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In the army Charley wore a pair of black pants that were so short his calves showed, a pair of gray socks, and a black felt hat. The socks and pants were stout but the hat was cheap and with the first little sprinkle it sagged around his head and drooped over his face.

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Book based on the real life deceased person, Charlie Goddard.

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The Civil War was fought between the Northern and the Southern states from 1861-1865.

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-The Missouri Compromise of 1820

-The Wilmot Proviso

-The Compromise of 1850

-The Fugitive Slave Act of 1850

-Uncle Tom’s Cabin

-Lincoln-Douglas Debate

-Nebraska Act of 1854

-The Rise of the “Know Nothings”

-The Republican Party

-Bleeding Kansas 1855

-Brooks Summer Incident

-Slavery

-Sectionalism

-States Rights’/Popular Sovereignty

-Federal Supremacy

-Imposing on Tariffs

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Eleven southern states left the United States to make their own country (i.e. withdrawal and form their own country [seceded]).

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The South, or the states that seceded, called themselves the Confederate States of America (i.e. the Confederacy). They were also known as the “Johnny Rebs” and they wore gray uniforms.

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Jefferson Davis was president of the Confederate states during the Civil War.

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The North, or the states that stayed with the United States, called themselves the Union. They were also known as the “Billy Yanks” and they wore blue uniforms.

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Abraham Lincoln was the President of the United States or the Union during the Civil War.

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The Civil War began when Southern troops bombarded Fort Sumter, South Carolina.

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The North had more men and war materials than the South.

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The bloodiest battle of the Civil War was the Battle of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.

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The death rate for horses in combat was worse than that for men because they were much bigger targets.

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Ulysses S. Grant was a general for the Union army and Robert E. Lee was the commander of all the Confederate armies. They did not meet on the field of battle until May of 1864.

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After the war was over, the Constitution was amended to free the slaves, to assure “equal protection under the law” for American citizens, and to grant black men the right to vote.

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The North won the Civil War.

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Him and the other members of the army were told by the colonel that they couldn’t desert their posts, traffic with the enemy, steal from their fellow soldiers, and act immoral or without decency.

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Charley Goddard lived in Winona, Minnesota before joining the war.

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“War is always, in all ways, appalling. Lives are stopped in youth, worlds are ended, and even for those who survive—and the vast majority of soldiers who go to war do survive—the mental damage done is often permanent. What they have seen and been forced to do is frequently so horrific and devastating that it simply cannot be tolerated by the human psyche.”

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Soldier's Heart is a blunt depiction of Civil War combat. Based on the real-life experiences of Charley Goddard, the novel is an account of Charley's experiences from the time he enlists in the Union army at age fifteen to a couple of years after the Civil War when he is twenty-one and his life is a shambles.

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Soldier's Heart Summary & Study Guide includes comprehensive information and analysis to help you understand the book. This study guide contains the following sections:

This detailed literature summary also contains Related Titles and a Free Quiz on Soldier's Heart by Gary Paulsen.

Soldier's Heart is a blunt depiction of Civil War combat. Based on the real-life experiences of Charley Goddard, the novel is an account of Charley's experiences from the time he enlists in the Union army at age fifteen to a couple of years after the Civil War when he is twenty-one and his life is a shambles. The title of the book is a phrase used by Americans to label Civil War veterans who seemed mentally lost because of the war. Paulsen points out that the same syndrome was called "shell shock" during World War I, "battle fatigue" during World War II, and is presently called "post-traumatic stress disorder."

From the moment Charley thinks, "I am not supposed to see this, God. No person is supposed to see this," Charley falls ever deeper into a depression in which he believes his own death is inevitable. Even comes to welcome it. He avoids other soldiers because they seem as doomed as he, and he does not want to become close to men who may die. The deaths of people he new from his Minnesota home, even the death of cocky Nelson, whom Charley knew for less than a day, weigh heavily on his mind. Soldier's Heart follows Charley's effort to withdraw into himself and away from the horror of the battles he fights.

