"I was shot down by a fifth ball, which struck me squarely in the face, and passed out"
About this Quote
There is a kind of grim showmanship in that sentence: the cool, clipped accounting of catastrophe from a man who expects his audience to understand what “shot down” really costs. John Brown Gordon isn’t writing like a diarist in shock; he’s performing steadiness under fire, the soldierly pose where even a bullet to the face gets rendered as logistics. “A fifth ball” matters because it’s arithmetic, not metaphor. He’s tallying wounds the way an officer tallies losses, turning his own body into evidence of endurance.
The phrasing also dodges interiority. No fear, no pain, no moral inventory - just impact, trajectory, exit. That restraint is the point. In the postwar culture that elevated battlefield suffering into a kind of credential, especially among Confederate veterans and Lost Cause memorializers, such plainspoken gore works as a stamp of authenticity. It implies: I was there, I paid, I earned the right to speak.
“Squarely in the face” is doing double duty. It’s literal, but it also reads like a boast of frontal courage, a wound received head-on rather than in retreat. And “passed out” lands with a quiet double meaning: the bullet’s exit and his own blackout, a neat convergence that lets him end the sentence the way consciousness ended - abruptly. The subtext is control. Even when violence erases him, the narrative stays disciplined, almost tidy, making survival feel less like luck than like character.
The phrasing also dodges interiority. No fear, no pain, no moral inventory - just impact, trajectory, exit. That restraint is the point. In the postwar culture that elevated battlefield suffering into a kind of credential, especially among Confederate veterans and Lost Cause memorializers, such plainspoken gore works as a stamp of authenticity. It implies: I was there, I paid, I earned the right to speak.
“Squarely in the face” is doing double duty. It’s literal, but it also reads like a boast of frontal courage, a wound received head-on rather than in retreat. And “passed out” lands with a quiet double meaning: the bullet’s exit and his own blackout, a neat convergence that lets him end the sentence the way consciousness ended - abruptly. The subtext is control. Even when violence erases him, the narrative stays disciplined, almost tidy, making survival feel less like luck than like character.
Quote Details
| Topic | War |
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