ade to strike a picket pit with the sharp end. As they would send such
an unusual missile whizzing through the air, they would laugh and
chuckle over the anticipated consternation it would cause. One result
often prophesied was that they would "string" a goodly number of the
enemy on the ramrod. Whether such direful results were ever produced, we
had no means of knowing.

Colonel Carle, of the One Hundred and Ninety-first, then in command of
the brigade, had his headquarters in the woods about a hundred yards in
the rear of the line. Here we were exposed to shells and stray
rifle-balls, which occasionally reached us. The only damage inflicted
was the loss of a quart of coffee, which was overturned by a fragment of
shell striking in our fire while we were preparing dinner. About the
same time one man was wounded at division headquarters, a few rods to
our right.

It is remarkable how indifferent men become to danger under such
circumstances. While myself and another soldier were engaged in washing
some clothes one day, at a little stream to the right of this place, a
bullet passed within a foot of our heads. The only effect was to turn
our conversation to the subject of the range of rifles. It would
naturally be supposed that, under such constant danger of death or
wounds, men would be in continual dread of what _might_ happen. As a
rule, it is quite otherwise. Feelings of dread and uneasiness gradually
give way to a sense of comparative security.

Coming under fire for the first time, a man usually feels as if he were
about as large as a good-sized barn, and consequently very likely to
take in all the balls, shells, grape, and canister, and such odds and
ends, coming in his direction. After a while he begins to realize that
he is not so large, after all, and frequent and continued experience
confirms him in the view. That which unnerves the recruit is not alone
the fear of injury or death to himself, but also the very nature of the
terrible tragedy about to be enacted. He takes his place in line of
battle as they are forming for a charge, knowing that hundreds of men
who now stand with him there in the full flush of life and health and
the hopefulness of vigorous manhood, in one hour will lie dead in their
blood, or be racked with the agony of shattered limbs or torn flesh.
What man of ordinary humanity can be unmoved by such surroundings? No
man should regard war otherwise than with the utmost horror, nor
sanction i