St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1891-12-04
KILLING A MAN,
A Soldiers Graphic Picture eff
Real and Horrible War.

A Soldiers Graphic Picture eff
Real and Horrible War.
Detroit Free Press
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
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-
tenn of governments. You load and fire
load and fiTe-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 a near
sight or the enemy; you have simply
hired at him. and you cannot vOuch that
one single one of your bullets has found
a living target.
Here is a brigade of US i'm battle lins
across an old meadow; our right and
left join other brgades. We have
thrown down the rail fence. gathered
logs and brush and SOds, and erected a
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 execu-
ton, but there should be dozen guns
behind US 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 fired by a sol
der with his eyes shut. must hit foe.
L select my man while he is yet beyond
range. l have eyes for no other. He is
tall, soldierly fellow wearing the
stripes of sergeant. As he comes
nearer l imagine that he is looking as
tixedly at me as am at him. | admire
his GOODNESS. He looks neither to the
right nor to the left. The man on his
right is hit and goes down, but he does
not falter.
l am going to kill that mani 1 have
a rest for my gun on the breastwOrk.
land when. the order comes TO fire L can
2 not miss him. He is living his last min
ute 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 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 com
ing In few seconds more, and l aim
at his chest. [ could almost be
sure of hitting him with a stone
when we get the word to fire. There is
a5billow OF tiame-a billOw of smoke-a
fierce crash, and 1900 bullets are fired
intD that compact mass of advancing
men. Not one volley alone, though that
worked horrible obstruction, but another
and another, until there was no longer a
living man to fire at.
~ The smoke drifts slowly away-men
cheer and yell-we can see the meadow
before US heaped with dead and dying
men. We advance our line. As we
go forward 1 look for my victim.
He is lying on his back. eyes
half shut and fingers clutching
at the grass. He gasps, draws up his
legs ana straightens them out again, and
is dead as pass on. / have killed my
mani My bullet alone struck him, tear
ing that CHASTITY wound in his breast,
and | am entitled to all the honor. Do
swing my cap and cheer? Do point
him out and expect to be congratulated?
MOI L have no cheers. l feel no ella
ton. [ feel that | murdered him, war
or no war, and that his agoniZed face
will haunt me through all the years of
my life