The Press., 1888-11-29
WAR WITH BIG GUNS.

Did you ever see battery take position {? It hasn't the thrill of cavalry charge, nor the grimness of line If bHyone's nov. ing slowly and determinedlv oii. but there. is peculiar exc tement abont ir that makes old veterans rise in Lht 1T saddles aud Cheer. We have been fighting at the edge of the woods. Every cartridge box has beeu | emptied once or more, and one-fQurth of the brigade has melted away in dead, l wounded and mis .ing. Not cheer is heard ill the whole brigade. We know that We are being driven foot by foot, and that when we break onc4 more the line will go to pic ces and the enemy will pour through the gap,
 Here comes help
 Down the crowded highway gallops a battery withdrawn from some other posi- tion to save ours. The field fence is scat tered while you could count thirty, and the guns rush for the hills behind us. Over dry ditches where farmer could not drive d wagon, through cumps of bushes, over logs foot thick, every horse ou the gal lop, every rider flashing his team and yell ing, the sight b. hind us making us forget the foe Ill front. The guns jump two 1t ct high as the heavy wheels strike rock or | log, but not a horse slackens his pace, not cannoneer loses his scat. Six guns, six caissons, sixty horses, eighty men, race for the brow of the hull as if he who should reach 1t first would be kuighted. A moment ago the battery was chn- tus, m, b. We look again and the six guns are in position, the detached horses hutryiug away, the ammunition chests l pen, and along our line runs the con- mand
 "Give tn m one more vol2ey aud fail | back to support the guns" We have scurc,ly obeyrd when bnom boom opens the battery, and it's of fire jump down aud scorch the green trees under which we fought and despairtd.
 The shattered. old brigade has chance to breathe for the first time ill three hours, as we form a line aud lie down. What grim, cool fellows these cannoneers are. Every m n Is pelfect machine. Bullets splash dust in tt.er faces, but they do no' win, @. Bullets sing over and around they do not dodge. There goes one to the earth, shot through the head as he sponged his gun. Flat machinery loses ju~t one beat, misses just ODe Cog ill the wheels aud then works away aga!n as before.
 Every gun is using short fuse shell The grouId shakes and trembIes, the roar shuts out all sounds from llne three miles l, ng, and the shells go shrieking into the swamp f. cut>trees short of, to mow great gaps lu the bushes, hunt out and shafter and man. gle men until their corpses cannot be rec lognized as human. You would think a tornado was bowling through the forests, followed by pillows of fire. and yet meu live through it-aye pr. ss forward to c,p- ture the battery. We eau he their shouts as they form to rush.
 Now the shells are changed for grape and canister, and guns are fired so fast all reports blend into oue mighty roar. The shriek of shell is the wickedest sound in war, but nothing makes the flesh crawl like the demoniacal singing, purring, whist ling grape shot aud the seFi)ant-ike hlss of canister.
 Mems legs aud heads are torn from bodlts aud bodies cut in two. A round shot or shell takes two men out of the rank as it crashes through. Grape and canister nov a swath and pile the dead on top of each other.
 Through. the smoke we see swarm of men. It is not battle line, but mob of men desperate enough to bathe their bayo- nets Ill he flame of the guns. The guns leap from the ground almost, as they are deprt ssed on the foe, and shrieks and shouts blend into one awful steady cry. Twenty men out of the battery are down, and the firing is interrupted. The foe ac- cept it as sign of wavering, and come ru, hing on. They are not ten feet away when the guns give them the last shot. That discharge picks living men oil their feet aEd throws them into the swamp, & blackened, bloody mass.
 Up, now, US the enemy are among tie guns. There is silence of ten seconds, and then the flash and the roar of more than 5000 muskets and rush forward with bayonets. For what? Neither on the right nor left nor in front of us IS living foe There are corrses around us which have been struck by threr, four and even six bullets, and nowhere on this acre of ground is a wounded man. The wheels of the gnns cannot move until ,he blockade of dead i4 removed. Men cannot pass from casson to gun without climbing over win rows of dead Every gun and wheel is smeared with blood every foot of grass has its horrible stain.
 Historians write of the glory of war. Burial parties saw murder where historians saw glory.