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Soldier's Heart Summary & Study Guide includes comprehensive information and analysis to help you understand the book. This study guide contains the following sections: This detailed literature summary also contains Related Titles and a Free Quiz on Soldier's Heart by Gary Paulsen. Soldier's Heart is a blunt depiction of Civil War combat.

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Gary Paulsen was born in Minnesota in 1939. He is acclaimed as the author of powerful young adult fiction. His young adult books feature teenagers who arrive at self-awareness by way of experiences in nature. Gary Paulsen has written many books of children's nonfiction, two plays, adult fiction, and nonfiction.

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Gary Paulsen has been awarded Newbery Medal Honor Book citations for his books “Dogsong,” “Hatchet,” and “The Winter Room.”

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The food in the army was bad and according to Charley, the beef was “so gamely dogs won’t eat it.” They also had hard beans and they would bile the beans to use for a meal. Then they would use the leftover beans for soup the next day. On the third day, they would take any cooked beans that were left, and they would dry them, crush them, and then boil them for coffee.

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“While the same horrors existed as those in modern war, in some ways they were even worse because the technological aspects of war being born then, the wholesale killing by men using raw firepower, was so new and misunderstood. The same young men were fed into madness. But in those days there was no scientific knowledge of mental disorders and no effort was made to help the men who were damaged.”

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Charley could read and write even though he didn’t have much schooling. His mom had made him stick to reading and writing and he would write letters to his mom while in the army talking about what it was like being a soldier.

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“Some men came through combat unscathed. Most did not. These men were somehow different from the other men. They were said to have soldier’s heart.”

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“And Charley had learned one thing about an army: One part of an army didn’t always know the business of another. The thousand men in the regiment would be in companies of eighty to a hundred men from each section and it would be hard for a man to know men who weren’t from the same area. Charley couldn’t join where they knew him. Somebody would spill the beans and he’d get sent back or used as a runner or drummer boy. He wasn’t any boy. He was going to sign to fight as a man and he knew a way to do it.”

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People in the army talk about hanging the commissary officer.

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Charley had hunted his whole life and knew about shooting.

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Charley could read and write even though he didn’t have much schooling. His mom had made him stick to reading and writing and he would write letters to his mom while in the army talking about what it was like being a soldier.

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“Charley nodded but stopped talking because he did not like profanity, even of a low order, and there was much of it around. He thought of a surgeon who had spoken to them and told them to try to wear clean clothing going into battle in case they were hit by a rifle ball. If the cloth was carried into the wound, clean cloth would cause less infection. He had thought of it and taking a bullet from one of the paper cartridges and pushed it against his sleeve. It didn’t seem possible that the bullet could be made to go through the sleeve, into him, into him, carrying the fabric with it. He thought it must be the same with profanity and immoral thinking. Charley believed in Heaven and Hell and God and Jesus and wanted to be with God if he was killed. If he had profane thoughts as he went to war, they might infect his soul as the dirty clothes would infect his wound. And while he did not think he would die, did not think he would even be hit or hurt, did not think of it at all, still it was best to be careful.”

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They did something called "drills" and the "manual of arms."

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Charley felt that he could snap his rifle from left shoulder heft to right shoulder heft as good as any man in any army had ever done it.

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They fired some but there wasn’t much ammunition and when the sergeants tried to make them hit targets a quarter mile off, Charley almost laughed because he had hunted his whole life and knew about shooting. The rifles they were issued were .58-caliber rifled muskets that fired a hollow-base bullet called minié ball, named after the Frenchman who had invented it. The rifles thundered but lacked the flat crack of his smaller-boar hunting rifle, and he found that nearly a third of the time the bullet seemed to fly end over end and it was all he could do to hit a target fifty yards off. A quarter mile—over four hundred yards—seemed silly.

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They stood and fired and dropped to one knee, and then the next rank stood and fired and dropped. They reloaded by biting the end of the paper cartridge, pouring the powder down the bore and setting the bullet on the powder with the ramrod. Then a cap on the nipple, the hammer back and fire again.

