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ANDERSON VILLE:
REBEL MILITARY PRISONS
FIFTEEN MONTHS A GUEST OF THE SO-CALLED
| SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY.
A PRIVATE SOLDIERS EXPERIENCE
RICHMO ND,ANDERsonville, savannah, Milles.
BLACKSHEAR AND FLORENCE.
& w f
; : 4-
p' . * + $
* * * }:
tº ºv 4 * y
*
By JOHN McELROY,
Late of Co. 1, 75th I?!. Cav.
TOLEDO:
PUBLISHED BY D. R. LOCKE.
1879.
- àss-
|Q.-W-2-5
A
(2 / 2.
, /75
// / /
COPYRIGHT.
1879.
BY JOHN MIC ELF O Y.
ATLL RIGHTS RESERVED,
BLADE PRINTING AND PAPER Co.
EZectrotypers, Printers and Binders,
TOLEDO, O.
.*
TO THE HONORABLE
NOAH H. SW A YNE,
JUSTICE OF THE SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES,
A. JURIST OF DISTINGUISHED TALENTS AND EXALTED CHARACTER, ;
ONE OF THE LAST OF THAT
ADMIRABLE ARRAY OF PURE PATRIOTS AND SAGACIOUS COUNSELORS,
WHO, IN
THE YEARS OF THE NATION’S TRLAL,
FAITHFULLY SURROUNDED THE GREAT PRESIDENT,
AND, WITH HIM, BORE THE BURDEN
OF
THOSE MOMENTOUS DAYS ;
AND whose wisdom AND FAIRNESS HAVE DONE so MUCH SINCE
TO
CONSERVE WHAT WAS THEN WON,
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED WITH RESPECT AND APPRECIATION,
BY THE AUTHOR,
{
INTRODUCTION.
The fifth part of a century almost has sped with the flight
of time since the outbreak of the Slaveholder's Rebellion against
the United States. The young men of to-day were then babes
in their cradles, or, if more than that, too young to be appalled
by the terror of the times. Those now graduating from our
schools of learning to be teachers of youth and leaders of
public thought, if they are ever prepared to teach the history
of the war for the Union so ass to render adequate honor to
its martyrs and heroes, and at the same time impress the obvious
moral to be drawn from it, must derive their knowledge from
authors who can each one say of the thrilling story he is
spared to tell: “All of which I saw, and part of which I was.”
The writer is honored with the privilege of introducing to
the reader a volume written by an author who was an actor
and a sufferer in the scenes he has so vividly and faithfully
described, and sent forth to the public by a publisher whose
literary contributions in support of the loyal cause entitle him
to the highest appreciation. Both author and publisher have
had an honorable and efficient part in the great struggle, and
are therefore worthy to hand down to the future a record of
the perils encountered and the sufferings endured by patriotic
soldiers in the prisons of the enemy. The publisher, at the
beginning of the war, entered, with zeal and ardor upon the
work of raising a company of men, intending to lead them to
the field. Prevented from carrying out this design, his energies
were directed to a more effective service. His famous “Nasby
Letters” exposed the absurd and sophistical argumentations of
viii. INTRODUCTION.
rebels and their sympathisers, in such broad, attractive and
admirable burlesque, as to direct against them the “loud, long
laughter of a world !” The unique and telling satire of these
papers became a power and inspiration to our armies in the
field and to their anxious friends at home, more than equal
to the might of whole battalions poured in upon the enemy.
An athlete in logic may lay an error writhing at his feet, and
after all it may recover to do great mischief. But the sharp
wit of the humorist drives it before the world's derision into
shame and everlasting contempt. These letters were read and
shouted over gleefully at every camp-fire in the Union Army,
and eagerly devoured by crowds of listeners when mails were
opened at country post-offices. Other humorists were content
when they simply amused the reader, but “Nasby’s ” jests were
arguments—they had a meaning—they were suggested by the
necessities and emergencies of the Nation's peril, and written
to support, with all earnestness, a most sacred cause.
The author, when very young, engaged in journalistic work,
until the drum of the recruiting officer called him to join the
ranks of his country's defenders. As the reader is told, he
was made a prisoner. He took with him into the terrible
prison enclosure not only a brave, vigorous, youthful spirit,
but invaluable habits of mind and thought for storing up the
incidents and experiences of his prison life. As a journalist
he had acquired the habit of noticing and memorizing every
striking or thrilling incident, and the experiences of his prison
life were adapted to enstamp themselves indelibly on both
feeling and memory. He speaks from personal experience and
from the stand-point of tender and complete sympathy with
those of his comrades who suffered more than he did himself.
Of his qualifications, the writer of these introductory words
need not speak. The sketches themselves testify to his ability
with such force that no commendation is required.
This work is needed. A generation is arising who do not
know what the preservation of our free government cost in blood
IN 'I' RODUCT 10 N. ix.
and suffering. Even the men of the passing generation begin
to be forgetful, if we may judge from the recklessness or
carelessness of their political action. The soldier is not always
remembered nor honored as he should be. But, what to the
future of the great Republic is more important, there is great
danger of our people under-estimating the bitter animus and
terrible malignity to the Union and its defenders cherished by
those who made war upon it. This is a point we can not
afford to be mistaken about. And yet, right at this point this
volume will meet its severest criticism, and at this point its
... testimony is most vital and necessary. - -
Many will be slow to believe all that is here told most
truthfully of the tyranny and cruelty of the captors of our brave
boys in blue. There are no parallels to the cruelties and
malignities here described in Northern society. The system of
slavery, maintained for over two hundred years at the South,
had performed a most perverting, morally desolating, and we
might say, demonizing work on the dominant race, which people
bred under our free civilization can not at once understand,
nor scarcely believe when it is declared unto them. This
reluctance to believe unwelcome truths has been the snare of
our national life. We have not been willing to believe how
hardened, despotic, and cruel the wielders of irresponsible power
may become. . -
When the anti-slavery reformers of thirty years ago set forth
the cruelties of the slave system, they were met with a storm
of indignant denial, villification and rebuke. Wheſ. Theodore
D. Weld issued his “Testimony of a Thousand Witnesses,” to
the cruelty of slavery, he introduced it with a few words,
pregnant with sound philosophy, which can be applied to the
work now introduced, and may help the reader better to
accept and appreciate its statements. Mr. Weld said:—
“Suppose I should seize you, rob you of your liberty, drive
you into the field, and make you work without pay as long as
you lived. Would that be justice Would it be kindness?
*
X. INTRODUCTION .
Or would it be monstrous injustice and cruelty Now, is the
man who robs you every day too tender-hearted ever to cuff
or kick you? He can empty your pockets without remorse,
but if your stomach is empty, it cuts him to the quick. He
can make you work a life-time without pay, but loves you
too well to let you go hungry. He fleeces you of your rights
with a relish, but is shocked if you work bare-headed in
summer, or without warm stockings in winter. He can make
you go without your liberty, but never without a shirt. He can
crush in you all hope of bettering your condition by vowing
that you shall die his slave, but though he can thus cruelly
torture your feelings, he will never lacerate your back—he can
break your heart, but is very tender of your skin. He can strip
you of all protection of law, and all comfort in religion, and
thus expose you to all outrages, but if you are exposed to the
weather, half-clad and half-sheltered, how yearn his tender
bowels l What I talk of a man treating you well while robbing
you of all you get, and as fast as you get it P And robbing
you of yourself, too, your hands and feet, your muscles, limbs
and senses, your body and mind, your liberty and earnings,
your free speech and rights of conscience, your right to acquire
knowledge, property and reputation, and yet you are content
to believe without question that men who do all this by their
slaves have soft hearts oozing out so lovingly toward their
human chattles that they always keep them well housed and
well clad, never push them too hard in the field, never make
their dear backs smart, nor let their dear stomachs get empty l’’
In like manner we may ask, are not the cruelties and
oppressions described in the following pages what we should
legitimately expect from men who, all their lives, have used whip
and thumb-screw, shot-gun and blood-hound, to keep human
beings subservient to their will? Are we to expect nothing but
chivalric tenderness and compassion from men who made war
on a tolerant government to make more secure their barbaric
system of oppression ?
INTRODUCTION. xi.
These things are written because they are true. Duty to the
brave dead, to the heroic living, who have endured the pangs
of a hundred deaths for their country's sake; duty to the
government which depends on the wisdom and constancy of
its good citizens for its support and perpetuity, calls for this
“round, unvarnished tale” of suffering endured for freedom's
sake.
The publisher of this work urged his friend and associate in
journalism to write and send forth these sketches because the
times demanded just such an expose of the inner hell of the
Southern prisons. The tender mercies of oppressors are cruel.
We must accept the truth and act in view of it. Acting wisely
on the warnings of the past, we shall be able to prevent treason,
with all its fearful concomitants, from being again the scourge
and terror of our beloved land.
ROBERT McCUNE.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
Fifteen months ago — and one month before it was begun—I
had no more idea of writing this book than I have now of tak-
ing up my residence in China.
While I have always been deeply impressed with the idea that
the public should know much more of the history of Anderson-
ville and other Southern prisons than it does, it had never
occurred to me that I was in any way charged with the duty of
increasing that enlightenment. * -
No affected deprecation of my own abilities had any part in
this. I certainly knew enough of the matter, as did every other
boy who had even a month's experience in those terrible places,
but the very magnitude of that knowledge overpowered me, by
showing me the vast requirements of the subject — requirements
that seemed to make it presumption for any but the greatest
pens in our literature to attempt the work. One day at Ander-
sonville or Florence would be task enough for the genius of
Carlyle or Hugo. Lesser than they would fail preposterously
to rise to the level of the theme. No writer ever described such
a deluge of woes as swept over the unfortunates confined in
Rebel prisons in the last year-and-a-half of the Confederacy's life.
No man was ever called upon to describe the spectacle and the pro-
cess of seventy thousand young, strong, able-bodied men, starv-
ing and rotting to death. Such a gigantic tragedy as this stuns
the mind and benumbs the imagination.
I no more felt myself competent to the task than to accom-
plish one of Michael Angelo's grand creations in sculpture or
painting.
A
xiv. - - AUTHOR's PREFACE.
Study of the subject since confirms me in this view, and my
only claim for this book is that it is a contribution—a record of
individual observation and experience — which will add some-
thing to the material which the historian of the future will find
available for his work.
The work was begun at the suggestion of Mr. D. R. Locke,
(Petroleum V. Nasby), the eminent political satirist. At first it
was only intended to write a few short serial sketches of prison
life for the columns of the Toledo BLADE. The exceeding
favor with which the first of the series was received induced
a great widening of their scope, until finally they took the range
they now have.
I know that what is contained herein will be bitterly denied.
I am prepared for this. In my boyhood I witnessed the savagery
of the Slavery agitation — in my youth I, felt the fierceness of
the hatred directed against all those who stood by the Nation.
I know that hell hath no fury like the vindictiveness of those
who are hurt by the truth being told of them. I apprehend
being assailed by a sirocco of contradiction and calumny. But
I solemnly affirm in advance the entire and absolute truth of
every material fact, statement and description. I assert that, so
far from there being any exaggeration in any particular, that in
no instance has the half of the truth been told, nor could it be,
save by an inspired pen. I am ready to demonstrate this by any
test that the deniers of this may require, and I am fortified in
my position by unsolicited letters from over 3,000 surviving
prisoners, warmly indorsing the account as thoroughly accurate
in every respect.
It has been charged that hatred of the South is the animus of
this work. Nothing can be farther from the truth. No one has
a deeper love for every part of our common country than I, and
no one to-day will make more efforts and sacrifices to bring the
South to the same plane of social and material development with
the rest of the Nation than I will. If I could see that the suf-
ferings at Andersonville and elsewhere contributed in any con-
AUTHOR's PREFACE. XV’.
siderable degree to that end, and I should not regret that they had
been. Blood and tears mark every step in the progress of the
race, and human misery seems unavoidable in securing human
advancement. But I am naturally embittered by the fruitless-
ness, as well as the uselessness of the misery of Andersonville.
There was never the least military or other reason for inflicting
all that wretchedness upon men, and, as far as mortal eye can
discern, no earthly good resulted from the martyrdom of those
tens of thousands. I wish I could see some hope that their
wantonly shed blood has sown seeds that will one day blossom,
and bear a rich fruitage of benefit to mankind, but it saddens
me beyond expression that I can not. -
The years 1864–5 were a season of desperate battles, but in
that time many more Union soldiers were slain behind the
Rebel armies, by starvation and exposure, than were killed in
front of them by cannon and rifle. The country has heard
much of the heroism and sacrifices of those loyal youths who
fell on the field of battle; but it has heard little of the still
greater number who died in prison pen. It knows full well
how grandly her sons met death in front of the serried ranks
of treason, and but little of the sublime firmness with which
they endured unto the death, all that the ingenious cruelty of
their foes could inflict upon them while in captivity.
It is to help supply this deficiency that this book is written.
It is a mite contributed to the better remembrance by their
countrymen of those who in this way endured and died that
the Nation might live. It is an offering of testimony to future
generations of the measureless cost of the expiation of a national
sin, and of the preservation of our national unity.
This is all. I know I speak for all those still living com-
rades who went with me through the scenes that I have
attempted to describe, when I say that we have no revenges.
to satisfy, no hatreds to appease. We do not ask that anyone.
shall be punished. We only desire that the Nation shall.
recognize and remember the grand fidelity of our dead com-
xvi. AUTHOR's PREFACE.
rades, and take abundant care that they shall not have died
in vain.
For the great mass of Southern people we have only the
kindliest feeling. We but hate a vicious social system, the
lingering shadow of a darker age, to which they yield, and which,
by elevating bad men to power, has proved their own and
their country's bane. *
The following story does not claim to be in any sense a
history of Southern prisons. It is simply a record of the
experience of one individual — one boy — who staid all the
time with his comrades inside the prison, and had no better
opportunities for gaining information than any other of his
4o, ooo companions.
The majority of the illustrations in this work are from the
skilled pencil of Captain O. J. Hopkins, of Toledo, who served
through the war in the ranks of the Forty-second Ohio. His army
experience has been of peculiar value to the work, as it has
enabled him to furnish a series of illustrations whose life-like
fidelity of action, pose and detail are admirable.
Some thirty of the pictures, including the frontispiece, and the
allegorical illustrations of War and Peace, are from the atelier
of Mr. O. Reich, Cincinnati, O.
A word as to the spelling: Having always been an ardent
believer in the reformation of our present preposterous system —
or rather, no system — of orthography, I am anxious to do what-
ever lies in my power to promote it. In the following pages the
spelling is simplified to the last degree allowed by Webster. I
hope that the time is near when even that advanced spelling
reformer will be left far in the rear by the progress of a people
thoroughly weary of longer slavery to the Orthographical absurdi-
ties handed down to us from a remote and grossly unlearned
ancestry. JOHN McELROY.
Toledo, O., Dec. Io, I879.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
Prontispiece.
4 & War 35
Cumberland Gap, Looking Eastward
A Cavalry Squad º e
The Rebels Marching Through Jonesville
'Leven Yards Killing the Rebel
A Scared Mule Driver
Bugler Sounding “Taps"
Company L Gathering to Meet the R
The Major Refuses to Surrender .
Ned Johnson Trying to Kill the Rebel C
Girls Astonished at the Jacket Tabs cº
Good-bye to “Hiatoga"
An East Tennesseean
A Rebel Dandy
The Rebel Flag - e
Turner in Quest of British Gold
&
ebel Attack
olonel .
Barnacle-backs Discouraging a Visit from a Soldier .
Ross Calling the Roll
An Evening's Amusement with the
Prisoners' Culinary Outfit
Guards
Skinaming the Bugs From My Soup
“Spooning ” © º
A. Richmond News Boy
“Say, Guard :
A ‘‘N’Yaarker "
Do You Want to B
Decoying Boisseux's Dog to Its Death .
The Dead Scotchman
Map of Georgia, South Carolina and part of North Carolin
Cooking Rations . e
General John W. Winder .
A Field II and º º º
Scaling the Stockade ©
Captain Henri Wirz
The Prize-fight for the Skillet
Killing Lice by Singeing
uy Some Greenbacks?” .
8 .
102
88
40
42
46
50
54
59
68
70
75
77
77
80
84
86
91
103
104
105
106
111
115
117
123
130
1:32
135
139
143
147
165
2
xviii. - ILLUSTRATIONS.
87. Stripping the Dead for Clothes G tº tº ſº
88. A Plymouth Pilgrim . . . . . . . .
89. The Crazy Pennsylvanian * tº © º &
40. Midnight Attack of the Raiders gº © & O
41. Ignominious End of a Tunnel Enterprize tº ©
42. Tunneling © tº © * te tº ſº &
43. Tattooing the Tunnel Traitor . ſº º º º
44. Overpowering a Guard e tº © © º * >
45. A Master of the Hounds . { } © º © º
46. Hounds Tearing a Prisoner . © O º tº e
47. Shot at the Creek by the Guard © º e ©
48. Cooking Mush & g g & Q e • •
49. Seitz on Horseback . . . . . . . .
50. Finding Seitz Dead e © & Q • 9 C
51. A Case of Scurvy º © © º © g ©
52. Confiscating Soft Soap gº © & o & o
53. Peligious Services . & tº tº º tº
54. The Priest Anointing the Dying . O • ę tº
55. Raider Fight with one of Ellett's Marine Brigade .
56. Rey Bluffing IIis Would-be Assassins * ge G
57. Rebel Artillerists Training the Cannon on the Prison
58. Overthrow of the Raiders . * tº o g ©
59. Arrest of Pete Donnelly . ſº © º © (A
60. Death of the Sailor . e * > & ſe º o Q
61. Execution of the Raiders . * s tº © ©
62. Sergeant A. R. Hill, 100th O. W. I . g Q & Q2
63. “Spanking ” a Thief . º © © e • •
64. The Wounded lllinois Sergeant . gº so O ©
65. The Idiotic Flute-Player . g & tº ſº Q
66. One of Sherman’s “Veterans” Q º gº g tº
67. “You LIcar Me '’ . . © º • • º
68. Logan Taking Command of the Army of the Tennessee
69. Death of M'Pherson tº e tº © * > G
70. The Work of a Shell • *e gº © © e O
71. The Fight for the Flag . . . . . . .
72. In the Rifle-pit After the Battle © © 19 Q C
73. Taken In tº © e e o ge gº e Q
74. The Author's Appearance on Entering Prison • •
75. His Appearance in July, 1864 . ſº * © tº
76. Little Red Cap . • ‘ e ge & tº tº ſº c
77. “Fresh Fish ’’ g * tº { } º o o
78. Interior of the Stockade, Viewed from the Southwest .
79. Burying the Dead wº e e e te g tº
80. The Graveyard at Andersonville, as the Rebels Left It.
81. Denouncing the Southern Confederacy . . .
82. The Charge •º e e o e Q º Çe O
83. “Flagstaff’’ {d e © © g © Q O
84. Nursing a Sick Comrad tº © © Cº © O
85. A Dream * gº © º O Q e Q O
16?
169
170
172
176
177
179
182
184
185
189
199
20%
203
205
211
215
216
223
228
231
232
237
240
245
253
256
261
262
268
27()
273
276
278
281
283
285
287
288
291.
293
295;
30,
312
325
328
338 .
339
344
ILLUSTRATIONS. xix.
86,
87.
88.
89.
90.
91.
92.
93.
94.
95.
96.
97.
98.
100.
101.
102.
103.
104.
105.
106,
107.
108.
109.
110.
111.
112.
113.
114.
115.
116.
117.
118.
119.
120.
121.
122.
123.
124.
125.
126.
127.
128.
129.
130.
131.
132.
133.
The English Bugler e º ſº & tº (s ſº & © 343
The Break in the Stockade tº © * > tº tº e • 35 |
At the Spring . * tº gº tº gº * & © 353
Morning Assemblage of Sick at the South Gate tº gº ſº 356
Cancer in the Mouth e e e Cl e gº © © & 360
Old Sailor and Chicken . tº e o Q Q e º . 361
Death of Watts wº o º G o © tº o • . 863
Planning Escape iº tº tº ge ſe e e e {_* . 365
Our Progress was Terribly Slow—Every Step Hurt Fearfully 370
“Come Ashore, There, Quick” * & * e & e . 372
He Shrieked Imprecations and Curses º & e Q gº 375.4
The Chain Gang . . . s e g e & * @ © . 376
Interior of the Stockade—The Creek at the East Side . tº 386
A Section from the East Side of the Prison Showing the Dead Line 389
“Half-past Eight O'clock, and Atlanta's Gone to H–1 !” 895
Off for “God's Country” e & e © e • • ſº 397
Georgian Development of the “Proud Caucasian" * g . 399
It was Very Unpleasant When a Storm Came Up tº gº . 405
When We Matched Our Intellects Against a Rebel's . . . 406
There was a Post and a Fire . {º * º ſº gº & tº 408
Carrying Away the Dirt . ſº e & e g te e . 409
His New Idea was to have a DIeavily Laden Cart Driven Around
Inside the Dead Line . º e ë de e tº e 410
They Stood Around the Gate and Yelled Derisively . . . 411
Sergeant Frank Beverstock e & tº . . . . 413
“See Heah; You Must Stand Back!” . ( . Q tº º * 413
He Bade Them Good-bye . º © tº tº © g cº . 415
{ { Wha-ah-ye ! » * º & º G * gº © & dº 422
A Mad Sergeant { } º' Gº O ſº gº * > g & . 428
One of Ferguson's Cavalry . . . . . . . . 445
Then the Clear Blue Eyes and Well-remembered Smile a . 448
He Propped This Up Before the Fire . * & e & . 453
Millen . * º e º g * > ſº © O º º 454
A House Builded With Our Own Hands tº gº º ºs . 457
Our First Meat * { } © e © (3 & tº Q . 450
A Lucky Find . • e e © e <> • - 463
Sergeant L. L. Key e & * x * e © tº º . 472
We Find Ourselves in the Densest Pine Forest I Ever Saw 473
The Dogs Came Within Not Less Three Hundred Yards of Us. 475
“Where Are You Going, You D–d Yank?”. e G → 482
They Threw Their Blankets, Etc., to Those Inside . © © 501
He Crushed It Out of All Shape ſº tº & & º e . 502
“Who Mout These Be 2 " . . . . . . . . 506
A Roadside View e o e © © © º Q wº . 509
The Charleston & Savannah Railroad .. © & • * O 510
A Rice Plantation Negro . • • © * © tº ſº . 511
A Rice Field Girl . . e. g © g te & © . 514
A Rice Swamp & ſº © te iº tº o tº . 515
A Scene in the “Burnt District ’’ tº Q tº e o © 518
XX.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
134.
135.
136.
137.
138.
139.
140.
141.
142.
143.
144.
145.
146.
147.
148.
149.
150.
151.
152.
153.
154.
The Part Where We Lay Was a Mass of Ruins . e © ©
Ruins of St. Finbar Cathedral . e º & ſº
The Unlucky Negro Fell, Pierced by a Score of Bullets &r º
Recapture of the Runaways º º º & Q º º
Corporal J. H. Matthews º e e º
“Take These Shears and Cut My Toes Off” . . . © ©
Corporal John W. January º © ©
Corporal Calvin Bates e © e © e te º º
Andrews Managed to Fish Out the Bag and Pass to Me Three
Roasted Chickens e . . . ſº & º e
In God's Country at Last. . . e e o ſº
Map of Wilmington and Neighborhood . © ſº tº © e
The Mock Monitor tº * e tº & e e e 3.
Fort Fisher and Connected Works . º º
The One Hundred and Fifty Pound Armstrong . & O º
The Infantry Assault on Fort Fisher . º & e
They Removed Every Trace of Prison Grime
Boston Corbett . * º & º º º tº º e
The Cemetery at Andersonville, as Placed in Order by the Party
Under Charge of Miss Clara Barton . & e º e
Trial of Captain Wirz . º g tº º © Q e Q
Execution of Captain Wirz e * © © o º Q
** Peace " . © e Q & Q Q. Q O © ©
519
521
523
530
533
536
545
548
594
600
603
612
614
615
617
624
628
638
642
C 0 NTE N T S.
-º-º-º-º-
CEHAPTER I.
A Strange Land — The Heart of the Appalachians — The Gateway of an
Empire — A Sequestered Wale, and a Primitive, Arcadian, Non-pro-
gressive People . tº e ©
CHAPTER II.
Scarcity of Food for the Army — Raid for Forage — Encounter with the
Rebels — Sharp Cavalry Fight—Defeat of the “Johnnies”— Powell's
Valley Opened Up e
CHAPTER III.
Living Off the Enemy—Reveling in the Fatness of the Country—Soldierly
Purveying and Camp Cookery — Susceptible Teamsters and Their
Tendency to Flightiness — Making a Soldier's Bed . is º &
CHAPTER IV.
A Bitter Cold Morning and a Warm Awakening — Trouble All Along the
Line — Fierce Conflicts, Assaults and Defense — Prolonged and Des-
perate Struggle, Ending with a Surrender *
CHAPTER W.
The Reaction — Depression — Biting Cold — Sharp Hunger and Sad Re-
flection * tº e * * se gº
CIIAPTER VI.
“On to Richmond'!”— Marching on Foot Over the Mountains — My Horse
has a New Rider — Unsophisticated Mountain Girls — Discussing the
Issues of the War — Parting with “Hiatoga " . e
CIIAPTER VII.
Entering Richmond — Disappointment at its Appearance — Everybody in
Uniform — Curled Darlings of the Capital — The Rebel Flag — Libby
Prison — Dick Turner — Searching the New Comers e
Page
83
87
61
74
xxii. CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VIII.
Introduction to Prison Life — The Pemberton Building and its Occupants
— Neat Sailors — Roll Call— Rations and Clothing — Chivalric “Con-
fiscation ” . . e tº e e J. ſº . . . . 88
CHAPTER Ix.
Beans or Peas — Insufficiency of Darky Testimony — A Guard Kills a
Prisoner — Prisoners Tease the Guards — Desperate Outbreak tº 89
º CIIAPTER X.
The Exchange and the Cause of its Interruption — Brief Resume of the
I)ifferent Cartels, and the Difficulties that Led to Their Suspension 95
CIIAPTER XI.
Putting in the Time — Rations — Cooking Utensils – “Fiat’” Soup —
“Spooning”— African Newspaper Wenders — Trading Greenbacks
for Confederate Money —Visit from John Morgan • • & 101
- CIIAPTER XII. -
Remarks as to Nomenclature—Vaccination and Its Effects—“N'Yaarker's,”
Their Characteristics, and their Methods of Operating e e 109
CHAPTER XIII.
Belle Isle —Terrible Suffering from Cold and Hunger — Fate of Lieuten-
ant Boisseux's Dog — Our Company Mystery — Termination of All
IIopes of Its Solution . º tº © º e º º e 114
CHAPTER XIV.
Hoping for Exchange — An Exposition of the Doctrine of Chances — Off
for Andersonville — Uncertainty as to Our Destination — Arrival at
Andersonville . . - e º º º º g © º 118
CHAPTER XV.
Georgia — A Lean and Hungry Land — Difference between Upper and
Lower Georgia—The Village of Andersonville . . g º tº 122
CHAPTER XVI.
_Waking Up in Andersonville — Some Description of the Place — Our
First Mail— Building Slelter – Gen. Winder—Himself and Lineage 128
CHAPTER XVII.
The Plantation Negros–Not Too Stupid to be Loyal—Their Dithyrambic
Music — Copperhead Opinion of Longfellow º g © º 134
CHAPTER XVIII.
Schemes and Plans to Escape — Scaling the Stockade — Establishing the
Dead Line—The First Man Killed & O . . . . . 138
CONTENTS. xxiii.
CHAPTER XIX.
Capt. Henri Wirz– Some Description of a Small-minded Personage, who
Gained Great Notoriety — First Experience with His Disciplinary
Method . e tº g g e we e * > tº te ge 142
CHAPTER XX.
Prize-fight Among the N'Yaarkers—A Great Many Formalities, and Little
Blood Spilt — A Futile Attempt to Tecover a Watch — Defeat of the
Law and Order Party fe * & e º tº wo tº O 146
CEIAPTER XXI.
Diminishing Rations—A Deadly Cold Rain – Hovering Over Pitch Pine
Fires–Increase of Mortality — A Theory of IIealth . ū * 151
º
CHAPTER XXII.
Difference Between Alabamians and Georgians — Death of “Poll Parrott”
— A Good Joke Upon the Guard — A Drutal Rascal . tº e 156
CELA PTER XXIII.
A New Lot of Prisoners — The Battle of Oolustee — Men Sacrificed to a
General's Incompetency — A IIoodlum Re inforcement — A Queer
Crowd — Mistreatment of an Officer of a Colored Regiment — Killing
the Sergeant of a Negro Squad & * tº e tº º g 160
CHAPTER xxiv. 22"T-
April — Longing to Get Out — Tié.feath Rºº-the Plague of Lice
The So-called IIospital • * * * * * ..., ….... • 164
--~~.--~~~~~~~~ ****
CHAPTER XXV.
The “Plymouth Pilgrims ”— Sad Transition from Comfortable Barracks
to Andersonville — A Crazed Pennsylvanian — Development of the
Sutler Business { } º e tº tº . . . Q tº e 168

CHIAPTER XXVI.
Longings for God's Country — Considerations of the Methods of Getting
There — Exchange and Escape – Digging Tunnels, and the Difficul-2-
ties Connected There with — Punishment of a Traitor . tº º (114)
CIIAPTER XXVII.
The Hounds, and the Difficulties They Put in the Way of Escape — The
Whole South Patrolled by Them . cº * º © & 181
CHAPTER XXVIII.
May — Influx of New Prisoners — Disparity in Numbers Between the
Eastern and Western Armies —Terrible Crowding — Slaughter of
Men at the Creek . tº e tº © * > * º e © 186
xxiv. - CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Some Distinction Between Soldierly Duty and Murder — A Plot to Escape
— It Is Revealed and Frustrated . e e & © tº e 19%
l CHAPTER XXX.
June — Possibilities of a Murderous Cannonade — What was Proposed
to be Done in That Event — A False Alarm — Deterioration of the
Rations – Fearful Increase of Mortality. . . . . . 195
`--~ CHAPTER xxxi. }
Dying by Inches-Seitz-the-slow, and His Death — Stiggall and Emer-
son — Rāvages of the scurº . . . . . . . .
Sg. rºwes-e-w-s.”
CHAPTER XXXII.

