The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1891-12-05
KILLING A MAN.
A Soldiers Graphic Picture of Real ant
Horrible War.


Horrible War.
They do not call it murder when men
meet TO slaughter each other in battle. They
simply report so many dead, wounded and
missing. When you fire into the smoke con-
cealing the other battle-line you fire in the
hopes to Kill or wound. 1t is your duty.
Battles cannot be won without killing, and
the result OF battles changes the whole sys-
TEN of governments. You load and fire
load and tre-move to the right or left-ad-
vance or retreat, and wlcn tue battle is over
you may have fired fifty rounds and yet you
have not had a near sight of the enemy you
have simply fired at him. and you cannot
vouch that one single one of your bullets
has found living target.
Here is brigade of US in battle line
across an old meadow; our right and left
join other briGades. We have thrown down
the rail fence, gathered logs and brush and
sods, and erected breaSt-work. 1t is only
slight one, but enough to shelter us while
lying down. A division of the enemy breaks
cover half mile away, and comes march
ing down upon us. The field-pieces behind
us open on their solid column, but they are
not checked. Under the smoke we can sea
the work of the shells. but they cannot
halt that mass of men. The grape and
canister do awful execution, but there
should be dozen guns behind us Instead
of six.
cannot prevent that. Orders run along the
line, and we are waiting until every bullet
DO matter if fired by soldier with his eyes
shut, must hit Zoe. / select my man while
he is yet beyond range. | have eyes for no
other. He is a tall, soldierly fellow, wear
ing the stripes OF Sergeant. AS he comes
nearer | Imagine that he is looking as fixed
ly at me as l am at him. | admire his cool
ness. He looks neither TO the right nor to
the left. The man on his right is hit and
do lint ha do mt f..It
l am going to kill that man. | have rest
for my gun on the breastworls, and when
the order comes to ire | cannot miss him.
He Is living his last minute on earth. We
are calmly waiting until our yolley shall
prove veritable flame of death. Now they
close up the gaps and we can hear the
shouts of their officers as they make ready
TO charge. My man is still opposite me. He
still seems to be looking at me and no one
else. | know the word is coming in few
seconds more, and l aim at his chest.
could almost be sure of hitting him with q
stone when we get the word to fire. There
is billow of fame-a billow of smoke-a
fierce crash, and 1000 bullets are fired into
that compact mass of advancing men. Not
one v0lley alone, though that worked horri-
BILE destruction, but another and another,
until there was no longer living man TO
fire AT.
The smoke drifts slowly away-men cheer
and yell-we can see the meadow before us
neaped with the dead and dying men. We
advance our line. AS we go forward / look
for my victim. He is lying on his back,
eyes half shut and fingers clutching at the
grass. lie grasps, draws uD his legs and
Strengthens them out again, and is dead
as ] pass on. l have killed my man! Ny
bullet alone struck him, tearing that CHASTITY
wound in his breast. and am entitled to all
the honor. Do | swing my cap and chees ?
Do point him out and expect 10 be con-
graduated? No have no cheers. | feel
no eation. [ feei that / have murdered
him, war or no war, and that his agonized
face will haunt me through all the years of
my lfe.-Detroit Free Press.