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“Death was everywhere, nowhere. Bullets flew past him with evil little snaps and snickers as they cut the air. Next to him Massey’s head suddenly left his body and disappeared, taken by a cannon round that then went through an officer’s horse, end to end, before plowing into the ground. This can’t be, he thought. I can’t be here. This is all a mistake. A terrible mistake. I’m not supposed to be here.”

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When they couldn’t afford to expend any more live ammunition, they would repeatedly practice with empty rifles until Charley was sick to death of the drilling, wheeling, marching, and fake loading.

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The sergeants had been civilians like the rest of the men and mostly had been elected by the men themselves and had to learn as they went along, using an army manual for close-order drill.

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Charley had been raised with workhorses and had grown to love them.

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“Somehow Charley’s arms worked to push him off the ground. He stood and started walking when everything in him wanted to run; started walking ‘in good order’ even when the lieutenant was hit in the chest and head and went down, obviously finished, but with legs still moving, still pumping, still pushing the dying body around and around on the ground; Charley started walking, not running, even when his mind prayed to God, told God, demanded of God: I am not supposed to see this, God. No person is supposed to see this. How can You let this happen?”

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Most men, including Charley, doubted that there would ever be a battle.

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“Charley walked amid the explosions of shot and the ripping of bullets until he was clear of the smoke and saw other men walking with him. Impossible, he thought, that they could walk as they did, in rank; impossible that they had lived, could have lived through what had come at them, was still coming at them.”

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“Officers moved among the men and told them what every man knew was a lie; told them they’d done well, had stood up to Rebel fire and given it back. But even Charley knew—and he thought he knew nothing—that they’d been whipped from the field.”

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“But the officers moved through the trees and told them lies and said to rest because they would have to go back tomorrow, would re-group and move against the Rebels in the morning, and Charley thought it was like trying to tell water to run uphill. There was nothing on God’s earth that would allow his legs to move his body against that fire again. Not a man, he thought, not a man would be alive halfway across that meadow.”

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There were rumors in the ranks that the Minnesota volunteers would be used to replace the Army troops at the frontier forts so that the regular army could go east to fight.

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On June 22, they were called into formation, ordered to get all their gear and marched the river, where steamboats were waiting to take them to St. Paul. There they had march through town with great fanfare. They still didn’t have proper uniforms but they had all been issued red flannel shirts.

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Soon they boarded the steamboats that took them south and east to La Crosse, Wisconsin, where trains were waiting for them. Most of the men had never been on a train especially not one that had been so plush. The seats were soft and cushiony and the food compared to the rough fare at Fort Snelling was delicious.

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As they went along, large crowds cheered them on and many girls waved flags and gave them hankies and sweets.

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As the train stopped for a minute, a women of color approached Charley and handed him a sweet roll saying "Thank you for what you're doing. I hope God keeps you safe from harm and brings you back to your family." She began tearing up and Charley puzzled at why the lady was crying and showing her appreciation when she was a part of the South. As the train began moving again, he saw a white woman grab the colored woman by her dress and drag her back inside. I don't think he realized that her as a slave, actually wanted the Union to win in order for slavery to come to an end.

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While traveling on the trains, Charley noticed many people in the South were living in poverty. Even without a father, their house was in good shape and kept up. There was a garden that was well-tended to, good food, and clothes that covered bodies. He wondered how the South could fight a war when their people couldn’t even dress themselves. It made him sad to see the children that were barely clothed.

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During the first battle of Bull Run, many shots were fired. Charley panicked and screamed as he heard the loud sounds of gunshots and men were shot down and killed. He decided to lie down because if he didn’t, he would be hit, ripped, and torn into pieces. it was slightly better on the ground, he could hear the same sounds but the bodies in front of him protected him as he heard bullets hitting them. Two bullets met directly in front of his eyes, jammed together, and fell to the ground as one. That sight was more horrifying than the death he’d seen. How many bullets would have to be flying around for two of them to collide in midair? Lieutenant Olafson had told the group to fall back. As Charley and many others made their way to a bunch of maple trees.

