My prayers will be with you wherever you are. God give you strength to take whatever course you may deem wise. Your folks have written and we will post our letters at the same time. We have sent a surprise in a separate packet. There’s something there from me. Can you guess what? I hope it will reach you in good time. Your loving, KATE At four o’clock as the prisoners moved into the yard Captain Senn hailed Tim. “Lieutenant,” he said solemnly, holding out an envelope, “there was a letter with the money your family sent. I’m sorry I had to open it.” “Thank you, Captain.” “Here is another,” said Senn, making a ceremony of giving up the second letter. “Since it came from a soldier, we opened this one too.” It hadn’t appeared that Kate’s letter had been opened but suppose it had? Then Senn would watch him like a hawk. Tim looked sharply at Senn’s face and saw nothing there but that patient, meaningless smile. When they were out of earshot Red said, “That stuffed shirt doesn’t need to apologize for opening our mail. After all, we’re prisoners of war. But don’t let me keep you from your mail.” They stood in the middle of the yard while Tim read the letter from his family. He finished reading and said, “Things are fine at home.” “What’s in the letter from Hilton Head?” Tim looked at the irregular, unfamiliar writing. “Don’t know,” he said. He unfolded the letter and read the first line. “Here, Red, it’s from Greene. Did you know Greene?” “Hardly at all.” “Well read it, anyway.” They read: HILTON HEAD, S. C. November 14, 1863 DEAR LIEUTENANT, Did you think that bayonet had done me in? Well, thanks to you it didn’t. That Rebel maniac took me to the hospital and the surgeon there was a fine gentleman and took care of me as a father would. The thing that frightened me was getting well. I could see into the jailyard from the hospital. I pray to God your jail is not like that. A gallows stands in the middle of the yard and there were puddles all around and people lived out there in ragged tents, whether by choice or order I couldn’t say. There were many colored soldiers of the 54th Massachusetts who were captured in the second assault on the fort where you were wounded by a private in the seat of the pants. They were brave fellows, as perhaps you have heard. Before they had a chance to throw me in that jail I was lucky enough to be exchanged. When will you suffer that happy fate? I hope it will be soon so I can follow you into Charleston and twist that Rebel corporal’s nose.