Upturned Face

by Stephen Crane

　　

---

"What will we do now?" said the adjutant, troubled and excited."Bury him," said Timothy Lean.The two officers looked down close to their toes where lay the body oftheir comrade. The face was chalk-blue; gleaming eyes stared at the sky.Over the two upright figures was a windy sound of bullets, and on thetop of the hill Lean's prostrate company of Spitzbergen infantry wasfiring measured volleys."Don't you think it would be better--" began the adjutant. "We mightleave him until tomorrow.""No," said Lean. "I can't hold that post an hour longer. I've got tofall back, and we've got to bury old Bill.""Of course," said the adjutant, at once. "Your men got intrenchingtools?"Lean shouted back to his little line, and two men came slowly, one witha pick, one with a shovel. They started in the direction of the Rostinasharp-shooters. Bullets cracked near their ears. "Dig here," said Leangruffly. The men, thus caused to lower their glances to the turf, becamehurried and frightened merely because they could not look to see whencethe bullets came. The dull beat of the pick striking the earth soundedamid the swift snap of close bullets. Presently the other private beganto shovel."I suppose," said the adjutant, slowly, "we'd better search his clothesfor--things."Lean nodded. Together in curious abstraction they looked at the body.Then Lean stirred his shoulders suddenly, arousing himself."Yes," he said, "we'd better see what he's got." He dropped to hisknees, and his hands approached the body of the dead officer. But hishands wavered over the buttons of the tunic. The first button was brick-red with drying blood, and he did not seem to dare touch it."Go on," said the adjutant, hoarsely.Lean stretched his wooden hand, and his fingers fumbled the blood-stained buttons. At last he rose with ghastly face. He had gathered awatch, a whistle, a pipe, a tobacco pouch, a handkerchief, a little caseof cards and papers. He looked at the adjutant. There was a silence. Theadjutant was feeling that he had been a coward to make Lean do all thegrisly business."Well," said Lean, "that's all, I think. You have his sword andrevolver?""Yes," said the adjutant, his face working, and then he burst out in asudden strange fury at the two privates. "Why don't you hurry up withthat grave? What are you doing, anyhow? Hurry, do you hear? I never sawsuch stupid--"Even as he cried out in his passion the two men were laboring for theirlives. Ever overhead the bullets were spitting.The grave was finished, It was not a masterpiece--a poor little shallowthing. Lean and the adjutant again looked at each other in a curioussilent communication.Suddenly the adjutant croaked out a weird laugh. It was a terriblelaugh, which had its origin in that part of the mind which is firstmoved by the singing of the nerves. "Well," he said, humorously to Lean,"I suppose we had best tumble him in.""Yes," said Lean. The two privates stood waiting, bent over theirimplements. "I suppose," said Lean, "it would be better if we laid himin ourselves.""Yes," said the adjutant. Then apparently remembering that he had madeLean search the body, he stooped with great fortitude and took hold ofthe dead officer's clothing. Lean joined him. Both were particular thattheir fingers should not feel the corpse. They tugged away; the corpselifted, heaved, toppled, flopped into the grave, and the two officers,straightening, looked again at each other--they were always looking ateach other. They sighed with relief.The adjutant said, "I suppose we should--we should say something. Do youknow the service, Tim?""They don't read the service until the grave is filled in," said Lean,pressing his lips to an academic expression."Don't they?" said the adjutant, shocked that he had made the mistake."Oh, well," he cried, suddenly, "let us--let us say something--while hecan hear us.""All right," said Lean. "Do you know the service?""I can't remember a line of it," said the adjutant.Lean was extremely dubious. "I can repeat two lines, but--""Well, do it," said the adjutant. "Go as far as you can. That's betterthan nothing. And the beasts have got our range exactly."Lean looked at his two men. "Attention," he barked. The privates came toattention with a click, looking much aggrieved. The adjutant lowered hishelmet to his knee. Lean, bareheaded, he stood over the grave. TheRostina sharpshooters fired briskly."Oh, Father, our friend has sunk in the deep waters of death, but hisspirit has leaped toward Thee as the bubble arises from the lips of thedrowning. Perceive, we beseech, O Father, the little flying bubble,and--".Lean, although husky and ashamed, had suffered no hesitation up to thispoint, but he stopped with a hopeless feeling and looked at the corpse.The adjutant moved uneasily. "And from Thy superb heights--" he began,and then he too came to an end."And from Thy superb heights," said Lean.The adjutant suddenly remembered a phrase in the back part of theSpitzbergen burial service, and he exploited it with the triumphantmanner of a man who has recalled everything, and can go on."Oh, God, have mercy--""Oh, God, have mercy--" said Lean."Mercy," repeated the adjutant, in quick failure."Mercy," said Lean. And then he was moved by some violence of feeling,for he turned suddenly upon his two men and tigerishly said, "Throw thedirt in."The fire of the Rostina sharpshooters was accurate and continuous.* * * * *One of the aggrieved privates came forward with his shovel. He liftedhis first shovel-load of earth, and for a moment of inexplicablehesitation it was held poised above this corpse, which from its chalk-blue face looked keenly out from the grave. Then the soldier emptied hisshovel on--on the feet.Timothy Lean felt as if tons had been swiftly lifted from off hisforehead. He had felt that perhaps the private might empty the shovelon--on the face. It had been emptied on the feet. There was a greatpoint gained there--ha, ha!--the first shovelful had been emptied onthe feet. How satisfactory!The adjutant began to babble. "Well, of course--a man we've messed withall these years--impossible--you can't, you know, leave your intimatefriends rotting on the field. Go on, for God's sake, and shovel, you!"The man with the shovel suddenly ducked, grabbed his left arm with hisright hand, and looked at his officer for orders. Lean picked the shovelfrom the ground. "Go to the rear," he said to the wounded man. He alsoaddressed the other private. "You get under cover, too; I'll finish thisbusiness."The wounded man scrambled hard still for the top of the ridge withoutdevoting any glances to the direction whence the bullets came, and theother man followed at an equal pace; but he was different, in that helooked back anxiously three times.This is merely the way--often--of the hit and unhit.Timothy Lean filled the shovel, hesitated, and then in a movement whichwas like a gesture of abhorrence he flung the dirt into the grave, andas it landed it made a sound--plop! Lean suddenly stopped and mopped hisbrow--a tired laborer."Perhaps we have been wrong," said the adjutant. His glance waveredstupidly. "It might have been better if we hadn't buried him just atthis time. Of course, if we advance to-morrow the body would havebeen--""Damn you," said Lean, "shut your mouth!" He was not the senior officer.He again filled the shovel and flung the earth. Always the earth madethat sound--plop! For a space Lean worked frantically, like a mandigging himself out of danger.Soon there was nothing to be seen but the chalk-blue face. Lean filledthe shovel. "Good God," he cried to the adjutant. "Why didn't you turnhim somehow when you put him in? This--" Then Lean began to stutter.The adjutant understood. He was pale to the lips. "Go on, man," hecried, beseechingly, almost in a shout. Lean swung back the shovel. Itwent forward in a pendulum curve. When the earth landed it made a sound--plop!

---

Upturned Face was featured as TheShort Story of the Day on Thu, May 01, 2014

---