The Marietta journal. [volume] (Marietta, Ga.) 1866-1909, 1897-07-29
IN THE MOONLIGHT.
Sergeant Jack Had Lost All That Made
Life Dear to Him.

Life Dear to Kim.
One day it was whispered in our
camp before Petersburg that Ser
geant Jacks wife had died. Sergeant
Jack was reserved and rather mo-
rose, and none of us knew whether
he had wife or not until the ru-
NOR came. The sergeant's demean-
or told us that the story was true.
The soldiers mental suffering
was plain to all who looked into his
face. He had loved her we'll, and
the blow had come too suddenly.
In weeks time he grew so old and
haggard that one could hardly iden-
tify him as the same man. Some of
the men whisperingly declared that
he would do some desperate thing,
others that he would bear it like
man and get the best of it after
awhile. We loved Sergeant Jack,
every man of us in B company,
and he had the sympathy of all his
comrades.
Things were thus when it came
our turn one night to 60 into the
rife pits on the line nearest the
Confederates. We had to march
down from camp by covered ways
and crawl into the pits like so many
serpents. Death was there waiting
for any man who but showed his
head above pit Not finger could
be held up without dozen bullets
being fired at it. On this night it
was bright moonlight-so bright
that one could see every leaf and
blade of grass and every insect NOV
ing about. The great guns were
silent after hot days work, but
there was spiteful and murderous
fire of musketry along the rife pits.
The bullets whizzed above our
heads in a vengeful way, and the
officers kept crying, "Look out, men
keep DOWN. as we neared the
pits. Men dropped off here and
there till only six of us were left,
and Sergeant Jack had charge of
placing us. The men in the pits
had to come out first, and as soon
as they got the signal they began
the movement. We were watching
them as they wormed themselves
along the ground when Sergeant
Jack suddenly uttered a groan. 1t
was not a groan of pain, but of
anguish-such a sound .as a strong
man might make when he felt his
heart breaking over his grief. All
of us turned to look at him, and as
we did SO he stepped out from un-
der shelter into the open and the
moonlight and was face to face with
DEATH
Down, sergeant-come back
look out - we shouted at him, but
he drew himself up and walked
straight toward the Confederate
lines. His appearance amazed the
sharpshooters for half a minute.
So bright was the moonlight that
they could look right into his eyes.
1t was not the act of o brave
man. None of them would put ii
down to bravado. He was not de-
serter seeking admission to their
lines. We shouted to them not to
shoot-that our sergeant had lost
his mind--and those directly in
front heard us and withheld their
fire. Those on the TANKS, however,
could not catch our words, and,
probably believing that some hos,
tile movement was contemplated, a
score of muskets blazed away at
the target in the moonlight. We
saw Sergeant Jack halt, totter,
throw up his hands and sink down,
and we knew that he was dead
had courted death because there
was nothing more in life for him.
We crept out and rescued his body
for a soldiers burial. More than a
dozen bullets had struck him, and on
his face was look of relief-a look
which came there in his dying mo-
ment as he realized that death would
end all.-Detroit Free Press.