Ma,

I’m not coming home. It’s over. I did it. You’d think I would feel better, but I am really scared. I just want to come home, but I can’t. I’m heading north. I won’t see you again.

It’s only been a week since I deserted the Confederate Army, but I know that everybody is already out looking for me. I want to send you one last letter before they get me. I don’t want to leave you to wonder why I did what I did, so I will explain. 

On June 26, 1862, General Lee attacked the Union Army that had been lurking near Richmond. Some intense fighting ensued. By the next day, the Union Army was holding out but we were pushing forward. Eventually, after 7 days, our effort paid off and they retreated, hence the name, the 7 Days’ Battles.

When the Colonel told us we were going into the thickest part of the fighting, I loaded my rifle, grabbed my sardine box, and hoisted my knapsack up. I thought I was ready. I wasn’t. When I got to the front lines, I froze. My squadmates were getting shot left and right. For a brief moment, when the cannon smoke had cleared, I locked eyes with a Union soldier. I had my rifle raised. I could have killed him, but I didn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to harm another human like that. Maybe he couldn’t either. Then, I ducked behind a tree and wished I was somewhere else.

While I was sitting behind that tree, I was sure I would die. A piece of shrapnel would get me. I would welcome death, so this would all be over. However, as the time passed, and I was still living, I started to think about why I was fighting. I thought about who I was fighting for. I realized that I was fighting for a side that promoted atrocities to other human beings in order to make money.  I couldn’t bring myself to harm that Union soldier, but by fighting this war I was fighting for harm and suffering.

Ma, I only really enlisted because Father told me to. He said fighting this war would protect our livelihood and our family. I failed to notice how we destroyed other people’s lives and families, the people he said we owned — like Sam, Jonesy, and Martha. I couldn’t be a part of that horror any longer. Then, Ma, still thinking about that, I rose, picked up my knapsack, and dashed into the woods.

War is awful. It leaves behind a trail of pain and suffering. However, when we are fighting about ending the pain and suffering of slavery, I believe that this war is justified, just that I’ve been on the wrong side. Will war solve this problem, and is there another way? Father may call me a coward for running away, but I’m trying to be brave and run toward what I think is right.

I love you, Ma. 

Walter