A man killed with a musket was just as dead as one killed with a mortar. It was just that the mortar killed impersonally, destroying dozens of men, while the musket was fired by one man who could see the eyes of the one he killed. That made it murder, it seemed to me, not war. How many men to make a war? Enough, perhaps, so they didn't really have to see each other?
The passage reflects on the nature of death in war, highlighting the stark difference in personal connection between different forms of weaponry. A soldier killed by a musket dies at the hands of an individual who witnesses the act and the victim's humanity, making it feel more like murder than a casualty of war. In contrast, a mortar obliterates many lives at once, creating a distance that removes the personal element from the killing.
This raises profound questions about the morality of warfare and what constitutes a legitimate act of killing. It suggests that for war to occur, the participants may need to dehumanize one another to avoid confronting the reality of their actions. The author seems to ponder whether the anonymity of widespread destruction permits a moral detachment that allows men to evade the emotional weight of their choices in battle.
