“I won’t go to the rear unless it’s to reach Fanning’s company,” Bale said with cold defiance. He unfastened the watch chain and slipped it into his hip pocket. It was the first time he had put his hand inside. The dead man had owned a black handkerchief and an onion and a tin box of salve. Dan threw them over the wall, and in the silence of watching men he could hear the articles pelt softly into the grass.

Ballou put his heels together. “If you are ready, sir, follow along.”

Dan folded his arms.

Ballou took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I was so lax in the first place. Possibly because we were all weary from our long march.” He called over his shoulder: “Grimes. Lennihan. You—other fellow—” They were all leaping to attention, saluting, the cards fluttered away and there was a heap of copper and paper currency on the jacket. “If this civilian will not accompany me of his own will, you are to fetch him.” His heel dug into the sod as he swung on it.

A sharp sound rapped across from the tip of Oak Ridge, and everyone turned to look. There was new smoke among the trees and a dull, mechanical whirring screeched toward them. “Whitworth!” exclaimed the captain. North, a few rods away, came a grating crash and a column of dirt and stubble flew high. Somebody cried, what the hell’s that for? All the men were standing up and looking. Just imagine—them Whitworths load at the breech.

Well, began Ballou. The western ridge divided itself into booming segments of eruption. The landscape looked funny … there was something. Now Dan understood: the Bliss barn was gone—a smoking rubble lay where it had been. Burned it, he whispered to himself, and I slept through it all. Nest of wool flew apart, alongside the little grove of oaks. “Ballou,” yelled a commanding spirit, “take charge of your company!” and a horse fled past as men tumbled out of its way. The fold of earth south of the seminary was become a round crest of organic smoke, and the hammers came down all around. By God, yelped the Counter of Cartridges, so that’s what they were kiting around for. The soldiers of this regiment began to clatter their ramrods; they had loaded their guns, they were all worming close to the wall, and hugging the board fence which leaned away to the right.

Ballou had gone ducking toward the front of the angle, gesticulating at heads which bobbed up on each side of the wall. Another spout of earth, back by the Taneytown road, another, another, and Dan Bale sensed the horse-cry which had started its life on Wednesday morning and would exist on these farms until the end of time. Hammers stung against his skull.