“Ole Boo,” and “Ole Sol, the Haymaker”— A Fetid, Burning Desert —
Noisome Water, and the Effects of Drinking It — Stealing Soft Soap 207
CIIA PTER XXXIII.
“Pour Passer le Temps"— A Set of Chessmen Procured Under Difficul-
ties — Religious Services — The Devoted Priest — War Song . 213
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Maggots, Lièg and Raiders — Practices of These IIuman Wermin — Plun-
sdering the Sick and Dying — Night Attacks, and Battles by Day —
Hard Times for the Small Traders * * º © e 220)
CHAPTER xxxv.
A Community without Government — Formation of the Regulators —
Raiders Attack Key but are Bluffed Off — Assault of the Regulators
on the Raiders — Desperate Battle — overthrow of the Raiders . 225
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Why the Regulators were not Assisted by the Entire Camp — Peculiari-
ties of Boys from Different Sections — Hunting the Raiders Down —
Exploits of My Left-handed Lieutenant — Running the Gauntlet. 234
200
CHAPTER XXXVII.
The Execution — Building the Scaffold — Doubts of the Camp — Captain
Wirz Thinks It Is Probably a Ruse to Force the Stockade — His
Preparations Against Such an Attempt — Entrance of the Doomed
Ones — They Realize Their Fate — One Makes a Desperate Effort to
Escape — His Re-capture — Intense Excitement — Wirz Orders the
Guns to Open — Fortunately They Do Not — The Six are Hanged —
One Breaks His Rope – Scene When the Raiders are Cut Down . 24h
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
After the Execution — Formation of a Police Force — Its First Chief—
“Spanking” an Offender © º º e . . . . 253
CONTENTS. XXV.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
July — The Prison Becomes More Crowded, the Weather FIotter, Rations
Poorer, and Mortality Greater — Some of the Phenomena of Suffer-
ing and Death e e e e e º º o º 258
CHAPTER XL.
The Battle of the 22d of July–The Army of the Tennessee Assaulted
Front and Rear — Death of General McPherson — Assumption of
Command by General Logan — Result of the Battle Q o 264
CHAPTER XLI.
SAClothing: Its Rapid Deterioration, and Devices to Replenish. It — Des-
• perate Efforts to Cover Nakedness — “Little Red Cap" and His
Letter º º te & c & e te • * @ G • 286
CHAPTER XLII.
Some Features of the Mortality — Percentage of Deaths to Those Living
— An Average Man Only Stands the Misery Three Months — Descrip-
tion of the Prison and the Condition of the Men Therein, by a Lead-
ing Scientific Man of the South º o º te & tº e 294
CHAPTER XLIII.
Difficulty of Exercising — Embarrassments of a Morning Walk — The
Rialto of the Prison — Cursing the Southern Confederacy—The Story
of the Battle of Spottsylvania Court IIouse . e e 9 ſº 828.
CHAPTER XLIV.
Rebel Music — Singular Lack of the Creative Power Among the South-
erners — Contrast with Similar People Elsewhere — Their Favorite
Music, and where it was Borrowed from — A Fifer with One Tune 330.
CHAPTER XLV.
August — Needles Stuck in Pumpkin Seeds — Some Phenomena of
Starvation — Rioting in Remembered Luxuries - º © 838.
CHAPTER XLVI.
A Surly Briton — The Stolid Courage that makes the English Flag a Ban-
ner of Triumph — Our Company Bugler, His Characteristics and
His Death — Urgent Demand for Mechanics — None Want to Go —
Treatment of a Rebel Shoemaker — Enlargement of the Stockade —
It is Broken by a Storm — The Wonderful Spring - e 345.
CHAPTER XLVII.
“Sick Call,” and the Scenes that Accompanied It — Mustering the Lame,
Halt and Diseased at the South Gate — An Unusually Bad Case —
Going Out to the Hospital — Accommodation and Treatment of the
Patients There — The Horrible Suffering in the Gangrene Ward —
Bungling Amputations by Blundering Practitioners — Affection Be-
tween a Sailor and His Ward — Death of My Comrade º º 855
&xvi. CONTENTS,
CHAPTER XLVIII.
'Determination to Escape — Different Plans and their Merits — I Prefer
the Appalachicola Route — Preparations for Departure — A Hot Day
—The Fence Passed Successfully – Pursued by the Hounds—
Caught— Returned to the Stockade . © e a * * > 364
CELAPTER XLIX.
3ugust — Good Luck in not Meeting Captain Wirz–That Worthy's
Treatment of Recaptured Prisoners — Secret Societies in Prison—
Singular Meeting and its Result — Discovery and Removal of the
Officers Among the Enlisted Men . e • tº e º o 374
CHAPTER L.
{{`ood — Its Meagerness, Inferior Quality, and Terrible Sameness — Rebel
Testimony on the Subject—Futility of Successful Explanation . 380
CHAPTER LI.
“Solicitude as to the Fate of Atlanta and Sherman's Army — Paucity of
News — How We Heard that Atlauta Had Fallen — Announcement
of a General Exchange — We Leave Andersonville * e * 394
CHAPTER LII,
‘Savannah — Devices to Obtain Materials for a Tent — Their Ultimate
Success — Resumption of Tunneling — Escaping by Wholesale and
Being Re-captured en masse—The Obstacles that Lay Between Us and
Our Lines . e gº * tº e * e º ſº 404.
CEHAPTER LIII.
Frank Beverstock's Attempt at Escape – Passing Off as a Rebel Boy He
Beaches Griswoldville by Rail, and then Strikes Across the Country
for Sherman, but is Caught within Twenty Miles of Our Lines . 412
CHAPTER T.I.W.
‘Savannah Proves to be a Change for the Better — Escape from the Brats
of Guards — Comparison Between Wirz and Davis — A Brief Inter-
val of Good Rations — Winder, the Man with the Evil Eye – The
Disloyal Work of a Shyster wº & e ſº * * * e 420
CHAPTER LW.
‘Why We Were IIurried Out of Andersonville—The Effect of the Fall of
Atlanta — Our Longing to Hear the News — Arrival of Some Fresh
Fish — How We Knew They Were Western Boys — Difference in
the Appearance of the Soldiers of the Two Armies © * - 431
CFIAPTER LVI.
What Caused the Fall of Atlanta — A Dissertation Upon an Important
Psychological Problem —The Battle of J onesboro — Why It Was
CONTENTS. xxvii.
Fought — How Sherman Deceived IIood — A Desperate Bayonet
Charge, and the Only Successful One in the Atlanta Campaign — A
Gallant Colonel and How He Died — The Heroism of Some Enlisted
Men — Going Calmly Certain Death t tº & e gº 436
CHIAPTER LVII.
A Fair Sacrifice — The Story of One Boy Who Willingly Gave His Young
Life for IIis Country tº e º 'º tº g e 446
CHAPTER LVIII.
We Leave Savannah — More IIopes of Exchange – Scenes at Departure
—“Flankers”—On the Back Track Toward Andersonville — Alarm
Thereat — At the Parting of Two Ways — We Finally Bring Up at
Camp Lawton . & te g º ſº tº dº * tº tº 450
CFIAPTER LIX.
Our New Quarters at Camp Lawton — Building a Hut — Ag Exceptional
Commandant — IIe is a Good Man, but will Take Bribes — Rations 455
CIIAPTEIR LX.
The Raiders Re-appear on the Scene — The Attempt to Assassinate Those
Who were Concerned in the Execution — A Couple of Lively Fights,
in Which the IRaiders are Defeated — Holding an Election . sº 460
CHAPTER LXI.
The Rebels Formally Propose to Us to Desert to Them — Contumelious
Treatment of the Proposition — Their ſtage — An Exciting Time —
An Outbreak Threatened — Diſficulties Attending Desertion to the
Rebels e * © tº e g tº gº tº º e . 466
CHAPTER LXII.
Sergeant Leroy L. Key — IIis Adventures Subsequent to the Execution—
He Goes Outside at Andersonville on Parole — Labors in the Cook-
house — Attempts to Escape — Is Ite-captured and Taken to Macon
— Escapes from There, but is Compelled to Return — Is Finally Ex-
changed at Savannah & º º & g e & tº & 471
CHAPTER LXIII.
*
Dreary Weather — The Cold Rains Distress All and Kill Hundreds —
Exchange of Ten Thousand Sick — Captain Bowes Turns a Pretty,
but Not Very Honest, Penny . g * e © ve g & 486.
CIIAPTER LXIV ul-
Another Removal — Sherman's Advance Scares thal Rebels Into Running
Us Away From Millen — We are Taken to Savannah, and Thence
Down the Atlantic & Gulf Road to Blackshear . & ta tº 490.
xxviii. contents.
CHAPTER LXV.
Blackshear and Pierce County—We Take Up New Quarters, but are Calleu
Out for Exchange — Excitement Over Signing the Parole — A Happy
Journey to Savannah — Grievous Disappointment tº & e 49&
CHAPTER LXVI.
A Specimen Conversation with an Average Native Georgian — We
Learn that Sherman is Heading for Savannah — The Reserves Get a
Little Setting Down © º e º © * & ſº * 505
CHAPTER XLVII.
Off to Charleston — Passing Through the Rice Swamps — Two Extremes
of Society — Entry into Charleston—Leisurely Warfare — Shelling
the City at Regular Intervals — We Camp in a Mass of Ruins — De-
parture for Florence . . . . . . . . . . 518
e CEIAPTER LXVIII.
First Days at Florence — Introduction to Lieutenant Barrett, the Red-
headed Keeper — A Brief Description of Our New Quarters — Win-
der's Malign Influence Manifest º g tº gº 524
CHAPTER XLIX.
Barrett's Insane Cruelty — How He Punished Those Alleged to be En-
gaged in Tunneling — The Misery in the Stockade — Men's Limbs
Rotting Off with Dry Gangrene ge tº ſº tº & º 532,
CHAPTER LXX.
House and Clothes – Efforts to Erect a Suitable Residence – Difficulties
Attending This — Varieties of Florentiue Architecture — Waiting for
Dead Men's Clothes — Crawing for Tobacco . tº * º tº 538
CHAPTER LXXI.
December—Rations of Wood and Food Grow Less Daily – Uncertainty
as to the Mortality at Florence — Even the Government's Statistics
are Very Deficient — Care for the Sick * tº G 542
CHAPTER LXXII.
Dull Winter Days — Too Weak and Too Stupid to Amuse Ourselves—
Attempts of the Rebels to Recruit Us Into Their Army—The Class
of Men They Obtained — Wengeance on “the Galvanized ”— A Sin-
gular Experience — Rare Glimpses of Fun – Inability of the Rebels
to Count . . . . . . . . . . . . 550
CHAPTER LXXIII.
Christmas, and the Way It Was Passed—The Daily Routine of Ration
Drawing — Some Peculiarities of Living and Dying . . . 55?
CONTENTS. xxix.
CHAPTER LXXIV.
New Year's Day — Death of John H. Winder — He Dies on His Way to
a Dinner — Something as to Character and Career — One of the
Worst Men That Ever Lived . g tº • º e e © 561
CHAPTER LXXV.
One Instance of a Successful Escape — The Adventures of Sergeant Walter
Hartsough, of Company K, Sixteenth Illinois Cavalry — He Gets
Away from the Rebels at Thomasville, and after a Toilsome and Dan-
gerous Journey of Several IIundred Miles, Reaches Our Lines in
Florida tº & ū • • ę g e o e e * 567
CEIAPTER LXXVI.
The Peculiar Type of Insanity Prevalent at Florence — Barrett's Wanton-
ness of Cruelty — We Learn of Sherman's Advance Into South Car-
olina—The Rebels Begin Moving the Prisoners Away — Andrews
and I Change Our Tactics, and Stay Behind—Arrival of Five
Prisoners from Sherman's Command — Their Unbounded Confidence
in She man’s Success, and Its Beneficial Effect Upon Us . e 576
CHAPTER LXXVII.
Pruitless Waiting for Sherman — We Leave Florence — Intelligence of the
Fall of Wilmington Communicated to Us by a Slave — The Turpen-
tine Region of North Carolina — We Come Upon a Rebel Line of
Battle — Yankees at IBoth Ends of the Road . © e tº * 585
CHAPTER LXXVIII.
Return to Florence and a Short Sojourn There — Off Toward Wilming-
ton Again—Cribbing a Tebel Officer's Lunch — Signs of Approach-
ing Our Lines—Terror of Our Rascally Guards— Entrance Into
God's Country at Last e y * . tº * ve º 592
CEIAPTER LXXIX.
Getting Used to Freedom — Delights of a Land Where There Is Enough
of Everything — First Glimpse of the Old Flag — Wilmington and its
History — Lieutenant Cushing —First Acquaintance with the Colored
Troops — Leaving for Home — Destruction of the “Thorn” by a Tor-
pedo — The Mock Monitor's Achievement . © e - ſº 599
CHAPTER LXXX.
Visit to Fort Fisher, and Inspection of that Stronghold — The Way It
Was Captured—Out on the Ocean Sailing — Terribly Sea-Sick —
Rapid Recovery — Arrival at Annapolis – Washed, Clothed and Fed
—Unbounded Luxury, and Days of Unadulterated Happiness . 614
XXX. CON TENTS.
CEIAPTER LXXXI.
Religious Life and Work in Andersonville—How Captured—Impressions
on Reaching the Prison — How Treated — Looking for Religious
Companions —Notes from Day to Day — Coadjutors in Organizing
Prayer Meetings — Brutal Treatment of the Sick by Rebels — Meager
Rations, Etc . tº & & ſº º t tº e tº & 628
*
CHAPTER LXXXII.
Captain Wirz, the Only One of the Prison-keepers Punished — His Arrest,
Trial and Execution e tº 639
CFIAPTER LXXXIII. •
The Responsibility — Who Was to Blame for All the Misery — An Ex-
amination of the Flimsy Excuses Made for the Rebels — One Docu-
ment That Conwieks them — What Is Desired © tº Q Q 645.
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We wait beneath the furnace blast
The pangs of transformation ;
Not painlessly doth God recast
And mold anew the nation.
Hot burns the fire
Where wrongs expire ;
Nor spares the hand
That from the land
|Uproots the ancient evil.
The hand-breadth cloud the sages feared
Its bloody rain is dropping ;
The poison plant the fathers spared
All else is overtopping.
East, West, South, North,
It curses the earth ; ;
All justice dies, -
And fraud and lies
Live only in its shadow.
\
Q sk sk zº ºr 1. Q
Then let the selfish lip be dumb,
And hushed the breath of sighing;
Before the joy of peace must come
The pains of purifying.
God give us grace
Each in his place
To bear his lot,
And, murmuring not,
Rºndure and wait and labor 1
—WHITTIER,

ANDERSON VILLE:
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS
CIIAPTER I.
A strº ANGE LAND — THE HEART OF THE APPALACHIANS – THE GATE-
WAY OF AN EMPIRE — A SEQUESTERED WALE, AND A PRIMITIVE,
ARCADIAN, NON-PROGRESSIVE PEOPLE. . . . .
A Low, square,
plainly-hewn stone,
set near the summit
- ... of the eastern ap-
----- sº proach to the form-
5 idable natural fort-
ress of Cumberland
Gap, indicates the
boundaries of the
three great States
of Virginia, Ken-
tucky and Tennes-
SG26.
It is such a place as, re-
membering the old Greek
and Roman myths and super-
stitions, one would recognize
as fitting to mark the con-
fines of the territories of great
- masses of strong, aggressive,
oUMBERLAND GAP, LookING EASTWARD. and frequently conflicting
peoples. There the god Terminus should have had one of his
chief temples, where his shrine would be shadowed by barriers
rising above the clouds, and his sacred solitude guarded from
3 -
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34 ANDERSON VILLE.
the rude invasion of armed hosts by range on range of battle-
mented rocks, crowning almost inaccessible mountains, inter-
posed across every approach from the usual haunts of men.
Roundabout the land is full of strangeness and mystery. The
throes of some great convulsion of Nature are written on the
face of the four thousand square miles of territory, of which
Cumberland Gap is the central point. Miles of granite moun-
tains are thrust up like giant walls, hundreds of feet high, and
as Smooth and regular as the side of a monument.
Huge, fantastically-shaped rocks abound everywhere — some-
times rising into pinnacles on lofty summits—sometimes hang-
ing over the verge of beetling cliffs, as if placed there in waiting
for a time when they could be hurled down upon the path of
an advancing army, and sweep it away.
Large streams of water burst out in the most unexpected
places, frequently far up mountain sides, and fall in silver vails
upon stones beaten round by the ceaseless dash for ages.
Caves, rich in quaintly-formed stalactites and stalagmites, and
their recesses filled with metallic salts of the most powerful and
diverse natures, break the mountain sides at frequent intervals.
Everywhere one is met by surprises and anomalies. Even the
rank vegetation is eccentric, and as prone to develop into bizarre
forms as are the rocks and mountains.
The dreaded panther ranges through the primeval, rarely
trodden forests; every crevice in the rocks has for tenants rat-
tlesnakes or stealthy copperheads, while long, wonderfully
swift “blue racers” haunt the edges of the woods, and linger
around the fields to chill his blood who catches a glimpse of
their upreared heads, with their great, balefully bright eyes,
and “white-collar” encircled throats.
The human events happening here have been in harmony
with the natural ones. It has always been a land of conflict.
In 1540–339 years ago—I)e Soto, in that energetic but fruit-
less search for gold which occupied his later years, penetrated to
this region, and found it the fastness of the Xualans, a bold,
aggressive race, continually warring with its neighbors. When
next the white man reached the country—a century and a half
later—he found the Xualans had been swept away by the con-
quering Cherokees, and he witnessed there the most sanguinary
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. . 85
contest between Indians of which our annals give any account
—a pitched battle two days in duration, between the invading
Shawnees, who lorded it over what is now Kentucky, Ohio and
Indiana — and the Cherokees, who dominated the country to
the southeast of the Cumberland range. Again the Cherokees
were victorious, and the discomfited Shawnees retired north of
the Gap.
Then the white man delivered battle for the possession of
the land, and bought it with the lives of many gallant adven-
turers. Half a century later Boone and his hardy companions
followed, and forced their way into Kentucky. - -
Another half century saw the Gap the favorite haunt of the
greatest of American bandits—the noted. John A. Murrell—and
his gang. They infested the country for years, now waylaying
the trader or drover threading his toilsome way over the lonely
mountains, now descending upon some little town, to plunder
its stores and houses. -
At length Murrell and his band were driven out, and sought
a new field of operations on the Lower Mississippi. They left
germs behind them, however, that developed into horse thieves,
counterfeiters, and later into guerrillas and bushwhackers.
When the Rebellion broke out the region at once became the
theater of military operations. Twice Cumberland Gap was
seized by the Rebels, and twice was it wrested away from
them. In 1861 it was the point whence Zollicoffer launched out
with his legions to “liberate Kentucky,” and it was whither
they fled, beaten and shattered, after the disasters of Wild Cat
and Mill Springs. In 1862 Kirby Smith led his army through
the Gap on his way to overrun Kentucky and invade the North.
Three months later his beaten forces sought refuge from their
pursuers behind its impregnable fortifications. Another year
saw Burnside burst through the Gap with a conquering force,
and redeem loyal East Tennessee from its Rebel oppressors.
Had the South ever been able to separate from the North,
the boundary would have been established along this line.
3& * * # % * * + * *
Between the main ridge upon which Cumberland Gap is sit-
uated, and the next range on the southeast which runs parallel
with it, is a narrow, long, very fruitful valley, walled in on
38 ANDERSON VILLE.
either side for a hundred miles by tall mountains as a City street
is by high buildings. It is called Powell's Valley. Init dwell a
simple, primitive people, shut out from the world almost as
much as if they lived in New Zealand, and with the speech,
manners and ideas that their fathers brought into the Valley
when they settled it a century ago. There has been but little
change since then. The young men who have annually driven
cattle to the distant markets in Kentucky, Tennessee and Vir.
ginia, have brought back occasional stray bits of finery for
the “women folks,” and the latest improved fire-arms for them-
selves, but this is about all the innovations the progress of the
world has been allowed to make. Wheeled vehicles are almost
unknown; men and women travel on horseback as they did a
century ago, the clothing is the product of the farm and the
busy looms of the women, and life is as rural and Arcadian as
any ever described in a pastoral. The people are rich in cat-
tle, hogs, horses, sheep and the products of the field. The fat
soil brings forth the substantials of life in opulent plenty.
Having this there seems to be little care for more. Ambition
nor avarice, nor yet craving after luxury, disturb their con-
tented souls or drag them away from the non-progressive round
of simple life bequeathed them by their fathers.
CHAPTER II.
SOARGITY OF Food For THE ARMY — RAID FOR FORAGE – ENCOUNTER
WITH THE REBELs — SHARP CAVALRY FIGHT — DEFEAT OF THE
“JOHNNIES”—PowHLL's WALLEY OPENED UP.
As the Autumn of 1863 advanced towards Winter the diffi-
culty of supplying the forces concentrated around Cumberland
Gap—as well as the rest of Burnside's army in East Tennessee
—became greater and greater. The base of supplies was at
Camp Nelson, near Lexington, Ky., one hundred and eighty
miles from the Gap, and all that the Army used had to be hauled
that distance by mule teams over roads that, in their best state,
were wretched, and which the copious rains and heavy traffic had
rendered well-nighimpassable. All the country in our possession
had been drained of its stock of whatever would contribute to the
support of man or beast. That portion of Powell's Valley ex-
tending from the Gap into Virginia was still in the hands of
the Rebels; its stock of products was as yet almost exempt
from military contributions. Consequently a raid was project-
ed to reduce the Valley to our possession, and secure its much
needed stores. It was guarded by the Sixty-fourth Virginia,
a mounted regiment, made up of the young men of the local-
ity, who had then been in the service about two years.
Maj. C. H. Beer's Third Battalion, Sixteenth Illinois Cavalry
—four companies, each about 75 strong—was sent on the errand
of driving out the Rebels and opening up the Valley for our
foraging teams. The writer was invited to attend the excur-
sion. As he held the honorable, but not very lucrative position
of “high private” in Company L, of the Battalion, and the in-
vitation came from his Captain, he did not feel at liberty to de-
38 ANDERSON VILLE.
cline. He went, as private soldiers have been in the habit of
doing ever since the days of the old Centurion, who said with
the characteristic boastfulness of one of the lower grades of
commissioned officers when he happens to be a snob:
For I am also a man set under authority, having under me soldiers, and I say unto one, Go;
and he goeth ; and to another, Come, and he cometh ; and to my servant, Do this, and he
doeth it.
Rather “airy” talk that for a man who nowadays would
take rank with Captains of infantry.
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Three hundred of us responded to the signal of “boots and sad-
dles,” buckled on three hundred more or less trusty sabers and
revolvers, saddled three hundred more or less gallant steeds, came
into line “as companies” with the automatic listlessness of the
old soldiers, “counted off by fours” in that queer gamut-running
style that makes a company of men “counting off”—each shout-
ing a number in a different voice from his neighbor—sound like

































































A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 39
running the scales on some great organ badly out of tune; some-
thing like this:
One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four.
Then, as the bugle sounded “I’ight forward/fours right /*
we moved off at a walk through the melancholy mist that
soaked through the very fiber of man and horse, and reduced
the minds of both to a condition of limp indifference as to things
past, present and future.
Whither we were going we knew not, nor cared. Such mat-
ters had long since ceased to excite any interest. A cavalryman
soon recognizes as the least astonishing thing in his existence
the signal to “Fall in/’’ and start somewhere. He feels that he
is the “Poor Joe” of the Army—under perpetual orders to
“move on.” -
Down we wound over the road that zig-zagged through the
forts, batteries and rifle-pits covering the eastern ascent to the
Gap—past the wonderful Murrell Spring—so-called because the
robber chief had killed, as he stooped to drink of its crystal wa-
ters, a rich drover, whom he was pretending to pilot through
the mountains—down to where the “Virginia road” turned
off sharply to the left and entered Powell's Valley. The mist
had become a chill, dreary rain, through which we plodded
silently, until night closed in around us some ten miles from the
Gap. As we halted to go into camp, an indignant Virginian
resented the invasion of the sacred soil by firing at one of the
guards moving out to his place. The guard looked at the fel-
low contemptuously, as if he hated to waste powder on a man
who had no better sense than to stay out in such a rain, when
he could go in-doors, and the bushwhacker escaped, without
even a return shot. -
Fires were built, coffee made, horses rubbed, and we laid down
with feet to the fire to get what sleep we could.
Before morning we were awakened by the bitter cold. It
had cleared off during the night and turned so cold that every-
thing was frozen stiff. This was better than the rain, at all

40 ANDERSON VILLE.
events. A good fire and a hot cup of coffee would make the
cold quite endurable.
At daylight the bugle sounded “Right forward/fours right !”
again, and the 300 of us resumed our onward plod over the
rocky, cedar-crowned hills. -
**-*. *- -> -
THE REBELS MARCHING THROUGEI JONES VILLE.
In the meantime, other things were taking place elsewhere.
Our esteemed friends of the Sixty-fourth Virginia, who were in
camp at the little town of Jonesville, about 40 miles from the
Gap, had learned of our starting up the Valley to drive them
out, and they showed that warm reciprocity characteristic of
the Southern soldier, by mounting and starting down the Valley
to drive us out. Nothing could be more harmonious, it will be
perceived. Barring the trifling divergence of views as to who
was to drive and who be driven, there was perfect accord in our
ideas. - -
Our numbers were about equal. If I were to say that they
considerably outnumbered us, I would be following the univer.

A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 41
sal precedent. No soldier—high or low—ever admitted engag-
ing an equal or inferior force of the enemy.
About 9 o'clockin the morning—Sunday—they rode through
the streets of Jonesville on their way to give us battle. It was
here that most of the members of the Regiment lived. Every
man, woman and child in the town was related in some way to
nearly every one of the soldiers. -
The women turned out to wave their fathers, husbands,
brothers and lovers on to victory. The old men gathered to
give parting counsel and encouragement to their sons and kin-
dred. The Sixty-fourth rode away to what hope told them
would be a glorious victory. - *
At noon we are still straggling along without much attempt
at soldierly order, over the rough, frozen hill-sides. It is yet
bitterly cold, and men and horses draw themselves together, as
if to expose as little surface as possible to the unkind elements.
Not a word had been spoken by any one for hours.
The head of the column has just reached the top of the hill,
and the rest of us are strung along for a quarter of a mile or
so back. - -
Suddenly a few shots ring out upon the frosty air from the
carbines of the advance. The general apathy is instantly re-
placed by keen attention, and the boys instinctively range them-
selves into fours—the cavalry unit of action. The Major, who
is riding about the middle of the first Company—I—dashes to
the front. A glance seems to satisfy him, for he turns in his
saddle and his voice rings out : : .
“Company I/ Fours LEFT INTO LINE 1–MARCTIll”
The Company swings around on the hill-top like a great,
jointed toy snake. As the fours come into line on a trot, we see
every man draw his saber and revolver. The Company raises
a mighty cheer and dashes forward.
Company K presses forward to the ground Company I has
just left, the fours sweep around into line, the sabers and
revolvers come out spontaneously, the men cheer, and the Com-
pany flings itself forward. &
All this time we of Company L can see nothing except what
the companies ahead of us are doing. We are wrought up to
the highest pitch. As Company K clears its ground, we press
42 ANDERSON VILLE.
forward eagerly. Now we go into line just as we raise the hill,
and as my four comes around, I catch a hurried glimpse through
a rift in the smoke of a line of butternut and gray clad men a
hundred yards or so away. Their guns are at their faces, and I
see the smoke and fire spurt from the muzzles. At the same
instant, our sabers and revolvers are drawn. We shout in a
frenzy of excitement, and the horses spring forward as if shot
from a bow.
I see nothing more until I reach the place where the Rebel
line stood. Then I find it is gone. Looking beyond toward
the bottom of the hill, I see the woods filled with Rebels
flying in disorder, and our men yelling in pursuit. This is the
portion of the line which Companies I and K struck. Here
and there are men in butternut clothing, prone on the frozen
ground, wounded and dying. I have just time to notice closely
one middle-aged man lying almost under my horse's feet. He
has received a carbine bullet through his head and his blood
colors a great space around him. --
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“’LEVEN YARDS ’’ KILLING THE REBEL.

A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 48
One brave man, riding a roan horse, attempts to rally his
companions. He halts on a little knoll, wheels his horse to
face us, and waves his hat to draw his companions to him. A
tall, lank fellow in the next four to me—who goes by the nick-
name of “”Leven Yards” — aims his carbine at him, and, with.
out checking his horse's pace, fires. The heavy Sharpe's bullet
tears a gaping hole through the Rebel's heart. He drops from
his saddle, his life-blood runs down in little rills on either side
of the knoll, and his riderless horse dashes away in a panic.
At this instant comes an order for the Company to break up
into fours and press on through the forest in pursuit. My four
trots off to the road at the right. A Rebel bugler, who has
been cut off, leaps his horse into the road in front of us. We
all fire at him on the impulse of the moment. He falls from
his horse with a bullet through his back. Company M, which
has remained in column as a reserve, is now thundering up
close behind at a gallop. Its seventy-five powerful horses are
spurning the solid earth with steel-clad hoofs. The man will
be ground into a shapeless mass if left where he has fallen. We
spring from our horses and drag him into a fence corner; then
remount and join in the pursuit. .
This happened on the summit of Chestnut Ridge, fifteen miles
from Jonesville. -
Late in the afternoon the anxious watchers at Jonesville saw a
single fugitive urging his well-nigh spent horse down the slope
of the hill toward town. In an agony of anxiety they hurried
forward to meet him and learn his news.
The first messenger who rushed into Job's presence to
announce the beginning of the series of misfortunes which were
to afflict the upright man of Uz is a type of all the cowards
who, before or since then, have been the first to speed away
from the field of battle to spread the news of disaster. He said:
And the Sabeans fell upon them, and took them away 5 yea, they have slain the servants
with the edge of the sword ; and I only am escaped alone to tell thee.
So this fleeing Virginian shouted to his expectant friends:
“The boys are all cut to pieces; I’m the only one that got
away.” .
The terrible extent of his words was belied a little later, by
the appearance on the distant summit of the hill of a consider.
44 ANDERSON VILLE.
able mob of fugitives, flying at the utmost speed of their nearly
exhausted horses. As they came on down the hill an almost
equally disorganized crowd of pursuers appeared on the sum-
mit, yelling in voices hoarse with continued shouting, and pour-
ing an incessant fire of carbine and revolver bullets upon the
hapless men of the Sixty-fourth Virginia.
The two masses of men swept on through the town. Beyond
it, the road branched in several directions, the pursued scattered
on each of these, and the worn-out pursuers gave up the chase.
Returning to Jonesville, we took an account of stock, and
found that we were “ahead” one hundred and fifteen prisoners,
nearly that many horses, and a considerable quantity of small
arms. How many of the enemy had been killed and wounded
could not be told, as they were scattered over the whole fifteen
miles between where the fight occurred and the pursuit ended.
Our loss was trifling.
Comparing notes around the camp-fires in the evening, we
found that our success had been owing to the Major's instinct-
ive grasp of the situation, and the soldierly way in which he
took advantage of it. When he reached the summit of the hill
he found the Rebel line nearly formed and ready for action.
A moment's hesitation might have been fatal to us. At his
command Company I went into line with the thought-like celer-
ity of trained cavalry, and instantly dashed through the right
of the Rebel line. Company K followed and plunged through
the Rebel center, and when we of Company L arrived on the
ground, and charged the left, the last vestige of resistance was
swept away. The whole affair did not probably occupy more
than fifteen minutes.
This was the way Powell's Valley was opened to our foragers.
CHAPTER III.
CIVING OFF THE ENEMY — REVELING IN THE FATNESS OF THE COUNTRY
— SOLDIERLY PURVEYING AND CAMP cookERY – SUSCEPTIBLE
TEAMSTERS AND THEIR TENDENCY TO FLIGHTINESS —MAKING A
SOLDIER's BED. - -
For weeks we rode up and down—hither and thither—along
the length of the narrow, granite-walled Valley; between moun-
tains so lofty that the sun labored slowly over them in the
morning, occupying half the forenoon in getting to where his
rays would reach the stream that ran through the Valley’s cen-
wer. Perpetual shadow reigned on the northern and western
faces of these towering hights—not enough warmth and sun-
shine reaching them in the cold months to check the growth of
the ever-lengthening icicles hanging from the jutting cliffs, or
melt the arabesque frost-forms with which the many dashing
cascades decorated the adjacent rocks and shrubbery. Occa-
sionally we would see where some little stream ran down over
the face of the bare, black rocks for many hundred feet, and
then its course would be a long band of sheeny white, like a
great rich, spotless scarf of satin, festooning the war-grimed
walls of some old castle. - -**
Our duty now was to break up any nuclei of concentration
that the Rebels might attempt to form, and to guard our for-
agers—that is, the teamsters and employes of the Quartermas-
ter's Department—who were loading grain into wagons and
hauling it away. - -
This last was an arduous task. There is no man in the world
that needs as much protection as an Army teamster. He is
worse in this respect than a New England manufacturer, or an
46 : ANDERSON VILLE.
tº,
old maid on her travels. He is given to sudden fears and
causeless panics. Very innocent cedars have a fashion of assum-
ing in his eyes the appearance of desperate Rebels armed with
murderous guns, and there is no telling what moment a rock
may take such a form as to freeze his young blood, and make
each particular hair stand on end like quills upon the fretful
porcupine. One has to be particular about snapping caps in
his neighborhood, and give to him careful warning before dis-
charging a carbine to clean it. His first impulse, when any-
thing occurs to jar upon his delicate nerves, is to cut his wheel
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A SCARED MULE, DRIVER,
mule loose and retire with the precipitation of a man having an
appointment to keep and being behind time. There is no man
who can get as much speed out of a mule as a teamster falling
back from the neighborhood of heavy firing. -
This nervous tremor was not peculiar to the engineers of our
transportation department. It was noticeable in the gentry








A STORY OF MILITARY REBEL PRISON8. 47
who carted the scanty provisions of the Rebels. One of
Wheeler's cavalrymen told me that the brigade to which he be-
longed was one evening ordered to move at daybreak. The night
was rainy, and it was thought best to discharge the guns and
reload before starting. Unfortunately, it was neglected to
inform the teamsters of this, and at the first discharge they van-
ished from the scene with such energy that it was over a week
before the brigade succeeded in getting them back again.
Why association with the mule should thus demoralize a man,
has always been a puzzle to me, for while the mule, as Col.
Ingersoll has remarked, is an animal without pride of ancestry
or hope of posterity, he is still not a coward by any means. It
is beyond dispute that a full-grown and active lioness once
attacked a mule in the grounds of the Cincinnati Zoological
Garden, and was ignominiously beaten, receiving injuries from
which she died shortly afterward. -
The apparition of a badly-scared teamster urging one of his
wheel mules at break-neck speed over the rough ground, yelling
for protection against “them Johnnies,” who had appeared on
Some hilltop in sight of where he was gathering corn, was an
almost hourly occurrence. Of course the squad dispatched to
his assistance found nobody. - -
Still, there were plenty of Rebels in the country, and they
hung around our front, exchanging shots with us at long taw,
and occasionally treating us to a volley at close range, from
Some favorable point. But we had the decided advantage of
them at this game. Our Sharpe's carbines were much superior
in every way to their Enfields. They would shoot much far-
ther, and a great deal more rapidly, so that the Virginians were
not long in discovering that they were losing more than they
gained in this useless warfare. * * -
Once they played a sharp practical joke upon us. Copper
River is a deep, exceedingly rapid mountain stream, with a very
slippery rocky bottom. The Rebels blockaded a ford in such a
way that it was almost impossible for a horse to keep his feet.
Then they tolled us off in pursuit of a small party to this ford.
When we came to it there was a light line of skirmishers on the
opposite bank, who popped away at us industriously. Our boys
formed in line, gave the customary cheer, and dashed in to carry
48 ANDERSON VILLE.
the ford at a charge. As they did so at least one-half of the
horses went down as if they were shot, and rolled over their
riders in the swift running, ice-cold waters. The Rebels yelled
a triumphant laugh, as they galloped away, and the laugh was
re-echoed by our fellows, who were as quick to see the joke as
the other side. We tried to get even with them by a sharp
chase, but we gave it up after a few miles, without having
taken any prisoners.
But, after all, there was much to make our sojourn in the
Valley endurable. Though we did not wear fine linen, we
fared sumptuously—for soldiers—every day. The cavalryman
is always charged by the infantry and artillery with having a
finer and surer scent for the good things in the country than
any other man in the service. He is believed to have an instinct
that will unfailingly lead him, in the darkest night, to the
roosting place of the most desirable poultry, and after he has
camped in a neighborhood for awhile it would require a close
chemical analysis to find a trace of ham. -
We did our best to sustain the reputation of our arm of the
service. We found the most delicious hams packed away in the
ash-houses. They were small, and had that exquisite nutty
flavor, peculiar to mast-fed bacon. Then there was an abund-
ance of the delightful little apple known as “romanites.” There
were turnips, pumpkins, cabbages, potatos, and the usual pro-
ducts of the field in plenty, even profusion. The corn in the
fields furnished an ample supply of breadstuff. We carried it
to and ground it in the quaintest, rudest little mills that can be
imagined outside of the primitive affairs by which the women
of Arabia coarsely powder the grain for the family meal.
Sometimes the mill would consist only of four stout posts thrust
into the ground at the edge of some stream. A line of boul-
ders reaching diagonally across the stream answered for a dam,
by diverting a portion of the volume of water to a channel at
the side, where it moved a clumsily constructed wheel, that
turned two small stones, not larger than good-sized grindstones.
Over this would be a shed made by resting poles in forked
posts stuck into the ground, and covering these with clapboards
held in place by large flat stones. They resembled the mills of
the gods—in grinding slowly. It used to seem that a healthy
man could eat the meal faster than they ground it.
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 49
rºut what savory meals we used to concoct around the camp-
fires, out of the rich materials collected during the day’s ride!
Such stews, such soups, such broils, such wonderful commix-
tures of things diverse in nature and antagonistic in properties,
such daring culinary experiments in combining materials never
before attempted to be combined. The French say of untaste-
ful arrangement of hues in dress—“that the colors swear at
each other.” I have often thought the same thing of the
heterogeneities, that go to make up a soldier's pot-a-feu.
But for all that they never failed to taste deliciously after a
long day’s ride. They were washed down by a tincupful of
coffee strong enough to tan leather, then came a brier-Wood
pipeful of fragrant kinnikinnic, and a seat by the ruddy, spark-
ling fire of aromatic cedar logs, that diffused at once warmth,
and Spicy, pleasing incense. A chat over the events of the day,
and the prospect of the morrow, the wonderful merits of each
man's horse, and the disgusting irregularities of the mails from
home, lasted until the silver-voiced bugle rang out the sweet,
mournful tattoo of the Regulations, to the flowing cadences of
which the boys had arranged the absurdly incongruous words:
“S-a-y — D-en-t-c-h-e-r-will you fight-mit Sigel ?
Zwei-glass of lager-bier, jal ja/ JA -
Words were fitted to all the calls, which generally bore some
relativeness to the signal, but these were as destitute of con-
gruity as of sense.
Tattoo always produces an impression of extreme loneliness.
As its weird, half-wailing notes ring out and are answered back
from the distant rocks shrouded in night, and perhaps conceal-
ing the lurking foe, the soldier remembers that he is far away
from home and friends — deep in the enemy's country, encom-
passed on every hand by those in deadly hostility to him, who
are perhaps even then maturing the preparations for his destruc-
tion. -
As the tattoo sounds, the boys arise from around the fire,
visit the horse line, see that their horses are securely tied, rub
off from the fetlocks and legs such specks of mud as may have
escaped the cleaning in the early evening, and if possible, smug-
gle their faithful four-footed friends a few ears of corn, or
another bunch of hay. 4 -
50 ANDERSON VILLE.
If not too tired, and everything else is favorable, the cavalry-
man has prepared himself a comfortable couch for the night.
He always sleeps with a chum. The two have gathered enough
small tufts of pine or cedar to make a comfortable, Springy,
mattress-like foundation. On this is laid the poncho or rubber
blanket. Next comes one of their overcoats, and upon this
they lie, covering themselves with the two blankets and the
other overcoat, their feet towards the fire, their boots at the
foot, and their belts, with revolver, saber and garbine, at the
sides of the bed. It is surprising what an amount of comfort
a man can get out of such a couch, and how, at an alarm, he
Springs from it, almost instantly dressed and armed. .
#
BUGLER SOUNDING “TAPS,”

A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 51
Half an hour after tattoo the bugle rings out another sadly
sweet strain, that hath a dying sound:
/ TAPS.
L-i-g-h-t-s O-u-t! L-i-g-h-t-s O-m-t" Lights out, lights out-for-the
n+g-h-t Lights out! For the n-i-g-h-t. For-the n+g-h-$.


