The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1891-12-17
Killing a Nan.

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 concealing the other bat
tie line you fire in the hopes to kill or
wound. 1t is your duty. Battles cannot
be won without killing. You load and
fre-load and fre-move to the right or
left-advance or retreat, and when the
battle is over you may have fired fifty
rounds and yet you have not had near
sight of the enemy; you have simply
fred at him and you cannot vouch that a
single one of your bullets has found a
living target.
Here is a brigade of us in battle lins
across an old meadow; our right and left
join other brigades. We have thrown
down the rail fence, gathered logs and
brush and sod, and erected breastwork.
1t is only slight one, but enough to
shelter us while lying down. A division
of the enemy breaks cover half a mile
away and comes marching down upon US.
The field pieces behind us open on their
solid columns, but they are not checked.
Under the smoke we can see the work of
the shells, but they cannot halt that mass
of men. The grape and canister does
awful execution, but there should be q
dozen guns instead of six.
They are going to charge us. The guns
cannot prevent that. Orders run along
the line, and we are waiting until every
bullet, no matter if fred by soldier
with his eyes shut, must hit foe. I Sc
lect my man while he is yet beyond range.
I have eyes for no other. He is tall,
soldierly fellow wearing the stripes of a
sergeant. As he comes nearer imagine
that he is looking as fxedly at me as I
am at him. I admire bis GOODNESS. He
looks neither to the right nor to the left
The man on his right is hit and goes
dow.o, but be does not falter.
Tau going to kill that man 1 have 8
rest for my gun on the breastwork, and
when the order comes to fire l cannot
miss him. he is living his last minute
on earth! We are calmly waiting until
our volley shall prove veritable flame
of death. Now they close up the gaps
and we can hear the shouts Of their off
GERS as they make ready to charge. My
man is still opposite me. He still seem;
to be looking at me and no one else.
know the word is coming in a few sec
onds more, and I aim at his chest.
could almost be sure of hitting him with
stone when we get the word to fire
There is billow of fame-a billow O.
smoke-a fierce crash, and 1000 bullets
are fred into that compact mass of ad
vancing men. Not one volley alone
though that worked horrible destruction
but another and another, until there wa:
no longer living man to fire at.
The smoke drifts slowly away-mer
cheer and yell-we can see the meadow
beyond heaped with dead and dying men
We advance our line. As we 90 forward
I look for my victim. He is lying on hi
back, eyes half ahut and fingers clutchins
at the grass. lie gasps, draws up hi
legs and straighteus them out again, aue
is dead as I pass on. have killed my
man | My bullet alone struck him, tear
ing that CHASTITY wound in his breast, ant
1 am entitled to all the honor. Do
swing my cap and cheer? Do l poin
him out and expect to be- congratulated
No! | have no cheers. l feel no elation
I feel that I murdered him, war or NJ
war, and that his agonized face viii
haunt me through all the years of m,
life.-Detroit Free Press.