The Red Badge of Courage

The Red Badge Of Courage was written by Stephen Crane in 1894.

From the moment it was published...

it was accepted by critics and public alike...

as a classic story of war.

And of the boys and men who fought war.

Stephen Crane wrote this book when he was a boy of 22.

Its publication made him a man.

His story is of a boy who, frightened...

went into a battle and came out of it...

a man with courage.

More than that, it is a story of many frightened boys...

who went into a great Civil War...

and came out as a nation...

of united, strong and free men.

The narration you will hear spoken consists of quotes...

from the text of the book itself.

Spring, 1862.

The bloody war between the states.

Tales of great movement shook the land.

Marches, sieges, conflicts.

But for the untried army on the Rappahannock...

war was simply a matter of waiting...

waiting...

and endless drilling.

Regiment, march!

Right, march!

Left, march!

Dismissed!

Dismissed!

I reckon I'll dig some worms and go fishing.

Yeah? The fish ain't biting.

But there's nothing else to do. Now that my tent's got a plank floor...

it's comfortable as home. I only need a rocking chair.

I just like to sit and rock.

How's things?

Just like they was yesterday, and the day before, and will be tomorrow.

I wouldn't be too sure about tomorrow, if I was you.

- What do you mean? - Nothing.

Nothing.

Sure you mean something. Come on. Tell me like a good feller.

- Can you keep it to yourself? - Of course I can.

I know a fellow that's got a brother...

who's an orderly up at division headquarters.

This fellow's brother saw some orders last night.

The orders said this here army is going up the river, cut across...

and coming around in behind the Rebs.

- Thunderation! - Yeah, you just wait.

Tomorrow you're going to see the biggest battle you ever saw.

You just wait.

Fellers!

Fellers!

The army's going to march.

We're going up the river. Cut across, and come around in behind the Rebs.

It's a lie. A thundering lie!

I don't believe this old army is ever going to move.

You believe it or not, I don't give a hang.

I believe you. I'll tell you why. I finished laying a plank floor for my tent.

I held off all winter, because I thought we'd move.

Come spring, I decided we're here for good.

So I started the plank floor. That's probably what got things going.

- What's that, Wilson? - No more drilling.

It's going to be out-and-out fighting.

What are you talking about?

A feller I know saw the orders.

We'll go up the river, cut across, and come around in behind them.

But why are we going up the river instead of down...

where the land's flat and clear?

We could stand up to each other and have a proper fight.

This way, it's all hills. We'll be climbing more than fighting.

You don't understand, Bill Porter...

There was a youthful private...

who was deeply troubled by the talk of his comrades.

They were so sure of their courage.

Have you heard the news, Henry?

You mean about the battle?

Yeah. We're going up the river, cut across, and come around in behind them.

Likely as not, this story will turn out just like all them others did.

You just wait till tomorrow. You'll see real out-and-out fighting.

What do you think, Jim?

I can't believe they'll keep drilling us forever...

- and it's getting nigh onto that. - Jim?

How do you think the regiment will do?

They'll fight all right, once they get into it.

We'll be on them like wildcats. They won't know what hit them.

Think any of the boys will run?

There may be a few, but there's their kind in every regiment...

especially when they first go under fire.

But the boys come of good stock mostly.

I figure they'll do better than some. Worse than others.

We'll chew them up and spit them out in little pieces.

Did you ever think you might run, too, Jim?

I thought it might get too hot for Jim Conklin...

in some of them scrimmages.

If a whole lot of the boys started to run, I suppose I'd start and run.

If I once started to run, I'd run like the mischief, and no mistake.

But if everybody was standing and fighting...

I'd stand and fight.

By Jiminy, I would. I'll bet on it.

- What's wrong, Henry? Scared? - Scared? Me?

Of course not. What a dumb fool question!

I am, a mite.

So they were at last going to fight.

Tomorrow, perhaps, there would be a battle...

and he would be in it.

Was it possible that he would be a part of a great battle in a great war?

In the darkness he saw visions of a thousand-tongued fear...

who would babble at his back, and cause him to flee.

Who goes there?

It's me, Yank. Just me.

Move back into the shadows, Yank.

Unless you want one of them little red badges.

I couldn't miss you, standing there in the moonlight.

Are you a Reb?

That's right.

I don't see much point in us sentries shooting each other...

especially when we ain't fighting no battle.

So, if you'll just get out of the moonlight...

I'll be much obliged to you.

Thanks, Reb.

That's mighty polite of you, Yank, to thank me.

I take it most kindly. You're a right dumb good feller.

So, take care of yourself.

Don't go getting one of them little red badges pinned on you.

Left, march!

Move. Halt!

Forward arms!

Shoulder shift!

"No more drilling," he says.

"That's all behind us now.

"From now on it's going to be out-and-out fighting," he says.

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, and we got the best end of it.

How we'll thump them.