The signal gun that called the
men to die boomed your name for me. I heard it in the din and roar
and crash of armies. The louder came the call of death, the sweeter
life seemed because life meant you. Life has taken on a new and
wonderful meaning. I love it as I never loved it before and I've
grown to hate death and I whisper it to you, my love, my own--to
hate war! I want to live now, and I'm praying, praying, praying for
peace. My mind is yet clear in its conviction of right or I could
not stay here a moment longer. But I'm longing and hoping and
wondering whether God will not show us the way out of your tragic
dilemma.
"During the battle I found a handsome young Federal officer who had
fallen inside out lines. With his last strength he was trying to
write a message to his bride who was waiting for him behind the
Union lines. I couldn't pass by. I stopped and got his name, gave
him water and made him as comfortable as possible. I got
permission from my General while the battle raged and sent his
message with a flag of truce to his wife. She came flying to his
side at the risk of her life, got to the rear and saved him.
Perhaps I wasn't an ideal soldier in that pause in my fight. But I
had to do it, dearest.
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