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After the first battle of Bull Run when the Union retreated, they took time to rest and ate half-dried bread, cold, raw salt pork, and had water.

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Charley walked to a small creek and held his canteen beneath the surface to let it fill. He took several long drinks from the brook and washed his face until the outside light grew brighter and he noticed that the water wasn’t clear. It was tinted with something pink. He saw bodies in the water upstream. He felt like vomiting but he couldn’t. The food felt like stone in his stomach and the bloodied water seem to sour it, curdle it, but it wouldn’t come up even when he stuck his finger down his throat.

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When Charley was a boy, he struck his foot with an axe. The blade had cut a three-inch gash between two of his toes and he had to walk to town to get it sewed up. It didn't hurt for the entire walk and it hadn't until the doctor stitched it up and he walked home. Then it had kept him up all night.

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Charley “worked as a man worked” and had a job in the fields all day and into the night.

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Charley made $11 a month in gold coins in the army.

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Charley seems to have a nice and close relationship with his mom.

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Charley’s father, Paul, had been kicked to death by a horse gone mad when a swarm of bees landed on it.

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Charley had a brother named Orren.

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After the Union retreated from the first battle, they ended up coming back to fight but noticed that the Rebs had disappeared without a trace. They had pulled out during the night and left food on the fires and water in pails.

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“They were dead. He’d seen them die. Massey didn’t have a head and the lieutenant didn’t have a brain or heart or much of anything else, and short of digging a hole and burying them he didn’t know what he could do for them. Or for me, he thought. I don’t know what I can do for me. He watched the lanterns and candles and tried to feel sad for the dead and wounded, tried to feel some pain for them, but he could feel nothing but a bone tiredness that left his hand shaking and his legs weak and his stomach churning.”

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“I’ll be there soon, he thought. I’ll be there on the ground with them. If I don’t run away I’ll be there like a broken doll. We all will. None of us can live if we walk out there again. But he could not run away. None of the others had and he couldn’t.”

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“It was a clear morning, no clouds, the sun just up, and he could see other units forming. How could they? he thought. How could they just form and stand there waiting for it after yesterday? How could I? It had all started this way yesterday. March out and form up. Except that yesterday there were congressmen and their families on the hills, come out from Washington in boogies to picnic and watch the battle, and hadn’t they got more than they bargained for? All those petticoats flying and the carriages rocking along as they found that Rebel shells did not care if you were a soldier or a civilian.”

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“…but the dead all looked alike. Broken. Like broken toys or dolls.”

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“He took a deep breath and let it out—his first whole breath since they had started walking across the meadow—and looked down and was shocked to see that he’d wet himself. Across the meadow, he thought; I must have done it then. Walking through the bodies. Maybe then. He couldn’t remember doing it, could only remember the fear—it stopped his breath, made him almost want to die—and it must have been then. He started to hide himself, turn away, but he saw that he was not alone, that several other men had done the same thing. First battle.”

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They were issued new uniforms that had heavy wool, proper blue, with black leather belting. They were also finally getting compensated after nearly three months.

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“In a little time they marched again and some said it was to be a battle but now they had been waiting for so long that many of them did not think there would be a battle at all. They thought they would just keep waiting and waiting and never fight again. It was, of course, a dream, a hope, and for many of them, a prayer. Charley was not among them. He had waited with them, of course, and had settled into camp life and even marching life, but he still believed in the inevitability of battle and most of all believed in the absolute certainty of his own death. He could not live. Many others would die with him and many would live but he knew one thing: He would die. In the next battle or the one after that or the one after that he would die.”

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They were given a new commander named McClellan that many of the men, including Charley, all respected highly because he sat a horse well and took care to mind the conditions of his soldiers.