CHAPTER IV.
A BITTER COLD MORNING AND A WARM AWAKENING-TECUBLE ALL
ALONG THE LINE FIERCE CONFLICTs, ASSAULTS AND DEFENSE—
PROLONGED AND DESPERATE STRUGGLE ENDING WITH A SURE ENDER.
THE night had been the most intensely cold that the country
had known for many years. Peach and other tender trees had
been killed by the frosty rigor, and sentinels had been frozen to
death in our neighborhood. The deep snow on which we made
our beds, the icy covering of the streams near us, the limbs of
the trees above us, had been cracking with loud noises all night,
from the bitter cold.
We were camped around Jonesville, each of the four compa-
nies lying on one of the roads leading from the town. Com-
pany L lay about a mile from the Court IIouse. On a knoll at
the end of the village toward us, and at a point where two
roads separated,—one of which led to us, -stood a three-inch
Rodman rifle, belonging to the Twenty-second Ohio Battery.
It and its squad of eighteen men, under command of Lieutenant
Alger and Sergeant Davis, had been sent up to us a few days
before from the Gap.
The comfortless gray dawn was crawling sluggishly over the
mountain-tops, as if numb as the animal and vegetable life
which had been shrinking all the long hours under the fierce
chill.
The Major's bugler had saluted the morn with the lively,
ringing t-a-r-r-r-a-ta-a-a of the Tegulation reveille, and the com-
pany buglers, as fast as they could thaw out their mouth-pieces,
were answering him.
I lay on my bed, dreading to get up, and yet not anxious to lie
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 53
still. It was a question which would be the more uncomforta-
ble. I turned over, to see if there was not another position in
which it would be warmer, and began wishing for the thou-
sandth time that the efforts for the amelioration of the horrors
of warfare would progress to such a point as to put a stop to
all Winter soldiering, so that a fellow could go home as soon as
cold weather began, sit around a comfortable stove in a country
store, and tell camp stories until the Spring was far enough
advanced to let him go back to the front wearing a straw hat
and a linen duster.
Then I began wondering how much longer I would dare lie
there, before the Orderly Sergeant would draw me out by the
heels, and accompany the operation with numerous unkind and
sulphurous remarks.
This cogitation was abruptly terminated by hearing an
excited shout from the Captain:
“Th/?m, Owi, Z – COMPANY L | | TURN OUT!!!”
Almost at the same instant rose that shrill, piercing Rebel
yell, which one who has once heard it rarely forgets, and this
was followed by a crashing volley from apparently a regiment
of rifles.
Iarose—promptly.
There was evidently something of more interest on hand than
the weather.
Cap, overcoat, boots and revolver belt went on, and eyes
opened at about the same instant.
As I snatched up my carbine, I looked out in front, and the
whole woods appeared to be full of Rebels, rushing toward us,
all yelling and some firing. My Captain and First Lieutenant
had taken up position on the right front of the tents, and part
of the boys were running up to form a line alongside them.
The Second Lieutenant had stationed himself on a knoll on the
left front, and about a third of the company was rallying
around him. -
My chum was a silent, sententious sort of a chap, and as we
ran forward to the Captain's line, he remarked earnestly:
“Well: this beats hell!”
I thought he had a clear idea of the situation. \
All this occupied an inappreciably short space of time. The
54 - ANDERSON VILLE.
Rebels had not stopped to reload, but were rushing impetuously
toward us. We gave them a hot, rolling volley from our car-
bines. Many fell, more stopped to load and reply, but the mass
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COMPANY L. GATHERING TO MEET THE REBEL ATTACK.
surged straight forward at us. Then our fire grew so deadly
that they showed a disposition to cover themselves behind the
rocks and trees. Again they were urged forward, and a body
of them headed by their Colonel, mounted on a white horse,
pushed forward through the gap between us and the Second
Lieutenant. The Rebel Colonel dashed up to the Second Lieu-
tenant, and ordered him to surrender. The latter—a gallant
old graybeard — cursed the Rebel bitterly and snapped his now
empty revolver in his face. The Colonel fired and killed him,
whereupon his squad, with two of its Sergeants killed and half
its numbers on the ground, Surrendered. -
The Rebels in our front and flank pressed us with equal close-







































































A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 55
mess. It seemed as if it was absolutely impossible to check
their rush for an instant, and as we saw the fate of our com-
panions the Captain gave the word for every man to look out
for himself. We ran back a little distance, sprang over the
fence into the fields, and rushed toward Town, the Rebels en-
couraging us to make good time by a sharp fire into our backs
from the fence.
While we were vainly attempting to stem the onset of the
Column dashed against us, better success was secured elsewhere.
Another column swept down the other road, upon which there
was only an outlying picket. This had to come back on the
run before the overwhelming numbers, and the Rebels galloped
straight for the three-inch Rodman. Company M was the first to
get Saddled and mounted, and now came up at a steady, Swinging
gallop, in two platoons, saber and revolver in hand, and led by
two Sergeants — Key and McWright, — printer boys from
Bloomington, Illinois. They divined the object of the Rebel
dash, and strained every nerve to reach the gun first. The
Rebels were too near, and got the gun and turned it. Before
they could fire it, Company M struck them headlong, but they
took the terrible impact without flinching, and for a few min-
utes there was fierce hand-to-hand work, with sword and pistol.
The Tebel leader sank under a half-dozen simultaneous wounds,
and fell dead almost under the gun. Men dropped from
their horses each instant, and the riderless steeds fled away.
The scale of victory was turned by the Major dashing against
the Rebel left flank at the head of Company I, and a portion of
the artillery squad. The Rebels gave ground slowly, and were
packed into a dense mass in the lane up which they had charged.
After they had been crowded back, say fifty yards, word was
passed through our men to open to the right and left on the
sides of the road. The artillerymen had turned the gun and
loaded it with a solid shot. Instantly a wide lane opened
through our ranks; the man with the lanyard drew the fatal
cord, fire burst from the primer and the muzzle, the long gun
sprang up and recoiled, and there seemed to be a demoniac yell in
its ear-splitting crash, as the heavy ball left the mouth, and tore
its bloody way through the bodies of the struggling mass of
men and horses. -
56 ANDERSON WILLE.
This ended it. The Rebels gave way in disorder, and our
men fell back to give the gun an opportunity to throw shell and
canister.
The Rebels now saw that we were not to be run over like a
field of cornstalks, and they fell back to devise further tactics,
giving us a breathing spell to get ourselves in shape for defense.
The dullest could see that we were in a desperate situation.
Critical positions were no new experience to us, as they never
are to a cavalry command after a few months in the field, but,
though the pitcher goes often to the well, it is broken at last,
and our time was evidently at hand. The narrow throat of the
Valley, through which lay the road back to the Gap, was held
by a force of Tebels evidently much superior to our own, and
strongly posted. The road was a slender, tortuous one, wind-
ing through rocks and gorges. Nowhere was there room
enough to move with even a platoon front against the enemy,
and this precluded all chances of cutting out. The best we
could do was a slow, difficult movement, in column of fours, and
this would have been suicide. On the other side of the Town
the Rebels were massed stronger, while to the right and left
rose the steep mountain sides. We were caught—trapped as
surely as a rat ever was in a wire trap.
As we learned afterwards, a whole division of cavalry, under
command of the noted Rebel, Major General Sam Jones, had
been sent to effect our capture, to offset in a measure Long-
street's repulse at Knoxville. A gross overestimate of our
numbers had caused the sending of so large a force on this
errand, and the rough treatment we gave the two columns that
attacked us first confirmed the Rebel General’s ideas of our
strength, and led him to adopt cautious tactics, instead of crush-
ing us out speedily, by a determined advance of all parts of his
encircling lines. - *
The lull in the fight did not last long. A portion of the
Rebel line on the east rushed forward to gain a more com-
manding position. We concentrated. In that direction and
drove it back, the Rodman assisting with a couple of well-aimed
shells. This was followed by a similar but more successful
attempt by another part of the Rebel line, and so it went on
all day—the Itebels rushing up first on this side, and then on
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 5?
that, and we, hastily collecting at the exposed points, seeking
to drive them back. We were frequently successful; we were
on the inside, and had the advantage of the short interior lines,
so that our few men and our breech-loaders told to a good pur-
pose.
There were frequent crises in the struggle, that at some times.
gave encouragement, but never hope. Once a determined onset
was made from the East, and was met by the equally deter-
mined resistance of nearly our whole force. Our fire was so.
galling that a large number of our foes crowded into a house
on a knoll, and making loopholes in its walls, began replying to
us pretty sharply. We sent word to our faithful artillerists,
who trained the gun upon the house. The first shell screamed
over the roof, and burst harmlessly beyond. We suspended fire
to watch the next. It crashed through the side; for an instant
all was deathly still; we thought it had gone on through. Then
came a roar and a crash; the clapboards flew off the roof, and
smoke poured out; panic-stricken Tebels rushed from the doors
and sprang from the windows—like bees from a disturbed
hive; the shell had burst among the confined mass of men
insidel We afterwards heard that twenty-five were killed
there.
At another time a considerable force of Tebels gained the
cover of a fence in easy range of our main force. Companies
L and K were ordered to charge forward on foot and dislodge
them. Away we went, under a fire that seemed to drop a man
at every step. A hundred yards in front of the Rebels was a
little cover, and behind this our men lay down as if by one
impulse. Then came a close, desperate duel at short range. It
was a question between Northern pluck and Southern courage,
as to which could stand the most punishment. Lying as flat
as possible on the crusted snow, only raising the head or body
enough to load and aim, the men on both sides, with their teeth
set, their glaring eyes fastened on the foe, their nerves as tense
as tightly-drawn steel wires, rained shot on each other as fast
as excited hands could crowd cartridges into the guns and dis-
charge them.
Not a word was said.
The shallower enthusiasm that expresses itself in Oaths and
‘58 ANDERSON VILLE.
shouts had given way to the deep, voiceless rage of men in a
death grapple. The Rebel line was a rolling torrent of flame,
their bullets shrieked angrily as they flew past, they struck the
‘Snow in front of us, and threw its cold flakes in faces that were
white with the fires of consuming hate; they buried themselves
with a dull thud in the quivering bodies of the enraged combat-
Rants. -
Minutes passed; they seemed hours.
Would the villains, scoundrels, hell-hounds, sons of vipers
never go? -
At length a few Rebels sprang up and tried to fly. They
were shot down instantly. -
Then the whole line rose and ran! -
The relief was so great that we jumped to our feet and
cheered wildly, forgetting in our excitement to make use of
our victory by shooting down our flying enemies.
Nor was an element of fun lacking. A Second Lieutenant
was ordered to take a party of skirmishers to the top of a hill
and engage those of the Rebels stationed on another hill-top
across a ravine. IIe had but lately joined us from the Regular
Army, where he was a Drill Sergeant. Naturally, he was very
methodical in his way, and scorned to do otherwise under fire
than he would upon the parade ground. IIe moved his little
command to the hill-top, in close order, and faced them to the
front. The Johnnies received them with a yell and a volley,
whereat the boys winced a little, much to the Lieutenant's dis-
gust, who swore at them; then had them count off with great
deliberation, and deployed them as coolly as if there was not
an enemy within a hundred miles. After the line deployed,
he “dressed” it, commanded “Front/" and “Begin firing /*
His attention was called another way for an instant, and when
he looked back again, there was not a man of his nicely formed
skirmish line visible. The logs and stones had evidently been
put there for the use of skirmishers, the boys thought, and in
an instant they availed themselves of their shelter.
Never was there an angrier man than that Second Lieutenant;
he brandished his saber and swore; he seemed to feel that all
his soldierly reputation was gone, but the boys stuck to their
shelter for all that, informing him that when the Rebels would
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS.
59
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Just as the Winter sun was going down upon a day of gloom,
Despite all our efforts, the Rebel line crawled up closer and
the bugle called us all up on the hillside.
closer to us; we were driven back from knoll to knoll, and from
stand out in the open field and take their fire, they would do
One fence after another.
Hikewise.
struggle for eight hours; over one-fourth of our number were
stretched upon the snow,
gode out from it, followed by two privates.
simultaneous charge all along the line.
for the first time how few there were,
piece of a shelter tent upon a pole.
long ago, and having a blank cartrid
mer at a gathering party of the enemy.
ridges were nearly all gone
THE MAJOR REFUSES TO SURRENDER.
Approaching the Major, he said, “Who is in command of
this force?”
66 I a.m.”
The Major replied








60 ANDERSON WILLE.
“Then, Sir, I demand your sword.”
“What is your rank, sir?”
“I am Adjutant of the Sixty-fourth Virginia.”
The punctillious soul of the old “Tegular”—for such the Ma-
jor was—swelled up instantly, and he answered:
“By , sir, I will never surrender to my inferior in rank!”
The Adjutant reined his horse back. IIis two followers lev-
eled their pieces at the Major and waited orders to fire. They
were covered by a dozen carbines in the hands of our men. The
Adjutant ordered his men to “recover arms,” and rode away
with them. IIe presently returned with a Colonel, and to him
the Major handed his saber.
As the men realized what was being done, the first thought
of many of them was to snatch out the cylinders of their revol-
vers, and the slides of their carbines, and throw them away, so
as to make the arms useless.
We were overcome with rage and humiliation at being com-
pelled to yield to an enemy ºwhom we had hated so bitterly.
As we stood there on the bleak mountain-side, the biting wind
soughing through the leafless branches, the shadows of a
gloomy winter night closing around us, the groans and shrieks
of our wounded mingling with the triumphant yells of the
Rebels plundering our tents, it seemed as if Fate could press to
mon's lips no cup with bitterer dregs in it than this.
CHAPTER V.
g. Tº REACTIOH -- DEPRESSION — BITING COLD — 8HARP HUNGER AND
SAID REFLECTION.
“Of being taken by the insolent foe.”— Othello.
The night that followed was inexpressibly dreary. The high-
wrought nervous tension, which had been protracted through the
long hours that the fight lasted, was succeeded by a propor-
tionate mental depression, such as naturally follows any strain
upon the mind. This was intensified in our cases by the sharp
sting of defeat, the humiliation of having to yield ourselves,
our horses and our arms into the possession of the enemy, the
uncertainty as to the future, and the sorrow we felt at the loss
of so many of our comrades.
Company L had suffered very severely, but our chief regret
was for the gallant Osgood, our Second Lieutenant. He, above
all others, was our trusted leader. The Captain and First Lieu-
tenant were brave men, and good enough soldiers, but Osgood
was the one “whose adoption tried, we grappled to our souls
with hooks of steel.” There was never any difficulty in get-
ting all the volunteers he wanted for a scouting party. A quiet,
pleasant spoken gentleman, past middle age, he looked much
better fitted for the office of Justice of the Peace, to which his
fellow-citizens of Urbana, Illinois, had elected and re-elected
him, than to command a troop of rough riders in a great civil
war. But none more gallant than he ever vaulted into saddle
to do battle for the right. He went into the Army solely as a
matter of principle, and did his duty with the unflagging zeal
of an olden Puritan fighting for liberty and his soul’s salvation.
He was a superb horseman—as all the older Illinoisans are—
62 ANDERSON VILLE.
and, for all his two-score years and ten, he recognized few
superiors for strength and activity in the Battalion. A radical,
uncompromising Abolitionist, he had frequently asserted that
he would rather die than yield to a Tebel, and he kept his
word in this as in everything else.
As for him, it was probably the way he desired to die. No
one believed more ardently than he that
Whether on the scaffold high,
Or in the battle's van;
The fittest place for man to die,
Is where he dies for man.
Among the many who had lost chums and friends was Ned
Johnson, of Company K. Ned was a young Englishman, with
much of the suggestiveness of the bull-dog common to the
lower class of that nation. His fist was readier than histongue.
His chum, Walter Savage was of the same surly type. The
two had come from England twelve years before, and had been
together ever since. Savage was killed in the struggle for the
fence described in the preceding chapter. Ned could not real-
ize for a while that his friend was dead. It was only when the
body rapidly stiffened on its icy bed, and the eyes which had
been gleaming deadly hate when he was stricken down were
glazed over with the dull film of death, that he bélieved he was
gone from him forever. Then his rage was terrible. For the
rest of the day he was at the head of every assault upon the
enemy. His voice could ever be heard above the firing, cursing
the Rebels bitterly, and urging the boys to “Stand up to 'em! :
Stand right up to 'em! Don’t give a inch Let the
— — have the best you got in the shop! Shoot low, and
don’t waste a cartridge l’”
When we surrendered, Ned seemed to yield sullenly to the
inevitable. He threw his belt and apparently his revolver with
it upon the Snow. A guard was formed around us, and we
gathered about the fires that were started. Ned sat apart, his
arms folded, his head upon his breast, brooding bitterly upon
Walter's death. A horseman, evidently a Colonel or General,
clattered up to give some directions concerning us. At the
sound of his voice Ned raised his head and gave him a swift
glance; the gold stars upon the Rebel's collar led him to believe
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 63.
that he was the commander of the enemy. Ned sprang to his.
feet, made a long stride forward, snatched from the breast of
his overcoat the revolver he had been hiding there, cocked it:
Fººd JOHNSON TEYING TO KILL THE REBEL COLONEL.
and leveled it at the Rebel's breast. Before he could pull the
trigger Orderly Sergeant Charles Bentley, of his Company,
who was watching him, leaped forward, caught his wrist and
threw the revolver up. Others joined in, took the weapon.
away, and handed it over to the officer, who then ordered us all
to be searched for arms, and rode away.
All our dejection could not make us forget that we were:
intensely hungry. We had eaten nothing all day. The fight
began before we had time to get any breakfast, and of course.
there was no interval for refreshments during the engagement.
The Rebels were no better off than we, having been marched
rapidly all night in order to come upon us by daylight.
Late in the evening a few sacks of meal were given us, and
we took the first lesson in an art that long and painful practice.
afterward was to make very familiar to us. We had nothing
to mix the meal in, and it looked as if we would have to eat it.

‘84 & ANDERSON WILLE.
dry, until a happy thought struck some one that our caps would
do for kneading troughs. At ofte every cap was devoted to
this. Getting water from an adjacent spring, each man made
a little wad of dough— unsalted—and, spreading it upon a flat
stone or a chip, set it up in front of the fire to bake. As soon
as it was browned on one side, it was pulled off the stone, and
the other side turned to the fire. It was a very primitive way
of cooking and I became thoroughly disgusted with it. It was
fortunate for me that I little dreamed that this was the way I
should have to get my meals for the next fifteen months.
After somewhat of the edge had been taken off our hunger
by this food, we crouched around the fires, talked over the
events of the day, speculated as to what was to be done with
us, and snatched such sleep as the biting cold would permit.
CELAPTER WI.
“ON TO RICHMOND !”—MARCHING ON FOOT ovKR THE MOUNTAINs
— MY HORSE HAS A NEW RIDER — UNSOPHISTICATED MOUNTAIN
GIRLS — DISCUSSING THE ISSUES OF THE WAR - PARTING WITH
“HIATOGA.”
At dawn we were gathered together, more meal issued to
us, which we cooked in the same way, and then were started
under heavy guard to march on foot over the mountains to
Bristol, a station at the point where the Virginia and Tennessee
Railroad crosses the line between Virginia and Tennessee.
As we were preparing to set out a Sergeant of the First Vir-
ginia cavalry came galloping up to us on my horse ! The sight
of my faithful “Hiatoga’’ bestrid by a Rebel, wrung my heart.
During the action I had forgotten him, but when it ceased I
began to worry about his fate. As he and his rider came near
I called out to him; he stopped and gave a whinny of recog-
nition, which seemed also a plaintive appeal for an explanation
of the changed condition of affairs. \
The Sergeant was a pleasant, gentlemanly boy of about my
own age. He rode up to me and inquired if it was my horse, to
which I replied in the affirmative, and asked permission to take
from the saddle pockets some letters, pictures and other trink-
ets. He granted this, and we became friends from thence on
until we separated. Iſe rode by my side as we plodded over
the steep, slippery hills, and we beguiled the way by chatting
of the thousand things that soldiers find to talk about, and ex-
changed reminiscences of the service on both sides. But the
subject he was fondest of was that which I relished least: my
— now his—horse. Into the open ulcer of my heart he poured
5
66 ANDERSON WILLES.
the acid of all manner of questions concerning my lost steed's
Qualities and capabilities: would he swim? how was he inford-
ing? did he jump well? how did he stand fire? I smothered
my irritation, and answered as pleasantly as I could.
In the afternoon of the third day after the capture, we came
up to where a party of rustic belles were collected at “quilt
ing.” The “Yankees” were instantly objects of greater inter-
est than the parade of a menagerie would have been. The Ser-
geant told the girls we were going to camp for the night a mile
or so ahead, and if they would be at a certain house, he would
have a Yankee for them for close inspection. After halting,
the Sergeant obtained leave to take me out with a guard, and
I was presently ushered into a room in which the damsels were
massed in force, — a carnation-cheeked, staring, open-mouthed,
linsey-clad crowd, as ignorant of corsets and gloves as of He-
brew, and with a propensity to giggle that was chronic and
irrepressible. When we entered the room there was a general
giggle, and then a shower of comments upon my appearance,
— each sentence punctuated with the chorus of feminine cachi-
nation. A remark was made about my hair and eyes, and
their risibles gave way; judgment was passed on my nose, and
then came a ripple of laughter. I got very red in the face, and
uncomfortable generally. Attention was called to the size of
my feet and hands, and the usual chorus followed. Those use-
ful members of my body seemed to swell up as they do to a
young man at his first party.
Then I saw that in the minds of these bucolic maidens I was
scarcely, if at all, human; they did not understand that I be-
longed to the race; I was “a Yankee”—a something of the
non-human class, as the gorilla or the chimpanzee. They felt
as free to discuss my points before my face as they would to
talk of a horse or a wild animal in a show. My equanimity
was partially restored by this reflection, but I was still too
young to escape embarrassment and irritation at being thus
dissected and giggled at by a party of girls, even if they
were ignorant Virginia mountaineers.
I turned around to speak to the Sergeant, and in so doing
showed my back to the ladies. The hum of comment deepened
into surprise, that half stopped and then intensified the giggle.
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS.
6?
eir
f th
At the rear of the
et, about where the upper orna-
mental buttons are on the tail of a frock coat, are two funny
or perchance
ion o
Their use is to sup-
as the buttons do in front.
They are fastened
When the belt is off it would puzzle the Seven Wise Men to
k
Jac
The unsophisticated young ladies,
with that swift intuition which is one of lovely woman’s salient
dromedary-like humps,
the horns of which they had heard so much.
minute, and then the direct
projections covered some peculiar conformation of the Yankee
mental traits, immediately jumped at the conclusion that the
by the edge, and stick out straight behind.
tabs, about the size of small pin-cushions.
port the heavy belt in the rear,
glances, and their remarks explained it all.
lower part of the cavalry
anatomy—some incipient,
I was puzzled for a
guess what they are for.
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GIRLS ASTONISHED AT THE JACEET TABS.
This anatomical phenomena was discussed intently for a few
minutes, during which I heard one of the girls inquire whether
“it would hurt him to cut 'em off?” and another hazarded the
ion that “it would probably bleed him to death.”
Opinion










68 ANDERSON VILLE.
Then a new idea seized them, and they said to the Sergeant:
“Make him sing ! Make him sing !”
This was too much for the Sergeant, who had been intensely
amused at the girls' wonderment. He turned to me, very red
in the face, with:
“Sergeant: the girls want to hear you sing.”
I replied that I could not sing a note. Said he:
“Oh, come now. I know better than that ; I never seed or
heerd of a Yankee that couldn’t sing.”
I nevertheless assured him that there really were some Yan-
kees that did not have any musical accomplishments, and that
I was one of that unfortunate number. I asked him to get the
ladies to sing for me, and to this they acceded quite readily.
One girl, with a fair soprano, who seemed to be the leader of
the crowd, sang “The IHomespun Dress,” a song very popular
in the South, and having the same tune as the “Donnie Blue
Flag.” It began
I envy not the Northern girls
Their silks and jewels fine,
and proceeded to compare the homespun habiliments of the
Southern women to the finery and frippery of the ladies on
the other side of Mason and Dixon's line in a manner very dis-
advantageous to the latter.
The rest of the girls made a fine exhibition of the lung-power
acquired in climbing their precipitous mountains, when they
came in on the chorus:
Hurra ! Hurra 1 for Southern rights hurra!
Hurra for the homespun dress,
The Southern ladies wear.
This ended the entertainment.
On our journey to Bristol we met many Rebel soldiers, of all
ranks, and a small number of citizens. As the conscription had
then been enforced pretty sharply for over a year the only
able-bodied men seen in civil life were those who had some
trade which exempted them from being forced into active ser-
vice. It greatly astonished us at first to find that nearly all
the mechanics were included among the exempts, or could be if
they chose; but a very little reflection showed us the wisdom
of such a policy. The South is as nearly a purely agricultural
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 69
country as is Russia or South America. The people have little
inclination or capacity for anything else than pastoral pursuits.
Consequently mechanics are very scarce, and manufactories
much scarcer. The limited quantity of products of mechanical
skill needed by the people was mostly imported from the North
or Europe. Both these sources of supply were cut off by the
War, and the country was thrown upon its own slender manu-
facturing resources. To force its mechanics into the army would
therefore be suicidal. The Army would gain a few thousand
men, but its operations would be embarrassed, if not stopped
altogether, by a want of supplies. This condition of affairs
reminded one of the singular paucity of mechanical skill among
the Bedouins of the desert, which renders the life of a black-
Smith sacred. No matter how bitter the feud between tribes,
no one will kill the other’s workers of iron, and instances are
told of warriors saving their lives at critical periods by falling
On their knees and making with their garments an imitation of
the action of a Smith's bellows.
All whom we met were eager to discuss with us the causes,
phases and progress of the war, and whenever opportunity
offered or could be made, those of us who were inclined to talk
were speedily involved in an argument with crowds of soldiers
and citizens. But, owing to the polemic poverty of our oppo-
nents, the argument was more in name than in fact. Like all
people of slender or untrained intellectual powers they labored
under the hallucination that asserting was reasoning, and the
emphatic reiteration of bald statements, logic. The narrow
round which all—from highest to lowest—traveled was some-
times comical, and sometimes irritating, according to one's
mood. The dispute invariably began by their asking:
“Well, what are you'uns down here a-fightin’ we 'uns for?”
As this was replied to the next one followed:
“Why are you’unstakin’ our niggers away from we’uns for?”
Then came:
“What do you’uns put our niggers to fightin’ we 'uns for $*
The wind-up always was: “Well, let me tell you, sir, you
can never whip people that are fighting for liberty, sir.”
Even General Giltner, who had achieved considerable military
reputation as commander of a division of Kentucky cavalry,
\
-ºš
70 AEIDERSON VILLE.
seemed to be as slenderly furnished with logical ammunition
as the balance, for as he halted by us he opened the convers-
ation with the well-worn formula:
“Well: what are you’uns down here a-fighting we’unsfor?”
The question had become raspingly monotonous to me, whom
he addressed, and I replied with marked acerbity:
“Because we are the Northern mudsills whom you affect to
despise, and we came down here to lick you into respecting us.”
The answer seemed to tickle him, a pleasanter light came into
his sinister gray eyes, he laughed lightly, and bade us a kindly
good day.
Four days after our capture we arrived in Bristol. The
guards who had brought us over the mountains were relieved by
others, the Sergeant bade me good by, struck his spurs into
“Hiatoga’s” sides, and he and my faithful horse were soon lost
to view in the darkness.
A new and keener sense of desolation came over me at the
final separation from my tried and true four-footed friend, who
had been my constant companion through so many perils and
hardships. We had endured together the Winter's cold, the
dispiriting drench of the rain, the fatigue of the long march,
the discomforts of the muddy camp, the gripings of hunger,
the weariness of the drill and review, the perils of the vidette
post, the courier service, the scout and the fight. We had
shared in common
The whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
which a patient private and his horse of the unworthy take; we
had had our frequently recurring
--~Y====E-- rows with other fellows and their
...------- horses, over questions of prece-
§º- dence at watering places, and
#S:- grass-plots, had had lively tilts
--~ ==--"
§ºkº (%-43 it.h or ore ni º im
Z3% º with guards of forage piles in sur
4.5% ºf Gº tº reptitious attempts to get addi-
::::===gºsº a tº º g g
*==== i <=-&s= tional rations, sometimes coming
good-BYE To “HIATOGA.” off victorious, and sometimes being
driven off ingloriously. I had often gone hungry that he might



A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 71
have the only ear of corn obtainable. I am not skilled enough
in horse lore to speak of his points or pedigree. I only know
that his strong limbs never failed me, and that he was
always ready for duty and ever willing.
Now at last our paths diverged. I was retired from actual
service to a prison, and he bóre his new master off to battle
against his old friends.
* * * # 3& * * * º +
Packed closely in old, dilapidated stock and box cars, as if
cattle in shipment to market, we pounded along slowly, and
apparently interminably, toward the Rebel capital.
The railroads of the South were already in very bad condi-
tion. They were never more than passably good, even in their
best estate, but now, with a large part of the skilled men
engaged upon them escaped back to the North, with all
renewal, improvement, or any but the most necessary repairs
stopped for three years, and with a marked absence of even
ordinary skill and care in their management, they were as
nearly ruined as they could well be and still run.
One of the severe embarrassments under which the roads
labored was a lack of oil. There is very little fatty matter of
any kind in the South. The climate and the food plants do
not favor the accumulation of adipose tissue by animals, and
there is no other source of supply. Lard oil and tallow were
very scarce and held at exorbitant prices.
Attempts were made to obtain lubricants from the peanut
and the cotton seed. The first yielded a fine bland oil, resem-
bling the Ordinary grade of olive oil, but it was entirely too ex-
pensive for use in the arts. The cotton seed oil could be pro-
duced much cheaper, but it had in it such a quantity of gummy
matter as to render it worse than useless for employment on
machinery.
This scarcity of oleaginous matter produced a corresponding
scarcity of soap and similar detergents, but this was a depriva-
tion which caused the Rebels, as a whole, as little inconvenience
as any that they suffered from. I have seen many thousands
of them who were obviously greatly in need of soap, but if
they were rent with any suffering on that account they con-
cealed it with marvelous self-control.
72 ANDERSON VILLE,
There seemed to be a scanty supply of oil provided for the loco-
motives, but the cars had to run with unlubricated axles, and the
screaking and groaning of the grinding journals in the dry
boxes was sometimes almost deafening, especially when We
were going around a curve. **
Our engine went off the wretched track several times, but as
she was not running much faster than a man could walk, the
worst consequence to us was a severe jolting. She was Small,
and was easily pried back upon the track, and sent again upon
her wheezy, straining way.
The depression which had weighed us down for a night and a
day after our capture had now been succeeded by a more cheer-
ful feeling. We began to look upon our condition as the for-
tune of war. We were proud of our resistance to overwhelm-
ing numbers. We knew we had sold ourselves at a price which,
if the Rebels had it to do over again, they would not pay for
us. We believed that we had killed and seriously wounded as
many of them as they had killed, wounded and captured of us.
We had nothing to blame ourselves for. Moreover, we began
to be buoyed up with the expectation that we would be ex-
changed immediately upon our arrival at Richmond, and the
Rebel officers confidently assured us that this would be so.
There was then a temporary hitch in the exchange, but it would
all be straightened out in a few days, and it might not be a
month until we were again marching out of Cumberland Gap,
on an avenging foray against Some of the force which had assisted
in Our capture.
Fortunately for this delusive hopefulness there was no weird
and boding Cassandra to pierce the veil of the future for us,
and reveal the length and the ghastly horror of the Valley of
the Shadow of Death, through which we must pass for hun-
dreds of sad days, stretching out into long months of suffering
and death. Happily there was no one to tell us that of every
five in that party four would never stand under the Stars and
Stripes again, but succumbing to chronic starvation, long-con-
tinued exposure, the bullet of the brutal guard, the loathsome
gcurvy, the hideous gangrene, and the heartsickness of hope
deferred, would find respite from pain low in the barren sands
of that hungry Southern Soil.
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON8. 73
Were every doom foretokened by appropriate omens, the
ravens along our route would have croaked themselves hoarse,
But, far from being oppressed by any presentiment of com-
ing evil, we began to appreciate and enjoy the picturesque
grandeur of the scenery through which we were moving. The
rugged sternness of the Appalachian mountain range, in whose
rock-ribbed heart we had fought our losing fight, was now soft.
ening into less strong, but more graceful outlines as we ap-
proached the pine-clad, sandy plains of the seaboard, upon
which Richmond is built. We were skirting along the eastern
base of the great Blue Ridge, about whose distant and lofty
summits hung a perpetual veil of deep, dark, but translucent-
blue, which refracted the slanting rays of the morning and
evening sun into masses of color more gorgeous than a dreamer's
vision of an enchanted land. At Lynchburg we saw the famed
Peaks of Otter—twenty miles away—lifting their proud
heads far into the clouds, like giant watch-towers sentineling
the gateway that the mighty waters of the James had forced
through the barriers of solid adamant lying across their path to
the far-off sea. What we had seen many miles back start from
the mountain sides as slender rivulets, brawling over the worn
boulders, were now great, rushing, full-tide streams, enough of
them in any fifty miles of our journey to furnish water power
for all the factories of New England. Their amazing opulence
of mechanical energy has lain unutilized, almost unnoticed, in
the two and one-half centuries that the white man has dwelt
near them, while in Massachusetts and her near neighbors every
rill that can turn a wheel has been put into harness and forced
to do its share of labor for the benefit of the men who have
made themselves its masters.
Iſere is one of the differences between the two sections: In
the North man was set free, and the elements made to do his
work. In the South man was the degraded slave, and the ele.
ments wantoned on in undisturbed freedom.
As we went on, the Valleys of the James and the Appomat.
tox, down which our way lay, broadened into an expanse of
arable acres, and the faces of those streams were frequently
flecked by gem-like little islands.
CHAPTER VII.
{&NTERING RICHMOND – DISAPPOINTMENT AT ITS APPEARANCE –
EVERY BODY IN UNIFORM – CURLED DARLINGS OF THE CAPITAL –
THE REBEL FLAG – LIBBY PRISON – DICK TURNER — SEARCHING
THE NEW COMERS.
Early on the tenth morning after our capture we were told
that we were about to enter Richmond. Instantly all were
keenly observant of every detail in the surroundings of a City
that was then the object of the hopes and fears of thirty-five
millions of people—a City assailing which seventy-five thou-
sand brave men had already laid down their lives, defending
which an equal number had died, and which, before it fell, was
to cost the life blood of another one hundred and fifty thousand
valiant assailants and defenders.
So much had been said and written about Richmond that
our boyish minds had wrought up the most extravagant expect-
ations of it and its defenses. We anticipated seeing a City dif-
fering widely from anything ever seen before; some anomaly
of nature displayed in its site, itself guarded by imposing and
impregnable fortifications, with powerful forts and heavy guns,
perhaps even walls, castles, postern gates, moats and ditches,
and all the other panoply of defensive warfare, with which
romantic history had made us familiar.
We were disappointed—badly disappointed—in seeing
nothing of this as we slowly rolled along. The spires and the
tall chimneys of the factories rose in the distance very much as
they had in other Cities we had visited. We passed a single
line of breastworks of bare yellow sand, but the scrubby pines
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 75
f
in front were not cut away, and there were no signs that there
had ever been any immediate expectation of use for the works.
A redoubt or two — without guns—could be made out, and
this was all. Grim-visaged war had few wrinkles on his front
|
!
ſ
AN EAST TENNESSEEAN.
in that neighborhood. They were then seaming his brow on
the Rappahannock, seventy miles away, where the Army of
Northern Virginia and the Army of the Potomac lay confront-
ing each other.
At one of the stopping places I had been separated from my
companions by entering a car in which were a number of East

76 ANDERSON VILLE.
Tennesseeans, captured in the operations around Knoxville, and
whom the Rebels, in accordance with their usual custom, were
treating with studied contumely. I had always had a very
warm side for these simple rustics of the mountains and valleys.
I knew much of their unwavering fidelity to the Union, of the
firm steadfastness with which they endured persecution for their
country’s sake, and made sacrifices even unto death; and, as
in those days I estimated all men simply by their devotion to
the great cause of National integrity, (a habit that still clings
to me) I rated these men very highly. I had gone into their
car to do my little to encourage them, and when I attempted
to return to my own I was prevented by the guard.
Crossing the long bridge, our train came to a halt on the
other side of the river with the usual clamor of bell and whistle,
the usual seemingly purposeless and vacillating, almost dizzying,
running backward and forward on a network of sidetracks and
switches, that seemed unavoidably necessary, a dozen years ago,
in getting a train into a City.
Still unable to regain my comrades and share their fortunes,
I was marched off with the Tennesseeans through the City to
the office of some one who had charge of the prisoners of War.
The streets we passed through were lined with retail stores,
in which business was being carried on very much as in peaceful
times. Many people were on the streets, but the greater part
of the men wore some sort of a uniform. Though numbers of
these were in active service, yet the wearing of a military garb
did not necessarily imply this. Nearly every able-bodied man
in Richmond was enrolled in some sort of an organization, and
armed, and drilled regularly. Even the members of the Con-
federate Congress were uniformed and attached, in theory at
least, to the Home Guards. s
It was obvious even to the casual glimpse of a passing prisoner
of war, that the City did not lack its full share of the class
which formed so large an element of the society of Washington.
and other Northern Cities during the war—the dainty carpet
soldiers, heros of the promenade and the boudoir, who strutted
in uniforms when the enemy was far off, and wore citizen’s
clothes when he was close at hand. There were many curled
darlings displaying their fine forms in the nattiest of uniforms,
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 77
whose gloss had never suffered from so much as a heavy dew,
º let alone a rainy day on the march. The
Confederate gray could be made into a very
dressy garb. With the sleeves lavishly em-
broidered with gold lace, and the collar
, decorated with stars indicating the wearer's
§ rank—silver for the field officers, and
gold for the higher grade, – the feet com-
pressed into high-heeled, high-instepped
boots, (no Virginian is himself without a fine
pair of skin-tight boots) and the head cov-
ered with a fine, soft, broad-brimmed hat,
trimmed with a gold cord, from which a
bullion tassel dangled several inches down
the wearer's back, you had a military swell,
caparisoned for conquest—among the fair
$62X.
On our way we passed the noted Capitol of Virginia—a
handsome marble building, of the column-fronted Grecian tem-
ple style. It stands in the center of the City. Upon the
grounds is Crawford's famous equestrian statue of Washington,
surrounded by smaller statues of other Revolutionary patriots.
The Confederate Congress was then in session in the Capitol,
and also the Legislature of Virginia, a fact indicated by the
State flag of Virginia floating from the southern end of the
building, and the new flag of the Confederacy from the northern
end. This was the first time Iſºſºlſ ſiſ|| | º ſº
had seen the latter, which had ||| \º / | ſ §
been recently adopted, and I | | %| º
examined it with some interest. wº "|| º | |
The design was exceedingly º | iº | ". j/
plain. It was simply a white | "º" º|| º | |
banner, with a red field in the Tºm, ºr rºº. TT
corner where the blue field with stars is in ours. The two blue
stripes were drawn diagonally across this field in the shape of a
letter X, and in these were thirteen white stars, correspond-
ing to the number of States claimed to be in the Confederacy.
The above diagram will show the design.
The battle-flag was simply the red field. My examina.
--- ºº:: *::::
sº-sur---- É. % º
=-ºffº §: -º-º: º *
2,222., “
º
23:... "
A BEBEL. D.A.N.D.Y.















