered a hero. When he finally reaches the well, he is gripped by a sudden, fierce fear. The terror and horror of the whole scene, which he has felt distant from before, suddenly rushes over him. He is no longer a passive, detached, and outside gaze observing the scene like the others; he is now thrust into the scene that has surrounded the soldiers this entire time. When a dying officer begs for water, Collins rushes past him in terror. But then he changes his mind. He returns. His actions can finally be deemed heroic.
However, while Collins does act heroically, in the larger context of the story, his actions are meaningless. His heroism brings no value to anyone, since the officer is unable to drink the water and other officers spill the bucket of water when Collins returns.
The lieutenant provides a parallel to Private Collins. Both men are called to the meadow—the lieutenant sees the green grass waving, and Collins sees the well, which holds the water that can quench his strange thirst. Despite the danger, both men cannot resist its call.
There is only one brief insight into the lieutenant’s thoughts, which comes when he remarks with surprise at the incredible barrage of shells falling around him. Other than that comment, the reader is kept outside of his thoughts, forced to observe his actions as the rest of the regiment does. The lieutenant is first seen holding his arm “as if this arm was not at all a part of him, but belonged to another man” (Paragraph 9). The moment of violence that causes this seeming separation of his arm is not part of the story. This disembodiment parallels the “white legs stretched horizontally upon the ground” (Paragraph 14). On the battlefield, bombs blow soldiers up and literally separate limbs from bodies. Although the lieutenant is alive, his body seems to already be disintegrating, foreshadowing his death on the meadow.
When he faces the meadow, the lieutenant says nothing, but he looks “as if he had been in direct grapple with an enemy” (Paragraph 9). As he rides across the meadow, he thinks about the heavy bombardment almost in wonder but does not express any fear, similar to Collins when he first heads into the meadow. Both men seem drawn to the meadow, a place normally benign (“its green and beautiful calm”) but that has been transformed into “a massacre of the young blades of grass” (Paragraph 12). The ease with which both men enter the meadow masks the danger that they face. Collins suddenly realizes his danger, but Crane does not provide any more insight into the lieutenant’s mind.
Again, the moment that the lieutenant is hit is not in the story; this is not revealed until a soldier notices that he is already on the ground, dying:“This man had encountered a shell apparently at a time when no one perceived him, and he could now be seen lying face downward with a stirruped foot stretched across the body of his dead horse” (Paragraph 20). Instead of focusing on the striking down of the officer, Crane only shows him face down in the mud, motionless with his foot stretched over the dead horse. This contortion of dying strips away all notions of a “glorious” death. Perhaps he, too, had his moment of heroism, like Collins. But in the end, he is left dying on the field, like all other soldiers.
The soldiers are mainly shown as “legs” racing around on the battery or as “eyes” gazing upon the scenes of death that surround them. This disembodied portrayal of soldiers emphasizes the violent nature of the battle, which breaks men into pieces. Crane’s use of synecdoche (using a part to indicate a whole, such as “legs” for “soldiers”) foreshadows the death that awaits many of them. Speakers are labeled as “private” or “major,” but little information about them is provided. No one even has a name except Fred Collins. They are rarely provided any individualized focus except when they give brief comments on the action around them.
When they speak beyond such commentary, the reference is ironic, exemplified when the two privates of A company are “engaged in a heated discussion, which involved the greatest questions of the national existence” (Paragraph 5).This reference to the motivations for the Civil War remains vague, and the brevity creates irony. The author does not use this moment to outline the arguments of the North and the South. The war’s meaning has no place in this story except in these lines spoken by these two anonymous soldiers. The two soldiers, despite their seemingly important discussion, are of little consequence in determining the outcomes of a battle that is churning out dead bodies rapidly. They are not heard from again.
In addition to this disembodied portrayal, there is also an opposing portrayal, when soldiers are referred to as a group. Infantry must work as a unit to ensure military precision. But this group identity comes at the expense of individual expression. The soldiers are transformed into a 400-eyed “long animal-like thing” staring at Collins as he journeys to get water. Their eyes move in “one machinelike movement” (Paragraph 3). This machinelike motion emphasizes their dehumanization. They do not have autonomy. They are similar to the war horses, since they, too, must submit to the iron will of the war. They cannot escape.
But the horses retain a wholeness in this story that inspires pity: “The men of the infantry could see one animal raising its stricken body with its forelegs, and turning its nose with mystic and profound eloquence toward the sky” (Paragraph 14). Their dying poses show their entire body, which gives them a final dignity denied to the men who remain as “legs” on the ground.
Officers are not portrayed in a flattering light. Their orders are disorganized and chaotic. This is no glorified, noble vision of war with officers as the masterminds, moving their soldiers like chess pieces in a strategic game. Only fragmentation and chaos rule.
By Stephen Crane