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The Minnesota regiment already had a reputation. They were called “cool under fire” and “well disciplined” but although they had been told not to forage or steal food from the population as they marched, most men ignored that order. After all, they were passing through Rebel territory and if they left the food the “dirty seceshes” (for “secessionists”) would just eat it. Most of the men who had taken food eventually developed extreme bowel problems. Charley ended up with a case of dysentery and had to go to the temporary hospital at the back of the March.

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After a little while the Union and the Confederacy were at it again. During the second battle of Bull Run, the Union went in strong and the Confederacy ended up retreating. A man named Nelson who had just joined Charley's group ended up getting shot in the stomach. They both knew that if you had a gunshot wound to the stomach, you wouldn't be allowed at the hospital and they would just leave you there to die. Because a wound to the stomach was fatal and meant that you were practically already dead. Charley found himself stopping to help him even though one of the rules was that you couldn't stop for the wounded and he was crying at the thought of him dying and he didn't know why because he didn't even know him. Nelson asked him to load his gun for him incase the Rebels were to have come back but he ended up committing suicide so that he wouldn't die from bleeding out slowly.

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They went to camp again and this time they sat for three months. They were there so long they thought of the camp as a town and gave the paths between the tents street names based on Minnesota towns. It went from summer into fall and they cut trees and made log shanties and drilled in the rain and then snow, but spent most of their time in the log huts plugging leaks, keeping out cold win and trying to get their clothes dry. Disease spread as the weather got worse and many rumors surfaced as a result.

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“Charley stepped forward with the rest. He did not think of fear, did not think of what would happen, what he knew would happen. He stepped forward in line, check the cap on his rifle and fixed his bayonet, and when they ordered, he started walking across the field with the rest of the men.”

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Officers seemed to be getting better food than the soldiers and they were also the only ones allowed to drink whiskey. Charley didn’t drink himself but he believed that it was unfair and so did many others. There was a small mutiny amongst some of the units and soon whiskey was made available to all troops, although the enlisted men were to be issued it by the sutlers. A shot a day “to ward off the argue, chill and fever of winter camp” and they were supposed to drink it right when it was issued. This was unfair to Charley and after a little while it became obvious to him that it was every man for himself. He became adept at camp survival, pulled his own weight, took his turn gathering food and wood, cleaned, cooked, and he made a private world for himself where he kept his thoughts and knowledge. He worked constantly on his equipment, shining the leather, changing his cartridges if they became damp or seemed even a bit moist, and most of all he tended to his feet and his rifle.

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Charley broke a rule which was to not talk to the enemy. A Reb initiated conversation with him one night from afar because he needed coffee and asked Charley if he had any and he would offer tobacco as a trade. Charley agreed because southern tobacco was better than the foreign tobacco available to the Union army now that the South had seceded and he could trade the tobacco for bread, pies, and leather to fix his shoes.

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“It was the first time Charley was to hear the Rebel yell and for a moment it frightened him, but everything had to be compared and he thought of the freight of the first day, first battle, and the yell was nothing.”

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“There was very little that was fair about the whole situation, at least from Charley’s viewpoint, and it quickly became obvious to him that it was every man for himself. He became adept at camp survival. He pulled his own weight, took his turn gathering food and wood, and cleaning, and cooking, but he made a private world for himself where he kept his thoughts and knowledge. He worked constantly on his equipment, shining the leather, changing his cartridges if they became damp or seemed even a bit moist, and most of all tending to his feet and his rifle.”

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Charley was one of the men detailed to provide beef for the sick men in the hospital. The Union came in contact with some of the Confederates along the river one morning because the Rebel unit made a discovery raid and unfortunately ran into the Union. That resulted in many empty Rebel saddles in eleven captured horses. Normally the horses would be used to pull artillery but in this case, it was decided to kill the horses to get meat for the sick men. Charley and three other soldiers were ordered to slaughter them. It didn’t bother him to kill cows, pigs, or poultry but having to shoot each horse in the head, cut its throat, gut it, and then skin it, put him on the edge of mutiny. He had grown up with workhorses and had grown to love them. Killing the horses and watching them drop as they were shot in the head, made him feel almost physically sick. They had to lie to the sick men and tell them that the horse meat was beef but those men didn’t believe it and they knew the truth. Horse fat was yellow and beef fat was white. The men knew that the meat were from horses but they ate it anyway and they were grateful nonetheless.