78 ARIDERSON WILLE,
tion of all this was necessarily very brief. The guards felt that
I was in Richmond for other purposes than to study architect-
ure, statuary and heraldry, and besides they were in a hurry to
be relieved of us and get their breakfast, so my art-education
was abbreviated sharply.
We did not excite much attention on the streets. Prisoners
had by that time become too common in Richmond to create
any interest. Occasionally passers by would fling opprobrious
epithets at “the East Tennessee traitors,” but that was all.
The commandant of the prisons directed the Tennesseeans to
be taken to Castle Lightning—a prison used to confine the
Rebel deserters, among whom they also classed the East Ten-
nesseeans, and sometimes the West Virginians, Kentuckians,
Marylanders and Missourians found fighting against them.
Such of our men as deserted to them were also lodged there,
as the Rebels, very properly, did not place a high estimate upon
this class of recruits to their army, and, as we shall see farther
along, violated all obligations of good faith with them, by put-
ting them among the regular prisoners of war, so as to exchange
them for their own men.
Back we were all marched to a street which ran parallel to
the river and canal, and but one square away from them. It
was lined on both sides by plain brick warehouses and tobacco
factories, four and five stories high, which were now used by
the Rebel Government as prisons and military storehouses.
The first we passed was Castle Thunder, of bloody repute.
This occupied the same place in Confederate history, that the
dungeons beneath the level of the water did in the annals of
the Venetian Council of Ten. It was believed that if the bricks
in its somber, dirt-grimed walls could speak, each could tell a
separate story of a life deemed dangerous to the State that had
gone down in night, at the behest of the ruthless Confederate
authorities. It was confidently asserted that among the com-
moner occurrences within its confines was the stationing of a
doomed prisoner against a certain bit of blood-stained, bullet.
chipped wall, and relieving the Confederacy of all farther fear
of him by the rifles of a firing party. How well this dark rep-
utation was deserved, no one but those inside the inner circle of
the Davis Government can say. It is safe to believe that more
A 8TORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 79
tragedies were enacted there than the archives of the Rebel
civil or military judicature give any account of. The prison
was employed for the detention of spies, and those charged
with the convenient allegation of “treason against the Confed-
erate States of America.” It is probable that many of these
were sent out of the world with as little respect for the formal-
ities of law as was exhibited with regard to the suspects during
the French Revolution.
Next we came to Castle Lightning, and here I bade adieu to
my Tennessee companions.
A few squares more and we arrived at a warehouse larger
than any of the others. Over the door was a sign:

THOMAS LIBBY & Son,
SHIP CHANDLERS AND GROCERS,
This was the notorious “Libby Prison,” whose name was
painfully familiar to every Union man in the land. Under the
sign was a broad entrance way, large enough to admit a dray
or a small wagon. On One side of this was the prison office, in
which were a number of dapper, feeble-faced clerks at work on
the prison records.
As I entered this space a squad of newly arrived prisoners
were being searched for valuables, and having their names,
rank and regiment recorded in the books. Presently a clerk
addressed as “Majah Tunnah,” the man who was superintend-
ing these operations, and I scanned him with increased interest,
as I knew then that he was the ill-famed Dick Turner, hated
all over the North for his brutality to our prisoners.
He looked as if he deserved his reputation. Seen upon the
street he would be taken for a second or third class gambler, one
in whom a certain amount of cunning is pieced out by a readi-
ness to use brute force. His face, clean-shaved, except a
“Bowery-b'hoy” goatee, was white, fat, and selfishly sensual.
Small, pig-like eyes, set close together, glanced around contin-
ually. His legs were short, his body long, and made to appear
80 ANDERSON VILLE. ‘N
still longer, by his wearing no vest—a custom common then
with Southerners. . -
His faculties were at that moment absorbed in seeing that no
person concealed any money from him. His subordinates did
not search closely enough to suit him, and he would run his fat,
heavily-ringed fingers through the prisoner's hair, feelunder their
arms and elsewhere where he thought a stray five dollar green-
back might be concealed. But with all his greedy care he was
no match for Yankee cunning. The prisoners told me after-
ward that, suspecting they would be searched, they had taken
off the caps of the large, hollow brass buttons of their coats,
carefully folded a bill into each cavity, and replaced the cap.
in this way they brought in several hundred dollars safely.
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TURNER IN QUEST OF BRITISH GOLD.
There was one dirty old Englishman in the party, who, Tur-
ner was convinced, had money concealed about his person. He
compelled him to strip off everything, and stand shivering in
the sharp cold, while he took up one filthy rag after another,
felt over each carefully, and scrutinized each seam and fold. I


























A STORY OF EEBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 81
was delighted to see that after all his nauseating work he did
not find so much as a five cent piece.
It came my turn. I had no desire, in that frigid atmosphere,
to strip down to what Artemus Ward called “the skanderlous
costoom of the Greek Slave,” so I pulled out of my pocket my
little store of wealth — ten dollars in greenbacks, sixty dollars
in Confederate graybacks—and displayed it as Turner calme up
with, “There's all I have, sir.” Turner pocketed it without a .
Word, and did not search me. In after months, when I was
nearly famished, my estimation of “Majah Tunnah’’ was hardly
enhanced by the reflection that what would have purchased me
many good meals was probably lost by him in betting on a pair
of queens, when his opponent held a “king full.”
I ventured to step into the office to inquire after my com-
rades. One of the whey-faced clerks said with the super-
cilious asperity characteristic of gnat-brained headquarters
attaches:
“Get Out Of here ! ”
as if I had been a stray cur wandering in in search of a bone
lunch.
I wanted to feed the fellow to a pile-driver. The utmost I
could hope for in the way of revenge was that the delicate
creature might some day make a mistake in parting his hair,
and catch his death of cold.
The guard conducted us across the street, and into the third
story of a building standing on the next corner below. IIere
I found about four hundred men, mostly belonging to the Army
of the Potomac, who crowded around me with the usual ques-
tions to new prisoners: What was my Regiment, where and
when captured, and
What were the prospects of eſcChange #
It makes me shudder now to recall how often, during the
dreadful months that followed, this momentous question was
eagerly propounded to every new comer: put with bated
breath by men to whom exchange meant all that they asked of
this world, and possibly of the next; meant life, home, wife or
sweet-heart, friends, restoration to manhood, and self-respect —
everything, everything that makes existence in this world worth
having. 6
89 * ANDERSON VILLE, ---
I answered as simply and discouragingly as did the tens of
, thousands that came after me:
“I did not hear anything about exchange.”
A soldier in the field had many other things of more imme-
diate interest to think about than the exchange of prisoners.
The question only became a living issue when he or some of his
intimate friends fell into the enemy's hands. *
Thus began my first day in prison.
CHAPTER VIII.
INTRODUCTION TO PRISON LIFE—THE PEMBERTON BUILDING AND rºs
OCCUPANTs—NEAT SAILORS–ROLL CALL–RATIONS AND CLOTH-
ING—CHIVALRIC “CONFISCATION.” *
I began acquainting myself with my new situation and sur-
roundings. The building into which I had been conducted was
an old tobacco factory, called the “Pemberton building,” pos-
sibly from an owner of that name, and standing on the corner
of what I was told were Fifteenth and Carey streets. In front
it was four stories high; behind but three, owing to the rapid
rise of the hill, against which it was built.
It fronted towards the James River and Kanawha Canal, and
the James River—both lying side by side, and only one hun-
dred yards distant, with no intervening buildings. The front
windows afforded a fine view. To the right front was Libby,
with its guards pacing around it on the sidewalk, watching the
fifteen hundred officers confined within its walls. At intervals
during each day squads of fresh prisoners could be seen entering
its dark mouth, to be registered and searched, and then marched
off to the prison assigned them. We could see up the James
River for a mile or so, to where the long bridges crossing it
bounded the view. Directly in front, across the river, was a
flat, sandy plain, said to be General Winfield Scott's farm,
and now used as a proving ground for the guns cast at the
Tredegar Iron Works.
The view down the river was very fine. It extended about
twelve miles, to where a gap in the Woods seemed to indicate a
fort, which we imagined to be Fort Darling, at that time the
principal fortification defending the passage of the James,
84 ANDERSON VILLE.
Between that point and where we were lay the river, in a long,
broad mirror-like expanse, like a pretty little inland lake. Occa-
sionally a busy little tug would bustle up or down, a gunboat move
along with noiseless dignity, suggestive of a reserved power, or
a schooner beat lazily from one side to the other. But
these were so few as to make even more pronounced the cus-
tomary idleness that hung over the scene. The tug's activity
seemed spasmodic and forced—a sort of protest against the
gradually increasing lethargy that reigned upon the bosom of
the waters—the gunboat floated along as if performing a per-
functory duty, and the schooners sailed about as if tired of
remaining in one place. That little stretch of water was all
that was left for a cruising ground. Beyond Fort Darling the
Union gunboats lay, and the only vessel that passed the barrier
was the occasional flag-of-truce steamer.
The basement of the building was occupied as a store-house
for the taxes-in-kind which the Confederate Government col-
lected. On the first floor were about five hundred men. On
the second floor—where I was—were about four hundred men.
These were principally from the First Division, First Corps—
distinguished by a round red patch on their caps; First Division,
Second Corps, marked by a red clover leaf; and the First Divi-
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captured at Gettysburg and Mine Run. Besides these there was a
















A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON8. 85
considerable number from the Eighth Corps, captured at Win-
chester, and a large infusion of Cavalry—First, Second and Third
West Virginia— taken in Averill's desperate raid up the Vir-
ginia Valley, with the Wytheville Salt Works as an objective.
On the third floor were about two hundred sailors and ma-
rines, taken in the gallant but luckless assault upon the ruins of
Fort Sumter, in the September previous. They retained the
discipline of the ship in their quarters, kept themselves trim and
clean, and their floor as white as a ship's deck. They did not
court the society of the “sojers” below, whose camp ideas of
neatness differed from theirs. A few old barnacle-backs always
— — — sat on guard around the head of the steps leading from the
lower rooms. They chewed tobacco enormously, and kept their
mouths filled with the extracted juice. Any luckless “sojer”
who attempted to ascend the stairs usually returned in haste,
to avoid the deluge of the filthy liquid.
For convenience in issuing rations we were divided into
messes of twenty, each mess electing a Sergeant as its head,
and each floor electing a Sergeant-of-the-Floor, who drew
rations and enforced what little discipline was observed.
Though we were not so neat as the sailors above us, we tried
to keep our quarters reasonably clean, and we washed the floor
every morning, getting down on our knees and rubbing it clean
and dry with rags. Each mess detailed a man each day to
wash up the part of the floor it occupied, and he had to do this
properly or no ration would be given him. While the washing
up was going on each man stripped himself and made close
examination of his garments for the body-lice, which otherwise
would have increased beyond control. Dlankets were also care-
fully hunted over for these “small deer.”
About eight o'clock a spruce little lisping Rebel named Ross
would appear with a book, and a body-guard, consisting of a big
Irishman, who had the air of a Policeman, and carried a musket
barrel made into a cane. Behind him were two or three armed
guards. The Sergeant-of-the-Floor commanded:
“Fall in in four ranks for roll-call.”
We formed along one side of the room; the guards halted at
the head of the stairs; Ross walked down in front and counted
the files, closely followed by his Irish aid, with his gun-barrel
86 ANDERSON VILLE,
cane raised ready for use upon any one who should arouse his
ruffianly ire. Breaking ranks we returned to our places, and
sat around in moody silence for three hours. We had eaten
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nothing since the previous noon. Rising hungry, our hunger
seemed to increase in arithmetical ratio with every quarter of
an hour.
These times afforded an illustration of the thorough subjection
of man to the tyrant Stomach. A more irritable lot of individuals
could scarcely be found outside of a menagerie than these men
during the hours waiting for rations. “Crosser than two sticks”
utterly failed as a comparison. They were crosser than the
lines of a check apron. Many could have given odds to the
traditional bear with a sore head, and run out of the game fifty
points ahead of him. It was astonishingly easy to get up a
fight at these times. There was no need of going a step out of
the way to search for it, as one could have a full fledged






























































A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 87
article of overwhelming size on his hands at any instant, by
a trifling indiscretion of speech or manner. All the old irri-
tating flings between the cavalry, the artillery and the infantry,
the older “first-call” men, and the later or “Three-E[undred-
Dollar-men,” as they were derisively dubbed, between the
different corps of the Army of the Potomac, between men of
different States, and lastly between the adherents and oppo-
ments of McClellan, came to the lips and were answered by
a blow with the fist, when a ring would be formed around
the combatants by a crowd, which would encourage them with
yells to do their best. In a few minutes one of the parties to
the fistic debate, who found the point raised by him not well
taken, would retire to the sink to wash the blood from his bat-
tered face, and the rest would resume their seats and glower at
space until some fresh excitement roused them. For the last
hour or so of these long waits hardly a word would be spoken.
We were too ill-natured to talk for amusement, and there was
nothing else to talk for.
This spell was broken about eleven o’clock by the appearance
at the head of the stairway of the Irishman with the gun-barrel
cane, and his singing Out:
“Sargint uv the flure: fourtane min and a bread-box!”
Instantly every man sprang to his feet, and pressed forward
to be one of the favored fourteen One did not get any more
rations or obtain them any sooner by this, but it was a relief, and
a change to walk the half square outside the prison to the cook-
house, and help carry the rations back.
For a little while after our arrival in Tichmond, the rations
were tolerably good. There had been so much said about the
privations of the prisoners that our Government had, after
much quibbling and negotiation, succeeded in getting the priv-
ilege of sending food and clothing through the lines to us. Of
course but a small part of that sent ever reached its destination.
There were too many greedy Rebels along its line of passage to
let much of it be received by those for whom it was intended.
We could see from our windows Tebels strutting about in over-
coats, in which the box wrinkles were still plainly visible, wear-
ing new “U. S.” blankets as cloaks, and walking in Govern-
ment shoes, worth fabulous prices in Confederate money.
f $8 ANDERSON VILLE.
Fortunately for our Government the Rebels decided to cut
themselves off from this profitable source of supply. We read
one day in the Richmond papers that “President Davis and his
Cabinet had come to the conclusion that it was incompatible
with the dignity of a sovereign power to permit another power
with which it was at war, to feed and clothe prisoners in its
hands.”
I will not stop to argue this point of honor, and show its ab
surdity by pointing out that it is not an unusual practice with
nations at war. It is a sufficient commentary upon this
assumption of punctiliousness that the paper went on to say
that some five tons of clothing and fifteen tons of food, which
had been sent under a flag of truce to City Point, would neither
be returned nor delivered to us, but “converted to the use of
the Confederate Government.”
“And surely they are gll honorable men!”
Heaven save the mark.
CHAPTER IX.
BEANS OR PEA8 — INSUFFICIENCY OF DARKY TESTIMONY — A GUAR}}
KILLS. A. PRISONER – PRISONERS TEAZE THE T GUARDS - DESPERATE
OUTEREATE.
But, to return to the rations—a topic which, with escape or
exchange, were to be the absorbing ones for us for the next fif-
teen months. There was now issued to every two men a loaf
of coarse bread—made of a mixture of flour and meal—and
about the size and shape of an Ordinary brick. This half loaf
was accompanied, while our Government was allowed to fur-
nish rations, with a small piece of corned beef. Occasionally
we got a sweet potato, or a half-pint or such a matter of soup
made from a coarse, but nutritious, bean or pea, Called variously
“nigger-pea,” “stock-pea,” or “cow-pea.”
This, by the way, became a fruitful bone of contention during
our stay in the South. One strong party among us maintained
that it was a bean, because it was shaped like One, and brown,
which they claimed no pea ever was. The other party held
that it was a pea because its various names all agreed in describ-
ing it as a pea, and because it was so full of bugs—none being
entirely free from insects, and some having as many as twelve
—by actual count—within its shell. This, they declared, was
a distinctive characteristic of the pea family. The contention
began with our first instalment of the leguminous ration, and
was still raging between the survivors who passed into our lines
in 1865. It waxed hot occasionally, and each side continually
sought evidence to support its view of the case. Once an old
darky, sent into the prison on some errand, was summoned to
decide a hot dispute that was raging in the crowd to which I
'90 ANDERSON WILLE,
belonged. The champion of the pea side said, producing one
of the objects of dispute:
“Now, boys, keep still, till I put the question fairly. Now,
uncle, what do they call that there?”
The colored gentleman scrutinized the vegetable closely, and
replied, *.
“Well, dey mos' generally calls 'em stock-peas, round hyar
aways.”
“There,” said the pea-champion triumphantly.
“But,” broke in the leader of the bean party, “Uncle, don’t
they also call them beans?”
“Well, yes, chile, I spec dat lots of 'em does.”
And this was about the way the matter usually ended.
I will not attempt to bias the reader's judgment by saying
which side I believed to be right. As the historic British show-
man said, in reply to the question as to whether an animal in
his collection was a rhinoceros or an elephant, “You pays your
money and you takes your choice.”
The rations issued to us, as will be seen above, though they
appear scanty, were still sufficient to support life and health,
and months afterward, in Andersonville, we used to look back
to them as sumptuous. We usually had them divided and eaten
by noon, and, with the gnawings of hunger appeased, we spent
the afternoon and evening comfortably. We told stories, paced
up and down the floor for exercise, played cards, sung, read
what few books were available, stood at the windows and
studied the landscape, and watched the Rebels trying their guns
and shells, and so on as long as it was daylight. Occasionally
it was dangerous to be about the windows. This depended
wholly on the temper of the guards. One day a member
of a Virginia regiment, on guard on the pavement in front,
deliberately left his beat, walked out into the center of the
street, aimed his gun at a member of the Ninth West Virginia,
who was standing at a window near, and firing, shot him
through the heart, the bullet passing through his body, and
through the floor above. The act was purely malicious, and
was done, doubtless, in revenge for some injury which our men
had done the assassin or his family.
We were not altogether blameless, by any means. There
A stoRY of REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 91
were few opportunities to say bitterly offensive things to the
guards let pass unimproved.
The prisoners in the third floor of the Smith building,
adjoining us, had their own way of teasing them. Late at
night, when everybody would be lying down, and out of the
way of shots, a window in the third story would open, a broom
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AN EVENING's AMUSEMENT WITH THE GUARDs.
stick, with a piece nailed across to represent arms, and clothed
with a cap and blouse, would be protruded, and a voice coming
from a man carefully protected by the wall, would inquire:
“S-a-y, g-ua-r-d, what time is it?”
If the guard was of the long suffering kind he would answer:
“Take yo' head back in, up dah; you kno hits agin all Odahs.
to do dat?”
Then the voice would say, aggravatingly, “Oh, well, go to
—, you Rebel , if you can’t answer a civil ques-
tion.” *
Before the speech was ended the guard's rifle would be at his

























































































92 ANDERSON VILLE.
| ---
shoulder and he would fire. Back would come the blouse and
hat in haste, only to go out again the next instant, with a deri.
sive laugh, and
“Thought you were going to hurt somebody, didn't you, you
— —. But, Lord, you can’t shoot for sour
apples; if I couldn’t shoot no better than you, Mr. Johnny
Reb, I would —”
By this time the guard, having his gun loaded again, would
cut short the remarks with another shot, which, followed up
With similar remarks, would provoke still another, when an
alarm sounding, the guards at Libby and all the other buildings
around us would turn out. An officer of the guard would go
up with a squad into the third floor, only to find everybody up
there snoring away as if they were the Seven Sleepers. After
relieving his mind of a quantity of vigorous profanity, and
threats to “buck and gag’’ and cut off the rations of the whole
room, the officer would return to his quarters in the guard
house, but before he was fairly ensconced there the cap and
blouse would go out again, and the maddened guard be regaled
with a spirited and vividly profane lecture on the depravity
of Rebels in general, and his own unworthiness in par-
ticular.
One night in January things took a more serious turn. The
boys on the lower floor of our building had long considered a
plan of escape. There were then about fifteen thousand pris-
oners in Richmond — ten thousand on Belle Isle and five thou-
sand in the buildings. Of these one thousand five hundred
were officers in Libby. Besides there were the prisoners in
Castles Thunder and Lightning. The essential features of the
plan were that at a preconcerted signal we at the second and
third floors should appear at the windows with bricks and irons
from the tobacco presses, which we should shower down on
the guards and drive them away, while the men of the first
floor would pour out, chase the guards into the guard house in
the basement, seize their arms, drive those away from around
Libby and the other prisons, release the Officers, organize into
regiments and brigades, seize the armory, set fire to the public
buildings and retreat from the City, by the south side of the
James, where there was but a scanty force of Rebels, and more
A §TORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PEISONS. 93
--
could be prevented from coming over by burning the bridges
behind us.
It was a magnificent scheme, and might have been carried
out, but there was no one in the building who was generally
believed to have the qualities of a leader.
But while it was being debated a few of the hot heads on
the lower floor undertook to precipitate the crisis. They seized
what they thought was a favorable opportunity, overpowered
the guard Who stood at the foot of the stairs, and poured into
the street. The other guards fell back and opened fire on them;
other troops hastened up, and soon drove them back into the
building, after killing ten or fifteen. We of the second and
third floors did not anticipate the break at that time, and were
taken as much by surprise as were the Rebels. Nearly all were
lying down and many were asleep. Some hastened to the
Windows, and dropped missiles out, but before any concerted
action could be taken it was seen that the case was hopeless,
and We remained quiet.
Among those who led in the assault was a drummer-boy of
some New York Itegiment, a recklessly brave little rascal. He
had somehow Smuggled a small four-shooter in with him, and
as they rushed out he fired it off at the guards.
After the prisoners were driven back, the Itebel officers came
in and vapored around considerably, but confined themselves to
big words. They were particularly anxious to find the revolver,
and ordered a general and rigorous search for it. The prison-
ers were all ranged on One side of the room and carefully
examined by one party, while another hunted through the
blankets and bundles. It was all in vain; no pistol could be
found. The boy had a loaf of wheat bread, bought from a
baker during the day. It was a round loaf, set together in two
pieces like a biscuit. He pulled these apart, laid the four-
shooter between them, pressed the two halves together, and
went on calmly nibbling away at the loaf While the search was
progressing.
Two gunboats were brought up the next morning, and
anchored in the canal near us, with their heavy guns trained
upon the building. It was thought that this would intimidate
us from a repetition of the attack, but our sailors conceived
94 ANDERSON VILLE.
that, as they laid against the shore next to us, they could be
easily captured, and their artillery made to assist us. A scheme
to accomplish this was being wrought out, when we received
notice to move, and it came to naught.
CHAPTER X.
THE EXCHANGE AND THE CAUSE OF ITS INTERRUPTION —BRIEF
RESUME OF THE DIFFERENT CARTELs, AND THE DIFFICULTIES THAT
LED TO THEIR SUSPENSION.
Few questions intimately connected with the actual opera-
tions of the Rebellion have been enveloped with such a mass of
conflicting statement as the responsibility for the interruption
of the exchange. Southern writers and politicians, naturally
anxious to diminish as much as possible the great odium resting
upon their section for the treatment of prisoners of war during
the last year and a half of the Confederacy’s existence, have
vehemently charged that the Government of the United States
deliberately and pitilessly resigned to their fate such of its sol-
diers as fell into the hands of the enemy, and repelled all
advances from the Rebel Government looking toward a resump-
tion of exchange. It is alleged on our side, on the other hand,
that our Government did all that was possible, consistent with
National dignity and military prudence, to secure a release of
its unfortunate men in the power of the Rebels.
Over this vexed question there has been waged an acrimoni-
ous war of words, which has apparently led to no decision, nor
any convictions—the disputants, one and all, remaining on the
sides of the controversy occupied by them when the debate
began.
I may not be in possession of all the facts bearing upon the
case, and may be warped in judgment by prejudices in favor of
my own Government's wisdom and humanity, but, however
this may be, the following is my firm belief as to the controlling
facts in this lamentable affair:
§6 ANDERSON WILLE,
1. For some time after the beginning of hostilities our Gov-
ernment refused to exchange prisoners with the Rebels, on the
ground that this might be held by the European powers who
were seeking a pretext for acknowledging the Confederacy, to
be admission by us that the war was no longer an insurrection
but a revolution, which had resulted in the de facto establish-
ment of a new nation. This difficulty was finally gotten over
by recognizing the Rebels as belligerents, which, while it placed
them on a somewhat different plane from mere insurgents, did
not elevate them to the position of soldiers of a foreign power.
2. Then the following cartel was agreed upon by Generals
Dixon our side and Hill on that of the Rebels:
HAXALL's LANDING, ON JAMES RIVER, July 22, 1862.
The undersigned, having been commissioned by the authorities they respect-
ively represent to make arrangements for a general exchange of prisoners of
war, have agreed to the following articles:
ARTICLE I.—It is hereby agreed and stipulated, that all prisoners of war,
held by either party, including those taken on private armed vessels, known
as privateers, shall be exchanged upon the conditions and terms following:
Prisoners to be exchanged man for man and officer for officer. Privateers
to be placed upon the footing of Officers and men of the navy.
Men and officers of lower grades may be exchanged for officers of a higher
grade, and men and Officers of different Services may be exchanged according
to the following scale of equivalents:
A General-commanding-in-chief, or an Admiral, shall be exchanged for
officers of equal rank, or for sixty privates or common seamen.
A Commodore, carrying a broad pennant, or a Brigadier General, shall be
exchanged for officers of equal rank, or twenty privates or common seamen.
A Captain in the Navy, or a Colonel, shall be exchanged for officers of equal
rank, or for fifteen privates or common seamen.
A Lieutenant Colonel, or Commander in the Navy, shall be exchanged for
officers of equal rank, or for ten privates or common seamen.
A Lieutenant, or a Master in the Navy, or a Captain in the Army or marines
shall be exchanged for officers of equal rank, or six privates or common
S£8.1 OleIl,
Master's-mates in the Navy, or Lieutenants or Ensigns in the Army, shall be
exchanged for Officers of equal rank, or ſour privates or common seamen.
Midshipmen, warrant officers in the Navy, masters of merchant vessels and
commanders of privateers, shall be exchanged for officers of equal rank, or
three privates or common seamen; Second Captains, Lieutenants or mates of
merchant vessels or privateers, and all petty Officers in the Navy, and all non-
commissioned officers in the Army or marines, shall be severally exchanged
for persons of equal rank, or for two privates or common seamen; and private
'soldiers or common Seamen shall be exchanged for each other man for man.
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 97
ARTICLE II. —Local, State, civil and militia rank held by persons not n
actual military service will not be recognized; the basis of exchange being
the grade actually held in the naval and military service of the respective
parties.
ARTICLE III. — If citizens held by either party on charges of disloyalty, or
any alleged civil offense, are exchanged, it shall only be for citizens. Cap-
tured sutlers, teamsters, and all civilians in the actual service of either party,
to be exchanged for persons in similar positions.
ARTICLE IV. — All prisoners of war to be discharged on parole in ten days
after their capture; and the prisoners now held, and those hereafter taken, to
be transported to the points mutually agreed upon, at the expense of the cap-
turing party. The surplus prisoners not exchanged shall not be permitted to
take up arms again, nor to serve as military police or constabulary force in
any fort, garrison or field-work, held by either of the respective parties, nor
as guards of prisoners, deposits or stores, nor to discharge any duty usually
performed by soldiers, until exchanged under the provisions of this cartel.
The exchange is not to be considered complete until the officer or soldier ex-
changed for has been actually restored to the lines to which he belongs.
ARTICLE V. —Each party upon the discharge of prisoners of the other
party is authorized to discharge an equal number of their own officers or men
from parole, furnishing, at the same time, to the other party a list of their
prisoners discharged, and of their own officers and men relieved from parole;
thus enabling each party to relieve from parole such of their officers and men
as the party may choose. The lists thus mutually furnished, will keep both
parties advised of the true condition of the exchange of prisoners,
ARTICLE VI. — The stipulations and provisions above mentioned to be of
binding obligation during the continuance of the war, it matters not which
party may have the surplus of prisoners; the great principles involved being,
First, An equitable exchange of prisoners, man for man, or officer for officer,
or officers of higher grade exchanged for officers of lower grade, or for pri-
vates, according to scale of equivalents. Second, That privates and officers
and men of different Services may be exchanged according to the same scale of
equivalents. Third, That all prisoners, of whatever arm of service, are to
be exchanged or paroled in ten days from the time of their capture, if it be
practicable to transfer them to their own lines in that time; if not, so soon
thereafter as practicable. Fourth, That no officer, or soldier, employed in
the service of either party, is to be considered as exchanged and absolved
from his parole until his equivalent has actually reached the lines of his
friends. Fifth, That parole forbids the performance of field, garrison, police,
or guard or constabulary duty. .*
JOHN A. DIX, Major General.
D. H. HILL, Major General, C. S. A.
SUPPLEMENTARY ARTICLEs.
ARTICLE VII. — All prisoners of war now held on either side, and all pris-
oners hereafter taken, shall be sent with all reasonable dispatch to A. M.
Aiken's, below Dutch Gap, on the James River, in Virginia, or to Wicksburg,
7
98 ANDERSON VILLE, *
f
|
on the Mississippi River, in the State of Mississippi, and there exchanged or
paroled until such exchange can be effected, notice being previously given by
each party of the number of prisoners it will send, and the time when they will
be delivered at those points respectively; and in case the vicissitudes of war
shall change the military relations of the places designated in this article to
the contending parties, so as to render the same inconvenient for the delivery
and exchange of prisoners, other places bearing as nearly as may be the pres-
ent local relations of said places to the lines of said parties, shall be, by mu-
tual agreement, substituted. But nothing in this article contained shall pre-
vent the commanders of the two opposing armies from exchanging prisoners
or releasing them on parole, at other points mutually agreed on by said com-
manders.
ARTICLE VIII. — For the purpose of carrying into effect the foregoing arti-
cles of agreement, each party will appoint two agents for the exchange of
prisoners of war, whose duty it shall be to communicate with each other by
correspondence and otherwise; to prepare the lists of prisoners; to attend to
the delivery of the prisoners at the places agreed on, and to carry out promptly,
effectually, and in good faith, all the details and provisions of the said articles
of agreement. 4-8
ARTICLE IX. — And, in case any misunderstanding shall arise in regard to
any clause or stipulation in the foregoing articles, it is mutually agreed that
such misunderstanding shall not affect the release of prisoners on parole, as
herein provided, but shall be made the subject of friendly explanation, in
order that the object of this agreement may neither be defeated nor postponed.
JoBIN A. DIx, Major General.
D. II. IIILL, Major General, C. S. A.
This plan did not work well. Men on both sides, who
wanted a little rest from soldiering, could obtain it by strag-
gling in the vicinity of the enemy. Their parole—following
close upon their capture, frequently upon the spot—allowed
them to visit home, and sojourn awhile where were pleasanter
pastures than at the front. Then the Rebels grew into the
habit of paroling everybody that they could constrain into
being a prisoner of war. Peaceable, unwarlike and decrepit
citizens of Kentucky, East Tennessee, West Virginia, Missouri
and Maryland were “captured” and paroled, and set off against
regular Rebel soldiers taken by us.
3. After some months of trial of this scheme, a modification
of the cartel was agreed upon, the main feature of which was
that all prisoners must be reduced"to possession, and delivered
to the exchange officers either at City Point, Va., or Wicksburg,
Miss. This worked very well for some months, until Our Gov-
ernment began organizing negro troops. The Rebels then
l, \
|
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 99
issued an order that neither these troops nor their officers
should be held as amenable to the laws of War, but that, when
captured, the men should be returned to slavery, and the offi-
cers turned over to the Governors of the States in which they
were taken, to be dealt with according to the stringent laws
punishing the incitement of servile insurrection. Our Govern.
ment could not permit this for a day. It was bound by every
consideration of National honor to protect those who wore its
uniform and bore its flag. The Rebel Government was
promptly informed that IRebel officers and men would be held
as hostages for the proper treatment of such members of colored
regiments as might be taken. —
4. This discussion did not put a stop to the exchange, but
while it was going on Wicksburg was captured, and the battle
of Gettysburg was fought. The first placed one of the exchange
points in our hands. At the opening of the fight at Gettys-
burg Lee captured some six thousand Pennsylvania militia.
He sent to Meade to have these exchanged on the field of bat-
tle. Meade declined to do so for two reasons: first, because it
was against the cartel, which prescribed that prisoners must be
reduced to possession; and second, because he was anxious to
have Lee hampered with such a body of prisoners, since it was
very doubtful if he could get his beaten army back across the
Potomac, let alone his prisoners. Lee then sent a communica-
tion to General Couch, commanding the Pennsylvania militia,
asking him to receive prisoners on parole, and Couch, not knowing
what Meade had done, acceded to the request. Our Govern-
ment disavowed Couch’s action instantly, and ordered the
paroles to be treated as of no force, whereupon the Tebel Govern.
ment ordered back into the field twelve thousand of the pris.
oners captured by Grant's army at Wicksburg.
5. The paroling now stopped abruptly, leaving in the hands
of both sides the prisoners captured at Gettysburg, except the
militia above mentioned. The Rebels added considerably to
those in their hands by their captures at Chickamauga, while
we gained a great many at Mission Ridge, Cumberland Gap
and elsewhere, so that at the time we arrived in Richmond the
Rebels had about fifteen thousand prisoners in their hands and
our Government had about twenty-five thousand.
100 ANDERSON VILLE,
6. The Rebels now began demanding that the prisoners on
both sides be exchanged—man for man—as far as they went,
and the remainder paroled. Our Government offered to ex-
change man for man, but declined—on account of the previous
bad faith of the Rebels—to release the balance on parole. The
Rebels also refused to make any concessions in regard to the
treatment of officers and men of colored regiments.
7. At this juncture General B. F. Butler was appointed to
the command of the Department of the Blackwater, which
made him an ex-officio Commissioner of Exchange. The Rebels
instantly refused to treat with him, on the ground that he was
outlawed by the proclamation of Jefferson Davis. General
Butler very pertinently replied that this only placed him nearer
their level, as Jefferson Davis and all associated with him in
the Rebel Government had been outlawed by the proclamation
of President Lincoln. The Rebels scorned to notice this home
thrust by the Union General. gº
8. On February 12, 1864, General Butler addressed a lette
to the Rebel Commissioner Ould, in which he asked, for the
sake of humanity, that the questions interrupting the exchange
be left temporarily in abeyance while an informal exchange was
put in operation. He would send five hundred prisoners to City
Point; let them be met by a similar number of Union prison-
ers. This could go on from day to day until all in each other's
hands should be transferred to their respective flags.
The five hundred sent with the General’s letter were received,
and five hundred Union prisoners returned for them. Another
five hundred, sent the next day, were refused, and so this reason-
able and humane proposition ended in nothing.
This was the condition of affairs in February, 1864, when the
Rebel authorities concluded to send us to Andersonville. If
the reader will fix these facts in his mind, I will explain other
phases as they develop.
CHAPTER XI.
PUTTING IN THE TIME —RATIONS — COOKING UTENSILs — “FIAT’’
SOUP – “SPOONING”—AFRICAN NEWSPAPER v ENDERs—TRADING
GREENBACKS FOR CONFEDERATE MONEY — VISIT FROM JOHN
MORGAN.
The Winter days passed on, one by one, after the manner
described in a former chapter, — the mornings in ill-natured
hunger; the afternoons and evenings in tolerable comfort. The
rations kept growing lighter and lighter; the quantity of bread
remained the same, but the meat diminished, and occasionally
days Would pass without any being issued. Then we received
a pint or less of soup made from the beans or peas before men-
tioned, but this, too, suffered continued change, in the grad-
ually increasing proportion of James River water, and decreas-
ing of that of the beans. *
The water of the James River is doubtless excellent: it looks
well—at a distance—and is said to serve the purposes of ablu-
tion and navigation admirably. There seems to be a limit,
however, to the extent of its advantageous combination with
the bean (or pea) for nutritive purposes. This, though, was our
View of the case, merely, and not shared in to any appreciable
extent by the gentlemen who were managing our boarding
house. We seemed to view the matter through allopathic spec-
tacles, they through homoeopathic lenses. We thought that
the atomic weight of peas (or beans) and the James Tiver fluid
were about equal, which would indicate that the proper com-
bining proportions would be, say a bucket of beans (or peas) to
a bucket of water. They held that the nutritive potency was
increased by the dilution, and the best results were obtainable
102 aspersonville. -
when the symptoms of hunger were combated by the tritura-
tion of a bucketful of the peas-beans with a barrel of aqua
jamésiana. -
My first experience with this “fiat." soup was very instruct-
ive, if not agreeable. I had come into prison, as did most other
prisoners, absolutely destitute of dishes, or cooking utensils.
The well-used, half-canteen frying-pan, the blackened quart cup,
and the spoon, which formed the usual kitchen outfit of the
cavalryman in the field, were in the haversack on my saddle,
and were lost to me when I separated from my horse. Now,
when we were told that we were to draw soup, I was in great
danger of losing my ration from having no vessel in which to
receive it. There were but few tin cups in the prison, and
####:--, these were, of course,
CHHºº-ºº: wanted by their owners.
Iły great good fortune I
found an empty fruit
can, holding about a
= quart. I was also lucky
= enough to find a piece
§s of wire from which to
make a bail. I next
Z. manufactured a spoon
- and knife combined from
PRISONERS’ CULINARY OUTFIT. a bit of hoop-iron.
These two humble utensils at once placed myself and my im-
mediate chums on another plane, as far as worldly goods were
concerned. We were better off than the mass, and as well off
as the most fortunate. It was a curious illustration of that
law of political economy which teaches that so-called intrinsic
value is largely adventitious. Their possession gave us infinitely
more consideration among our fellows than would the possession
of a brown-stone front in an eligible location, furnished with
hot and cold Water throughout, and all the modern improve-
ments. It was a place where cooking utensils were in demand,
and title-deeds to brown-stone fronts were not. We were in
possession of something which every one needed every day,
and, therefore, were persons of consequence and consideration
to those around us who were present or prospective borrowers.
Šs
§


