by clicking the "Next" arrow.
by clicking on the page.
the page around when zoomed in by dragging it.
the zoom using the slider when zoomed-in.
by clicking on the zoomed-in page.
by entering text in the search field, and select "This Issue" or "All Issues"
by clicking on thumbnails to select pages, and then press the print button.
displays sections with thumbnails and descriptions.
displays a slider of thumbnails. Click on a page to jump.
allows you to browse the full archive.
about your subscription?
Mindful : August 2013
When I was a boy, the battlefield at Gettysburg was a playground to me. We lived over the mountain from this famous hallowed ground, and my friends and I went there to play war, as boys are wont to do. We wore pretend uniforms of blue and gray. We climbed over a nd around the rocks at Devil’s Den, pretend- ing to be sharpshooters. We cla mbered bravely and valiantly up the slopes of Little Round Top, huffing and puffing and spewing out bloodcurdling cries. We re-enacted Pickett’s Charge and came to an untimely end in the Peach Orchard and the Wheatfield. We didn’t think of the place by its offi- cial na me, The Gettysburg Nationa l Mili- tary Park, a carefully tended monument to the bloodiest three days in A merica n his- tor y. More tha n 160,000 soldiers battled there from July 1 to 3, 1863, and almost a third of them were killed, wounded, or missing over those three days. Gett ysburg would turn out to be the climax of four yea rs of national bloodletting, resulting in a n estimated 750,000 dead, mostly young men a nd boys—a generation depleted a nd demoralized. A deep wound. At Gettys- burg, you feel it up close. Our war was different. When we fell in battle, we did so with silent-movie his- trionics. But soon we would rise again, uttering the magic formula, “I’m a new man.” Then, it was time for lunch. → PHOTOGRAPH©ROBERTS.PATTON/NATIONALGEOGRAPHICSTOCK August 2013 mindful 61