I wanted to share this

S

shawndavid

Are you wanting making fuck berserker?
Jun 14, 2005
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In either a book or a Word doc on my couch in St.
Marklar
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My professor played for us a clip from a Civil War documentary today which featured a letter froma man named Sullivan Ballou to his wife, Sarah. We were told that Sullivan was killed a week after this writing so it would seem he knew the end was in sight. There wasn't a dry eye in the room after we watched the piece - all I could think about was Amy. I just got home and looked it up so I could share it with her. Please take a moment to check it out. It, hopefully, will remind you of how precious those who are close to us really are.

July 14th, 1861
Washington D.C.

My dear Sarah.

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days -- perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.
Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure -- and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine 0 God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing -- perfectly willing -- to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.

But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows -- when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children -- is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country?

I cannot describe to you my feelings on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death -- and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.

I have sought most closely and diligently, and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love of my country and of the principles have often advocated before the people and "the name of honor that I love more than I fear death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me -- perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar -- that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night -- amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours -- always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.

As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.

Sullivan
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Dear Sarah,

The indications are very strong that I shall attempt reentry tomorrow. And lest that I shall not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write a few lines, that they may fall under your eye when I am no more.

It sure is fuckin' cold up here. Yes sir. I about froze my motherfuckin' nuts off. Goddamn. Space is one cold motherfucker.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless. It seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that only omnipotence can break.

But shit woman, it is cold as fuck up here.
 
makes me wonder what's worse...going to war with a family and loved ones back home or going to war without anyone there waiting for you to come home
 
FlyNavy said:
makes me wonder what's worse...going to war with a family and loved ones back home or going to war without anyone there waiting for you to come home
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i don't think you're wrong to assume it's the most horrible thing on either account.
 
Sarcasmo said:
Dear Sarah,

The indications are very strong that I shall attempt reentry tomorrow. And lest that I shall not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write a few lines, that they may fall under your eye when I am no more.

It sure is fuckin' cold up here. Yes sir. I about froze my motherfuckin' nuts off. Goddamn. Space is one cold motherfucker.

Sarah, my love for you is deathless. It seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that only omnipotence can break.

But shit woman, it is cold as fuck up here.
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Negro Space Program FTW.
 
b_sinning said:
Can you imagine the pure burtality of the civil war? Almost any wound could be fatal. Amputations happening on the battle field.
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All war is brutal. Smaller wounds back then were more fatal but these days people can be wounded in ways the civil war fighters couldn't have imagined. Back then you didn't have snipers that would put one twixt your eyes from a mile and a half away.
 
FlyNavy said:
All war is brutal. Smaller wounds back then were more fatal but these days people can be wounded in ways the civil war fighters couldn't have imagined. Back then you didn't have snipers that would put one twixt your eyes from a mile and a half away.
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True but now you have hippies fighting for war prisoners rights and soldiers are expected a certain code of conduct around prisoners. Back then they could pistol whip you and pee on the prisoner on main street with people cherring you on. The good old days.
 
ChikkenNoodul said:
Back then they cut out sections of bone that had been hit with bullets, so you'd have a nice useless limpy gimpy limb if you lived
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those sections of bones tended to be shattered beyond all hopes of repair or healing. Miniballs smashed things up good.
 
b_sinning said:
True but now you have hippies fighting for war prisoners rights and soldiers are expected a certain code of conduct around prisoners. Back then they could pistol whip you and pee on the prisoner on main street with people cherring you on. The good old days.
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Back then anything short of lining up on opposite sides of the battlefield and taking turns firing was considered dishonorable. The Geneva Conventions are there to protect our people as much as they protect the people we're fighting. There have always been rules of engagement in warfare; I have no problem with hippies defending the rights of enemies to be treated as human beings, as we'd like our troops to be treated. The only problem is when they decide that the rights of the enemy outweigh the rights of anyone else.

Idiots like Sean Penn who think that the Marines are just coldheartedly murdering innocent, loving Iraqis. :rolleyes:
 
why is it that more than a hundred years ago the general public wrote much better than we all can today?
 
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