A Battery Of Field Artillery Is Worth

I Begin To Regard The Death And Mangling Of A Couple Thousand Men As A Small Affair, A Kind Of Morning Dash-and It May Be Well That We Become So Hardened.

I Hate Newspapermen. They Come Into Camp And Pick Up Their Camp Rumors And Print Them As Facts. I Regard Them As Spies, Which, In Truth, They Are.

If I Had My Choice I Would Kill Every Reporter In The World, But I Am Sure We Would Be Getting Reports From Hell Before Breakfast.

Though I Never Ordered It, And Never Wished For It, I Have Never Shed Any Tears Over The Event, Because I Believe That It Hastened What We All Fought For, The End Of The War.

The Voice Of The People Is The Voice Of Humbug.