All of us in “my” generation who grew up in the south remember hearing stories from our parents that were told to them by their parents, grandparents or great-grandparents about THE WAR. My own Dad’s grandfather who fought, told about how the soldiers would charge up the hill, only to be mowed down by the dozens. Yet, on and on they went as they had no choice but to follow orders. The dead were later stacked up like cord wood. I cannot imagine the carnage that was wrecked on both sides after these vicious battles, fought often using old military tactics but modern-day weapons.
He told me about the mini balls (he called them dum-dum bullets) which inflicted so much damage that the only choice was to amputate a limb. I read how the surgeons at Gettysburg threw the arms and legs out the window after the surgeries, until the body pieces reached the window sills. Sounds gruesome, doesn’t it? But after all, wasn’t it Robert E. Lee who said, “its good war is so terrible, else we would grow too fond of it”?