Endless Devotion: A Civil War Love Story

Letter One – June 14, 1863

Near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

My Dearest Evelyn,

The night is cool, and the candle on my writing desk dances as I wet pen to paper, your face alone in my mind. We are miles and miles apart, but your smile remains with me—your laugh, the feel of your hand fitting into mine that final night on your daddy's porch. I have carried those moments with me through every weary tramp, through mud and rain.

The war drags on, each battle worse than the previous. We speak of home often, of the lives we left behind. I speak of you—to them, in any case. I speak of your patience, your kindness. It is your love that steers my hand and toughens my heart as we go through all that we must endure.

There are whispers of a war on the horizon, a great war, but where and when we do not know. If I am to die, let me die with your name on my lips and your arms in my memory. If fate is kind, I will return to you, and we will never be separated again.

Write to me, my dear. Your letters are my reason for living. Until then, know that I am, and shall ever remain, your obedient,

James

Letter Two – July 3, 1863

Lancaster, Pennsylvania

My Dearest James,

Your letter arrived today, and I wept with happiness to see your writing on the page. I've prayed every night that you're safe, but my heart is sick with worry. We've heard rumors of a battle in Gettysburg—three days of awful fighting. I can't stand the chance of you being among the dead. Write, if you can, at once.

I walk each day to the old oak tree where we signed our names in that summer you left. Leaves quiver in the wind, and I close my eyes, imagining that you walk beside me. The town is not the same for me. Even Mother's flowers in the garden seem to lower their heads in hopelessness.

I treasure your last letter to me and read it each night by the light of a candle. If it is true that you go into danger, promise this to me—do not be a fool. Do not risk your life recklessly without thinking of the life we have yet to build as one.

I await with bated breath for the day that you return to me, whole and uninjured. Until then, my love, I am yours forever,

Evelyn

Letter Three – July 14, 1863

Field Hospital, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

Dearest Evelyn,

I have survived. Barely.

I sit down to pen this letter from a field hospital, my arm wrapped in bandages, my body weakened but my spirit still intact. The battle was not like any that I have experienced. The smoky air clogging the lungs, the screaming of the injured piercing the darkness. I cannot imagine how I managed to avoid being killed while so many other men were cut down around me. I thank God for His mercies, and I thank you—for your prayers, your letters, your love that kept me hanging on.

They say I will be well, although I may never again hold a rifle in my hands. If that is the price of coming back to you, I gladly pay it. I will be back to you, my sweet. It will take time, but I shall not break my promise.

Tell me, when I return, will you still walk with me beneath the oak? Will you take my hand as before, though the hand be altered that I show to you? If so, then I am the most fortunate man in the world.

Ever yours,

James