October 6, 1776
My dear Friends,
... We are on our guard and our men
seem
resolutely bent to give them a warm
reception
at the meeting ... There were
three
ships and a tender lying opposite the
enemy's
camp about a mile below our lowest
lines;
within these days two more and
a
tender have joined them. What or when
they
intend an attack is uncertain. I hope
we
shall be ever ready to receive their
attacks
as men fighting for Liberty should do
...
... We had
between 50 and 100 killed
and
wounded; the enemy about 300 ...
On
one side of the field of battle is a steep
rocky
precipice, where we imagine they
threw
many of their dead as the buzzards
and
ravens resort [to] that place constantly.
... I began to think that mankind when
engaged
in warfare are as wary and
timorous
of each other as deer are of men,
and
the boldness of one party increases
as
they find the other fearful.
John Chilton
died September 11, 1777
Source: Virginia
Historical Society
April 9, 1862
My Dear Mother,
... On the last day of the fine weather the
Federals
having put their batteries in order
commenced
the ball, at some point with
artillery,
at others with musket and bayonet,
and
our army gave them back as good
as
they sent and better, we have better
artillerists
than the Yankees, and guns
equally
as good. They were repulsed by our
infantry
and their batteries silenced by ours,
but
it was a long twenty four hours to us ...
The shell that they threw at us ... is an iron
case
containing upwards of a hundred ounce
lead
balls and inside powder. I saw one go
through
a large pine tree two feet thick and
burst
on the opposite side without appearing
to
have met with any resistance than
if
the tree had been a pillar of smoke ...
... War looks a great deal better in the
newspapers,
than anywhere else ...
Robert Henry Miller
died August 29, 1862
Source: Virginia
Historical Society
June 18, 1918
Dear Mother:
Even the trenches can be beautiful when
they are
trimmed with flowers, and the barbed wire forms a
trellis for rambling vines and shelter for innumerable
thrushes and other songsters-one explanation, no
doubt, of why the cats have a penchant for
No-Man's-Land. The birds warble all the time, even
when there is considerable activity, and it seems to
me that their voices never sounded so sweet before. A
number of them inhabit six small trees, two birch
trees and four wild cherry, which rise on the central
island (entirely surrounded by trenches) of my strong
point, or groupe de combat as the French call it. At
the base of one of the birches is a flourishing wild
rose bush, literally covered with blossoms, some of
which I sneaked up and picked-keeping not only head
but also the rest of me carefully DOWN during the
process...Here are some of them for you, and also some
daisies and yellow asters from the edge of one of my
trenches.
Quincy Sharpe Mills
died July 26, 1918
Source: One Who Gave His Life, 1992, by James Luby
October 20, 1944
It is 0200 and I have been lying
awake
for one hour, listening to the
steady,
even breathing of the other three
nurses
... The wind is on a mad rampage
and its
main objective seems to be to
lift
the tent ...
The
fire is burning low and just a
few live
coals are on the bottom. With
the slow
feeding of wood, and finally coal,
a
roaring fire is started. I couldn't help
thinking
how similar to a human being a
fire
is: if it is allowed to run down too
low,
it can be nursed back. So can a human
being.
It is slow; it is gradual; it is done
all
the time in these field hospitals ...
... They are brought in bloody, dirty
with
earth, mud, and grime, and most
of them
so tired. Somebody's brothers,
somebody's
fathers, and somebody's sons ...
Frances Y. Slanger
died October 21, 1944
Source: Stars and
Stripes, 1944
October 17, 1951
... They seem short on artillery, mortars,
have
no planes to speak of. Our planes work
over
their positions with bombs, machine
guns,
rockets, and napalm (jellied gasoline),
and
when winter sets in, they will be cold,
hungry,
and stalked. The only thing they have
is
numbers, and there must be some end even to
that.
So I'm hopeful that they might quit
before
too long. Pray that they do. This whole
thing,
as are all wars, is complete lunacy,
proving
nothing, and accomplishing nothing.
Oh,
sure, it has to be done now and here: kill
or
be killed, and communism must be held in
check.
Maybe there is no other way to settle it
right
now, but international courts aren't
impossible.
Men must work out something
along that
line. Living from generation to
generation
of wars seems like mankind
admitting it
doesn't know how to be civilized.
There
must be a way.
Samuel Lloyd Jones
died October 20, 1951
Source: Deborah
Cheadle
January 17, 1968
My darling wife--
As this day draws to a close, I can only
think of you. Possibly I'm just emerging from
the R&R haze in which I've been enveloped for
these past weeks. Until now the detail of our
meeting was all so clear: I could still hear your
voice, feel your warmth. Now the harsh reality
of your absence is upon me; I know all too well
this feeling: I lived with it for many months
prior to December. My only hope is that I can
survive this attack of my imagination upon my
sanity.
When we meet again I can promise you that
there will be no wasted moments. Every minute
spent with you will be nothing less than a gift
to be cherished. I have found that it isn't
necessary to always be doing: talking, eating,
walking, dancing, swimming. There are many
times when I want only to know your presence:
to hear you moving around, to see you next
to me. There are many ways of loving--perhaps
the simplest are the most satisfying.
Bertram Arnold Bunting
died February 12, 1968
Source: Jean H. Bunting