A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 103
On our side we obeyed another law of political economy: We
clung to our property with unrelaxing tenacity, made the best
use of it in our intercourse with our fellows, and only gave it
up after our release and entry into a land where the plenitude
of cooking utensils of superior construction made ours value-
less. Then we flung them into the sea, with little gratitude for
the great benefit they had been to us. We were more anxious to
get rid of the many hateful recollections clustering around them.
But, to return to the alleged soup: As I started to drink
my first ration it seemed to me that there was a superfluity
of bugs upon its surface. Much
º as I wanted animal food, I did
§ } & not care for fresh meat in that
sº º sº S form. Iskimmed them off care-
ºys fully, so as to lose as little soup
§H as possible. Dut the top layer
*ś seemed to be underlaid with an-
other equally dense. This was
# also skimmed off as deftly as
#
; *H possible. But beneath this ap-
gº peared another layer, which,
º when removed, showed still an-
*-----. -------—
=º other; and so on, until I had
*
**-ºs- _ *m-.
* = .
ERIMMING THE BUGS FROM MY SOUP, scraped to the bottom of the
can, and the last of the bugs went with the last of my
soup. I have before spoken of the remarkable bug fecundity
of the beans (or peas). This was a demonstration of it. Every
scouped out pea (or bean) which found its way into the soup
bore inside of its shell from ten to twenty of these hard-crusted
little weevil. Afterward I drank my soup without skimming.
It was not that I hated the weevilless, but that I loved the soup
more. It was only another step toward a closer conformity to
that grand rule which I have made the guiding maxim of my life:
When I must, I had better.
I recommend this to other young men starting on their career.
The room in which we were was barely large enough for all
of us to lie down at once. Even then it required pretty close
“spooning” together—so close in fact that all sleeping along
one side would have to turn at once. It was funny to watch
y




104. ANDERSON VILLE.
this operation. All, for instance, would be lying on their right
sides. They would, begin to get tired, and one of the wearied
ones would sing out to the Sergeant who was in command of
the row —
“Sergeant: let's spoon the other way.”
That individual would reply:
“All right. Attention / LEFT SPOON | 1 and the whole line
would at once flop over on their left sides.
º & SS
&
Žº S$
º
---º
2. a-º-º-º-º:
“SPOONING.”
The feet of the row that slept along the east wall on the floor
below us were in a line with the edge of the outer door, and a
chalk line drawn from the crack between the door and the
frame to the opposite wall would touch, say 150 pairs of feet.
They were a noisy crowd down there, and one night their noise
so provoked the guard in front of the door that he called out
to them to keep quiet or he would fire in upon them. They
greeted this threat with a chorus profanely uncomplimentary to
the purity of the guard’s ancestry; they did not imply his
descent a la Darwin, from the remote monkey, but more imme-
diate generation by a common domestic animal. The incensed
Rebel opened the door wide enough to thrust his gun in, and he
fired directly down the line of toes. His piece was apparently
loaded with buckshot, and the little balls must have struck the
legs, nipped off the toes, pierced the feet, and otherwise slightly
wounded the lower extremities of fifty men. The simultaneous
shriek that went up was deafening. It was soon found out that

A STORY OF RIEBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 105
nobody had been hurt seriously, and there was not a little fun
Over the occurrence.
One of the prisoners in Libby was Brigadier General Neal Dow,
of Maine, who had then a National reputation as a Temperance
advocate, and the author of the famous Maine Liquor Law.
We, whose places were near the front window, used to see him
frequently on the street, accompanied by a guard. IIe was
allowed, we understood, to visit our sick in the hospital. His
long, Snowy beard and hair gave him a venerable and com-
manding appearance.
Newsboys seemed to be a thing unknown in Tichmond. The
papers were sold on the streets by negro men. The one who
frequented our section with the morning journals had a mellow,
rich baritone for which we would be glad to exchange the shrill
cries of our street Arabs. We long remembered him as one of
the peculiar features of Richmond. He had one unvarying for-
mula for proclaiming his wares. It ran in this wise:
“Great Nooze in de papahs
“Great Nooze from Orange Coaht IIouse, Virginny /
“Great Nooze from Alexandry, Virginny!
“Great Nooze from Washington City /
“Great Nooze from Chattanoogy, Tennessee /
“Great Nooze from Chahlston, Sou’ Cahlina /
“Great Nooze in de papahs l’”
It did not matter to him that the Rebels
had not been at some of these places for
months. IIe would not change for such
mere trifles as the entire evaporation of all
possible interest connected with Chatta-
nooga and Alexandria. He was a true
Bourbon Southerner — he learned nothing
and forgot nothing.
There was a considerable trade driven
between the prisoners and the guard at the
door. This was a very lucrative position
for the latter, and men of a commercial
A Richmond News Box. turn of mind generally managed to get
stationed there. The blockade had cut off the Confederacy's
supplies from the outer world, and the many trinkets about a

I06 .* ANDERSON VILLE.
man's person were in good demand at high prices. The men of
the Army of the Potomac, who were paid regularly, and were
always near their supplies, had their pockets filled with combs,
silk handkerchiefs, knives, neckties, gold pens, pencils, silver
watches, playing cards, dice, etc. Such of these as escaped
appropriation by their captors and Dick Turner, were eagerly
A.
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“sAY, GUARD : Do YoU wanT TO BUY SOME GREENBAcks?”
bought by the guards, who paid fair prices in Confederate
money, or traded wheat bread, tobacco, daily papers, etc., for
them. e
There was also considerable brokerage in money, and the
manner of doing this was an admirable exemplification of the
folly of the “fiat' money idea. The IRebels exhausted their
ingenuity in framing laws to sustain the purchasing power of
their paper money. It was made legal tender for all debts
public and private; it was decreed that the man who refused to
take it was a public enemy; all the considerations of patriotism
were rallied to its support, and the law provided that any


























A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 107
*-*.
citizens found trafficking in the money of the enemy—i.e.,
greenbacks, should suffer imprisonment in the Penitentiary, and
any soldier so offending should suffer death.
Notwithstanding all this, in Richmond, the head and heart
of the Confederacy, in January, 1864—long before the IRebel
cause began to look at all desperate — it took a dollar to buy
such a loaf of bread as now sells for ten cents; a newspaper was
a half dollar, and everything else in proportion. And still
worse: There was not a day during our stay in Richmond but
what one could go to the hole in the door before which the
guard was pacing and call out in a loud whisper:
“Say, Guard: do you want to buy some greenbacks?”
And be sure that the reply would be, after a furtive glance
around to see that no officer was watching:
“Yes; how much do you want for them?”
The reply was then: “Ten for one.”
“All right; how much have you got?”
The Yankee would reply; the Rebel would walk to the
farther end of his beat, count out the necessary amount, and,
returning, put up one hand with it, while with the other he
caught hold of one end of the Yankee's greenback. At the word,
both would release their holds simultaneously, the exchange
was complete, and the Rebel would pace industriously up and
down his beat with the air of the school boy who “ain’t been a-
doin’ nothing.”
There was never any risk in approaching any guard with a
proposition of this kind. I never heard of one refusing to trade
for greenbacks, and if the men on guard could not be restrained
by these stringent laws, what hope could there be of restraining
anybody else?
One day we were favored with a visit from the redoubtable
General John II. Morgan, next to J. E. B. Stuart the greatest
of IRebel cavalry leaders. He had lately escaped from the Ohio
Penitentiary. IIe was invited to Richmond to be made a Major
General, and was given a grand ovation by the citizens and civic
Government. IIe came into our building to visit a number of
the First Kentucky Cavalry (loyal)—captured at New Phila-
delphia, East Tennessee—whom he was anxious to have
exchanged for men of his own regiment—the First Kentucky
108 ANDERSONVILLE.
Cavalry (Rebel)—who were captured at the same time he was.
I happened to get very close to him while he was standing
there talking to his old acquaintances, and I made a mental
photograph of him, which still retains all its original distinct-
ness. He was a tall, heavy man, with a full, coarse, and some-
what dull face, and lazy, sluggish gray eyes. His long black
hair was carefully oiled, and turned under at the ends, as was
the custom with the rural beaux some years ago. His face was
clean shaved, except a large, sandy goatee. He wore a high
silk hat, a black broadcloth coat, Kentucky jeans pantaloons,
neatly fitting boots, and no vest. There was nothing remotely
suggestive of unusual ability or force of character, and Ithought
as I studied him that the sting of George D. Prentice's bon mot
about him was in its acrid truth. Said Mr. Prentice:
“Why don’t somebody put a pistol to Basil Duke's head, and
blow John Morgan's brains out?” [Basil Duke was John
Morgan's right hand man.]
CHAPTER XII.
REMARKS AS TO NOMENCLATURE — WACCDNATION AND ITS EFFECTS
—“N’YAARKER's,” THEIR CHARACTERISTICS, AND THEIR METHODST
OF OPERATING.
Before going any further in this narrative it may be well to
state that the nomenclature employed is not used in any odious
or disparaging sense. It is simply the adoption of the usual
terms employed by the soldiers of both sides in speaking to or
of each other. We habitually spoke of them and to them, as
“Rebels,” and “Johnnies;” they of and to us, as “Yanks,” and
“Yankees.” To have said “Confederates,” “Southerners,”
“Secessionists,” or “Federalists,” “Unionists,” “Northerners”
or “Nationalists,” would have seemed useless euphemism. The
plainer terms suited better, and it was a day when things were
more important than names.
For some inscrutable reason the Rebels decided to vaccinate
us all. Why they did this has been one of the unsolved prob-
lems of my life. It is true that there was small pox in the City,
and among the prisoners at Danville; but that any consider-
ation for our safety should have led them to order general
inoculation is not among the reasonable inferences. But, be
that as it may, vaccination was ordered, and performed. By
great good luck I was absent from the building with the squad
drawing rations, when our room was inoculated, so I escaped
what was an infliction to all, and fatal to many. The direst
consequences followed the operation. Foul ulcers appeared on
various parts of the bodies of the vaccinated. In many
instances the arms literally rotted off; and death followed from
a corruption of the blood. Frequently the faces, and other
110 ANDERSON VILLE.
/
parts of those who recovered, were disfigured by the ghastly
cicatrices of healed ulcers. A special friend of mine, Sergeant
Frank Beverstock—then a member of the Third Virginia Cav-
alry, (loyal), and after the war a banker in Bowling Green, O.,
—bore upon his temple to his dying day, (which occurred a
year ago), a fearful scar, where the flesh had sloughed off from
the effects of the virus that had tainted his blood.
This I do not pretend to account for. We thought at the
time that the Rebels had deliberately poisoned the vaccine
matter with syphilitic virus, and it was so charged upon them.
I do not now believe that this was so; I can hardly think that
members of the humane profession of medicine would be guilty
of such subtle diabolism—worse even than poisoning the wells
from which an enemy must drink. The explanation with
which I have satisfied myself is that some careless or stupid
practitioner took the vaccinating lymph from diseased human
bodies, and thus infected all with the blood venom, without any
conception of what he was doing. The low standard of med-
ical education in the South makes this theory quite plausible.
We now formed the acquaintance of a species of human
vermin that united with the Itebels, cold, hunger, lice and the
oppression of distraint, to leave nothing undone that could add
to the miseries of our prison life.
These were the fledglings of the slums and dives of New
York — graduates of that metropolitan sink of iniquity where
the rogues and criminals of the whole world meet for mutual
instruction in vice.
They were men who, as a rule, had never known a day of
honesty and cleanliness in their misspent lives; whose fathers,
brothers and constant companions were roughs, malefactors and
felons; whose mothers, wives and sisters were prostitutes, pro-
curesses and thieves; men who had from infancy lived in an
atmosphere of sin, until it saturated every fiber of their being
as a dweller in a jungle imbibes malaria by every one of his
millions of pores, until his very marrow is surcharged with it.
They included representatives from all nationalities, and their
descendants, but the English and Irish elements predominated.
They had an argot peculiar to themselves. It was partly
made up of the “flash” language of the London thieves,
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON S. 111.
**
amplified and enriched by the cant vocabulary and the
jargon of crime of every Euro-
pean tongue. They spoke it with
a peculiar accent and intonation
that made them instantly recogni-
zable from the roughs of all other
Cities. They called themselves
“N’Yaarkers;” we came to know
them as “Taiders.”
If everything in the animal
world has its counterpart among
men, then these were the wolves,
§§ y jackals and hyenas of the race—
º #º at Once cowardly and fierce,—
; audaciously bold when the power
of numbers was on their side, and
cowardly when confronted with
resolution by anything like an
equality of strength.
Like all other roughs and rascals of whatever degree, they
were utterly worthless as soldiers. There may have been in
the Army some habitual corner loafer, some ſistic champion of
the bar-room and brothel, some Terror of Plug Ugly ville, who
was worth the salt in the hard tack he consumed, but if there
were, I did not form his acquaintance, and I never heard of any
one else who did. It was the rule that the man who was the
readiest in the use of fist and slungshot at home had the
greatest diffidence about forming a close acquaintance with cold
lead in the neighborhood of the front. Thousands of the so-
called “dangerous classes” were recruited, from whom the
Government did not receive so much service as would pay for
the buttons on their uniforms. People expected that they
would make themselves as troublesome to the Tebels as they
were to good citizens and the Police, but they were only pug-
nacious to the provost guard, and terrible to the people in the
rear of the Army who had anything that could be stolen.
The highest type of soldier which the world has yet produced
is the intelligent, self-respecting American boy, with home, and
s
*===-
à
*
§
º
§
i
t
ſ
;
A * N'YAAREER.”
father and mother and friends behind him, and duty in front.







112 ANDERSON VILLE.
beckoning him on. In the sixty centuries that war has been a
profession no man has entered its ranks so calmly resolute in
confronting danger, so shrewd and energetic in his aggressive-
neSS, so tenacious of the defense and the assault, so certain to
rise swiftly to the level of every emergency, as the boy who,
in the good old phrase, had been “well-raised” in a God-fearing
home, and went to the field in obedience to a conviction of
duty. His unfailing courage and good sense won fights that
the incompetency or cankering jealousy of commanders had
łost. "High officers were occasionally disloyal, or willing to
sacrifice their country to personal pique; still more frequently
they were ignorant and inefficient; but the enlisted man had
more than enough innate soldiership to make amends for these
deficiencies, and his superb conduct often brought honors and
promotions to those only who deserved shame and disaster.
Our “N’Yaarkers,” swift to see any opportunity for dishonest
gain, had taken to bounty-jumping, or, as they termed it,
“leppin’ the bounty,” for a livelihood. Those who were thrust
in upon us had followed this until it had become dangerous,
and then deserted to the Rebels. The latter kept them at
Castle Lightning for awhile, and then, rightly estimating their
character, and considering that it was best to trade them off for
a genuine Rebel soldier, sent them in among us, to be exchanged
regularly with us. There was not so much good faith as good
policy shown by this. It was a matter of indifference to the
Rebels how soon our Government shot these deserters after
getting them in its hands again. They were only anxious to
use them to get their own men back.
The moment they came into contact with us our troubles
began. They stole whenever opportunities offered, and they
were indefatigable in making these offer; they robbed by actual
force, whenever force would avail; and more obsequious lick-
spittles to power never existed—they were perpetually on the
look-out for a chance to curry favor by betraying some plan or
scheme to those who guarded us.
I saw one day a queer illustration of the audacious side of
these fellows’ characters, and it shows at the same time how
brazen effrontery will sometimes get the better of courage. In
a room in an adjacent building were a number of these fellows,
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PEISONS. 113
and a still greater number of East Tennesseeans. These latter
were simple, ignorant folks, but reasonably courageous. About
fifty of them were sitting in a group in one corner of the room,
and near them a couple or three “N’Yaarkers.” Suddenly one
of the latter said with an oath:
“ — , I was robbed last night; I lost two silver watches, a
couple of rings, and about fifty dollars in greenbacks. I believe
some of you fellers went through me.”
This was all pure invention; he no more had the things men-
tioned than he had purity of heart and a Christian spirit, but
the unsophisticated Tennesseeans did not dream of disputing
his statement, and answered in chorus:
“Oh, no, mister; we didn’t take your things; we ain’t that
kind.”
This was like the reply of the lamb to the wolf, in the fable,
and the N’Yaarker retorted with a simulated storm of passion,
and a torrent of oaths: y
“— , I know ye did; I know some uv yez has got them;
stand up agin the wall there till I search yez!”
And that whole fifty men, any one of whom was physically
equal to the N’Yaarker, and his superior in point of real courage,
actually stood against the wall, and submitted to being searched
and having taken from them the few Confederate bills they had,
and such trinkets as the searcher took a fancy to.
I was thoroughly disgusted.
CHAPTER XIII.
BELLE ISLE —TERRIBLE SUFFERING FROM COLD AND HUNGER— FATE
OF LIEUTENANT BOISSEUx’s DOG — our COMPANY MYSTERY —TER-
IMINATION OF ALL HOPES OF ITS SOLUTION.
In February my chum—B. B. Andrews, now a physician in
Astoria, Illinois—was brought into our building, greatly to my
delight and astonishment, and from him I obtained the much-
desired news as to the fate of my comrades. IIe told me they
had been sent to Belle Isle, whither he had gone, but succumb-
ing to the rigors of that dreadful place, he had been taken to
the hospital, and, upon his convalèsence, placed in our prison.
Our men were suffering terribly on the island. It was low,
damp, and swept by the bleak, piercing winds that howled up
and down the surface of the James. The first prisoners placed
on the island had been given tents that afforded them some
shelter, but these were all occupied when our battalion came in,
so that they were compelled to lie on the snow and frozen
ground, without shelter, covering of any kind, or fire. During
this time the cold had been so intense that the James had
frozen over three times.
The rations had been much worse than ours. The so-called
soup had been diluted to a ridiculous thinness, and meat had
wholly disappeared. So intense became the craving for animal
food, that one day when Lieutenant Boisseux—the Commandant
—strolled into the camp with his beloved white bull-terrier,
which was as fat as a Cheshire pig, the latter was decoyed into
a tent, a blanket thrown over him, his throat cut within a rod of
where his master was standing, and he was then 'skinned, cut up,
cooked, and furnished a Savory meal to many hungry men.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 115
When Boisseux learned of the fate of his four-footed friend he
Was, of course, intensely enraged, but that was all the good it did
him. The only revenge possible was to sentence more prisoners
to ride the cruel wooden horse which he used as a means of
punishment.
Four of our company were aiready dead. Jacob Lowry and
John Beach were standing near the gate one day when some one
Snatched the guard’s blanket from the post where he had hung
it, and ran. The enraged sentry leveled his gun and fired into
the crowd. The balls passed through Lowry’s and Beach's
breasts. Then Charley Osgood, son of our Lieutenant, a quiet,
DECOYING BoISSEUx’s DoG TO ITS DEATH.
fair-haired, pleasant-spoken boy, but as brave and earnest as
his gallant father, sank under the combination of hunger and
cold. One stinging morning he was found stiff and stark, on
the hard ground, his bright, frank blue eyes glazed over in
death.
One of the mysteries of our company was a tall, slender,
elderly Scotchman, who appeared on the rolls as William Brad-
ford. What his past life had been, where he had lived, what
his profession, whether married or single, no one ever knew.
He came to us while in Camp of Instruction near Springfield,
Illinois, and seemed to have left all his past behind him as he
crossed the line of sentries around the camp. IIe never received
any letters, and never wrote any; never asked for a furlough

#116 - ANDERSON VILLE,
/
or pass, and never expressed a wish to be elsewhere than in
camp. IIe was courteous and pleasant, but very reserved. He
interfered with no one, obeyed orders promptly and without
remark, and was always present for duty. Scrupulously neat
in dress, always as clean-shaved as an old-fashioned gentleman
of the world, with manners and conversation that showed him
to have belonged to a refined and polished circle, he was evi-
dently out of place as a private soldier in a company of reckless
and none-too-refined young Illinois troopers, but he never
availed himself of any of the numerous opportunities offered to
change his associations. Iſis elegant penmanship would have
secured him an easy berth and better society at headquarters,
but he declined to accept a detail. He became an exciting mys-
tery to a knot of us imaginative young cubs, who sorted up out
of the reminiscential rag-bag of high colors and strong con-
trasts with which the sensational literature that we most
affected had plentifully stored our minds, a half-dozen intensely
emotional careers for him. We spent much time in mentally
trying these on, and discussing which fitted him best. We
were always expecting a denouement that would come like a
lightning flash and reveal his whole mysterious past, showing
him to have been the disinherited scion of some noble house, a
man of high station, who was expiating some fearful crime; an
accomplishedvillain eluding his pursuers—in short, a Somebody
who would be a fitting hero for Miss Braddon's or Wilkie Col-
lins's literary purposes. We never got but two clues of his past,
and they were faint ones. One day he left lying near me a
small copy of “Paradise Lost,” that he always carried with
him. Turning over its leaves I found all of Milton’s bitter
invectives against women heavily underscored. Another time,
while on guard with him, he spent much of his time in writing
some Latin verses in very elegant chirography upon the white
painted boards of a fence along which his beat ran. We
pressed in all the available knowledge of Latin about camp,
and found that the tenor of the verses was very uncompliment-
ary to that charming sex which does us the honor of being our
mothers and sweethearts. These evidences we accepted as suf-
ficient demonstration that there was a woman at the bottom of
the mystery, and male us more impatient for further develop.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 117
ments. These were never to come. Bradford pined away on
Belle Isle, and grew weaker, but no less reserved, each day.
At length, one bitter cold night ended it all. He was found
in the morning stone dead, with his iron-gray hair frozen fast to
the ground, upon which he lay. Our mystery had to remain
unsolved. There was nothing about his person to give any
hint as to his past.
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THE DEAD SCOTCHMLAN,























CHAPTER XIV.
HOPING FOR EXCHANGE–AN EXPOSITION OF TEIE DOCTRINE OF
CHANCES — OFF FOR ANDERSON VILLE — UNCERTAINTY AS TO OUR
DESTINATION.—ARRIVAL AT ANDERSON WILLE.
As each lagging day closed, we confidently expected that the
next would bring some news of the eagerly-desired exchange.
We hopefully assured each other that the thing could not be
delayed much longer; that the Spring was near, the campaign
would soon open, and each government would make an effort
to get all its men into the field, and this would bring about a
transfer of prisoners. A Sergeant of the Seventh Indiana
Infantry stated his theory to me this way:
“You know I’m just old lightnin' on chuck-a-luck. Now the
way I bet is this: I lay down, say on the ace, an’ it don't
come up ; I just double my bet on the ace, an’ keep on doublin'
every time it loses, until at last it comes up an’ then I win a
bushel o' money, and mebbe bust the bank. You see the
thing's got to come up some time; an' every time it don’t come
up makes it more likely to come up the next time. It’s just
the same way with this 'ere exchange. The thing's got to hap-
pen some day, an’ every day that it don’t happen increases the
chances that it will happen the next day.”
Some months later I folded the sanguine Sergeant's stiffening
hands together across his fleshless ribs, and helped carry his
body out to the dead-house at Andersonville, in order to get a
piece of wood to cook my ration of meal with.
On the evening of the 17th of February, 1864, we were
ordered to get ready to move at daybreak the next morning.
We were certain this could mean nothing else than exchange,
and our exaltation was such that we did little sleeping that
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS, 119
night. The morning was very cold, but we sang and joked as
we marched over the creaking bridge, on our way to the cars.
We were packed so tightly in these that it was impossible to
even sit down, and we rolled slowly away after a wheezing
engine to Petersburg, whence we expected to march to the
exchange post. We reached Petersburg before noon, and the
cars halted there a long time, we momentarily expecting an
order to get out. Then the train started up and moved out of
the City toward the southeast. This was inexplicable, but
after we had proceeded this way for several hours some one
conceived the idea that the Rebels, to avoid treating with But-
ler, were taking us into the Department of some other com-
mander to exchange us. This explanation satisfied us, and our
Spirits rose again.
Night found us at Gaston, N. C., where we received a few
crackers for rations, and changed cars. It was dark, and we
resorted to a little strategy to secure more room. About thirty
of us got into a tight box car, and immediately announced that
it was too full to admit any more. When an officer came along
with another squad to stow away, we would yell out to him to
take some of the men out, as we were crowded unbearably. In
the mean time everybody in the car would pack closely around
the door, so as to give the impression that the car was densely
crowded. The Rebel would look convinced, and demand—
“Why, how many men have you got in de cah?”
Then one of us would order the imaginary host in the invis-
ible recesses to —
“Stand still there, and be counted,” while he would gravely
count up to one hundred or one hundred and twenty, which
was the utmost limit of the car, and the Rebel would hurry off
to put his prisoners somewhere else. We managed to play this
successfully during the whole journey, and not only obtained
room to lie down in the car, but also drew three or four times
as many rations as were intended for us, so that while we at no
time had enough, we were farther from starvation than our less
strategic companions.
The second afternoon we arrived at IRaleigh, the capitol of
North Carolina, and were camped in a piece of timber, and
shortly after dark Orders were issued to us all to lie flat on the
120 ANDERSON WILLE.
ground and not rise up till daylight. About the middle of the
night a man belonging to a New Jersey regiment, who had
apparently forgotten the order, stood up, and was immediately
shot dead by the guard. *
For four or five days more the decrepit little locomotive
strained along, dragging after it the rattling old cars. The
scenery was intensely monotonous. It was a flat, almost
unending, stretch of pine barrens and the land so poor that a dis-
gusted Illinoisan, used to the fertility of the great American
Bottom, said rather strongly, that,
“By George, they’d have to manure this ground before they
could even make brick out of it.” -
It was a surprise to all of us who had heard so much of the
wealth of Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina and Geor-
gia, to find the soil a sterile sand bank, interspersed with
swamps. tº:
We had still no idea of where we were going. We only
knew that our general course was southward, and that we had
passed through the Carolinas, and were in Georgia. We fur-
bished up our school knowledge of geography and endeavored
to recall something of the location of Raleigh, Charlotte,
Columbia and Augusta, through which we passed, but the
attempt was not a success.
Late on the afternoon of the 25th of February the Seventh
Indiana Sergeant approached me with the inquiry:
“Do you know where Macon is ?” -
The place had not then become as well known as it was
afterward.
It seemed to me that I had read something of Macon in
Revolutionary history, and that it was a fort on the sea coast.
He said that the guard had told him that we were to be taken
to a point near that place, and we agreed that it was probably
a new place of exchange. A little later we passed through the
town of Macon, Ga., and turned upon a road that led almost
due south.
About midnight the train stopped, and we were ordered off.
We were in the midst of a forest of tall trees that loaded the
air with the heavy balsamic odor peculiar to pine trees. A few
small rude houses were scattered around near.
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 12]
Stretching out into the darkness was a double row of great
heaps of burning pitch pine, that smoked and flamed fiercely,
and lit up a little space around in the somber forest with a
ruddy glare. Between these two rows lay a road, which we
were ordered to take.
The scene was weird and uncanny. I had recently read the
“Iliad,” and the long lines of huge fires reminded me of that
scene in the first book, where the Greeks burn on the sea shore
the bodies of those smitten by Apollo's pestilential arrows:
For nine long nights, through all the dusky air,
The pyres, thick flaming, shot a dismal glare.
Five hundred weary men moved along slowly through
double lines of guards. Five hundred men marched silently
towards the gates that were to shut out life and hope from
most of them forever. A quarter of a mile from the railroad we
came to a massive palisade of great Squared logs standing
upright in the ground. The fires blazed up and showed us a
section of these, and two massive wooden gates, with heavy
iron hinges and bolts. They swung open as we stood there
And we passed through into the space beyond.
We were in Andersonville,
CHAPTER XV.
GEORGIA — A LEAN AND HUNGRY LAND — DIFFERENCE BETWERN
DPPER AND LOWER GEORGIA – THE WILLAGE OF ANDERSON-
WILLE.
As the next nine months of the existence of those of us who
survived were spent in intimate connection with the soil of
Georgia, and, as it exercised a potential influence upon our
comfort and well-being, or rather lack of these—a mention of
some of its peculiar characteristics may help the reader to a
fuller comprehension of the conditions surrounding us—our
environment, as Darwin would say.
Georgia, which, next to Texas, is the largest State in the
South, and has nearly twenty-five per cent. more area than the
great State of New York, is divided into two distinct and
widely differing sections, by a geological line extending directly
across the State from Augusta, on the Savannah River, through
Macon, on the Ocmulgee, to Columbus, on the Chattahoochie.
That part lying to the north and west of this line is usually
spoken of as “Upper Georgia; ” while that lying to the south
and east, extending to the Atlantic Ocean and the Florida line,
is called “Lower Georgia.” In this part of the State—though
far removed from each other—were the prisons of Anderson-
ville, Savannah, Millen and Blackshear, in which we were incar-
cerated one after the other.
Upper Georgia—the capital of which is Atlanta–is a fruit.
ful, productive, metalliferous region, that will in time become
quite wealthy. Lower Georgia, which has an extent about
equal to that of Indiana, is not only poorer now than a worn-
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FRENCH TO! EDO~~-~~~~





A. STORY OF REBEL MDLITARY PRISONS, 12:5
out province of Asia Minor, but in all probability will ever
remain so.
It is a starved, sterile land, impressing one as a desert in the
first stages of reclamation into productive soil, or a productive
soil in the last steps of deterioration into a desert. It is a
vast expanse of arid, yellow sand, broken at intervals by foul
swamps, with a jungle-like growth of unwholesome vegetation,
and teeming with venomous snakes, and all manner of hideous
crawling things.
The original forest still stands almost unbroken on this wide
stretch of thirty thousand square miles, but it does not cover it
as we say of forests in more favored lands. The tall, solemn
pines, upright and symmetrical as huge masts, and wholly des-
titute of limbs, except the little, umbrella-like crest at the very
top, stand far apart from each other in an unfriendly isolation.
There is no fraternal interlacing of branches to form a kindly,
umbrageous shadow. Detween them is no genial undergrowth
of vines, shrubs, and demi-trees, generous in fruits, berries and
nuts, such as make one of the charms of Northern forests. On
the ground is no rich, springing sod of emerald green, fragrant
with the elusive sweetness of white clover, and dainty flowers,
but a sparse, wiry, famished grass, scattered thinly over the
surface in tufts and patches, like the hair on a mangy cur.
The giant pines seem to have sucked up into their immense
boles all the nutriment in the earth, and starved out every
minor growth. So wide and clean is the space between them,
that one can look through the forest in any direction for miles,
with almost as little interference with the view as on a prairie.
In the swampier parts the trees are lower, and their limbs are
hung with heavy festoons of the gloomy Spanish moss, or
“death moss,” as it is more frequently called, because where it
grows rankest the malaria is the deadliest. Everywhere Nature
seems sad, subdued and Somber. -
I have long entertained a peculiar theory to account for the
decadence and ruin of countries. My reading of the world’s
history seems to teach me that when a strong people take pos-
session of a fertile land, they reduce it to cultivation, thrive
upon its bountifulness, multiply into millions the mouths to be
fed from it, tax it to the last limit of production of the neces-
126 ANDERSON VILLE.
saries of life, take from it continually, and give nothing back,
starve and overwork it as cruel, grasping men do a servant or a
beast, and when at last it breaks down under the strain, it
revenges itself by starving many of them with great famines,
while the others go off in search of new countries to put
through the same process of exhaustion. We have seen one coun.
try after another undergo this process as the seat of empire took
its westward way, from the cradle of the race on the banks of
the Oxus to the fertile plains in the Valley of the Euphrates,
Impoverishing these, men next sought the Valley of the Nile,
then the Grecian Peninsula; next Syracuse and the Italian
Peninsula, then the Iberian Peninsula, and the African shores
of the Mediterranean. Exhausting all these, they were deserted
for the French, German and English portions of Europe. The
turn of the latter is now come; famines are becoming terribly
frequent, and mankind is pouring into the virgin fields of
America. . - -
Lower Georgia, the Carolinas and Eastern Virginia have all
the characteristics of these starved and worn-out lands. It
would seem as if, away back in the distance of ages, some
numerous and civilized race had drained from the soil the last
atom of food-producing constituents, and that it is now slowly
gathering back, as the centuries pass, the elements that have
been wrung from the land. -
Lower Georgia is very thinly settled. Much of the land is
still in the hands of the Government. The three or four rail-
roads which pass through it have little reference to local traffic.
There are no towns along them as a rule; stations are made
every ten miles, and not named, but numbered, as “Station
No. 4”—“No. 10,” etc. The roads were built as through
lines, to bring to the seaboard the rich products of the interior.
Andersonville is one of the few stations dignified with a
mame, probably because it contained some half dozen of shabby
houses, whereas at the others there was usually nothing more
than a mere open shed, to shelter goods and travelers. It is on
a rudely constructed, rickety railroad, that runs from Macon
to Albany, the head of navigation on the Flint River, which is
one hundred and six miles from Macon, and two hundred and
fifty from the Gulf of Mexico. Andersonville is about sixty
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS, 12?
miles from Macon, and, consequently, about three hundred
miles from the Gulf. The camp was merely a hole cut in the
wilderness. It was as remote a point from our armies, as they
then lay, as the Southern Confederacy could give. The near-
est was Sherman, at Chattanooga, four hundred miles away,
and on the other side of a range of mountains hundreds of miles
wide.
To us it seemed beyond the last forlorn limits of civilization.
We felt that we were more completely at the mercy of our foes
than ever. While in Richmond we were in the heart of the
Confederacy; we were in the midst of the Rebel military and
civil force, and were surrounded on every hand by visible—evi-
dences of the great magnitude of that power, but this, while it
enforced our ready submission, did not overawe us depressingly.
We knew that though the Rebels were all about us in great
force, our own men were also near, and in still greater force—
that while they were very strong our army was still stronger,
and there was no telling what day this superiority of strength.
might be demonstrated in such a way as to decisively benefit us.
But here we felt as did the Ancient Mariner:
Alone on a wide, wide sea,
So lonely 'twas that God himself
§carce seemed there to be.
CIIAPTER XVI.
WAKING UP DN ANDERSON WILLE — SOME DESCRIPTION OF THE PLACE
– OUR FIRST MAIL–BUILDING SEIELTER—GEN. WINDER – HIM-
SELF AND LINEA.G.E.
We roused up promptly with the dawn to take a survey of
our new abiding place. We found ourselves in an immense
pen, about one thousand feet long by eight hundred wide, as a
young surveyor—a member of the Thirty-fourth Ohio —in-
formed us after he had paced it off. IIe estimated that it con-
tained about sixteen acres. The walls were formed by pine
logs twenty-five feet long, from two to three feet in diameter,
hewn square, set into the ground to a depth of five feet, and
placed so close together as to leave no crack through which the
country outside could be seen. There being five feet of the
logs in the ground, the wall was, of course, twenty feet high.
This manner of enclosure was in some respects superior to a
wall of masonry. It was equally unscalable, and much more
difficult to undermine or batter down.
The pen was longest due north and south. It was divided
in the center by a creek about a yard wide and ten inches deep,
running from west to east. On each side of this was a quaking
bog of slimy ooze one hundred and fifty feet wide, and so yield-
ing that one attempting to walk upon it would sink to the
waist. From this swamp the Sandhills sloped north and south
to the stockade. All the trees inside the stockade, save two,
had been cut down and used in its construction. All the rank
vegetation of the swamp had also been cut off.
There were two entrances to the stockade, one on each side
of the creek, midway between it and the ends, and called re-
A §TORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 129
spectively the “North Gate” and the “South Gate.” These
were constructed double, by building smaller stockades around
them on the outside, with another set of gates. When prison-
ers or wagons with rations were brought in, they were first
brought inside the outer gates, which were carefully secured,
before the inner gates were opened. This was done to prevent
the gates being carried by a rush by those confined inside.
At regular intervals along the palisades were little perches,
upon which stood guards, who overlooked the whole inside of
the prison. \
The only view we had of the outside was that obtained by
looking from the highest points of the North or South Sides T.
across the depression where the stockade crossed the swamp.
In this way we could see about forty acres at a time of the ad-
joining woodland, or say one hundred and sixty acres altogeth-
er, and this meager landscape had to content us for the next
half year. *
Before our inspection was finished, a wagon drove in with
rations, and a quart of meal, a sweet potato and a few ounces
of salt beef were issued to each one of us.
In a few minutes we were all hard at work preparing our
first meal in Andersonville. The debris of the forest left a
temporary abundance of fuel, and we had already a cheerful
fire blazing for every little squad. There were a number of
tobacco presses in the rooms we occupied in Richmond, and to
each of these was a quantity of sheets of tin, evidently used to
put between the layers of tobacco. The deft hands of the
mechanics among us bent these up into square pans, which
were real handy cooking utensils, holding about a quart.
Water was carried in them from the creek; the meal mixed in
them to a dough, or else boiled as mush in the same vessels;
the potatoes were boiled; and their final service was to hold a
little meal to be carefully browned, and then water boiled upon
it, so as to form a feeble imitation of coffee. I found my edu-
cation at Jonesville in the art of baking a hoe-cake now came in
good play, both for myself and comypanions. Taking one of
the pieces of tin which had not jbeen made into a pan, we
spread upon it a layer of dough about a half-inch thick. Prop-
ping this up nearly upright before the fire, it was soon nicely
* *~.
130 ANDERSON VILLE,
browned over. This process made it sweat itself loose from
the tin, when it was turned over and the bottom browned also.
Save that it was destitute of salt, it
was quite a toothsome bit of nutri-
ment for a hungry man, and I
recommend my readers to try
making a “pone” of this kind
Once, just to see what it was like.
The supreme indifference with
which the Rebels always treated
the matter of cooking utensils for
us, excited my wonder. It never
Semed to occur to them that we
cooking RATIONs. could have any more need of ves-
sels for our food than cattle or swine. Never, during my whole
prison life, did I see so much as a tin cup or a bucket issued to
a prisoner. Starving men were driven to all sorts of shifts for
Want of these. Pantaloons or coats were pulled off and their
sleeves or legs used to draw a mess's meal in. Boots were com-
mon vessels for carrying water, and when the feet of these gave
way the legs were ingeniously closed up with pine pegs, so as to
form rude leathern buckets. Men whose pocket knives had
escaped the search at the gates made very ingenious little
tubs and buckets, and these devices enabled us to get along
after a fashion.
After our meal was disposed of, we held a council on the
situation. Though we had been sadly disappointed in not
being exchanged, it seemed that on the whole our condition
had been bettered. This first ration was a decided improve-
ment on those of the Pemberton building; we had left the
snow and ice behind at Richmond—or rather at some place
between Raleigh, N. C., and Columbia, S. C.—and the air here,
though chill, was not nipping, but bracing. It looked as if we
would have a plenty of wood for shelter and fuel; it was certainly
better to have sixteen acres to roam over than the stifling con-
fines of a building; and, still better, it seemed as if there would
be plenty of opportunities to get beyond the stockade, and
attempt a journey through the woods to that blissful land—
“Our lines.” *

