Did you Civil War buffs know that there are roughly 1,328 monuments, markers and memorials at Gettysburg — with another 100 or so erected at Antietam? And did you also know that I’m fairly certain I visited every last one of them in a recent 36-hour period?

It was all-Civil-War-all-the-time for me and the missus this past week. My wife needed to go to western Maryland on a business trip, and I needed to tag along because, well, it beats staying at home and fending for myself, meal-wise.

And then, once we realized our hotel was within driving distance of both Gettysburg National Military Park and Antietam National Battlefield, the die was cast.

The day we visited Gettysburg was one filled with both laughter and tears. The biggest laugh came when we stopped for lunch in the nearby town of the same name. There, in the quaint central square, we accosted one of the city’s roving tourism volunteers to ask for a restaurant recommendation. He pointed us to the Lincoln Diner, just down the street. Good comfort food, he told us, with pies and other desserts that are to die for.

And then he added with a grin: “Lincoln himself would’ve eaten there, but he looked in the window and saw a couple of booths he didn’t like.”

What? Too soon?

The tears came at the end of the day, as we visited Soldiers’ National Cemetery, where President Abraham Lincoln delivered his famous Gettysburg Address.

Our visit to the historic battlefield had already started out an emotional one. To begin with, it was the 13th anniversary of 9-11. And then, that morning’s local newspaper greeted us with the front-page headline “Obama orders airstrikes in Syria.”

Against this backdrop of war and terror, we visited the peaceful, rolling hills of Gettysburg, where on July 1-3, 1863, more men fell than in any other battle on American soil, before or since.

I don’t know what I had expected with a trip to Gettysburg, but I certainly wasn’t expecting what I got: The distinct feeling that war isn’t just hell, it’s something much, much worse.

Late in the day, we stood on the ground where the climactic battle of Gettysburg took place, called “Pickett’s Charge.” Nearby, a tour group stood discussing that event.

“Imagine you’re a soldier that day,” the guide told the group, “getting ready for the charge. Give me one word that best describes your thoughts.”

“Forward!” called out one visitor.

“Charge!” said another.

“Holy Sh–!” came a third.

“God help us!” offered a fourth.

Nobody mentioned the one I was thinking: “Why?”

Throughout the day, I couldn’t shake that feeling. We viewed monument after monument after monument — all dedicated to things like honor, valor and glory — and after awhile they all seemed to be trying awfully hard to ascribe some sort of sense to the senselessness of war.

That feeling was hammered home with a visit to Antietam National Battlefield, where on Sept. 17, 1862, a battle ensued that has the distinction of being the single-bloodiest day in U.S. history.

One of the interpretive panels at the park’s museum refers to a “gallant but futile charge” by the 7th Maine Infantry. In just 20 minutes, the regiment suffered more than 50 percent casualties — in an attack that did absolutely nothing to advance the Union’s goals.

Concludes the panel: “This was not the first or last time in the Civil War that misguided officers squandered the lives of brave men.”

And I guess that’s what bothers me most about war. In the end, it just seems like it involves a little too much squandering of lives.

We concluded our Gettysburg trip at the Soldiers’ National Cemetery, just as the sun set. This was the place where, on Nov. 19, 1863, President Lincoln gave his most famous speech. Sitting on a bench, thinking about that speech, I got a little misty-eyed. I love how Lincoln talks of honoring those who gave “the last full measure of devotion” that their nation might live, how he resolves “that these dead shall not have died in vain.”

And it’s a great line. It really is. But I also can’t help thinking that, too often, when we talk about making sure soldiers didn’t die in vain, it’s code for, “We need even more soldiers to send to their deaths.” Like if we’re able to throw enough of these young soldiers at a problem, somehow their loss will eventually have meaning.

All in all, our trip to Civil War battlefields in the north left me feeling just a little sad, depressed and empty inside.

Hey, but on the bright side — I really did like that John Wilkes Booth joke.

Contact Mark Saal at 801-625-4272, or msaal@standard.net. Follow him on Twitter at @Saalman. Like him on Facebook at facebook.com/SEMarkSaal.