War's Legitimate Object Is More Perfect Peace.

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.

In Our Country... One Class Of Men Makes War And Leaves Another To Fight It Out.

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.

The War Now Is Away Back In The Past, And You Can Tell What Books Cannot. When You Talk, You Come Down To The Practical Realities Just As They Happened. You All Know This Is Not Soldiering Here. There Is Many A Boy Here Today Who Looks On War As All Glory, But, Boys, It Is All Hell. You Can Bear This Warning Voice To Generations Yet To Come. I Look Upon War With Horror, But If It Has To Come, I Am There.

My Aim, Then, Was To Whip The Rebels, To Humble Their Pride, To Follow Them To Their Inmost Recesses, And Make Them Fear And Dread Us. Fear Is The Beginning Of Wisdom.