Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1880-05-05

Men fall to the ground as they
step into pools of blood. Every
gun has its blood-stain--every
wheel is covered with crimson spots.
Men died before the guns-around
tbem-behind them. We cheer
hip ! hip! hui
Where am II The afternoon
sky is overhead-the roar OF the
battle in my ears-I am lying on
my back on the ground. What
does IL meant How came this'
Heavens What burning, bis
tering, gnawiug sensation in my
left leg above the knee! am
wounded, and ! am lying where l
first went down. The guns were
here. but they are gone now--part
of them captured-part of them
dragged away by hand. The tide
of battle has shifted. and over the
meadow the dogs of war are tear
ing at each others throats.
Is there any one else here =
Great God but the field is cover
ed with dead and wounded-with
men writing and groaning-with
pale-faced dead-with blood-stain-
ed dying! can touch the dead
on either side, and close behind me
a piteous voice calls out:
"Comrade, for the love of Hea-
ven give me a drink
1t was not enough that the mea-
dow was packed with wars vic
Tins. A battery changes position,
and shot and shell scream over our
heahs-shriek "murder!" as they
rush past-strike the dead and dy-
ing as the guns are depressed, and
throw masses of bloody pulp a
hundred feet ahead.
That pain again. Is the leg be-
ing roasted over a slow fire p
Scream and shrek and clutch the
grass and keep company with
thousands of others who are being
tortured to insensihility by pain or
driven to distraction by the still
continued carnage.
All! 1t is night. The falling
dew has brought more than one
poor soldier back to life and re-
newed suffering. The batteries are
silent. The muskets are resting
after their deadly work. There is
silence-no From woods and |
meadow and knoll and valley, from
almost every yard Of ground on
that long battlefront, rise groans
and cries and prayers and plead
ings. A general prides himself on
a strategic movements colonel
will be promoted for bravery
major is flattered by the cheers of
the living-a captain is proud that
his men stood like stone wall,
and the result is five thousand dead
and wounded and mangled men
fathers, brothers and sons.
This is glory. Scream and
shrek, but some one has won
fame. Pray and plead and rave
and curse. but the telegraph is
flashing the news of q glorious vic
tory over the country. The enemy
has not retired as yet, Int is get
ting ready to fall hack when the
night grows older.
Hark! Is seine one moving!
Yes, it is step. Is it some wound
ed man hohbling away under
cover of darkness? Nearer-near-
Grand some one looks into my
face. It is the ghoul of the bat
tie field-the byena who drags his
talons through blood and gaping
wounds to rob dying mems pockets.
"Go away am not dead |" l
shrek in his face as he bends
closer, and he leaps aside to growl
and curse and search the body of
one whose pale, up-turned face is
just catching the silver rays of the
new moon. hear more steps.
Ghoul meets ghoul and holds a
whispered conversation. and they
separate with hands full of plumb
err. Now comes a heavier step.
A troopers horse is dragging him
self across the field. a shattered
leg making him utter almost hui
man groans. He is more merciful
than the ghouls. He weaves and
turns to avoid the bodies in his
path-he even halts and puts his
nose against the faces Of the dead
M IL he would sneak IN fhem