CONFEDERATE POWS FILL CAMP DOUGLAS

 

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IMAGINE

Dear Alex, my beloved husband

by Daisy Torres

Dear Alex, my beloved husband,

I hurt so much to tell you here I am at Camp Douglas. I am not who I used to be, I am a scared quiet woman who holds back what she has to say. You are probably thinking that that version of me is impossible but one thing I’ve learned since being here is that impossible always finds a way to become, well, possible. I know how we felt about everything going on with slavery but my mindset has changed and severely.

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Dear Mary

by Vanessa Martinez

Dear Mary,

I know I haven’t been the best father or even the best husband and I’m sorry for that. This prison ain’t a lifestyle I want or can handle. I’m scared Mary. Never thought a thug like me {would} be scared of anything or anyone but I am. The struggle of not being able to sleep knowing I have to watch my back ‘cause they might try to hurt me or kill me in my sleep. Knowing I cannot shower without being scared that someone might sneak up on me. 

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Dear Tommy

by Richard Lucio, Jr.

Dear Tommy,

I honestly don’t know how I’m getting through this. It is so tough in here. Sometimes I just sob myself to sleep. Everyday I witness a death, and afterwards I just want to gauge my eyes out. The sight of someone being killed and their screams of terror echo through my head. I hate it here so much! I just want to go home, Tommy. I miss you, I miss mom and dad. I miss petting Chino and watching him run around the yard. I just want to go home. 

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Dear Bob

by Jonathan Cervantes

Dear Bob,

My name is Owen and I am a medical school student. I had sweet dreams of becoming a doctor and helping people with there {their} sickness. Forming a family and living in {on} the coast. Travelling the world and maybe even discovering a new place, but like I said, it’s just a dream. Instead of being on the coast or travelling Europe or ??? on the Bahamas I am trapped on {in} this camp. 

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Dear Momma

by Anesia Bolling

Dear Momma,

I know I haven't written to you in a while but this may be the last you hear of me. I’ve been taken to Camp Douglas, an overstuffed and hastily put together prison camp. I don’t even understand why I have been brutally shackled and violently forced into this dingy camp. I walked into the line of fire that day I left the house for work. It was an unpleasant sight. Clotted blood covered the once bright grass. Bodies layed {laid} their lifeless. Some were children who had been playing that horrific day, in the wrong place. I hid in an alley until a strong and rowdy crowd came and shoved me into the back of a black and murderous looking truck. After this I was quickly chained, sat for hours in the rotten smelling truck. It smelled of decaying bodies and unshed tears. 

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Confederate POWs Fill Camp Douglas

by Tali Gleiser

Dear Mama,

Every day I wake up at Camp Douglas feels more like I’m falling asleep and drifting into a nightmare. I don’t mean to worry you though, I’m brave and I’m gonna be coming home real soon. I’m trying to hold on to the small bits of hope I have left, you taught me that Mama. When I left home at the start of the war, I thought I was a man for serving the confederacy and defending our southern ways. I was proud. I’m not proud anymore, I’m afraid. I watched almost every man in my platoon fall into a field as I aimlessly fired at the Yankee’s who turned our army into lost souls hovering over their bodies. I stood as one of the last confederate soldiers in a mass grave. I still don’t know why the men who captured me didn’t just shoot me on sight. I know you always said the Lord has a plan for us, but as I sit on the dirty, cold, wet ground of my windowless cell, I can no longer see a Path for me. I drift through my days here guided by the hope that I’ll come home again, I’ll see you and Mary and little Joe and I’ll never complain about doing my chores. I miss the hot southern sun warming my skin and lighting the world. Everything seems gray now and it’s the middle of the coldest winter you could imagine. I really don’t want to worry you Mama, but as I look around at all the others here and see the men who were once strong, brave soldiers dying from disease, I cant help but worry myself.

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