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Charley was 15 years old when he lied about his age in order to join the army and fight.

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Charley looked like a man standing tall and just a bit thin with hands so big they covered a stove lid. He hadn’t grown a beard yet and his voice was just slightly low enough so that he could talk with men.

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Charley only had to talk really fast and smile to get his way.

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Rumors flew. There would be a big battle coming and they were going to march all the way to Richmond. They walked all day, it must’ve been at least twenty miles. At just after three in the afternoon, Charley heard the sounds of artillery booming about two miles off. He had practiced ear now for the tools of combat and he knew the frequency of fire—a constant thunder—that there were a lot of guns, which meant a lot of targets. Charley squinted and saw them. Not infantry this time. But assembling back in the trees were troops of cavalry, the horses jostling each other and kicking as they were pulled alongside each other. They stood ready in line with Charley in the second rank as he stood while the front rank kneeled. The horses moved out of the trees, walking forward in a line. Shots were fired as horses were killed and so were many men. Once there wasn’t a man left standing, Charley thought of where they would be camping for the night so that he could rest and have coffee. His celebration was soon cut short. Charley turned and his heart nearly stopped. Coming from their left was what seemed to be a whole Rebel army. Around two thousand or three thousand men marched straight at them head-on. They prepared to shoot again. Charley fired fifteen rounds and hit approximately seven or eight Rebels. In the murk a man suddenly appeared, his bayoneted rifle aimed at Charley’s chest. Charley parried with his own rifle and took the Rebel soldier just below the breast bone with his bayonet. The man has been running so hard he ran himself onto the bayonet before falling off to the side, dying as he fell, his lungs and heart torn. Charley’s bayonet was stuck and he had to put his foot on the man’s chest to jerk it loose. After that Charley became a madman. He attacked anything and everything that came into his range. Until soon there was nothing around to hit, fight, or kill. The Confederate soldiers had ran.

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It is indirectly pointed that Charley thinks he's superior to the other men in his army group. Charley felt that he could snap his rifle from left shoulder heft to right shoulder heft as good as any man in any army had ever done it. During practice they fired some but there wasn’t much ammunition and when the sergeants tried to make them hit targets a quarter mile off, Charley almost laughed because he had hunted his whole life and knew about shooting. The rifles they were issued were .58-caliber rifled muskets that fired a hollow-base bullet called minié ball, named after the Frenchman who had invented it. The rifles thundered but lacked the flat crack of his smaller-boar hunting rifle, and he found that nearly a third of the time the bullet seemed to fly end over end and it was all he could do to hit a target fifty yards off. A quarter mile—over four hundred yards—seemed silly.

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After the third battle, a corporal pointed out that Charley had been shot. He was covered in blood, his arms, his chest, and his pants were wet and stained with it. He walked to the surgeon’s tent in the back half a mile in the trees. He waited as the doctor treated other patients. When it was his turn he was told that it was a false alarm and that the blood was not his.

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It is indirectly stated that Charley was a caring person. When traveling to battle on a train, he noticed how many people in the South were poorly clothed and felt pity and empathy for them. A while later when the war had begun, during the second battle, a man named Nelson who had just joined Charley's group ended up getting shot in the stomach. They both knew that if you had a gunshot wound to the stomach, you wouldn't be allowed at the hospital and they would just leave you there to die. Because a wound to the stomach was fatal and meant that you were practically already dead. Charley found himself stopping to help him even though one of the rules were that you couldn't stop for the wounded and he was crying at the thought of him dying and he didn't know why because he didn't even know him.

