The Boy and the Bayonet by Paul Laurence Dunbar
It was June, and nearing the closing time of school. The air was
full of the sound of bustle and preparation for the final exercises,
field day, and drills. Drills especially, for nothing so gladdens the
heart of the Washington mother, be she black or white, as seeing her
boy in the blue cadet's uniform, marching proudly to the huzzas of an
admiring crowd. Then she forgets the many nights when he has come in
tired out and dusty from his practice drill, and feels only the pride
and elation of the result.
Although Tom did all he could outside of study hours, there were
many days of hard work for Hannah Davis, when her son went into the
High School. But she took it upon herself gladly, since it gave Bud the
chance to learn, that she wanted him to have. When, however, he entered
the Cadet Corps it seemed to her as if the first steps toward the
fulfilment of all her hopes had been made. It was a hard pull to her,
getting the uniform, but Bud himself helped manfully, and when his
mother saw him rigged out in all his regimentals, she felt that she had
not toiled in vain. And in fact it was worth all the trouble and
expense just to see the joy and pride of little sister, who adored
As the time for the competitive drill drew near there was an air of
suppressed excitement about the little house on D Street, where the
three lived. All day long little sister, who was never very well and
did not go to school, sat and looked out of the window on the
uninteresting prospect of a dusty thoroughfare lined on either side
with dull red brick houses, all of the same ugly pattern, interspersed
with older, uglier, and viler frame shanties. In the evening Hannah
hurried home to get supper against the time when Bud should return,
hungry and tired from his drilling, and the chore work which followed
hard upon its heels.
Things were all cheerful, however, for as they applied themselves to
the supper, the boy, with glowing face, would tell just how his company
A was getting on, and what they were going to do to companies B and
C. It was not boasting so much as the expression of a confidence,
founded upon the hard work he was doing, and Hannah and the little
sister shared that with him.
The child often, listening to her brother, would clap her hands or
cry, Oh, Bud, you're just splendid an' I know you'll beat 'em.
If hard work'll beat 'em, we've got 'em beat, Bud would reply, and
Hannah, to add an admonitory check to her own confidence, would break
in with, Now, don't you be too sho', son; dey ain't been no man so
good dat dey wasn't somebody bettah. But all the while her face and
manner were disputing what her words expressed.
The great day came, and it was a wonderful crowd of people that
packed the great baseball grounds to overflowing. It seemed that all of
Washington's coloured population was out, when there were really only
about one-tenth of them there. It was an enthusiastic, banner-waving,
shouting, hallooing crowd. Its component parts were strictly and
frankly partisan, and so separated themselves into sections
differentiated by the colours of the flags they carried and the ribbons
they wore. Side yelled defiance at side, and party bantered party. Here
the blue and white of Company A flaunted audaciously on the breeze
beside the very seats over which the crimson and gray of B were
flying, and these in their turn nodded defiance over the imaginary
barrier between themselves and C's black and yellow.
The band was thundering out Sousa's High School Cadet's March, the
school officials, the judges, and reporters, and some with less purpose
were bustling about, discussing and conferring. Altogether doing
nothing much with beautiful unanimity. All was noise, hurry, gaiety,
and turbulence. In the midst of it all, with blue and white rosettes
pinned on their breasts, sat two spectators, tense and silent, while
the breakers of movement and sound struck and broke around them. It
meant too much to Hannah and little sister for them to laugh and
shout. Bud was with Company A, and so the whole programme was more
like a religious ceremonial to them. The blare of the brass to them
might have been the trumpet call to battle in old Judea, and the
far-thrown tones of the megaphone the voice of a prophet proclaiming
from the hill-top.
Hannah's face glowed with expectation, and little sister sat very
still and held her mother's hand save when amid a burst of cheers
Company A swept into the parade ground at a quick step, then she
sprang up, crying shrilly, There's Bud, there's Bud, I see him, and
then settled back into her seat overcome with embarrassment. The
mother's eyes danced as soon as the sister's had singled out their dear
one from the midst of the blue-coated boys, and it was an effort for
her to keep from following her little daughter's example even to
echoing her words.
Company A came swinging down the field toward the judges in a
manner that called for more enthusiastic huzzas that carried even the
Freshman of other commands off their feet. They were, indeed, a set
of fine-looking young fellows, brisk, straight, and soldierly in
bearing. Their captain was proud of them, and his very step showed it.
