“Kautz and I and some of the others survived the retreat. Did you hear the order to retreat?”
“No,” Tim said. “It must have come after I got into the fort.”
“Saints preserve us, you mean you jumped right into the fort?” Red said.
“There was no place else to go.”
Tim stuffed his hands into the pockets of his blouse. “But if you lived through the retreat, how did they take you prisoner?”
“After the battle, under a flag of truce. Kautz and I followed the doctors out to the field to help the wounded and identify our dead.” Red lowered his head and clenched his fists. “They took us prisoners while we were out there on an errand of mercy. They broke their word. An officer from Charleston wanted to let us go back to our lines. It was a renegade Yankee who put up the fuss. He said the commanding general would have to approve our release, but of course we heard no more of that.”
“Did you know that Sergeant Fitch was killed?”
“I did. He was a blessed man.”
The column passed a lamplit printing office. “We need news of our troops,” Tim said, “if we’re going to head for Union lines.”
“And maps,” said Red. “Captain Kautz had all the maps.”