Lindsey Graham

General Chambers McKibben, commander of the Texas Department of the U.S.

Army and a veteran of one of the Civil War's bloodiest battles, wrote, I'm an old soldier.

I've seen many battlefields.

But ever since I helped the man in the boat to steer clear the floating bodies of dead women and little children, I have not slept one single moment.

It was difficult for the rescuers and their survivors to even comprehend the sheer number of lives lost.

There were so many bodies that disposal became the Central Relief Committee's prime concern because with corpses quickly decaying in the relentless heat, they knew that unless the remains were cleared soon, Galveston would face a different kind of catastrophe.

Imagine it's Monday morning, September 10th, 1900, in Galveston, Texas.

You're the chief of the local weather bureau, and you press a handkerchief over your mouth and nose as you enter a large warehouse serving as a makeshift morgue.

Hundreds of bodies are laid out in rows, stretching wall to wall, and distraught men and women move among them, looking for their lost loved ones.

The scent of death and decay is sickening, but you're desperate to find your own loved one, your wife Cora.

A volunteer in mud cake boots hurries by, and you catch his arm.

Excuse me, I'm looking for my wife.

We lost her on Saturday night.

We hoped we might find her alive, but it's been two days.

She has dark brown hair, wearing a blue dress.

The volunteer takes a long drink from a flask, his hands trembling as he puts the cap back on.

"'I'm sorry, mister.

I can't say I've seen her.

There's just too many to keep track.'

"'She had a diamond ring on her left hand.'