He was like a skilled operator pressing the key of some great
mechanism, and at his command they moved like clockwork. Seen from the
side it was as if they were all bound together by inflexible iron bars,
and as the end man moved all must move with him. The crowd was full of
exclamations of praise and admiration, but a tense quiet enveloped them
as Company A came from columns of four into line for volley firing.
This was a real test; it meant not only grace and precision of
movement, singleness of attention and steadiness, but quickness
tempered by self-control. At the command the volley rang forth like a
single shot. This was again the signal for wild cheering and the blue
and white streamers kissed the sunlight with swift impulsive kisses.
Hannah and Little Sister drew closer together and pressed hands.
The A adherents, however, were considerably cooled when the next
volley came out, badly scattering, with one shot entirely apart and
before the rest. Bud's mother did not entirely understand the sudden
quieting of the adherents; they felt vaguely that all was not as it
should be, and the chill of fear laid hold upon their hearts. What if
Bud's company, (it was always Bud's company to them), what if his
company should lose. But, of course, that couldn't be. Bud himself had
said that they would win. Suppose, though, they didn't; and with these
thoughts they were miserable until the cheering again told them that
the company had redeemed itself.
Someone behind Hannah said, They are doing splendidly, they'll win,
they'll win yet in spite of the second volley.
Company A, in columns of fours, had executed the right oblique in
double time, and halted amid cheers; then formed left halt into line
without halting. The next movement was one looked forward to with much
anxiety on account of its difficulty. The order was marching by fours
to fix or unfix bayonets. They were going at a quick step, but the
boys' hands were steadyhope was bright in their hearts. They were
doing it rapidly and freely, when suddenly from the ranks there was the
bright gleam of steel lower down than it should have been. A gasp broke
from the breasts of Company A's friends. The blue and white drooped
disconsolately, while a few heartless ones who wore other colours
attempted to hiss. Someone had dropped his bayonet. But with muscles
unquivering, without a turned head, the company moved on as if nothing
had happened, while one of the judges, an army officer, stepped into
the wake of the boys and picked up the fallen steel.
No two eyes had seen half so quickly as Hannah and Little Sister's
who the blunderer was. In the whole drill there had been but one figure
for them, and that was Bud, Bud, and it was he who had dropped his
bayonet. Anxious, nervous with the desire to please them, perhaps with
a shade too much of thought of them looking on with their hearts in
their eyes, he had fumbled, and lost all that he was striving for. His
head went round and round and all seemed black before him.
He executed the movements in a dazed way. The applause, generous and
sympathetic, as his company left the parade ground, came to him from
afar off, and like a wounded animal he crept away from his comrades,
not because their reproaches stung him, for he did not hear them, but
because he wanted to think what his mother and Little Sister would
say, but his misery was as nothing to that of the two who sat up there
amid the ranks of the blue and white holding each other's hands with a
despairing grip. To Bud all of the rest of the contest was a horrid
nightmare; he hardly knew when the three companies were marched back to
receive the judges' decision. The applause that greeted Company B
when the blue ribbons were pinned on the members' coats meant nothing
to his ears. He had disgraced himself and his company. What would his
mother and his Little Sister say?
To Hannah and Little Sister, as to Bud, all of the remainder of
the drill was a misery. The one interest they had had in it failed, and
not even the dropping of his gun by one of Company E when on the
march, halting in line, could raise their spirits. The little girl
tried to be brave, but when it was all over she was glad to hurry out
before the crowd got started and to hasten away home. Once there and
her tears flowed freely; she hid her face in her mother's dress, and
sobbed as if her heart would break.
Don't cry, Baby! don't cry, Lammie, dis ain't da las' time da wah
goin' to be a drill. Bud'll have a chance anotha time and den he'll
show 'em somethin'; bless you, I spec' he'll be a captain. But this
consolation of philosophy was nothing to Little Sister. It was so
terrible to her, this failure of Bud's. She couldn't blame him, she
couldn't blame anyone else, and she had not yet learned to lay all such
unfathomed catastrophes at the door of fate. What to her was the
thought of another day; what did it matter to her whether he was a
captain or a private? She didn't even know the meaning of the words,
but Little Sister, from the time she knew Bud was a private, knew
that that was much better than being captain or any of those other
things with a long name, so that settled it.
