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.
I never told you how I got into the fort. When you went over the
crest I paused for a moment to fuss with my rifle. Well, I owe my
life to that pesky thing. If I’d gone in firing they would have shot
me down. When it wouldn’t work I scrambled up the parapet anyway. I
stumbled on a sandbag on the top and fell into the place headfirst.
They took my useless gun and sat me down by a cannon to wait the
battle out.
It seems too bad that you are in that jail when you are almost as
brave a man as I.
Your faithful servant,
THOMAS GREENE, _Private_
Red smiled. “I wish I’d known the boy. Did he really stick you in the
seat of the pants?”
“I’d forgotten that. I guess he did.”
“Under those conditions anyone could be brave under fire.”