A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 13i
We settled down to make the best of things. A Rebel Ser.
geant came in presently and arranged us in hundreds. We
subdivided these into messes of twenty-five, and began devising
means for shelter. Nothing showed the inborn capacity of the
Northern soldier to take care of himself better than the way
in which we accomplished this with the rude materials at our
command. No ax, spade nor mattock was allowed us by the
Rebels, who treated us in regard to these the samé as in respect
to culinary vessels. The only tools were a few pocket-knives,
and perhaps half-a-dozen hatchets which some infantrymen—
principally members of the Third Michigan — were allowed to
retain. Yet, despite all these drawbacks, we had quite a village
of huts erected in a few days, nearly enough, in fact, to afford
tolerable shelter for the whole five hundred of us first-comers.
The withes and poles that grew in the swamp were bent into
the shape of the semi-circular bows that support the canvas
covers of army wagons, and both ends thrust in the ground.
These formed the timbers of our dwellings. They were held
in place by weaving in, basket-wise, a network of briers and
vines. Tufts of the long leaves which are the distinguishing
characteristic of the Georgia pine (popularly known as the
“long-leaved pine”) were wrought into this network until a
thatch was formed, that was a fair protection against the rain
—it was like the Irishman’s unglazed window-sash, which
“kep’ out the coarsest uv the cold.”
The results accomplished were as astonishing to us as to the
Rebels, who would have lain unsheltered upon the sand until
bleached out like field-rotted flax, before thinking to protect
themselves in this way. As our village was approaching com-
pletion, the Rebel Sergeant who called the roll entered. Iſe
was very odd-looking. The cervical muscles were distorted in
such a way as to suggest to us the name of “Wry-necked
Smith,” by which we always designated him. Pete Bates, of
the Third Michigan, who was the wag of our squad, accounted
for Smith's condition by saying that while on dress parade once
the Colonel of Smith's regiment had commanded “eyes right,”
and then forgot to give the order “front.” Smith, being a
good soldier, had kept his eyes in the position of gazing at the
buttons of the third man to the right, waiting for the order to
183 \
x-r
APIDERSON WILL}º,
restore them to their natural direction, until they had become
permanently fixed in their obliquity and he was compelled to
go through life taking a biased view of all things. -
Smith walked in, made a diagonal survey of the encampment,
which, if he had ever seen “Mitchell’s Geography,” probably
reminded him of the picture of a Kaffir village, in that instruct-
ive but awfully dull book, and then expressed the opinion that
usually welled up to every Rebel's lips: - &
“Well, I’ll be durned, if you Yanks don’t just beat the
devil.”
Of course, we replied with the well-worn prison joke, that we
supposed we did, as we beat the Rebels, who were worse than
the devil. 2. - *
There rode in among us, a few days after our arrival, an old
man whose collar bore the wreathed stars of a Major General.
Heavy white locks fell from beneath his slouched hat, nearly
to his shoulders. Sunken gray eyes, too dull and cold to light
up, marked a hard, stony face, the salient feature of which was
a thin-lipped, compressed mouth,
with corners drawn down deeply
— the mouth which seems the
World over to be the index of sel-
fish, cruel, sulky malignance.
It is such a mouth as has the
School-boy—the coward of the
play ground, who delights in
pulling off the wings of flies.
It is such a mouth as we can
= imagine some remorseless inquis-
> #º itor to have had—that is, not an
Tºll ºf inquisitor filled with holy zeal
~= for what he mistakenly thought
&EN. JOHN H. WINDER. the cause of Christ demanded,
but a spleeny, envious, rancorous shaveling, who tortured men
from hatred of their superiority to him, and sheer love of
inflicting pain. - -
The rider was John H. Winder, Commissary General of
Prisoners, Baltimorean renegade and the malign genius to
whose account should be charged the deaths of more gallant
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A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON8. 133
men than all the inquisitors of the world ever slew by the less
dreadful rack and wheel. It was he who in August could point
to the three thousand and eighty-one new made graves for that
month, and exultingly tell his hearer that he was “doing more
for the Confederacy than twenty regiments.”
His lineage was in accordance with his character. His
father was that General William H. Winder, whose poltroon-
ery at Bladensburg, in 1814, nullified the resistance of the
gallant Commodore Barney, and gave Washington to the
British.
The father was a coward and an incompetent; the son,
always cautiously distant from the scene of hostilities, was the
tormentor of those whom the fortunes of war, and the arms
of brave men threw into his hands.
Winder gazed at us stonily for a few minutes without speak-
ing, and, turning, rode out again. -
Our troubles, from that hour, rapidly increased.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE PLANTATION NEGROS — NOT STUPID TO BE LOYAL–THEIR DITFTY-
RAMIBIO MUSIC — COPPERHEAD OPINION OF LONGIFELLOW.
The stockade was not quite finished at the time of our
arrival—a gap of several hundred feet appearing at the south-
west corner. A gang of about two hundred negros were at
work felling trees, hewing logs, and placing them upright in
the trenches. We had an opportunity—soon to disappear for-
ever — of studying the workings of the “peculiar institution”
in its very home. The negros were of the lowest field-hand
class, strong, dull, ox-like, but each having in our eyes an
admixture of cunning and secretiveness that their masters pre-
tended was not in them. Their demeanor toward us illustrated
this. We were the objects of the most supreme interest to
them, but when near us and in the presence of a white Rebel,
this interest took the shape of stupid, open-eyed, open-mouthed
wonder, something akin to the look on the face of the rustic
lout, gazing for the first time upon a locomotive or a steam
threshing machine. But if chance threw one of them nearus when
he thought himself unobserved by the Rebels, the blank, vacant
face lighted up with an entirely different expression. He was no
longer the credulousyokel who believed the Yankees were only
slightly modified devils, ready at any instant to return to their
original horn-and-tail condition and snatch him away to the
bluest kind of perdition; he knew, apparently quite as well as
his master, that they were in some way his friends and allies,
and he lost no opportunity in communicating his appreciation
of that fact, and of offering his services in any possible way.
And these offers were sincere. It is the testimony of every
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PHISON 8. 135
Union prisoner in the South that he was never betrayed by or
disappointed in a field negro, but could always approach any
A FIELD HAND.
one of them with perfect confidence in his extending all the aid
in his power, whether as a guide to escape, as sentinel to signal
danger, or a purveyor of food. These services were frequently
attended with the greatest personal risk, but they were none
the less readily undertaken. This applies only to the field-
hands; the house servants were treacherous and wholly un-
reliable. Very many of our men who managed to get away
from the prisons were recaptured through their betrayal by
house servants, but none were retaken where a field hand could
prevent it. t
We were much interested in watching the negro work
They wove in a great deal of their peculiar, wild, mournful
music, whenever the character of the labor permitted. They
seemed to sing the music for the music's sake alone, and were
as heedless of the fitness of the accompanying words, as the
composer of a modern opera is of his libretto. One middle-
aged man, with a powerful, mellow baritone, like the round,
full notes of a French horn, played by a virtuoso, was the

-- | .*
136 ANDERSON VILLE.
musical leader of the party. He never seemed to bother him-
self about air, notes or words, but improvised all as he went
along, and he sang as the spirit moved him. He would sud-
denly break out with —
“Oh, he's gone up dah, nevah to come back agin,”
At this every darkey within hearing would roll out, in
admirable consonance with the pitch, air and time started by
the leader—
“O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!"
Then would ring out from the leader as from the throbbing
lips of a silver trumpet—
“Lord bress him soul; I done hope he is happy now I ?”
And the antiphonal two hundred would chant back–
“O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o! ”
And so on for hours. They never seemed to weary of
singing, and we certainly did not of listening to them. The
absolute independence of the conventionalities of tune and
sentiment, gave them freedom to wander through a kaleideo-
scopic variety of harmonic effects, as spontaneous and change-
ful as the song of a bird.
I sat one evening, long after the shadows of night had
fallen upon the hillside, with one of my chums—a Frank
Berkstresser, of the Ninth Maryland Infantry, who before enlist-
ing was a mathematical tutor in college at Hancock, Maryland.
As we listened to the unwearying flow of melody from the
camp of the laborers, I thought of and repeated to him Long-
fellow’s fine lines:–
THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT,
ſº 10: 1. 10, & C
And the voice of his devotion
Filled my soul with strong emotion 3
For its tones by turns were glad
Sweetly solemn, wildly sad.
Paul and Silas, in their prison,
Sang of Christ, the Lord arisen,
And an earthquake's arm of might
Broke their dungeon gates at night.
But, alas, what holy angel
Brings the slave this glad evangel
And what earthquake's arm of might,
Breaks his prison gates at night.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 137
Said I: “Now, isn't that fine, Berkstresser?” -3
He was a Democrat, of fearfully pro-slavery ideas, and he
replied, sententiously:
“O, the poetry's tolerable, but the sentiment's damnable.”
CHAPTER XVIII.
§CHEMES AND PLANS TO ESCAPE — SCALING THE STOCKADE-
ESTABLISHING THE DEAD LINE – THE FIRST MAN RILLED.
The official designation of our prison was “Camp Sump-
ter,” but this was scarcely known outside of the Rebel documents,
reports and orders. It was the same way with the
prison five miles from Millen, to which we were afterward
transferred. The Rebels styled it officially “Camp Lawton,”
but we called it always “Millen.” &
Having our huts finished, the next solicitude was about
escape, and this was the burden of our thoughts, day and
night. We held conferences, at which every man was required
to contribute all the geographical knowledge of that section of
Georgia that he might have left over from his schoolboy days, and
also that gained by persistent questioning of such guards and
other Rebels as he had come in contact with. When first
landed in the prison we were as ignorant of our whereabouts
as if we had been dropped into the center of Africa. But one
of the prisoners was found to have a fragment of a school atlas,
in which was an outline map of Georgia, that had Macon,
Atlanta, Milledgeville, and Savannah laid down upon it. As
we knew we had come southward from Macon, we felt pretty
certain we were in the southwestern corner of the State.
Conversations with guards and others gave us the information
that the Chattahooche flowed some two score of miles to the .
westward, and that the Flint lay a little nearer on the east.
Our map showed that these two united and flowed together
into Appalachicola Bay, where, some of us remembered, a
newspaper item had said that we had gunboats stationed. The
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 139
creek that ran through the stockade flowed to the east, and we
reasoned that if we followed its course we would be led to the
Flint, down which we could float on a log or raft to the Appa-
lachicola. This was the favorite scheme of the party with
which I sided. Another party believed the most feasible plan
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scALING THE stock ADr.
was to go northward, and endeavor to gain the mountains, and
thence get into East Tennessee.
But the main thing was to get away from the stockade;
this, as the French say of all first steps, was what would cost.
Our first attempt was made about a week after our arrival.
We found two logs on the east side that were a couple of feet
shorter than therest, and it seemed as if they could be successfully
scaled. About fifty of us resolved to make the attempt. We
made a rope twenty-five or thirty feet long, and strong enough


140 ANDERSON WILLE.
to bear a man, out of strings and strips of cloth. A stout stick
was fastened to the end, so that it would catch on the logs on
either side of the gap. On a night dark enough to favor our
scheme, we gathered together, drew cuts to determine each boy’s
place in the line, fell in single rank, according to this arrange-
ment, and marched to the place. The line was thrown skillfully,
the stick caught fairly in the notch, and the boy who had drawn
number one climbed up amid a suspense so keen that I could
hear my heart beating. It seemed ages before he reached the
top, and that the noise he made must certainly attract the
attention of the guard. It did not. We saw our comrade's
figure outlined against the sky as he slid over the top, and then
heard the dull thump as he sprang to the ground on the other
side. “Number two,” was whispered by our leader, and he
performed the feat as successfully as his predecessor. “Number
three,” and he followed noiselessly and quickly. Thus it went
on, until, just as we heard number fifteen drop, we also heard a
Rebel voice say in a vicious undertone :
“Halt halt, there, d n you!”
This was enough. The game was up ; we were discovered,
and the remaining thirty-five of us left that locality with all
the speed in our heels, getting away just in time to escape a
volley which a squad of guards, posted in the lookouts, poured
upon the spot where we had been standing.
The next morning the fifteen who had got over the Stockade
were brought in, each chained to a sixty-four pound ball.
Their story was that one of the N’Yaarkers, who had become
cognizant of our scheme, had sought to obtain favor in the
Rebel eyes by betraying us. The Rebels stationed a squad at
the crossing place, and as each man dropped down from the
Stockade he was caught by the shoulder, the muzzle of a revolver
thrust into his face, and an order to surrender whispered into
his ear. It was expected that the guards in the Sentry-boxes
would do such execution among those of us still inside as would
prove a warning to other would-be escapes. They were defeated
in this benevolent intention by the readiness with which we
divined the meaning of that incautiously loud halt, and our
alacrity in leaving the unhealthy locality.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 141
The traitorous N’Yaarker was rewarded with a detail into
the commissary department, where he fed and fattened like a
rat that had secured undisturbed homestead rights in the center
of a cheese. When the miserable remnant of us were leaving
Andersonville months afterward, I saw him, sleek, rotund, and
well-clothed, lounging leisurely in the door of a tent. He
regarded us a moment contemptuously, and then went on con-
versing with a fellow N°Yaarker, in the foul slang that none
but such as he were low enough to use.
I have always imagined that the fellow returned home, at
the close of the war, and became a prominent member of
Tweed’s gang.
We protested against the barbarity of compelling men to
wear irons for exercising their natural right of attempting to
escape, but no attention was paid to our protest
Another result of this abortive effort was the establishment
of the notorious “Dead Line.” A few days later a gang of
negros came in and drove a line of stakes down at a distance of
twenty feet from the stockade. They nailed upon this a strip
of stuff four inches wide, and then an order was issued that if
this was crossed, or even touched, the guards would fire upon
the offender without warning.
Our surveyor figured up this new contraction of our space,
and came to the conclusion that the Dead Line and the Swamps,
took up about three acres, and we were left now only thirteen
acres. This was not of much consequence then, however, as we
still had plenty of room.
The first man was killed the morning after the Dead-Line was
put up. The victim was a German, wearing the white crescent
of the Second Division of the Eleventh Corps, whom we had
nicknamed “Sigel.” Hardship and exposure had crazed him,
and brought on a severe attack of St. Vitus's dance. As he
went hobbling around with a vacuous grin upon his face, he
spied an old piece of cloth lying on the ground inside the Dead
Line. He stooped down and reached under for it. At that
instant the guard fired. The charge of ball-and-buck entered
the poor old fellow’s shoulder and tore through his body. He
fell dead, still clutching the dirty rag that had cost him his
life.
CELATPTER XIX.
CAPT. HENRI WIRZ — SOME DESCRIPTION OF A SMALL-MINDED PER-
SONAGE, who GAINED GREAT NOTORIETY — FIRST EXPERIENCE
WITH HIS IDISCIPLINARY METHOD.
The emptying of the prisons at Danville and Richmond into
Andersonville went on slowly during the month of March.
They came in by train loads of from five hundred to eight
hundred, at intervals of two or three days. By the end of the
month there were about five thousand in the stockade. There
was a fair amount of space for this number, and as yet we
suffered no inconvenience from our crowding, though most
persons would fancy that thirteen acres of ground was a rather
limited area for five thousand men to live, move and have their
being upon. Yet a few weeks later we were to see seven times
that many packed into that space.
One morning a new Tebel officer came in to superintend
calling the roll. He was an undersized, fidgety man, with an
insignificant face, and a mouth that protruded like a rabbit's.
His bright little eyes, like those of a squirrel or a rat, assisted
in giving his countenance a look of kinship to the family of
rodent animals—a genus which lives by stealth and cunning,
subsisting on that which it can steal away from stronger and
braver creatures. He was dressed in a pair of gray trousers,
with the other part of his body covered with a calico garment,
like that which small boys used to wear, called “waists.” This
was fastencd to the pantaloons by buttons, precisely as was the
custom with the garments of boys struggling with the Ortho-
graphy of words in two syllables. Upon his head was perched
, a little gray cap. Sticking in his belt, and fastened to his
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 143
wrist by a strap two or three feet long, was one of those for.
midable looking, but harmless English revolvers, that have ten
barrels around the edge of the cylinder, and fire a musket"
bullet from the center. The wearer of this composite costume,
and bearer of this amateur arsenal,
stepped nervously about and sputtered
volubly in very broken English. He
said to Wry-Necked Smith:
“Py Gott, you don’t watch dem dam
Yankees glose enough 1 Dey are Schlip-
pin’ rount, and peatin' you efery dimes.”
This was Captain Henri Wirz, the
new commandant of the interior of the
prison. There has been a great deal of
misapprehension of the character of
Wirz. He is usually regarded as a
villain of large mental caliber, and
with a genius for cruelty. He was
nothing of the kind. He was simply
contemptible, from whatever point of
view he was studied. Gnat-brained,
cowardly, and feeble natured, he had
not a quality that commanded respect
from any one who knew him. His
cruelty did not seem designed so
much as the ebullitions of a peewish,
snarling little temper, united to a mind incapable of conceiving
the results of his acts, or understanding the pain he was
inflicting.
I never heard anything of his profession or vocation before
entering the army. I always believed, however, that he had
been a cheap clerk in a small dry-goods store, a third or fourth.
rate book-keeper, or something similar. Imagine, if you please,
One such, who never had brains or self-command sufficient to
control himself, placed in command of thirty-five thousand
men. Being a fool he could not help being an infliction to
them, even with the best of intentions, and Wirz was not,
troubled with good intentions. k -
I mention the probability of his having been a dry-goods
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144 ANDERSON VILLE.
clerk or book-keeper, not with any disrespect to two honorable
vocations, but because Wirz had had some training as an
accountant, and this was what gave him the place over us.
Rebels, as a rule, are astonishingly ignorant of arithmetic and
accounting, generally. They are good shots, fine horsemen,
ready speakers and ardent politicians, but, like all non-commer-
cial people, they flounder hopelessly in what people of this
section would consider simple mathematical processes. One of
our constant amusements was in befogging and “beating” those
charged with calling rolls and issuing rations. It was not at
all difficult at times to make a hundred men count as a hundred
and ten, and so on.
Wirz could count beyond one hundred, and this determined
his selection for the place. His first move was a stupid change.
We had been grouped in the natural way into hundreds and
thousands. He re-arranged the men in “squads” of ninety, and
three of these — two hundred and seventy men—into a “de-
tachment.” The detachments were numbered in order from
the North Gate, and the squads were numbered “one, two,
three.” On the rolls this was stated after the man’s name.
For instance, a chum of mine, and in the same squad with me,
was Charles L. Soule, of the Third Michigan Infantry. His
name appeared on the rolls: &
“Chas. L. Soule, priv. Co. E, 3d Mich. Inf., 1-2.”
That is, he belonged to the Second Squad of the First De-
tachment.
Where Wirz got his preposterous idea of organization from
has always been a mystery to me. It was awkward in every
way — in drawing rations, counting, dividing into messes, etc.
Wirz was not long in giving us a taste of his quality. The
next morning after his first appearance he came in when roll-
call was sounded, and ordered all the squads and detachments
to form, and remain standing in ranks until all were counted.
Any soldier will say that there is no duty more annoying and
difficult than standing still in ranks for any considerable length
of time, especially when there is nothing to do or to engage
the attention. It took Wirz between two and three hours to
count the whole camp, and by that time we of the first detach-
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 145
ments were almost all out of ranks. Thereupon Wirz an-
nounced that no rations would be issued to the camp that day.
The orders to stand in ranks were repeated the next morning,
with a warning that a failure to obey would be punished as
that of the previous day had been. Though we were so hungry,
that, to use the words of a Thirty-Fifth Pennsylvanian standing
next to me—his “big intestines were eating his little ones up,”
it was impossible to keep the rank formation during the long
hours. One man after another straggled away, and again we
lost our rations. That afternoon we became desperate. Plots
were considered for a daring assault to force the gates or scale the
stockade. The men were crazy enough to attempt anything rather
than sit down and patiently starve. Many offered themselves as
leaders in any attempt that it might be thought best to make.
The hopelessness of any such venture was apparent, even to
famished men, and the propositions went no farther than in-
flammatory talk. -
The third morning the orders were again repeated. This
time we succeeded in remaining in ranks in such a manner as
to satisfy Wirz, and we were given our rations for that day,
but those of the other days were permanently withheld. f
That afternoon Wirz ventured into camp alone. He was
assailed with a storm of curses and execrations, and a shower
of clubs. He pulled out his revolver, as if to fire upon his
assailants. A yell was raised to take his pistol away from him
and a crowd rushed forward to do this. Without waiting to
fire a shot, he turned and ran to the gate for dear life. He did
not come in again for a long while, and never afterward without
a retinue of guards.
10
CHAPTER XX.
PRIZE-FIGHT AMONG THE N'YAARKERs—A GREAT MANY FoRMALſs
TIES, AND LITTLE BLOOD SPILT— A FUTILE ATTEMPT TO RECOVER
A WATCH — DEFEAT OF THE LAW AND ORDER PARTY.
One of the train-loads from Tichmond was almost wholly
made up of our old acquaintances—the N’Yaarkers. The
number of these had swelled tº four hundred or five hundred
—all leagued together in the fellowship of crime.
We did not manifest any keen desire for intimate social rela-
tions with them, and they did not seem to hunger for our
society, so they moved across the creek to the unoccupied South
Side, and established their camp there, at a considerable dis-
tance from us.
One afternoon a number of us went across to their camp, to
witness a fight according to the rules of the Prize IRing, which
was to come off between two professional pugilists. These
were a couple of bounty-jumpers who had some little reputa-
tion in New York sporting circles, under the names of the
“Staleybridge Chicken” and the “Haarlem Infant.”
On the way from Tichmond a cast-iron skillet, or spider, had
been stolen by the crowd from the Itebels. It was a small
affair, holding a half gallon, and worth to-day about fifty
cents. In Andersonville its worth was literally above rubies.
Two men belonging to different messes each claimed the
ownership of the utensil, on the ground of being most active
in securing it. Their claims were strenuously supported by
their respective messes, at the heads of which were the afore-
said Infant and Chicken. A great deal of strong talk, and
several indecisive knock-downs resulted in an agreement to
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 147
settle the matter by wager of battle between the Infant and
Chicken.
When we arrived a twenty-four foot ring had been prepared
by drawing a deep mark in the sand. In diagonally opposite
corners of these the seconds were kneeling on One knee and
supporting their principals on the other. By their sides they
had little vessels of water, and bundles of rags to answer for
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THE PRIZE-FIGHT FOR THE SETILLET.
sponges. Another corner was occupied by the umpire, a foul-
mouthed, loud-tongued Tombs shyster, named Pete Bradley.
A long-bodied, short-legged hoodlum, nick-named “Heenan,”
armed with a club, acted as ring keeper, and “belted” back,
remorselessly, any of the spectators who crowded over the
line. Did he see a foot obtruding itself so much as an inch
over the mark in the sand—and the pressure from the crowd
behind was so great that it was difficult for the front fellows to
keep off the line —his heavy club and a blasting curse would
fall upon the offender simultaneously.
Every effort was made to have all things conform as nearly


148 - ANDERSON VILLE.
as possible to the recognized practices of the “London Prize
Ring.” - -
At Bradley's call of “Time!” the principals would rise fro
their seconds' knees, advance briskly to the scratch across the
center of the ring, and spar away sharply for a little time,
until one got in a blow that sent the other to the ground,
where he would lie until his second picked him up, carried him
back, washed his face off, and gave him a drink. He then
rested until the next call of time.
This sort of performance went on for an hour or more, with
the knock-downs and other casualities pretty evenly divided
between the two. Then it became apparent that the Infant
was getting more than he had storage room for. His interest
in the skillet was evidently abating, the leering grin he wore
upon his face during the early part of the engagement had dis-
appeared long ago, as the successive “hot ones” which the
Chicken had succeeded in planting upon his mouth, put it out .
of his power to “smile and smile,” “e’en though he might
still be a villain.” He began coming up to the scratch as slug-
gishly as a hired man starting out for his day’s work, and
finally he did not come up at all. A bunch of blood soaked
rags was tossed into the air from his corner, and Bradley
declared the Chicken to be the victor, amid enthusiastic cheers
from the crowd.
We voted the thing rather tame. In the whole hour and
a-half there was not so much savage fighting, not so much
damage done, as a couple of earnest, but unscientific men, who
have no time to waste, will frequently crowd into an im-
promptu affair not exceeding five minutes in duration.
Our next visit to the N'Yaarkers was on a different errand.
The moment they arrived in camp we began to be annoyed by
their depredations. Blankets—the sole protection of men—
would be snatched off as they slept at night. Articles of
clothing and cooking utensils would go the same way, and
occasionally a man would be robbed in open daylight. All
these, it was believed, with good reason, were the work of the
N’Yaarkers, and the stolen things were conveyed to their
camp. Occasionally depredators would be caught and beaten,
but they would give a signal which would bring to their assist-
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 149
ance the whole body of N'Yaarkers, and turn the tables on
their assailants. . -
We had in our squad a little watchmaker named Dan Mar-
tin, of the Eighth New York Infantry. Other boys let him
take their watches to tinker up, so as to make a show of run-
ning, and be available for trading to the guards.
One day Martin was at the creek, when a N’Yaarker asked
him to let him look at a watch. Martin incautiously did so,
when the N’Yaarker snatched it and sped away to the camp
of his crowd. Martin ran back to us and told his story.
This was the last feather which was to break the camel's back
of our patience. Peter Bates, of the Third Michigan, the
Sergeant of our squad, had considerable confidence in his mus-
---cular ability. He flamed up into mighty wrath, and swore a
sulphurous oath that we would get that watch back, whereupon
about two hundred of us avowed our willingness to help re-
claim it.
Each of us providing ourselves with a club, we started on
our errand. The rest of the camp—about four thousand—
gathered on the hillside to watch us. We thought they might
have sent us some assistance, as it was about as much their
fight as ours, but they did not, and we were too proud to ask
it. The crossing of the swamp was quite difficult. Only one
could go over at a time, and he very slowly. The N’Yaarkers
understood that trouble was pending, and they began mustering
to receive us. From the way they turned out it was evident
that we should have come over with three hundred instead of
two hundred, but it was too late then to alter the program.
As we came up a stalwart Irishman stepped out and asked us
what we wanted. t
Bates replied: “We have come over to get a watch that one
of your fellows took from one of ours, and by we're going
to have it.”
The Irishman’s reply was equally explicit though not strictly
logical in construction. Said he: “We havn't got your
watch, and be ye can’t have it.”
This joined the issue just as fairly as if it had been done by
all the documentary formulae that passed between Turkey and
Russia prior to the late war. Bates and the Irishman then ex-
150 ANDERSON VILLE.
.*
changed very derogatory opinions of each other, and began
striking with their clubs. The rest of us took this as our cue,
and each, selecting as small a N’Yaarker as we could readily
find, sailed in.
There is a very expressive bit of slang coming into general
use in the West, which speaks of a man “biting off more than
he can chew.”
That is what we had done. We had taken a contract that
we should have divided, and sub-let the bigger half. Two
minutes after the engagement became general there was no
doubt that we would have been much better off if we had
staid on our own side of the creek. The watch was a very
poor one, anyhow. We thought we would just say good day
to our N'Yaark friends, and return home hastily. But they
declined to be left so precipitately. They wanted to stay with
us awhile. It was lots of fun for them, and for the four
thousand yelling spectators on the opposite hill, who were
greatly enjoying our discomfiture. There was hardly enough
of the amusement to go clear around, however, and it all fell
short just before it reached us. We earnestly wished that
some of the boys would come over and help us let go of the
N’Yaarkers, but they were enjoying the thing too much to
interfere.
We were driven down the hill, pell-mell, with the N’Yaarkers
pursuing hotly with yell and blow. At the swamp we tried to
make a stand to secure our passage across, but it was only par-
tially successful. Very few got back without some severe
hurts, and many received blows that greatly hastened their
deaths.
After this the N’Yaarkers became bolder in their robberies,
and more arrogant in their demeanor than ever, and we had
the poor revenge upon those who would not assist us, of seeing
a reign of terror inaugurated over the whole camp.
\
CHAPTER XXI.
DIMINISHING RATIONS — A DEADLY COLD RAIN — HOVERING OVER
PITCH PINE FIRES —INCREASE OF MORTALITY – A THEORY OF
HEALTH. -
The rations diminished perceptibly day by day. When we

