The Louisiana Democrat. [volume] (Alexandria, La.) 1845-1918, 1876-04-12

y
still the woods on fire--still many
are not only scorched--too many M
able to move, are burned to death.
Then the camp of the wounded. O.
heavens, what scene is this! is this
indeed humanity--thesea butchers
shambles?
There are several Of them. There
they lie, in the largest, in an open
space in the woods, from 500 to 600
poor fellows-the groans and screams
the odor of blood, mixed with the
fresh scent ofthe night, the grass,
the trees-that s!aughtcrhouse-O,
well is it:their mothers, their sisters
can not see them-can not conceive
and never conceived these things
One man is shot by shell, both in
the arm and leg-both are amputated
there lie the rejected members,
Some have their legs blown Of
some bullets through the breast
some indescribably horrid wounds in
the face or head, all mutilated, sick
ening, torn gonged out-some in the
abdomen-dome mere boys-here is
one, his face as colorless as chalk,
lying perfectly still, a bullet has per-
forated the abdomen-life is ebbing
FAST; there is no help for him. In
the camp Of the wounded are many
rebels, badly hurt-they take their
regular turns with the rest, just the
same as any-the surgeons use them
| just the same. Such is a fragment,
a reflection afar off of the bloody
scene-while over all the. clear, large
moon comes out at times softly, qui-
city shining. Such, amid the woods,
that scene of fitting souls amid the
crack and crash Of yelling sounds
the impalpable perfume Of the woods
and yet the pungent, sitting
smoke shed with the radiance OF
the moon, the round, maternal queen,
looking from heaven at intervals 50
placid the sky SO heaYenly-the
clear obscure up there, those buoyant
upper oceans-a few large, placid
stars beyond, coming out and then
disappearing-the melancholy, dra-
period night above, around. And
there, upon the road, the fields, and
in those woods, that contest--neyer
one more desperate in. any. age OF
land-no fancy battle, no semi-dis-
play, but fierce and savage demons
fighting there<courage and scorn
ofdeath the rule exceptions almost
none. ef'
What history, again, / say, can
ever giye-for who can know--the
mad, determined tusslesof the armies
in all their separate large and little
squads-as this--each stepped from
crown to toe in desperate, mortal
purports? Who know The conflict
hand to hand-the many conflicts in
the dark, those shadowy-tangled
flashing moonbeamed woods--the
writhing groups and squads--hea1
through the woods the cries, the din,
the cracking guns and pistols the
distant cannon-the cheers and calls,
and the threats and awful music oi
lthe oaths--the indescribable mix
the officers orders, persuasions, en-.
jcouragements-the devils fully rous.
ed in human hearts--thet strong
words: charge, men, charged" The
flash Of the naked sword, and many
! a flame and smoke. And still the
broken, clear and clouded heavens
and still again the moonlight pour
ing silvery soft its radiant patches
over all2 Who paint the scene, the
sudden, partial panic Of the after,
noon, at dusk2 Who paint the ire
|pressible advance Of the second Di
vision of the Third Corps, under
Hooker himself, suddenly ordered W
i those rapid fling phantom'
4 through the woods?, Who ,shos
what moves there in, the shadows
fluid and firm--tos save land it dit
save) the army's name, perhaps tn
nation? And there the veteran
hold the field. brave Berry fall
) not yet-but Death has marked hin
soon he falls. 3
Z OF scenes like these, I say, VIII
t writes, who ever can write, the ste
> ry2 OF many a score, aye, thor
8 sands, North and South, of unwri
Heroes, unknown heroisms, incred
$ bic, impromptu, first class desper'
s. tons, who tells? No history eve
( No poem sings, no music sound
e those brayest men Of all-tho.
i deeds. No formal Generapg ret1or