Captured

Jasper Whitlock, The youngest Major in the Texas Cavalry, not even eighteen yet hummed to himself as he cantered around the twenty-mile perimiter of the current Confederate Camp. He'd been riding for nearly twenty-four hours straight, and his legs were begining to become numb. Without glancing behind him, he slowed his horse, and jumped down. Quite foolish really. Major Whitlock removed his hat and rubbed his eyes with his mud-coated hands, then tied the horse to a tree, then sat down on the whispy, yellow grass. Lying back his looked for patterns in the beautiful sky. He sighed to himself, wondering if anyone back home was doing the same. Jasper's thoughts drifted to his family he had left behind. His frail ill mother he was so eager to make proud. His stern father from whom he just wanted to be accepted. And little Grace. His sister had been only five when he had left to join the war little over a year ago. He wondered if she'd even remember him now. He'd grown so much, and she was bound to have. Jasper's eyes drifted shut, which was quite dangerous really. Thinking back, he wishes he'd climbed back onto his horse and fled. But he didn't. He just lay there. And soon fell asleep. From the shadows, Jasper was being watched by fifty Union soldiers. A man gave a signal and they crept forward, surrounding the sleeping Major. In the same second, a cloth was forced over Jasper's mouth and nose, suffocating him, and he was being dragged to his feet and restrained by three men. Jasper's eyes opened terrified. He struggled with the men, trying in vain to get away from their grip, but there were too many of them, and he couldn't reach his weapons. After a few seconds the lack of Oxygen made Jasper weaker and weaker, and after a few moments he had passed out. They removed the cloth from his face.
"Send him to Johnson's Island." Said the leader, then the rest of the Army left to go fight the war.