*******
-------- := T "----------> --~...:--------t- e - --~~~~
first entered We each received something over a quart of toler-
ably good meal, a sweet potato, a piece of meat about the size
of one's two fingers, and occasionally a spoonful of salt. First .
the salt disappeared. Then the sweet potato took unto itself
wings and flew away, never to return. An attempt was osten-
sibly made to issue us cow-peas instead, and the first issue was
only a quart to a detachment of two hundred and seventy men.
This was two-thirds of a pint to each squad of ninety, and made
but a few spoonfuls for each of the four messes in the squad.
When it came to dividing among the men, the beans had to be
counted. Nobody received enough to pay for cooking, and we
were at a loss what to do until somebody suggested that we
play poker for them. This met general acceptance, and after
that, as long as beans were drawn, a large portion of the day
was spent in absorbing games of “bluff” and “draw,” at a
bean “ante,” and no “limit.”
After a number of hours' diligent playing, some lucky or
skillful player would be in possession of all the % in a mess,
a squad, and sometimes a detachment, and havg/enough for a
good meal. -
Next the meal began to diminish in quantity and deteriorate
in quality. It became so exceedingly coarse that the common
remark was that the next step would be to bring us the corn in
the shock, and feed it to us like stock. Then meat followed
152 ANDERSON VILLE.
suit with the rest. The rations decreased in size, and the num-
ber of days that we did not get any, kept constantly increasing
in proportion to the days that we did, until eventually the meat
bade us a final adieu, and joined the sweet potato in that
undiscovered country from whose bourne no ration ever
returned.
The fuel and building material in the stockade were speedily
exhausted. The later comers had nothing whatever to build
shelter with.
I3ut, after the Spring rains had fairly set in, it seemed that
we had not tasted misery until then. About the middle of
March the windows of heaven opened, and it began a rain like
that of the time of Noah. It was tropical in quantity and persis-
tency, and arctic in temperature. For dreary hours that
lengthened into weary days and nights, and these again into
never-ending weeks, the driving, drenching flood poured down
upon the sodden earth, searching the very marrow of the five
thousand hapless men against whose chilled frames it beat with
pitiless monotony, and soaked the sand bank upon which we lay
until it was like a sponge filled with ice-water. It seems to me
now that it must have been two or three weeks that the sun
was wholly hidden behind the dripping clouds, not shining out
once in all that time. The intervals when it did not rain were
rare and short. An hour's respite would be followed by a day
of steady, regular pelting of the great rain drops.
I find that the report of the Smithsonian Institute gives the
average annual rainfall in the section around Andersonville, at
fifty-six inches—nearly five feet—while that of foggy England
is only thirty-two. Our experience would lead me to think
that we got the five feet all at once.
We first comers, who had huts, were measurably better off
than the later arrivals. It was much drier in our leaf-
thatched tents, and we were spared much of the annoyance
that comes from the steady dash of rain against the body for
hours.
The condition of those who had no tents was truly pitiable.
They sat or lay on the hill-side the live-long day and night,
and took the washing flow with such gloomy composure as they
could muster, --
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 153
All soldiers will agree with me that there is no campaigning
hardship comparable to a cold rain. One can brace up against
the extremes of heat and cold, and mitigate their inclemency
in various ways. But there is no escaping a long-continued,
chilling rain. It seems to penetrate to the heart, and leach
away the very vital force.
The only relief attainable was found in huddling over little
fires kept alive by small groups with their slender stocks of
wood. As this wood was all pitch-pine, that burned with a
very sooty flame, the effect upon the appearance of the hover-
ers was startling. Face, neck and hands became covered with
mixture of lampblack and turpentine, forming a coating as
thick-as-heavy brown paper, and absolutely irremovable by
water alone. The hair also became of midnight blackness, and
gummed up into elf-locks of fantastic shape and effect. Any
one of us could have gone on the negro minstrel stage, without
changing a hair, and put to blush the most elaborate make-up
of the grotesque burnt-cork artists.
No wood was issued to us. The only way of getting it was
to stand around the gate for hours until a guard off duty could
be coaxed or hired to accompany a small party to the woods,
to bring back a load of such knots and limbs as could be picked
up. Our chief persuaders to the guards to do us this favor
were rings, pencils, knives, combs, and such trifles as we might
have in our pockets, and, more especially, the brass buttons on
our uniforms. Rebel soldiers, like Indians, negros and other
imperfectly civilized people, were passionately fond of bright
and gaudy things. A handful of brass buttons would catch
every one of them as swiftly and as surely as a piece of red
flannel will a gudgeon. Our regular fee for an escort for three
of us to the Woods was six over-coat or dresscoat buttons, or ten
or twelve jacket buttons. All in the mess contributed to this
fund, and the fuel obtained was carefully guarded and hus:
banded.
This manner of conducting the wood business is a fair Sam-
ple of the management, or rather the lack of it, of every other
detail of prison administration. All the hardships we suffered
from lack of fuel and shelter could have been prevented with-
out the slightest expense or trouble to the Contederacy. Two
154 f ANDERSON VILLE,
hundred men allowed to go out on parole, and supplied with
saxes, would have brought in from the adjacent woods, in a
week's time, enough material to make everybody comfortable
tents, and to supply all the fuel needed.
The mortality caused by the storm was, of course, Very
great. The official report says the total number in the prison
in March was four thousand six hundred and three, of whom
two hundred and eighty-three died.
Among the first to die was the one whom we expected to
live longest. He was by much the largest man in prison, and
was called, because of this, “BIG JoE.” He was a Sergeant in
the Fifth Pennsylvania Cavalry, and seemed the picture of
health. One morning the news ran through the prison that
“Big Joe is dead,” and a visit to his squad showed his stiff,
lifeless form, occupying as much ground as Goliah's, after his
encounter with David.
IIis early demise was an example of a general law, the work-
ings of which few in the army failed to notice. It was always
the large and strong who first succumbed to hardship. The
stalwart, huge-limbed, toil-inured men sank down earliest on
the march, yielded soonest to malarial influences, and fell first
under the combined effects of home-sickness, exposure and the
privations of army life. The slender, withy boys, as supple
and weak as cats, had apparently the nine lives of those ani-
mals. There were few exceptions to this rule in the army—
there were none in Andersonville. I can recall few or no
instances where a large, strong, “hearty’’ man lived through a
few months of imprisonment. The survivors were invariably
youths, at the verge of manhood, slender, quick, active,
medium-statured fellows, of a cheerful temperament, in whom
one would have expected comparatively little powers of endur-
3.Il Cé.
The theory which I constructed for my own private use in
accounting for this phenomenon I offer with proper diffidence
to others who may be in search of a hypothesis to explain facts
that they have observed. It is this:
a. The circulation of the blood maintains health, and conse-
quently life by carrying away from the various parts of the
body the particles of worn-out and poisonous tissue, and replac-
ing them with fresh, structure-building material.
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 155 °
>
b. The man is healthiest in whom this process goes on most
freely and continuously. *
c. Men of considerable muscular power are disposed to be
sluggish; the exertion of great strength does not favor circula-
tion. It rather retards it, and disturbs its equilibrium by con-
gesting the blood in quantities in the sets of muscles called into
action.
d. In light, active men, on the other hand, the circulation
goes on perfectly and evenly, because all the parts are put in
motion, and kept so in such a manner as to promote the move-
ment of the blood to every extremity. They do not strain one
set of muscles by long continued effort, as a strong man does,
but call one into play after another.
There is no compulsion on the reader to accept this specula-
tion at any valuation whatever. There is not even any charge
for it. I will lay down this simple axiom:
No strong man is a healthy man—
from the athlete in the circus who lifts pieces of artillery and
catches cannon balls, to the exhibition swell in a country gym-
nasium. If my theory is not a sufficient explanation of this,
there is nothing to prevent the reader from building up one to
suit him better.
CHAPTER XXII.
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ALABAMIANS AND GEORGIANS — DEATH OF
“Poll, PARROTT * — A GOOD JOKE UPON THE GUARD– A BRUTAL
RASCAL.
There were two regiments guarding us—the Twenty-Sixth
Alabama and the Fifty-Fifth Georgia. Never were two regi-
ments of the same army more different. The Alabamians were
the superiors of the Georgians in every way that one set of men
could be superion to another. They were manly, soldierly,
and honorable, where the Georgians were treacherous and brutal.
We had nothing to complain of at the hands of the Alabami-
ans; we suffered from the Georgians everything that mean-
spirited cruelty could devise. The Georgians were always on
the look-out for something that they could torture into such
apparent violation of orders, as would justify them in shooting
men down; the Alabamians never fired until they were satisfied
that a deliberate offense was intended. I can recall of my own
seeing at least a dozen instances where men of the Fifty-Fifth
Georgia killed prisoners under the pretense that they were
across the Dead Line, when the victims were a yard or more from
the Dead Line, and had not the remotest idea of going any
Ilêa.I’éI’. -
The only man I ever knew to be killed by one of the
Twenty-Sixth Alabama was named Hubbard, from Chicago,
Ills., and a member of the Thirty-Eighth Illinois. He had
lost one leg, and went hobbling about the camp on crutches,
chattering continually in a loud, discordant voice, saying all
manner of hateful and annoying things, wherever he saw an
opportunity. This and his beak-like nose gained for him the
A. STORY OF REBEL MULLITARY PRISONS. 157
g
name of “Poll Parrot.” His misfortune caused him to be
tolerated where another man would have been suppressed.
By-and-by he gave still greater cause for offense by his obse-
quious attempts to curry favor with Captain Wirz, who took
him outside several times for purposes that were not well
explained. Finally, some hours after one of Poll Parrot's vis-
its outside, a Rebel officer came in with a guard, and, pro-
ceeding with suspicious directness to a tent which was the
mouth of a large tunnel that a hundred men or more had been
quietly pushing forward, broke the tunnel in, and took the
occupants of the tent outside for punishment. The question
that demanded immediate solution then was—
“Who is the traitor who has informed the Rebels?”
Suspicion pointed very strongly to “Poll Parrot.” By the
next morning the evidence collected seemed to amount to a
certainty, and a crowd caught the Parrot with the intention of
lynching him. He succeeded in breaking away from them and
ran under the Dead Line, near where I was sitting in my tent.
At first it looked as if he had done this to secure the protection
of the guard. The latter—a Twenty-Sixth Alabamian–or-
dered him out. Poll Parrot rose up on his one leg, put his
back against the Dead Line, faced the guard, and said in his
harsh, cackling voice:
“No; I won’t go out. If I’ve lost the confidence of my
comrades I want to die.’
Part of the crowd were taken back by this move, and felt
disposed to accept it as a demonstration of the Parrot's inno-
cence. The rest thought it was a piece of bravado, because of
his belief that the Rebels would not injure him after he had
served them. They renewed their yells, the guard again or-
dered the Parrot out, but the latter, tearing open his blouse,
cackled out :
“No, I won’t go; fire at me, guard. There's my heart;
shoot me right there.”
There was no help for it. The Rebel leveled his gun and
fired. The charge struck the Parrot's lower jaw, and carried
it completely away, leaving his tongue and the roof of his
mouth exposed. As he was carried back to die, he wagged his
tongue vigorously, in attempting to speak, but it was of no use.
158 #. ANDERSON WILLE,
*-.
The guard set his gun down and buried his face in his hands.
It was the only time that I saw a sentinel show anything but
exultation at killing a Yankee.
A ludicrous contrast to this took place a few nights later.
The rains had ceased, the weather had become warmer, and our
spirits rising with this increase in the comfort of our surround-
ings, a number of us were sitting around “Nosey”—a boy
with a superb tenor voice—who was singing patriotic songs.
We were coming in strong on the chorus, in a way that spoke
vastly more for our enthusiasm for the Union than our musical
knowledge. “Nosey” sang the “Star Spangled Banner,”
“The Battle Cry of Freedom,” “Brave Boys are They,” etc.,
capitally, and we threw our whole lungs into the chorus. It
was quite dark, and while our noise was going on the guards
changed, new men coming on duty. Suddenly, bang! went
the gun of the guard in the box about fifty-feet away from us.
We knew it was a Fifty-Fifth Georgian, and supposed that,
irritated at our singing, he was trying to kill some of us for
spite. At the sound of the gun we jumped up and scattered. As
no one gave the usual agonized yell of a prisoner when shot, we
supposed the ball had not taken effect. We could hear the
sentinel ramming down another cartridge, hear him “return
rammer,” and cock his rifle. Again the gun cracked, and again
there was no sound of anybody being hit. Again we could
hear the sentry churning down another cartridge. The drums
began beating the long roll in the camps, and officers could be
heard turning the men out. The thing was becoming exciting,
and one of us sang out to the guard:
“S-a-y! What the – are you shooting at, any how !"
“I’m a shootin’ at that — Yank thar, by the Dead
Line, and by if you’uns don’t take him in I’ll blow the
whole — head off’n him.”
“What Yank? Where's any Yank?”
“Why, thar—right thar—a-standin’ agin the Ded Line.”
“Why, you Rebel fool, that’s a chunk of wood. You
can’t get any furlough for shooting that l”
At this there was a general roar from the rest of the camp,
which the other guards took up, and as the Reserves came
double-quicking up, and learned the occasion of the alarm, they
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 15%
A
gave the rascal who had been so anxious to kill somebody a
torrent of abuse for having disturbed them.
A part of our crowd had been out after wood during the
day, and secured a piece of a log as large as two of them could
carry, and bringing it in, stood it up near the Dead Line.
When the guard mounted to his post he was sure he saw a
temerarious Yankee in front of him, and hastened to slay him.
It was an unusual good fortune that nobody was struck. It
was very rare that the guards fired into the prison without hit-
ting at least one person. The Georgia Reserves, who formed
our guards later in the season, were armed with an old gun
called a Queen Anne musket, altered to percussion. It carried
a bullet as big as a large marble, and three or four buckshot.
When fired into a group of men it was sure to bring several
down.
I was standing one day in the line at the gate, waiting for a
chance to go out after wood. A Fifty-Fifth Georgian was the
gate guard, and he drew a line in the sand with his bayonet
which we should not cross. The crowd behind pushed one man
till he put his foot a few inches over the line, to save himself
from falling; the guard sank a bayonet through the foot as
quick as a flash.
CELAPTER XXIII.
A NEw Lot of PRISONERs—THE BATTLE OF oolustEE—MEN
SACRIFICED To A GENERAL's INCOMPETENCY — A HooDLUM RE-IN-
ForcFMENT—A QUEER CRowd–MISTREATMENT OF AN officer
OF A COLORED REGIMENT— KILLING THE SERGEANT OF A NEGRO
SQUAD. -
So far only old prisoners—those taken at Gettysburg,
Chicamauga and Mine Run — had been brought in. The armies
had been very quiet during the Winter, preparing for the death
grapple in the Spring. There had been nothing done, save a
few cavalry raids, such as our own, and Averill's attempt to
gain and break up the Rebel salt works at Wytheville, and
Saltville. Consequently none but a few cavalry prisoners were
added to the number already in the hands of the Rebels.
The first lot of new ones came in about the middle of March.
There were about seven hundred of them, who had been cap-
tured at the battle of Oolustee, Fla., on the 20th of February.
About five hundred of them were white, and belonged to the
Seventh Connecticut, the Seventh New IIampshire, Forty-
Seventh, Forty-Eighth and One Iſundred and Fifteenth New
York, and Sherman’s regular battery. The rest were colored,
and belonged to the Eighth United States, and Fifty-Fourth
Massachusetts. -
. The story they told of the battle was one which had many
shameful reiterations during the war. It was the story told
whenever Banks, Sturgis, Butler, or one of a host of similar
smaller failures were intrusted with commands. It was a
senseless waste of the lives of private soldiers, and the property
of the United States by pretentious blunderers, who, in some
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. / 16]
*
inscrutable manner, had attained to responsible commands. In
this instance, a bungling Brigadier named Seymore had
marched his forces across the State of Florida, to do he hardly.
knew what, and in the neighborhood of an enemy of whose
numbers, disposition, location, and intentions he was profoundly
ignorant. The Rebels, under General Finnegan, waited till he
had strung his command along through swamps and cane
brakes, scores of miles from his supports, and then fell unex-
pectedly upon his advance. The regiment was overpowered,
and another regiment that hurried up to its support, suffered
the same fate. The balance of the regiments were sent in in
the same manner— each arriving on the field just after its pre-
decessor had been thoroughly whipped by the concentrated
force of the Rebels. The men fought gallantly, but the
stupidity of a Commanding General is a thing that the gods
themselves strive against in vain. We suffered a humiliating
defeat, with a loss of two thousand men and a fine rifled bat-
tery, which was brought to Andersonville and placed in posi-
tion to command the prison.
The majority of the Seventh New Hampshire were an un-
welcome addition to our numbers. They were N’Yaarkers—
old time colleagues of those already in with us — veteran
bounty jumpers, that had been drawn to New Hampshire by
the size of the bounty offered there, and had been assigned to
fill up the wasted ranks of the veteran Seventh regiment.
They had tried to desert as soon as they received their bounty,
but the Government clung to them literally with hooks of steel,
sending many of them to the regiment in irons. Thus foiled,
they deserted to the Rebels during the retreat from the battle-
field. They were quite an accession to the force of our
N’Yaarkers, and helped much to establish the hoodlum reign
which was shortly inaugurated over the whole prison.
The Forty-Eighth New Yorkers who came in were a set of
chaps so odd in every way as to be a source of never-failing
interest. The name of their regiment was L'Enfants Perdu
(the Lost Children), which we anglicized into “The Lost
Ducks.” It was believed that every nation in Europe was rep-
resented in their ranks, and it used to be said jocularly, that no
two of them spoke the same language. As near as I could find
162 ANDERSON VILLE, |
\,
out they were all or nearly all South Europeans, Italians, Span-
. iards, Portuguese, Levantines, with a predominance of the
French element. They wore a little cap with an upturned
brim, and a strap resting on the chin, a coat with funny little
tales about two inches long, and a brass chain across the breast;
and for pantaloons they had a sort of a petticoat reaching to
the knees, and sewed together down the middle. They were
just as singular otherwise as in their looks, speech and uniform.
On One occasion the whole mob of us went over in a mass to
their Squad to see them cook and eat a large water snake,
which two of them had succeeded in capturing in the swamps,
and carried off to their mess, jabbering in high glee over their
treasure trove. Any of us were ready to eat a piece of dog,
cat, horse or mule, if we could get it, but, it was generally
agreed, as Dawson, of my company expressed it, that “Nobody
but one of them darned queer Lost Ducks would eat a warmint
like a water snake.”
Major Albert Bogle, of the Eighth United States, (colored)
had fallen into the hands of the Rebels by reason of a severe
wound in the leg, which leſt him helpless upon the field at
Oolustee. The Rebels treated him with studied indignity.
They utterly refused to recognize him as an officer, or even as
a man. Instead of being sent to Macon or Columbia, where
the other officers were, he was sent to Andersonville, the same
as an enlisted man. No care was given his wound, no surgeon
would examine it or dress it. He was thrown into a stock car,
without a bed or blanket, and hauled over the rough, jolting
road to Andersonville. Once a Rebel officer rode up and fired
several shots at him, as he lay helpless on the car floor. For-
tunately the Rebel’s marksmanship was as bad as his intentions,
and none of the shots took effect. He was placed in a squad
near me, and compelled to get up and hobble into line when
the rest were mustered for roll-call. No opportunity to insult
“the nigger officer,” was neglected, and the N’Yaarkers vied
with the Rebels in heaping abuse upon him. He was a fine,
intelligent young man, and bore it all with dignified self-pos-
session, until after a lapse of some weeks the Rebels changed
their policy and took him from the prison to send to where the
other officers were.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 163
The negro soldiers were also treated as badly as possible.
The wounded were turned into the Stockade without having
their hurts attended to. One stalwart, soldierly Sergeant had
received a bullet which had forced its way under the scalp for
Some distance, and partially imbedded itself in the skull, where
it still remained He suffered intense agony, and would pass
the whole night walking up and down the street in front of
our tent, moaning distressingly. The bullet could be felt
plainly with the fingers, and we were sure that it would not be
a minute's work, with a sharp knife, to remove it and give the
man relief. But we could not prevail upon the Rebel Surgeons
even to see the man. Finally inflammation set in-and-he died.
The negros were made into a squad by themselves, and taken
out every day to work around the prison. A white Sergeant
was placed over them, who was the object of the contumely of
the guards and other Rebels. One day as he was standing near
the gate, waiting his orders to come out, the gate guard, with-
out any provocation whatever, dropped his gun until the muzzle
rested against the Sergeant's stomach, and fired, killing him
instantly,
The Sergeantcy was then offered to me, but as I had no acci-
dent policy, I was constrained to decline the honor.
CHAPTER XXIV.
APRIL – LONGING TO GET OUT — THE DEATH RATE — THE PLAGUE OF
LICE - THE SO-CALLED HOSPITALs 3.
April brought sunny skies and balmy weather.'s, Existence
became much more tolerable. With freedom it would have
been enjoyable, even had we been no better fed, clothed and
sheltered. But imprisonment had never seemed so hard to
bear—even in the first few weeks—as now. It was easier to
submit to confinement to a limited area, when cold and rain
were aiding hunger to benumb the faculties and chill the ener-
gies than it was now, when Nature was rôusing her slumbering
forces to activity, and earth, and air and sky were filled with
stimulus to man to imitate her example. The yearning to be
up and doing something—to turn these golden hours to good
account for self and country—pressed into heart and brain as
the vivifying sap pressed into tree-duct and plant cell, awaking
all vegetation to energetic life. ~&# *s-,-,-- ***Tº sº.--º--- •:
To be compelled, at such a time, to lie around in vacuous idle-
ness—to spend days that should be crowded full of action in
a monotonous, objectless routine of hunting lice, gathering at
roll-call, and drawing and cooking our scanty rations, was
torturing. --~~~~~~ -...
But to many of our number the aspirations for freedom were
not, as with us, the desire for a wider, manlier field of action,
so much as an intense longing to get where care and comforts
would arrest their swift progress to the shadowy hereafter.
The cruel rains had sapped away their stamina, and they could
not recover it with the meager and innutritious diet of coarse
meal, and an occasional scrap of salt meat. Quick consump-
tion, bronchitis, pneumonia, low fever and diarrhea seized upon
*- - - - • -
w
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 165
these ready victims for their ravages, and bore them off at the
rate of nearly a score a day,
It now became a part of the day’s regular routine to take a
walk past the gates in the morning, inspect and count the dead,
and see if any friends were among them. Clothes having by this
time become a very important consideration with the prisoners,
it was the custom of the mess in which a man died to remove
from his person all garments that were of any account, and so
many bodies were carried out nearly naked. The hands were
crossed upon the breast, the big toes tied together with a bit of
string, and a slip of paper containing the man's name, rank,
company and regiment was pinned on the breast of his shirt.
The appearance of the dead was indescribably ghastly. The
unclosed eyes shone with a stony glitter— *
An orphan’s curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high :
But, O, more terrible than that,
Is the curse in a dead man's eye.
The lips and nostrils were distorted with pain and hunger, the
sallow, dirt-grimed skin drawn tensely over the facial bones,
and the whole framed with the long, lank, matted hair and
beard. Millions of lice swarmed over the wasted limbs and
ridged ribs. These Verminous pests had become so numerous.
—owing to our lack of changes of clothing, and of facilities for
boiling what we had—that the most a healthy man could do
was to keep the number feeding upon his person down to a .
reasonable limit—say a few table-
spoonfuls. When a man became so
sick as to be unable to help himself,
the parasites speedily increased into
millions, Or, to speak more compre-
hensively, into pints and quarts.” Its
did not even seem exaggeration
when some One declared that he had
Seen a dead man with more than a
gallon of lice on him.
There is no doubt that the irrita-
tion from the biting of these myriads
of insects abridged very materially the days of those who died.
RELLING LIſtº BY SONGEING.

166 w ANDERSON VILLE.
Where a sick man had friends or comrades, of course part of
their duty, in taking care of him, was to “louse” his clothing.
- One of the most effectual ways of doing this was to turn the
garments wrong side out and hold the seams as close to the fire
as possible, without burning the cloth. In a short time the lice
would swell up and burst open, like pop-corn. This method
was a favorite one for another reason than its efficacy: it gave
One a keener sense of revenge upon his rascally little torment-
ors than he could get in any other way.
As the weather grew warmer and the number in the prison
increased, the lice became more unendurable. They even filled
the hot sand under our feet, and voracious troops would climb
up on one like streams of ants swarming up a tree. We began
to have a full comprehension of the third plague with which
the Lord visited the Egyptians:
And the Lord said unto Moses, Say umto Aaron, stretch out thy rod, and Smite the dust of
the land, that it may become lice through all the land of Egypt.
And they did so ; for Aaron stretched out his hand with his rod, and smote the dust of the
earth, and it became lice in man and in beast; all the dust of the land became lice throughout
all the land of Egypt. -
The total number of deaths in April, according to the official
report, was five hundred and seventy-six, or an average of over
nineteen a day. There was an average of five thousand pris-
oners in the pen during all but the last few days of the month,
when the number was increased by the arrival of the captured
garrison of Plymouth. This would make the loss over eleven
per cent., and so worse than decimation. At that rate we
should all have died in about eight months. We could have
gone through a sharp campaign lasting those thirty days and
not lost so great a proportion of our forces. The British had
about as many men as were in the Stockade at the battle of
New Orleans, yet their loss in killed, fell much short of the
deaths in the pen in April.
A makeshift of a hospital was established in the northeastern
corner of the Stockade. A portion of the ground was divided
from the rest of the prison by a railing, a few tent flies were
stretched, and in these the long leaves of the pine were made
into apologies for beds of about the goodness of the straw on
which a Northern farmer beds his stock. The sick taken there
were no better off than if they had staid with their comrades.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 167
What they needed to bring about their recovery was
clean clothing, nutritious food, shelter and freedom from the
tortures of the lice. They obtained none of these. Save a
few decoctions of roots, there were no medicines; the sick
were fed the same coarse corn meal that brought about the
malignant dysentery from which they all suffered; they wore
and slept in the same vermin-infested clothes, and there could
be but one result: the official records show that seventy-six
per cent. of those taken to the hospitals died there. -
The establishment of the hospital was specially unfortunate
for my little squad. The ground required for it compelled a
general reduction of the space we all occupied. We had to
tear down our huts and move. - By this time the materials had
become so dry that we could not rebuild with them, as the pine
tufts fell to pieces. This reduced the tent and bedding material
of our party—now numbering five—to a cavalry overcoat
and a blanket. We scooped a hole a foot deep in the sand and
stuck our tent-poles around it. By day we spread our blanket
over the poles for a tent. At night we lay down upon the
Overcoat and covered ourselves with the blanket. It required
considerable stretching to make it go over five; the two out-
side fellows used to get very chilly, and squeeze the three
inside ones until they felt no thicker than a wafer. But it had
to do, and we took turns sleeping on the outside. In the
course of a few weeks three of my chums died and left myself
and B. B. Andrews (now Dr. Andrews, of Astoria, Ill.) sole
heirs to and occupants of, the overcoat and blanket.
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&



CHAPTER XXV.
THE “PLYMOUTH PILGRIMS ’’ — SAD TRANSITION FROM COMFORTABLE
BARRACKS TO ANDERSON VILLE — A CRAZED PENNSYLVANIAN -
DEVELOPMENT OF THE SUTLER BUSINESS.
We awoke one morning, in the last part of April, to find
about two thousand freshly arrived prisoners lying asleep in
the main streets running from the gates. They were attired in
stylish new uniforms, with fancy hats and shoes; the Sergeants
and Corporals wore patent leather or silk chevrons, and each
man had a large, well-filled knapsack, of the kind new recruits
usually carried on coming first to the front, and which the
older soldiers spoke of humorously as “bureaus.” They were
the Snuggest, nattiest lot of soldiers we had ever seen, outside
of the “paper collar” fellows forming the headquarter guard
of some General in a large City. As one of my companions
surveyed them, he said:
“EIulloa I’m blanked if the Johnnies haven’t caught a reg-
iment of Brigadier Generals, somewhere.”
By-and-by the “fresh fish,” as all new arrivals were termed,
began to wake up, and then we learned that they belonged to
a brigade consisting of the Eighty-Fifth New York, One Hun-
dred and First and One Hundred and Third Pensylvania, Six-
teenth Connecticut, Twenty-Fourth New York Battery, two
companies of Massachusetts heavy artillery, and a company of
the Twelfth New York Cavalry. •
They had been garrisoning Plymouth, N. C., an important
seaport on the Roanoke River. Three small gunboats assisted
them in their duty. The Rebels constructed a powerful iron
clad called the “Albemarle,” at a point further up the Roanoke,
and on the afternoon of the 17th, with her and three brig.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 169
.* |
ades of infantry, made an attack upon the post. The “Albe-
marle” ran past the forts unharmed, sank one of the gunboats,
and drove the others away. She then turned her attention to
the garrison, which she took in the rear, while the infantry
attacked in front. Our men held out until the 20th, when they
capitulated. They were allowed to retain their personal effects,
of all kinds, and, as is the case with all men in garrison, these
were considerable.
The One Hundred and First and One Iſundred and Third
Pennsylvania and Eighty-Fifth New York had just “veteran-
ized,” and received their first instalment of veteran bounty.
Had they not been attacked they would have sailed for home
in a day or two, on their veteran fur-
lough, and this accounted for their fine
raiment. They were made up of boys
from good New York and Pennsyl-
vania families, and were, as a rule,
intelligent and fairly educated.
Their horror at the appearance of their
place of incarceration was beyond ex-
pression. At one moment they could
not comprehend that we dirty and hag-
gard tatterdemalions had once been
clean, self-respecting, well-fed soldiers
like themselves; at the next they would
affirm that they knew they could not,
stand it a month, where we had then
endured it from four to nine months.
They took it, in every way, the hardest,
of any prisoners that came in, except
some of the ITundred-Days' men, who
ſº were brought in in August, from the
* Valley of Virginia. They had served
a Fºxxouth Pilgrix, nearly all their time in various garrisons
along the seacoast—from Fortress Monroe to Beaufort—where
they had had comparatively little of the actual hardships of sol-
diering in the field. They had nearly always had comfortable
quarters, an abundance of food, few hard marches or other
severe service. Consequently they were not so well hardened
for Andersonville as the majority who came in. In other

| 70 ANDERSON VILLE.
*:
respects they were better prepared, as they had an abundance
of clothing, blankets and cooking utensils, and each man had
some of his veteran bounty still in possession.
It was painful to see how rapidly many of them sank under
the miseries of the situation. They gave up the moment the
gates were closed upon them, and began pining away. We
older prisoners buoyed ourselves up continually with hopes of
escape or exchange. We dug tunnels with the persistence of
beavers, and we watched every possible opportunity to get out-
side the accursed walls of the pen. But we could not enlist the
interest of these discouraged ones in any of our schemes, or
talk. They resigned themselves to Death, and waited despond-
ingly till he came. *
A middle-aged One ITundred and First Pennsylvanian, who
had taken up his quarters near me, was an object of peculiar
interest. Teasonably intelligent and fairly read, I presume
that he was a respectable mechanic before entering the Army.
He was evidently a very domestic man, whose whole happiness
centered in his family.
When he first came in he was thoroughly dazed by the great.
ness of his misfortune. He would sit for hours with his face
in his hands and his elbows on his knees, gazing out upon the
mass of men and huts, with vacant, lack-luster eyes. We
could not interest him in anything. We tried to show him
how to fix his blanket up to give him some shelter, but he went
at the work in a disheartened way, and finally smiled feebly
and stopped. He had some letters
º from his family and a melaineotype
é #. gº of a plain-faced woman—his wife
ºlº —and her children, and spent much
%. time in looking at them. At first
he ate his rations when he drew
them, but finally began to reject.
them. In a few days he was deli,
rious with hunger and homesick,
ness. He would sit on the sand
for hours imagining that he was at
THE CRAZY PENNSYLVANIAN, his family table, dispensing his
£rugal hospitalities to his wife and children. -





A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 171
Making a motion, as if presenting a dish, he would say:
“Jamie, have another biscuit, do /*
Or,
“Eddie, son, won’t you have another piece of this nice
Steak 2 °
Or,
“Maggie, have some more potatos,” and so on, through a
whole family of six, or more. It was a relief to us when he
died in about a month after he came in.
As stated above, the Plymouth men brought in a large
amount of money—variously estimated at from ten thousand
to one hundred thousand dollars. The presence of this quan.
tify of circulating medium immediately started a lively com-
merce All sorts of devices were resorted to by the other pris-
oners to get a little of this wealth. Rude chuck-a-luck boards
Were constructed out of such material as was attainable, and
put in operation. Dice and cards were brought out by those
skilled in such matters. As those of us already in the Stock-
ade occupied all the ground, there was no disposition on the
part of many to surrender a portion of their space without
exacting a pecuniary compensation. Messes having ground in
a good location would frequently demand and get ten dollars for
permission for two or three to quarter with them. Then there
was a great demand for poles to stretch blankets over to make
tents; the Rebels, with their usual stupid cruelty, would not
supply these, nor allow the prisoners to go out and get them
themselves. Many of the older prisoners had poles to spare
which they were saving up for fuel. They sold these to the
Plymouth folks at the rate of ten dollars for three—enough
to put up a blanket.
The most considerable trading was done through the gates.
The Rebel guards were found quite as keen to barter as they
had been in Richmond. Though the laws against their dealing
in the money of the enemy were still as stringent as ever, their
thirst for greenbacks was not abated one whit, and they were
ready to sell anything they had for the coveted currency. The
rate of exchange was seven or eight dollars in Confederate
money for one dollar in greenbacks. Wood, tobacco, meat,
flour, beans, molasses, Onions and a villainous kind of whisky.
172 ANDERSON VILLE.
made from sorghum, were the staple articles of trade. A whole
race of little traffickers in these articles sprang up, and finally
Selden, the Rebel Quartermaster, established a sutler shop in
the center of the North Side, which he put in charge of Ira
Beverly, of the One Hundredth Ohio, and Charlie Huckleby,
à-ºº.
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of the Eighth Tennessee. It was a fine illustration of the
development of the commercial instinct in some men. No
more ſunlikely place for making money could be imagined,
yet starting in without a cent, they contrived to turn and
twist and trade, until they had transferred to their pockets
a portion of the funds which were in some one else’s.
The Rebels, of course, got nine out of every ten dollars there
was in the prison, but these middle men contrived to have a little
of it stick to their fingers.
It was only the very few who were able to do this. Nine
hundred and ninety-nine out of every thousand were, like my-






























2. \
z
, A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 178
self, either wholly destitute of money and unable to get it from
anybody else, or they paid out what money they had to the
middlemen, in exorbitant prices for articles of food.
The N’Yaarkers had still another method for getting food,
money, blankets and clothing. They formed little bands
called “Baiders,” under the leadership of a chief villain. One
of these bands would select as their victim a man who had
good blankets, clothes, a watch, or greenbacks. Frequently he
would be one of the little traders, with a sack of beans, a piece
of meat, or something of that kind. Pouncing upon him at
night they would snatch away his possessions, knock down his
friends who came to his assistance, and Scurry away into the
darkness.
CEIAPTER XXVI
LoNGINGS FOR GoD's country—considFRATIoks of THE METHODs
OF GETTING THERE – EXCHANGE AND ESCAPE—DIGGING TUN-
NELs, AND THE DIFFICULTIES CONNECTED THEREWITH – PUNISB-
MENT OF A TRAITOR. -
To our minds the world now contained but two grand
divisions, as widely different from each other as happiness and
misery. The first—that portion over which our flag floated—
was usually spoken of as “God’s Country;” the other—that
under the baneful shadow of the banner of rebellion—was
designated by the most opprobrious epithets at the speaker's
command. - *
To get from the latter to the former was to attain, at one
bound, the highest good. Better to be a doorkeeper in the
House of the Lord, under the Stars and Stripes, than to dwell
in the tents of wickedness, under the hateful Southern Cross.
To take even the humblest and hardest of service In the field
now would be a delightsome change. We did not ask to go
home—we would be content with anything, so long as it was
in that blest place—“within our lines.” Only let us get back
Once, and there would be no more grumbling at rations or
guard duty—we would willingly endure all the hardships and
privations that soldier flesh is heir to. -
There were two ways of getting back—escape and exchange.
Exchange was like the ever receding mirage of the desert, that
lures the thirsty traveler on over the parched sands, with illu-
sions of refreshing springs, only to leave his bones at last to
whiten by the side of those of his unremembered predecessors.
Every day there came something to build up the hopes that ex-
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 17:
change was near at hand—every day brought something to
extinguish the hopes of the preceding one. We took these
varying phases according to our several temperaments. The
Sanguine built themselves up on the encouraging reports; the
desponding sank down and died under the discouraging ones.
Escape was a perpetual allurement. To the actively inclined
among us it seemed always possible, and daring, busy brains
were indefatigable in concocting schemes for it. The Only bit
of Rebel brain work that I ever saw for which I did not feel
contempt was the perfect precautions taken to prevent our
escape.” This is shown by the fact that, although, from first to
2 last, there were nearly fifty thousand prisoners in Anderson) -
ville, and three out of every five of these were ever on the
alert to take French leave of their captors, only three-hūndred
and twenty-eight succeeded in getting so far away from Ander-
sonville as to leave it to be presumed that they had reached
our lines.
The first, and almost superhuman difficulty was to get out-
side the Stockade. It was simply impossible to scale it. The
guards were too close together to allow an instant’s hope to
the most sanguine, that he could even pass the Dead Line with-
out being shot by some One of them. This same closeness pre-
vented any hope of bribing them. To be successful half those
on post would have to be bribed, as every part of the Stockade
was clearly visible from every other part, and there was no
night so dark as not to allow a plain view to a number of
guards of the dark figure outlined against the light colored
logs of any Yankee who should essay to clamber towards the
top of the palisades.
The gates were so carefully guarded every time they were
opened as to preclude hope of slipping out through them.
They were only unclosed twice or thrice a day—once to admit
the men to call the roll, Once to let them out again, once to let
the wagons come in with rations, and Once, perhaps, to admit
new prisoners. At all these times every precaution was taken
to prevent any one getting out surreptitiously.
This narrowed down the possibilities of passing the limits of
the pen alive, to tunneling. This was also surrounded by
almost insuperable difficulties. First, it required not less than,


e” *
£76 : ANDERSON WILLE,
fifty feet of subterranean excavation to get out, which was an
enormous work with our limited means. Then the logs forming
the Stockade were set in the ground to a depth of five feet, and
the tunnel had to go down beneath them. They had an un-
pleasant habit of dropping down into the burrow under them.
It added much to the discouragements of tunneling to think of
one of these massive timbers dropping upon a fellow as he
Worked his mole-like way under it, and either crushing him to
death outright, or pinning him there to die of suffocation or
hunger. -
In one instance, in a tunnel near me, but in which I was not
interested, the log slipped down after the digger had got out
beyond it. IIe immediately began digging for the surface, for
life, and was fortunately able to break through before he suf-
focated. IIe got his head above the ground, and then fainted.
The guard outside saw him, pulled
. | I & him out of the hole, and when he
ºf H. | recovered sensibility hurried him
back into the Stockade.
| In another tunnel, also near us,
| a broad-shouldered German, of
j
º %\\\\\º º the Second Minnesota, went in
Hºº º to take his turn at digging. IIe
㺠sº º was so much larger than any of
23. º ºf his predecessors that he stuck
# = fast in a narrow part, and despite
IGNOMINIOUS END OF A TUNNEL all the efforts of himself and
ENTERPRISE. comrades, it was found impossi-
ble to move him one way or the other. The comrades were at
last reduced to the humiliation of informing the Officer of the
Guard of their tunnel and the condition of their friend, and
of asking assistance to release him, which was given.
The great tunneling tool was the indispensable half-canteen.
The inventive genius of our people, stimulated by the war,
produced nothing for the comfort and effectiveness of the
soldier equal in usefulness to this humble and unrecognized
utensil. It will be remembered that a canteen was composed
of two pieces of tin struck up into the shape of saucers, and
soldered together at the edges. After a soldier had been in










A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 177
the field a little while, and thrown away or lost the curious and
complicated kitchen furniture he started out with, he found
that by melting the halves of his canteen apart, he had a vessel
much handier in every way than any he had parted with. It
could be used for anything—to make soup or coffee in, bake
bread, brown coffee, stew vegetables, etc., etc. A sufficient
handle was made with a split stick. When the cooking was
done, the handle was thrown away, and the half canteen slipped
out of the road into the haversack. There seemed to be no
end of the uses to which this ever-ready disk of blackened sheet
iron could be turned. Several instances are on record where
infantry regiments, with no other tools than this, covered
themselves on the field with quite respectable rifle pits.
The starting point of a tunnel was always some tent close
to the Dead Line, and sufficiently well closed to screen the
operations from the sight of the guards near by. The party
engaged in the work organized by giving every man a number
- to secure the proper
apportionment of the
labor. Number One
ă began digging with his
% half canteen. After he
º had worked until tired,
% he came out, and Num-
ber Two took his place,
and so on. The tunnel
àº.
Ø
º % e
Aºi sº % was simply a round,
% % a. - rat-like burrow, a little
TUNNELING. larger than a man's
body. The digger lay on his stomach, dug ahead of him, threw the
dirt under him, and worked it back with his feet till the man
behind him, also lying on his stomach, could catch it and work it
back to the next. As the tunnel lengthened the number of men
behind each other in this way had to be increased, so that in a
tunnel seventy-five feet long there would be from eight to ten
men lying one behind the other. When the dirt was pushed
back to the mouth of the tunnel it was taken up in improvised
bags, made by tying up the bottoms of pantaloon legs, carried to
the Swamp, and emptied. The work in the tunnel was very












