Dear Jonathon,      

I have a feeling that the day of July 4th, 1863 will be a day celebrated far past history. I write to you from Vicksburg, Mississippi, and can’t help but feel a sense of heavy pride (and humid air, it’s taken quite a toll in these woolen coats), we won the war. I never thought I would live to write that; we won the war. It seemed as if it would never end, yet my work is far from over. 

I have the slightest notion that even as we fought on the same side we are every bit different in experience, ever since you got sent to the hospital. 

Although we are only a few miles apart, I’m afraid I’ll have to see you later than I hoped. I have some unfinished business here, saying goodbye to our dearly departed soldiers, repairing the land that is now ours. 

I feel as if the battleground will forever haunt me, like a lurking beast. It’s a reminder of all that died, all I’ve killed, a reminder of the monsters who wronged me. 

All I hear are gunshots. In empty silences I  can still hear the cannons. I will often lie awake, reliving every single detail I wish to forget. 

Every note you sent was an escape from this reality, from my head. They were my escape from the lurking beast of war. As the soldiers wave their flags stupidly brandishing their guns and parade in grid, I now laugh at that pointless display of patriotism.  

I was always bothered by the true motives of our men and leaders, for some it was apparent that the safety of their men was not a priority. I began to doubt, was this really a fight for justice? Who was the war really for? It seemed that in every way they could, the Paymasters Wagon would always fall short to our freed soldiers. 

That was when I started to think, this wasn’t the fight I thought we were fighting. I was sent over to Fort Wagner in South Carolina, maybe a different side of the war would change things for me. When I got there it was a massacre, the North was caught off guard forcing them to evacuate. Even as backup came, the North was in a corner, defenseless. It was as if all their efforts were put to shame as they were backed into a corner, unprepared, being killed by the handful. I was worried my doubt and fear would turn me away from the 54th and I would find myself fighting on the wrong side. Fear crushed souls and dreams. 

It’s all over now. The dream of seeing you again becomes ever the more real. I got a train ticket running straight through to Kuhn Hospital, and depending on how this is delivered I may even come with this letter. I can’t wait to see you again, dearest.

I will see you in five days time. 

See you soon,

    Lynnwood Henderson