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There was a hole in the tent infirmary that the wind was passing through. It was freezing the hands of one of the doctors. He didn’t know what to fix it with but then the doctor pointed to the dead bodies. Charley was asked to help stack the bodies like bricks and angle them at the corners so that they would not tip over. They did this until they had a stout frozen wall five feet high and thirty feet long to stop the wind. When they were done stacking, Charley laid on the ground in the lee of the dead men’s wall, just to get out of the wind for a minute and get warm, and he slept there for five hours, sheltered by the dead.

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After three months, Charley was finally given his pay check of $33 worth of gold coins ($11 per month). The text stated that it had been more money than he had ever seen or had.

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After fighting the second battle, it is indirectly stated that Charley is blood thirsty. After the battle, the Rebels ended up retreating. Even so, Charley was filled with adrenaline and rage. His lips were drawn back showing his teeth, and his face was contorted by a savage rage. He wanted to catch the Rebs and run his bayonet through them and kill them. All of them. Stick and jab and shoot them and murder them and kill them all, each and every Rebel’s son of them. He had very vivid thoughts of killing them.

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Charley was in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, on top of a gradually sloping hill, looking down at what seemed to be the entire Southern army assembling to attack. The Rebels were assembled in a forest over a mile away and well below the union army. The Confederates would try to prepare the hill with artillery before their charge and as Charley looked, the first batteries began firing. It was the worst barrage he had ever undergone. Shells burst overhead and killed men and horses and destroyed some Union artillery and rear positions. The line of Union troops waiting to take the Confederate attack were at the brow of the hill, which dropped away to their rear as well. The Rebel artillery was massed and firing heavily, but rounds aimed at the top of the hill that went even slightly high just passed over and exploded down the back side. When shooting tapered off, the Rebels started moving their massed troops across the meadow and up the hill. The Union artillery wheeled into position and tore into them with exploding rounds. Many of the Rebels were violently hit and killed. Some Rebels miraculously made it through and charged at them yelling with their bayonets. A colonel saw the danger and ordered the only unit still in relative shelter which were the First Minnesota Volunteers, to make a counter charge. Charley screamed as he was hit and then hit again, spun, and knocked down. He saw the red veil come down over his eyes and he knew that he was done and on the verge of death.

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“Some men slowed, satisfied that they’d won the fight, but Charley couldn’t stop running and soon found himself in front of the line. He would have been shocked to see himself. His lips were drawn back showing his teeth, and his face was contorted by a savage rage. He wanted to kill them. He wanted to catch them and run his bayonet through them and kill them. All of them. Stick and jab and shoot them and murder them and kill them all, each and every Rebel’s son of them. Not one would be able to get up. Not one. Kill them all. Before they could kill him. He was out of himself, beside himself, an animal, and it is difficult to say how far he would have gone; certainly he would have caught up with them and since he was nearly alone, and would have been alone when he did so, he would have been killed.”

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"He felt alone now. Always alone. He existed in the world that he believed—no, knew—would end for him soon. In the middle of the unit, drilling, eating, listening to the officers with men sitting packed all around him, he was alone."

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"More meat for the sick, Charley thought, and felt bad for having to kill the horses. He didn’t fret the men at all. They were going to kill him and he didn’t mind killing them first. But he hated shooting the horses."

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"In a great cloud that went down, somersaulting, rolling over the troopers on their backs, breaking themselves and the men; and the screams—the screams of the wounded horses hit by soft, large-caliber expanding bullets, horses with heads blown open, horses with jaws shot away, horses with eyes shot out or with intestines tangling in their hooves, horses torn and dying—screamed louder than a thousand, louder than a million men."

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"After that there was no order, no sense, no plan. Charley became a madman. He attacked anything and everything that came into his range—slashing, clubbing, hammering, jabbing, cutting—and always screaming, screaming in fear, in anger and finally in a kind of rabid, insane joy, the joy of battle, the joy of winning, the joy of killing to live."