State whether you support Sherman’s military action or were moved by the brutality that LeConte writes about. Is all fair in love and war?

"The place is literally in ruins. The entire heart of the city is in ashes—only the outer edges remain. On the whole length of Sumter Street not one house beyond the first block after the Campus is standing, except the brick house of Mr. Mordecai. Standing in the centre of the town, as far
as the eye can reach nothing is to be seen but heaps of rubbish, tall dreary chimneys and shattered brick walls, while “In the hollow windows, dreary horror’s sitting.” Poor old Columbia—
where is all her beauty—so admired by strangers—so loved by her children! She can only excite
the pity of the former and the tears of the latter. I hear several Yankee officers remarked to some
citizens on the loveliness of their town as they first saw it by sunrise across the river.
Blanding Street, crossing Main and Sumter at right angles, the finest street in town, is also a sad
picture. The Preston house with its whole square of beautiful gardens escaped. It was Gen. Logan’s headquarters. The Crawford house—the Bryce’s—the Howe’s and one or two others also
escaped. All nearer Main Street were burned. The Clarkson house is a heap of brick with most
of its tall columns standing, blackened by the smoke. Bedell’s lovely little house is in ruins while
as if in mockery the shrubbery is not even scorched—but I cannot particularize—with very
few exceptions all our friends are homeless. We enter Main Street—since the war in crowd and
bustle it has rivaled a city thoroughfare— what desolation! Everything has vanished as by enchantment—stores, merchants, customers—all the eager faces gone—only three or four dismal
looking people to be seen picking their way over heaps of rubbish, brick and timbers. The wind
moans among the bleak chimneys and whistles through the gaping windows of some hotel or
warehouse. The market a ruined shell supported by crumbling arches—its spire fallen in and
with it the old town clock whose familiar stroke we miss so much. After trying to distinguish
localities and hunting for familiar buildings we turned to Arsenal Hill. Here things looked more
natural. The Arsenal was destroyed but comparatively few dwellings. Also the Park and its surroundings looked familiar. As we passed the old State house going back I paused to gaze on the
ruins— only the foundations and chimneys—and to recall the brilliant scene enacted there one
short month ago. And I compared that scene with its beauty, gayety and festivity—the halls so elaborately decorated—the surging throng—with this."