Her mother finally set about getting the supper, while Little
Sister drooped disconsolately in her own little splint-bottomed chair.
She sat there weeping silently until she heard the sound of Bud's step,
then she sprang up and ran away to hide. She didn't dare to face him
with tears in her eyes. Bud came in without a word and sat down in the
dark front room.
Dat you, Bud? asked his mother.
Bettah come now, supper's puty 'nigh ready.
I don' want no supper.
You bettah come on, Bud, I reckon you mighty tired.
He did not reply, but just then a pair of thin arms were put around
his neck and a soft cheek was placed close to his own.
Come on, Buddie, whispered Little Sister, Mammy an' me know you
didn't mean to do it, an' we don' keer.
Bud threw his arms around his little sister and held her tightly.
It's only you an' ma I care about, he said, though I am sorry I
spoiled the company's drill; they say B would have won anyway on
account of our bad firing, but I did want you and ma to be proud.
We is proud, she whispered, we's mos' prouder dan if you'd won,
and pretty soon she led him by the hand out to supper.
Hannah did all she could to cheer the boy and to encourage him to
hope for next year, but he had little to say in reply, and went to bed
In the morning, though it neared school time, Bud lingered around
and seemed in no disposition to get ready to go.
Bettah git ready fer school, said Hannah cheerily to him.
I don't believe I want to go any more, Bud replied.
Not go any more? Why ain't you shamed to talk that way! O' cose you
a goin' to school.
I'm ashamed to show my face to the boys.
What you say about de boys? De boys ain't a-goin' to give you no
edgication when you need it.
Oh, I don't want to go, ma; you don't know how I feel.
I'm kinder sorry I let you go into dat company, said Hannah
musingly; 'cause it was de teachin' I wanted you to git, not de
prancin' and steppin'; but I did t'ink it would make mo' of a man of
you, an' it ain't. Yo' pappy was a po' man, ha'd wo'kin', an' he wasn't
high-toned neither, but from the time I first see him to the day of his
death I nevah seen him back down because he was afeared of anything,
and Hannah turned to her work.
Little Sister went up to Bud and slipped her hand in his. You
ain't a-goin' to back down, is you, Buddie? she said.
No, said Bud stoutly, as he braced his shoulders, I'm a-goin'.
But no persuasion could make him wear his uniform.
The boys were a little cold to him, and some were brutal. But most
of them recognised the fact that what had happened to Tom Harris might
have happened to any one of them. Besides, since the percentage had
been shown, it was found that B had outpointed them in many ways, and
so their loss was not due to the one grave error. Bud's heart sank when
he dropped into his seat in the Assembly Hall to find seated on the
platform one of the blue-coated officers who had acted as judge the day
before. After the opening exercises were over he was called upon to
address the school. He spoke readily and pleasantly, laying especial
stress upon the value of discipline; toward the end of his address he
said: I suppose Company 'A' is heaping accusations upon the head of
the young man who dropped his bayonet yesterday. Tom could have died.
It was most regrettable, the officer continued, but to me the most
significant thing at the drill was the conduct of that cadet afterward.
I saw the whole proceeding; I saw that he did not pause for an instant,
that he did not even turn his head, and it appeared to me as one of the
finest bits of self-control I had ever seen in any youth; had he
forgotten himself for a moment and stopped, however quickly, to secure
the weapon, the next line would have been interfered with and your
whole movement thrown into confusion. There were a half hundred eyes
glancing furtively at Bud, and the light began to dawn in his face.
This boy has shown what discipline means, and I for one want to shake
hands with him, if he is here.
When he had concluded the Principal called Bud forward, and the
boys, even his detractors, cheered as the officer took his hand.
Why are you not in uniform, sir? he asked.
I was ashamed to wear it after yesterday, was the reply.
Don't be ashamed to wear your uniform, the officer said to him,
and Bud could have fallen on his knees and thanked him.
There were no more jeers from his comrades now, and when he related
it all at home that evening there were two more happy hearts in that
South Washington cottage.
I told you we was more prouder dan if you'd won, said Little
An' what did I tell you 'bout backin' out? asked his mother.
Bud was too happy and too busy to answer; he was brushing his