The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1896-06-04
This Is War.

We had been fighting in the edge
of the woods. Every cartrIdge-box
had been emptied and one-fourth
of the brigade had melted away
in dead, wounded and missing.
We knew that we were being driven
foot by foot, land that when we broke
once the line would go to pieces and
the enemy pour through the gap.
Here comes help. Down the crowd
ed highway gallops a battery.
The field fence is scattered, the am
munition chests open, and along
our lines runs the order, "Give them
one more volley and fall back to
support the guns" We have hardly
cbeyed when boom! boom! opens the
battery and jets of fire jump down
and scorch the green trees under
which we fought. The shattered
old brigade has time to breath for
the first time in three hours as we
form a line and lie down. What
grim cool fellows those cannoneers
are. Every man is a machine.
Bullets splash dust in their faces
but they do not vince. Bullets
sing over and around but they do
not dodge. There goes one to the
ground shot though the head as he
sponged his gun. That machinery
loses just one beat, misses just one
cog in the wheel and then goes on
as before. Every gun il using fuse
shells. The ground shakes and
trembles, the roar shuts out all
sounds from a line three miles long
and shells go shrieking into the
swamp to cut trees short off, to
NOW great gaps in the bushes, to
hunt out and shatter and mangle
men until their corpses cannot be
recognized as human. You would
think a tornado was bowling
through the forest, followed by
pillows Of fire, and vet men live
through it-aye, press forward to cap,
ture the battery. We can hear their
shouts as they form for the rush.
Now the shells are changed fol-
grape and canister, and guns are
fred so fast that all blend into one
mighty roar. The shrek of a shell
is the wickedest sound in war; but
nothing makes the flesh crawl like
the demoniacal singing, purring,
whistling grapeshot, and the serpent
like hiss of canister. Mems legs
and heads are torn from their bodies.
A round shot or shell takes two
men out of the ranks as 1t
brushes through. Grape and canister
NOW a swath and pile the dead or
top of each other. Through the
smoke we see a swarm Of men. II
is not battle line, but a mob Of
men desperate enough to battle the
baYonets in the flame Of the guns
The guns leap from the gounC
almost, as they are depressed or
the foe, and shrieks and screams
and shouts are blended into ont
awful and steady cry. Twenty
men out of the battery are down
and the firing is interrupted. The
foe accept it as sign Of waverlng
and come rushing on. They are
not ten feet away when the gun;
give them q last shot; that discharge
picks living men up off their fee
and throws them into the swamp
a blackened, bloody mass. Up
now, as the enemy are among
the guns! There is silence fol
ten seconds, and then the fast
and roar of 5000 muskets anC
we rush forward with bayonets
For what? Neither on the right
nor left nor in front of us a living
foe There are corpes around III
which have been struck by three OF
four and even six bullets and NJ
where on this acre Of ground is {
wounded man. The wheels of thu
guns cannot move until that block
ade of dead is removed. Men can
not pass from caisson to gun with
out elm bing over winrows of dead
Every gun and wheel is smearet
with blood; every foot of grass has
its horrible stain. Historians write
of the glory of war.-Our Dumb
Animals