“We do not know how long we are to remain here. I only know we are the most unfortunate people the world ever knew. May God protect and preserve us!
“My love to all, and believe me,
“Your affectionate son,
“K. F. Peddicord.”
“Fort Delaware, May 7th, 1865.
“Mrs. K. B. Peddicord.
“My dear Mother: My heart was gladdened this morning by the reception of your favor of the 1st inst., and though but a few days have intervened since I last wrote you, being the same date of the one just received, I feel it my duty and your desire that I should write you again. Thus, my immediate response.
“It is particularly gratifying to learn of the good health of the loved ones at home, where I hope to be at no distant day. But at the present writing I have not the remotest idea when we will be permitted to leave. A very small number, by special request of their friends, were furnished with transportation to their homes a few days since. I mentioned to you in my last, that of over two thousand officers and five or six thousand privates held prisoners of war at this place, all but a very few had then consented to take the oath of allegiance to the United States, and that myself was one that weakened at the last call.
“Who, but a captive, can imagine our agony and suffering, anxieties and fears, as day after day passed in monotonous gloom?—shut out from the world, and in utter ignorance of the fate of near relatives and my many dear old companions, scattered over the wide extent of the South! With nothing but such desponding reflections to occupy my mind, time hung heavy on my hands, and rendered existence doubly intolerable almost.
“But the great crisis is over, and the brightest faces and the gayest spirits have calmed themselves to be ever afterward mournfully sad. Alas, that so many proud spirits should be broken, but may He who has so far guarded and watched over the unfortunates, still protect us!