We Cannot Change The Hearts Of The

Some Of You Young Men Think That War Is All Glamour And Glory, But Let Me Tell You, Boys, It Is All Hell!

To Secure The Safety Of The Navigation Of The Mississippi River I Would Slay Millions. On That Point I Am Not Only Insane, But Mad... I Think I See One Or Two Quick Blows That Will Astonish The Natives Of The South And Will Convince Them That, Though To Stand Behind A Big Cottonwood And Shoot At A Passing Boat Is Good Sport And Safe, It May Still Reach And Kill Their Friends And Families Hundreds Of Miles Off. For Every Bullet Shot At A Steamboat, I Would Shoot A Thousand 30-pounder Parrots Into Even Helpless Towns On Red, Ouachita, Yazoo, Or Wherever A Boat Can Float Or Soldier March.

I Am Tired And Sick Of War. Its Glory Is All Moonshine. It Is Only Those Who Have Neither Fired A Shot Nor Heard The Shrieks And Groans Of The Wounded Who Cry Aloud For Blood, For Vengeance, For Desolation. War Is Hell.

The Scenes On This Field Would Have Cured Anybody Of War.

War Is At Best Barbarism.