Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 42, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 November 1891 — THE TERROR OF SUSPENSE. [ARTICLE]

THE TERROR OF SUSPENSE.

How Soldiers Feel Just Before a Battle. Since tho eun came up this morning we have been marching and countermarching, forming a battle-front four miles long. It is now 10 o’clock. We were ready hore on the left wing before they were on tho right, but all are ready now. So long as we were moving there was something to distract attention, but now comes the test of waiting—of suspense. Away over there we can see the columns of the enemy wheeling into position — banners rippling—artillery moving with horses under the lash. There is going to be a fierce grappel here. These scattered trees will be rent aud riven—these acres of green grass torn up —that babbling brook change the color of its waters before the sun passes its zenith. Men draw a long breath to fill their lungs boforo putting forth nil their strength in one great effort. Armies do the same. This is the long breath beforo the clash comes. j Watch the horses as the field-piecos come galloping up! • They are looking across the valley at the enemy, their eyes blazing and their oars working. Every one is in a tremble as the teams are unhitched and led away to tho shelter of tho ravine. They know what is coining, and the waiting unnerves them. There is “Old John,” as the boys call him. He has been in half a dozen fights and ho has three or four battle sears, but he is just as nervous as if he had never heard a gun fired. See how his nostrils qui vorl Watch the bluze of his eyes! What a painting he would make as he stands there with head and tail up and every nerve a-quiver. The officers’ voices grate harshly as they jerk out their commands of; “Dress more to the right” —“front there!”— “Cense that, talking!” They are officers, but they are men. The exploding sholls and the zipping bullets are meant for them as well as us, and they are also fighting against the terror of suspense. Our colonel rides along tho lino in front. That is well, but it is a bluff for all that. He is moving to keep his nerve under control. Watch tho men! There are old veterans here —men who have fought in every great battle from first Bull Run to Gettysburg—and thore are recruits who reached us only three days ago from the far away farms and villages. You soo a difference, but it is affected. Tho old veteran jokes with the men right and left, sharpens his jack-knife on the rock in front of him, whistles a few bars from a rollicking air, to make you believe that ho nover felt more serene in his life. It’s mere sham, but it helps to brace up the pale-faced men who are to receive their baptism. “Why don’t wo move?” This state of suspense is disorganizing. Men look wildly to tho right and left —to the rear. There aro no cowards hore, but it would take very little to start a panic and a rush. Men still laugh, but it is mockery. They jest, but they scarcely hear their own words. Look at that recruit! He's a sturdy young furmer, who was sharpening his scytho in the hay-field three weeks ago. He has the strength of an ox, aud no map ever looked into his face and put him down ns faint-hearted. Twenty minutes ago he would have swept forward with us to charge a battery and hurrahed with excitement. Suspense has sapped his courage and unnerved him. See him tremble! Note his paleness! Now there comes a look of terror and desperation to his eyes, aud before any one could stop him ! What! He has sent a bullet into his head from his own musket—killed himself through sheer terror of waiting to be killed by the enemy! We saw it whenever we waited. We rose from bivouac many a morning in the presence of the enemy to stumble against the corpses of comrades hanging to limbs—driven to suicide because their nerves broke down under the strain of suspense. —[M. Quad, in New York World.