12
178 ANDERSON WILLE,
exhausting, and the digger had to be relieved every half-
hour.
The greatest trouble was to carry the tunnel forward in a
straight line. As nearly everybody dug most of the time with
the right hand, there was an almost irresistible tendency to
make the course veer to the left. The first tunnel I was con-
nected with was a ludicrous illustration of this. About twenty
of us had devoted our nights for over a week to the prolonga-
tion of a burrow. We had not yet reached the Stockade, which
astonished us, as measurement with a string showed that we
had gone nearly twice the distance necessary for the purpose.
The thing was inexplicable, and we ceased operations to con-
sider the matter. The next day a man walking by a tent some
little distance from the one in which the hole began, was badly
startled by the ground giving way under his feet, and his sink-
ing nearly to his waist in a hole. It was very singular, but
after wondering over the matter for some hours, there came a
glimmer of suspicion that it might be, in some way, connected
with the missing end of our tunnel. One of us started through
on an exploring expedition, and confirmed the suspicions by
coming out where the man had broken through. Our tunnel
was shaped like a horse shoe, and the beginning and end were
not fifteen feet apart. After that we practised digging with
our left hand, and made certain compensations for the tendency
to the sinister side.
Another trouble connected with tunneling was the number
of traitors and spies among us. There were many—princi-
pally among the N’Yaarker crowd—who were always zealous
to betray a tunnel, in order to curry favor with the Rebel
officers. Then, again, the Rebels had numbers of their own
men in the pen at night, as spies. It was hardly even necessary
to dress these in our uniform, because a great many of our own
men came into the prison in Rebel clothes, having been com-
pelled to trade garments with their captors.
One day in May, quite an excitement was raised by the
detection of one of these “tunnel traitors” in such a way as
left no doubt of his guilt. At first everybody was in favor of
killing him, and they actually started to beat him to death.
This was arrested by a proposition to “have Captain Jack
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. - 179
- / .
ty
tattoo him,” and the suggestion was immediately acted
upon. - -
“Captain Jack” was a sailor who had been with us in the Pem-
berton building at Richmond. He was a very skilful tattoo
artist, but, I am sure, could make the process nastier than any
other that I ever saw attempt it. He chewed tobacco enor-
mously. After pricking away for a few minutes at the design
on the arm or some portion of the body, he would deluge it
with a flood of tobacco spit, which, he claimed, acted as a kind
of mordant. Wiping this off with a filthy rag, he would study
the effect for an instant, and then go ahead with another series
of prickings and tobacco juice drenchings.
The tunnel-traitor was taken to Captain Jack. That worthy
decided to brand him with a great “T,” the top part to extend
across his forehead and the stem to run down his nose. Cap-
tain Jack got his tattooing kit ready, and the fellow was
§
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TATTOOING THE TUNNEL TRAITOR.
thrown upon the ground and held there. The Captain took
his head between his legs, and began operations. After an
instant’s work with the needles, he opened his mouth, and
filled the wretch’s face and eyes full of the disgusting saliva.
The crowd round about yelled with delight at this new process.
For an hour, that was doubtless an eternity to the rascal under-
going branding, Captain Jack continued his alternate pick-
ings and drenchings. At the end of that time the traitor's face


















180 ANDERSON VILLE.
was disfigured with a hideous mark that he would bear to his
grave. We learned afterwards that he was not one of our men,
but a Rebel spy. This added much to our satisfaction with the
manner of his treatment. He disappeared shortly after the
operation was finished, being, I suppose, taken outside. I
hardly think Captain Jack would be pleased to meet him again.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE HOUNDs, AND THE DIFFICULTIES THEY PUT IN THE WAY OF
ESCAPE – THE WEIOLE SOUTH PATROLLED BY THEMI.
Those who succeeded, one way or another, in passing the
Stockade limits, found still more difficulties lying between them
and freedom than would discourage ordinarily resolute men.
The first was to get away from the immediate vicinity of the
prison. All around were Rebel patrols, pickets and guards,
watching every avenue of egress. Several packs of hounds
formed efficient coadjutors of these, and were more dreaded by
possible “escapes,” than any other means at the command of
our jailors. Guards and patrols could be evaded, or circum-
vented, but the hounds could not. Nearly every man brought
back from a futile attempt at escape told the same story: he
had been able to escape the human Rebels, but not their canine .
colleagues. Three of our detachment—members of the Twen-
tieth Indiana—had an experience of this kind that will serve
to illustrate hundreds of others. They had been taken outside
to do some work upon the cook-house that was being built. A
guard was sent with the three a little distance into the woods.
to get a piece of timber. The boys Sauntered along carelessly
with the guard, and managed to get pretty near him. As soon
as they were fairly out of sight of the rest, the strongest of
them—Tom Williams—Snatched the Rebel’s gun away from
him, and the other two springing upon him as swift as wild
cats, throttled him, so that he could not give the alarm. Still
keeping a hand on his throat, they led him off some distance,
and tied him to a sapling with strings made by tearing up one
of their blouses. He was also securely gagged, and the boys,
182 ANDERSON VILLE.
bidding him a hasty, but not specially tender, farewell, struck
out, as they fondly hoped, for freedom. It was not long until
they were missed, and the parties sent in search found and re-
leased the guard, who gave all the information he possessed as
Bºº §:
§
*
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EAE*=-º**-:
º:
ovKRPowerLNG A GUARD.
to what had become of his charges. All the packs of hounds,
the squads of cavalry, and the foot patrols were sent out to
scour the adjacent country. The Yankees kept in the swamps
and creeks, and no trace of them was found that afternoon or
evening. By this time they were ten or fifteen miles away,
and thought that they could safely leave the creeks for better
walking on the solid ground. They had gone but a few miles,
when the pack of hounds Captain Wirz was with took their
trail, and came after them in full cry. The boys tried to run,
but, exhausted as they were, they could make no headway.
Two of them were soon caught, but Tom Williams, who was
so desperate that he preferred death to recapture, jumped into
a mill-pond near by. When he came up, it was in a lot of

A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. - 183
l
saw logs and drift wood that hid him from being seen from
, the shore. The dogs stopped at the shore, and bayed after the
disappearing prey. The Rebels with them, who had seen Tom
8->
spring in, came up and made a pretty thorough search for him.
As they did not think to probe around the drift wood this
was unsuccessful, and they came to the conclusion that Tom
had been drowned. Wirz marched the other two back and, for:
a wonder, did not punish them, probably because he was so
rejoiced at his success in capturing them. He was beaming
with delight when he returned them to our squad, and said,
with a chuckle :-
“Brisoners, I pring you pack two of dem tam Yankees wat
got away yesterday, unt I run de Oder raskal into a mill-pont
and trowntet him.” º
What was our astonishment, about three weeks later, to see
Tom, fat and healthy, and dressed in a full suit of butternut,
come stalking into the pen. IIe had nearly reached, the
mountains, when a pack of hounds, patrolling for deserters or
negros, took his trail, where he had crossed the road from one
field to another, and speedily ran him down. He had been put
in a little country jail, and well fed till an opportunity occurred
to send him back. This patrolling for negros and deserters
was another of the great obstacles to a successful passage
through the country. The Rebels had put every able-bodied
white man in the ranks, and were bending every energy to keep
him there. The whole country was carefully policed by Provost
Marshals to bring out those who were shirking military duty,
or had deserted their colors, and to check any movement by
the negros. One could not go anywhere without a pass, as
every road was continually watched by men and hounds. It
was the policy of our men, when escaping, to avoid roads as
much as possible by traveling through the woods and fields.
From what I saw of the hounds, and what I could learn from
others, I believe that each pack was made up of two blood-
hounds and from twenty-five to fifty other dogs, The blood-
hounds were debased descendants of the strong and fierce
hounds imported from Cuba—many of them by the United
States Government—for hunting Indians, during the Seminole
war. The other dogs were the mongrels that are found in
184 ANDERSON VILLE-
Such plentifulness about every Southern house—increasing, as
a rule, in numbers as the inhabitant of the house is lower down
and poorer. They are like wolves, sneaking and cowardly
When alone, fierce and bold when in packs. Each pack was
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managed by a well-armed man, who rode a mule, and carried,
slung over his shoulders by a cord, a cow horn, scraped very
thin, with which he controlled the band by signals.
What always puzzled me much was why the hounds took
only Yankee trails, in the vicinity of the prison. There was
about the Stockade from six thousand to ten thousand Rebels
and negros, including guards, officers, servants, workmen, etc.
These were, of course, continually in motion and must have
daily made trails leading in every direction. It was the cus-
tom of the Rebels to send a pack of hounds around the prison
every morning, to examine if any Yankees had escaped during
the night. It was believed that they rarely failed to find a
prisoner's tracks, and still more rarely ran off upon a Rebel's.
If those outside the Stockade had been confined to certain paths








A stoRY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 185
and roads we could have understood this, but, as I understand,
they were not. It was part of the interest of the day, for us,
to watch the packs go yelping around the pen searching for
tracks. We got information in this way whether any tunnels
had been successfully opened during the night.
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The use of hounds furnished us a crushing reply to the ever-
recurring Rebel question:
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Or % 35 # 43
The questioner was always silenced by the return interrog.
atory:
“Is that as bad as running white men down with blood
hounds?”
#



























































CHAPTER XXVIII.
MAY — DNFLUx OF NEW PRISONERS — DISPARITY IN NUMBERS
BETWEEN THE EASTERN AND WESTERN ARMIES - TERRIBLE
CROWDING—SLAUGHTER OF MEN AT THE CREEK.
In May the long gathering storm of war burst with angry.
violence all along the line held by the contending armies. The
campaign began which was to terminate eleven months later
in the obliteration of the Southern Confederacy. May 1,
Sigel moved up the Shenandoah Valley with thirty thousand
men; May 3, Butler began his blundering movement against
Petersburg; May 3, the Army of the Potomac left Culpeper,
and on the 5th began its deadly grapple with Lee, in the Wil-
derness; May 6, Sherman moved from Chattanooga, and
engaged Joe Johnston at Rocky Face Ridge and Tunnel Hill.
Each of these columns lost heavily in prisoners. It could not
be otherwise; it was a consequence of the aggressive move-
ments. An army acting offensively usually suffers more from
capture than one on the defensive. Our armies were penetrat-
ing the enemy’s country in close proximity to a determined and
vigilant foe. Every scout, every skirmish line, every picket,
every foraging party ran the risk of falling into a Tebel trap.
This was in addition to the risk of capture in action.
The bulk of the prisoners were taken from the Army of the
Potomac. For this there were two reasons: First, that there
were many more men in that Army than in any other; and
second, that the entanglement in the dense thickets and shrub-
bery of the Wilderness enabled both sides to capture great
numbers of the other's men. Grant lost in prisoners from May
5 to May 31, seven thousand four hundred and fifty; he prob-
ably captured two-thirds of that number from the Johnnies.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. I87
Wirz's headquarters were established in a large log house
which had been built in the fort a little distant from the south-
east corner of the prison. Every day—and sometimes twice
or thrice a day—we would see great squads of prisoners
marched up to these headquarters, where they would be
Searched, their names entered upon the prison records, by
clerks (detailed prisoners; few Rebels had the requisite clerical
skill) and then be marched into the prison. As they entered, the
Rebel guards would stand to arms. The infantry would be in
line of battle, the cavalry mounted, and the artillerymen standing
by their guns, ready to open at the instant with grape and can-
ister.
The disparity between the number coming in from the Army
of the Potomac and Western armies was so great, that we
Westerners began to take some advantage of it. If we saw a
squad of one hundred and fifty or thereabouts at the head-
quarters, we felt pretty certain they were from Sherman, and
gathered to meet them, and learn the news from our friends.
If there were from five hundred to two thousand we knew they
were from the Army of the Potomac, and there were none of
our comrades among them. There were three exceptions to
this rule while we were in Andersonville. The first was in
June, when the drunken and incompetent Sturgis (now Colonel
of the Seventh United States Cavalry) shamefully sacrificed a
superb division at Guntown, Miss. The next was after Hood
made his desperate attack on Sherman, on the 22d of July, and
the third was when Stoneman was captured at Macon. At
each of these times about two thousand prisoners were
brought in.
By the end of May there were eighteen thousand four hun-
dred and fifty-four prisoners in the Stockade. Before the
reader dismisses this statement from his mind let him reflect
how great a number this is. It is more active, able-bodied
young men than there are in any of our leading Cities, save
New York and Philadelphia. It is more than the average
population of an Ohio County. It is four times as many troops
as Taylor won the victory of Buena Vista with, and about
twice as many as Scott went into battle with at any time in his
march to the City of Mexico.
188. ANDERSON VILLE.
%.
These eighteen thousand four hundred and fifty-four men
were cooped up on less than thirteen acres of ground, making
about fifteen hundred to the acre. No room could be given up.
for streets, or for the usual arrangements of a camp, and most
kinds of exercise were wholly precluded. The men crowded
together like pigs nesting in the woods on cold nights. The
ground, despite all our efforts, became indescribably filthy, and
this condition grew rapidly worse as the season advanced and .
the sun's rays gained fervency. As it is impossible to describe
this adequately, I must again ask the reader to assist with a
few comparisons. He has an idea of how much filth is pro-
duced, on an ordinary City lot, in a week, by its occupation by
a family say of six persons. Now let him imagine what would
be the result if that lot, instead of having upon it six persons,
with every appliance for keeping themselves clean, and for
removing and concealing filth, was the home of one hundred
and eight men, with none of these appliances.
That he may figure out these proportions for himself, I will
repeat some of the elements of the problem: We will say that
an average City lot is thirty feet front by one hundred deep.
This is more front than most of them have, but we will be
liberal. This gives us a surface of three thousand square feet.
An acre contains forty-three thousand five hundred and sixty
square feet. Upon thirteen of these acres, we had eighteen
thousand four hundred and fifty-four men. After he has found
the number of square feet that each man had for sleeping
apartment, dining room, kitchen, exercise grounds and out-
houses, and decided that nobody could live for any length of
time in such contracted space, I will tell him that a few weeks
later double that many men were crowded upon that space—
that over thirty-five thousand were packed upon those twelve
and a-half or thirteen acres. – -
But I will not anticipate. With the warm weather the con-
dition of the swamp in the center of the prison became simply
horrible. We hear so much now-a-days of blood poisoning
from the effluvia of sinks and sewers, that reading it, I wonder
how a man inside the Stockade, and into whose nostrils came a
breath of that noisomeness, escaped being carried off-by a
malignant typhus. In the slimy ooze were billions of white'

A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 189
~,
maggots. They would crawl out by thousands on the warm
sand, and, lying there a few minutes, sprout a wing or a pair
of them. With these they would essay a clumsy flight, ending
by dropping down upon some exposed portion of a man’s body,
and stinging him like a gad-fly. Still worse, they would drop
into what he was cooking, and the utmost care could not pre-
went a mess of food from being contaminated with them.
All the water that we had to use was that in the creek which
flowed through this seething mass of corruption, and received
its sewerage. IIow pure the water was when it came into the
:
#
%;
SIIOT AT THE CREER BY THE GUARD.
Stockade was a question. We always believed that it received
the drainage from the camps of the guards, a half-a-mile away.
A road was made across the swamp, along the Dead Line at
the west side, where the creek entered the pen. Those getting
water would go to this spot, and reach as far up the stream as
possible, to get the Water that was least filthy. As they could

190 ANDERSON VILLE.
2.
reach nearly to the Dead Line this furnished an excuse to such
- of the guards as were murderously inclined to fire upon them.
I think I hazard nothing in saying that for weeks at least one
man a day was killed at this place. The murders became
monotonous; there was a dreadful sameness to them. A gun
would crack; looking up we would see, still smoking, the muz-
zle of the musket of one of the guards on either side of the
creek. At the same instant would rise a piercing shriek from
the man struck, now floundering in the creek in his death
agony. Then thousands of throats would yell out curses and
denunciations, and—
“O, give the Rebel a furlough !”
It was our belief that every guard who killed a Yankee was
rewarded with a thirty-day furlough. Mr. Frederick Holliger,
now of Toledo, formerly a member of the Seventy-Second
Ohio, and captured at Guntown, tells me, as his introduction to
Andersonville life, that a few hours after his entry he went to
the brook to get a drink, reached out too far, and was fired
upon by the guard, who missed him, but killed another man
and wounded a second. The other prisoners standing near
then attacked him, and beat him nearly to death, for having
drawn the fire of the guard.
Nothing could be more inexcusable than these murders.
Whatever defense there might be for firing on men who
touched the Dead Line in other parts of the prison, there could
be none here. The men had no intention of escaping; they
had no designs upon the Stockade; they were not leading any
party to assail it. They were in every instance killed in the
act of reaching out with their cups to dip up a little water.
sº tºº
CHAPTER XXIX.
SOME DISTINCTION BETWEEN SOLDIERLY DUTY AND MURDER — A
PLOT TO ESCAPE — IT IS REVEALED AND FRUSTRATED.
Let the reader understand that in any strictures I make I do
not complain of the necessary hardships of war. I understood
fully and accepted the conditions of a soldier's career. My
going into the field uniformed and armed implied an intention,
at least, of killing, wounding, or capturing, some of the enemy.
There was consequently no ground of complaint if I was
myself killed, wounded, or captured. If I did not want to
take these chances I Ought to stay at home. In the same way,
I recognized the right of our captors or guards to take proper
precautions to prevent our escape. I never questioned for an
instant the right of a guard to fire upon those attempting to
escape, and to kill them. Had I been posted over prisoners I
should have had no compunction about shooting at those trying
to get away, and consequently I could not blame the Rebels
for doing the same thing. It was a matter of soldierly duty.
But not one of the men assassinated by the guards at Ander-
sonville were trying to escape, nor could they have got away
if not arrested by a bullet. In a majority of instances there
was not even a trangression of a prison rule, and when there
was such a transgression it was a mere harmless inadvertance.
The slaying of every man there was a foul crime.
The most of this was done by very young boys; some of it by
old men. The Twenty-Sixth Alabama and Fifty-Fifth Georgia,
had guarded us since the opening of the prison, but now they
were ordered to the field, and their places filled by the Georgia
“Reserves,” an organization of boys under, and men over the
W
192 ANDERSON VILLE.
military age. As General Grant aptly phrased it, “They had
robbed the cradle and the grave,” in forming these regiments.
The boys, who had grown up from children since the war
began, could not comprehend that a Yankee was a human
being, or that it was any more wrongful to shoot one than to
kill a mad dog. Their young imaginations had been inflamed
with stories of the total depravity of the Unionists until they
believed it was a meritorious thing to seize every opportunity
to exterminate them.
Early one morning I overheard a conversation between two
of these youthful guards:–
“Say, Bill, I heerd that you shot a Yank last night?”
“Now, you just bet I did. God! you jest ought toºve heerd
him holler.”
Evidently the juvenile murderer had no more conception
that he had committed crime than if he had killed a rattlesnake.
Among those who came in about the last of the month were
two thousand men from Butler's command, lost in the disas-
trous action of May 15, by which Butler was “bottled up ’’ at
Bermuda Hundreds. At that time the Rebel hatred for Butler
verged on insanity, and they wented this upon these men who
were so luckless—in every sense—as to be in his command.
Every pains was taken to mistreat them. Stripped of every
article of clothing, equipment, and cooking utensils—every-
thing, except a shirt and a pair of pantaloons, they were
turned bareheaded and barefooted into the prison, and the
worst possible place in the pen hunted out to locate them upon.
This was under the bank, at the edge of the Swamp and at the
eastern side of the prison, where the sinks were, and all filth
from the upper part of the camp flowed down to them. The
sand upon which they lay was dry and burning as that of a
tropical desert ; they were without the slightest shelter of any
kind, the maggot flies swarmed over them, and the stench was
frightful. If one of them survived the germ theory of disease
is a hallucination.
The increasing number of prisoners made it necessary for
the Rebels to improve their means of guarding and holding us
in check. They threw up a line of rifle pits around the Stock-
ade for the infantry guards. At intervals along this were piles
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 193
of hand grenades, which could be used with fearful effect in
case of an outbreak. A strong star fort was thrown up at a
little distance from the southwest corner. Eleven field pieces
were mounted in this in such a way as to rake the Stockade
diagonally. A smaller fort, mounting five guns, was built at
the northwest corner, and at the northeast and Southeast
corners were small lunettes, with a couple of howitzers each.
Packed as we were we had reason to dread a single round from
any of these works, which could not fail to produce fearful
havoc. e
Still a plot was concocted for a break, and it seemed to the
sanguine portions of us that it must prove successful. First a
secret Society was organized, bound by the most stringent oaths
that could be devised. The members of this were divided into
companies of fifty men each, under officers regularly elected.
The secresy was assumed in order to shut out Rebel spies and
the traitors from a knowledge of the contemplated outbreak.
A man named Baker—belonging, I think, to some New York
regiment—was the grand organizer of the scheme. We were
careful in each of our companies to admit none to membership
except such as long acquaintance gave us entire confidence in.
The plan was to dig large tunnels to the Stockade at various
places, and then hollow out the ground at the foot of the tim-
bers, so that a half dozen or so could be pushed over with a
little effort, and make a gap ten or twelve feet wide. All these
were to be thrown down at a preconcerted signal, the companies
were to rush out and seize the eleven guns of the headquarters
fort. The Plymouth Brigade was then to manthese and turn them
on the camp of the Reserves who, it was imagined, would drop
their arms and take to their heels after receiving a round or so
of shell. We would gather what arms we could, and place
them in the hands of the most active and determined. This
would give us from eight to ten thousand fairly armed, resolute
men, with which we thought we could march to Appalachicola
Bay, or to Sherman.
We worked energetically at our tunnels, which soon began
to assume such shape as to give assurance that they would
answer our expectations in Opening the prison walls.
Then came the usual blight to all such enterprises: a spy or
1 .
194 ANDERSON VILLE,
a traitor revealed everything to Wirz. One day a guard came
in, seized Baker and took him out. What was done with him
I know not; we never heard of him after he passed the inner
gate.
Immediately afterward all the Sergeants of detachments
were summoned outside. There they met Wirz, who made a
speech informing them that he knew all the details of the plot,
and had made sufficient preparations to defeat it. The guard
had been strongly reinforced, and disposed in such a manner as
to protect the guns from capture. The Stockade had been
secured to prevent its falling, even if undermined. IIe said, in
addition, that Sherman had been badly defeated by Johnston,
and driven back across the river, so that any hopes of co-oper-
ation by him would be ill-founded.
When the Sergeants returned, he caused the following notice
to be posted on the gates:
NOTICE.
Not wishing to shed the blood of hundreds, not connected with those who concocted a mad,
plan to force the Stockade, and make in this way their escape, I hereby warn the leaders and
those who formed themselves into a band to carry out this, that I am in possession of all the
fºcts, and have made my dispositions accordingly, so as to frustrate it. No choice would be:
left me but to open with grape and canister on the Stockade, and what effect this would have,
in this densely crowded place, Ineed not be told.
May 25, 1864. H. WIRz.
The next day a line of tall poles, bearing white flags, were
put up at some little distance from the Dead Line, and a notice
was read to us at roll call that if, except at roll call, any gath-
ering exceeding one hundred was observed, closer the Stockade
than these poles, the guns would open with grape and canister
without warning.
The number of deaths in the Stockade in May was seven
hundred and eight, about as many as had been killed in
Sherman’s army during the same time.
CHAPTER XXX.
JUNE — POSSIBILITIES OF A MURDEROUS CANNONADE—whAT was
PROPOSED TO BE DONE IN THAT EVENT - A FALSE ALARM —
DETERIORATION OF THE TRATIONS — FEARFUL INCREASE OF
MORTALITY.
After Wirz's threat of grape and canister upon the slightest
provocation, we lived in daily apprehension of some pretext
being found for opening the guns upon us for a general mas-
Sacre. Bitter experience had long since taught us that the
Rebels rarely threatened in vain. Wirz, especially, was much
more likely to kill without warning, than to warn without kill-
ing. This was because of the essential weakness of his nature.
He knew no art of government, no method of discipline save
“kill them!” His petty little mind's scope reached no further.
He could conceive of no other way of managing men than the
punishment of every offense, or seeming offense, with death.
Men who have any talent for governing find little occasion for
the death penalty. The stronger they are in themselves—the
more fitted for controlling others—the less their need of enforc-
ing their authority by harsh measures.
There was a general expression of determination among the
prisoners to answer any cannonade with a desperate attempt to
force the Stockade. It was agreed that anything was better
than dying like rats in a pit or wild animals in a battue. It
was believed that if anything would occur which would rouse
half those in the pen to make a headlong effort in concert, the
palisade could be scaled, and the gates carried, and, though it
would be at a fearful loss of life, the majority of those making
196 ANDERSON VILLE.
the attempt would get out. If the Rebels would discharge
grape and canister, or throw a shell into the prison, it would
lash everybody to such a pitch that they would see that the
sole forlorn hope of safety lay in wresting the arms away from
Our tormentors. The great element in our favor was the short-
ness of the distance between us and the cannon. We could
hope to traverse this before the guns could be reloaded more
than once. -
Whether it would have been possible to succeed I am unable
to say. It would have depended wholly upon the spirit and
unanimity with which the effort was made. Had ten thousand
rushed forward at Once, each with a determination to do or die,
I think it would have been successful without a loss of a tenth
of the number. But the insuperable trouble—in our disorgan-
ized state— was want of concert of action. I am quite sure,
however, that the attempt would have been made had the guns
opened.
One day, while the agitation of this matter was feverish, I
was cooking my dinner—that is, boiling my pitiful little ration
of unsalted meal, in my fruit can, with the aid of a handful of
splinters that I had been able to pick up by a half day’s dili-
gent search. Suddenly the long rifle in the headquarters fort
rang out angrily. A fuse shell shrieked across the prison—
close to the tops of the logs, and burst in the Woods beyond.
It was answered with a yell of defiance from ten thousand
throats.
I sprang up—my heart in my mouth. The long dreaded
time had arrived; the Rebels had opened the massacre in which
they must exterminate us, or we them.
I looked across to the opposite bank, on which were standing
twelve thousand men — erect, excited, defiant. I was sure that
at the next shot they would surge straight against the Stockade
like a mighty human billow, and then a carnage would begin
the like of which modern times had never seen.
The excitement and suspense were terrible. We waited for
what seemed ages for the next gun. It was not fired. Old
Winder was merely showing the prisoners how he could rally
the guards to oppose an outbreak. Though the gun had a shell
in it, it was merely a signal, and the guards came double-quick
A STORY OF REBEL （MILITARY PEISONS. 197
ing up by regiments, going into position in the rifle pits and by
the hand-grenade piles.
As we realized what the whole affair meant, we relieved our
surcharged feelings with a few general yells of execration upon
Rebels generally, and upon those around us particularly, and
resumed our occupation of cooking rations, killing lice, and dis-
cussing the prospects of exchange and escape.
The rations, like everything else about us, had steadily grown
worse. A bakery was built outside of the Stockade in May,
and our meal was baked there into loaves about the size of a
brick. Each of us got a half of one of these for a day’s ration.
This, and occasionally a small slice of salt pork, was all that we
received. I wish the reader would prepare himself an object
lesson as to how little life can be supported on for any length
of time, by procuring a piece of corn bread the size of an ordi-
nary brickbat, and a thin slice of pork, and then imagine how
he would fare, with that as his sole daily ration, for long
hungry weeks and months. Dio Lewis satisfied himself that
he could sustain life on sixty cents a week. I am sure that the
food furnished us by the Rebels would not, at present prices,
cost one-third that. They pretended to give us one-third of a
pound of bacon and one and one-fourth pounds of corn meal.
A week’s rations then would be two and one-third pounds of
'Macon—worth ten cents, and eight and three-fourths pounds
of meal, worth, say, ten cents more. As a matter of fact, I do
not presume that at any time we got this full ration. It would
surprise me to learn that we averaged two-thirds of it.
The meal was ground very coarse and produced great irrita-
tion in the bowels. We used to have the most frightful cramps
that men ever suffered from. Those who were predisposed to
intestinal affections were speedily carried off by incurable
diarrhea and dysentery. Of the twelve thousand and twelve
men who died, four thousand died of chronic diarrhea; eight
hundred and seventeen died of acute diarrhea, and one thousand
three hundred and eighty-four died of dysenteria, making a
total of six thousand two hundred and one victims to enteric
disorders.
Let the reader reflect a moment upon this number, till he
comprehends fully how many six thousand two hundred and one
198 ANDERSON VILLE,
men are, and how much force, energy, training, and rich possi-.
bilities for the good of the community and country died with
those six thousand two hundred and one young, active men.
It may help his perception of the magnitude of this number to
remember that the total loss of the British, during the Crimean
war, by death in all shapes, was four thousand five hundred and
ninety-five, or one thousand seven hundred and six less than
the deaths in Andersonville from dysenteric diseases alone.
The loathsome maggot flies swarmed about the bakery, and
dropped into the trough where the dough was being mixed, so
that it was rare to get a ration of bread not contaminated with
a few of them.
It was not long until the bakery became inadequate to Sup-
ply bread for all the prisoners. Then great iron kettles were
set, and mush was issued to a number of detachments, instead
of bread. There was not so much cleanliness and care in pre-
paring this as a farmer shows in cooking food for stock. A
deep wagon-bed would be shoveled full of the smoking paste,
which was then hauled inside and issued out to the detachments,
the latter receiving it on blankets, pieces of shelter tents, or,
lacking even these, upon the bare sand.
As still more prisoners came in, neither bread nor mush could
be furnished them, and a part of the detachments received
their rations in meal. Earnest solicitation at length resulted in
having occasional scanty issues of wood to cook this with. My
detachment was allowed to choose which it would take — bread,
mush or meal. It took the latter.
Cooking the meal was the topic of daily interest. There
were three ways of doing it: Bread, mush and “dumplings.”
In the latter the meal was dampened until it would hold
together, and was rolled into little balls, thesize of marbles, which
were then boiled. The bread was the most satisfactory and
nourishing; the mush the bulkiest—it made a bigger show,
but did not stay with one so long. The dumplings held an
intermediate position—the water in which they were boiled
becoming a sort of a broth that helped to stay the stomach.
We received no salt, as a rule. No one knows the intense
longing for this, when one goes without it for a while. When,
after a privation of weeks we would get a teaspoonful of salt
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 199
apiece, it seemed as if every muscle in our bodies was invigor-
ated. We traded buttons to the guards for red peppers,
and made our mush, or bread, or dumplings, hot with the fiery
pods, in hopes that this would make up for the lack of salt, but it
º was a failure. One pinch of salt
was worth all the pepper pods in
the Southern Confederacy. My
little squad—now diminished by
death from five to three—cooked
Our rations together to economize
tº wood and waste of meal, and
rºº quarreled among ourselves daily as
*** = to whether the joint stock should
ºs=º be converted into bread, mush or
cooking ºven. dumplings. The decision depended
apon the state of the stomach. If very hungry, we made
mush; if less famished, dumplings; if disposed to weigh matters,
bread.
This may seem a trifling matter, but it was far from it. We
all remember the man who was very fond of white beans, but
after having fifty or sixty meals of them in succession, began to
find a suspicion of monotony in the provender. We had now
six months of unvarying diet of corn meal and water, and
even so slight a change as a variation in the way of combining
the two was an agreeable novelty.
At the end of June there were twenty-six thousand three
hundred and sixty-seven prisoners in the Stockade, and one
thousand two hundred—just forty per day—had died during
the month.


CHAPTER xxxL
DYING BY INCHEs— SEITZ, THE SLOW, AND HIS DEATH — STIGGALL
AND EMERSON – RAVAGES OF THE SCURVY.
May and June made sad havoc in the already thin ranks of
our battalion. Nearly a score died in my company—L– and
the other companies suffered proportionately. Among the first
to die of my company comrades, was a genial little Corporal,
“Billy” Phillips—who was a favorite with us all. Everything
was done for him that kindness could suggest, but it was of
little avail. Then “Bruno' Weeks—a young boy, the son of
a preacher, who had run away from his home in Fulton County,
Ohio, to join us, succumbed to hardship and privation.
The next to go was good-natured, harmless Victor Seitz, a
Detroit cigar maker, a German, and one of the slowest of
created mortals. How he ever came to go into the cavalry
was beyond the wildest surmises of his comrades. Why his
supernatural slowness and clumsiness did not result in his being
killed at least once a day, while in the service, was even still
farther beyond the power of conjecture. No accident ever
happened in the company that Seitz did not have some share
in. Did a horse fall on a slippery road, it was almost sure to
be Seitz's, and that imported son of the Fatherland was equally
sure to be caught under him. Did somebody tumble over a bank
of a dark night, it was Seitz that we soon heard making his way
back, swearing in deep German gutterals, with frequent allu-
sion to tausend teufeln. Did a shanty blow down, we ran over
and pulled Seitz out of the debris, when he would exclaim :
“Zol dot vos pretty vunny now, ain’t it 7”
And as he surveyed the scene of his trouble with true Ger.
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 2014
man phlegm, he would fish a brier-wood pipe from the recesses
of his pockets, fill it with tobacco, and go plodding off in a
cloud of smoke in search of some fresh way to narrowly escape
destruction. He did not know enough about horses to put a
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SEITZ ON HORSEBACK.
snaffle-bit in one's mouth, and yet he would draw the friskiest,
most mettlesome animal in the corral, upon whose back he was
scarcely more at home than he would be upon a slack rope.
It was no uncommon thing to see a horse break out of ranks,
and go past the battalion like the wind, with poor Seitz cling-
ing to his mane like the traditional grim Death to a deceased
African. We then knew that Seitz had thoughtlessly sunk the
keen spurs he would persist in wearing, deep into the flanks of
his high-mettled animal.
These accidents became so much a matter-of-course that
when anything unusual occurred in the company our first im-
pulse was to go and help Seitz out.
When the bugle sounded “boots and saddles,” the rest of us.
would pack up, mount, “count off by fours from the right,”
and be ready to move out before the last notes of the call had








































$202 ANDERSON WILLE.
fairly died away. Just then we would notice an unsaddled
%horse still tied to the hitching place. It was Seitz's, and that
worthy would be seen approaching, pipe in mouth, and bridle
in hand, with calm, equable steps, as if any time before the
expiration of his enlistment would be soon enough to accom-
plish the saddling 6f his steed. A chorus of impatient and
derisive remarks would go up from his impatient comrades:
“For heaven’s sake, Seitz, hurry up!”
“Seitz you are like a cow's tail—always behind!”
“Seitz, you are slower than the second coming of the
$avior l’”
“Christmas is a railroad train alongside of you, Seitz!”
“If you ain’t on that horse in half a second, Seitz, we'll go
off and leave you, and the Johnnies will skin you alive!”
etc., etc.
Not a ripple of emotion would roll over Seitz's placid features
under the sharpest of these objurgations. At last, losing all
patience, two or three boys would dismount, run to Seitz's
horse, pack, saddle and bridle him, as if he were struck with a
whirlwind. Then Seitz would mount, and we would move
off.
For all this, we liked him. Iſis good nature was boundless,
and his disposition to oblige equal to the severest test. He did
not lack a grain of his full share of the calm, steadfast courage
of his race, and would stay where he was put, though Erebus
yawned and bade him fly. IIe was very useful, despite his un-
fitness for many of the duties of a cavalryman. IIe was a good
guard, and always ready to take charge of prisoners, or be
sentry around wagons or a forage pile—duties that most of the
boys cordially hated.
But he came into the last trouble at Andersonville. He
stood up pretty well under the hardships of Belle Isle, but lost
his cheerfulness—his unrepining calmness— after a few weeks
in the Stockade. One day we remembered that none of us
bad seen him for several days, and we started in Search of him.
We found him in a distant part of the camp, lying near the
3Dead Line. Iſis long fair hair was matted together, his blue
eyes had the flush of fever. Every part of his clothing was
gray with the lice that were hastening his death with their
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 203
torments. He uttered the first complaint I ever heard him
make, as I came up to him : —
“My Gott, M , dis is worse dan a dog's det!”
In a few days we gave him all the funeral in our power;
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FINDING SEITZ DEAD.
tied his big toes together, folded his hands across his breast,
pinned to his shirt a slip of paper, upon which was written —
VICTOR. E. SEITz,
Co. L, Sixteenth Illinois Cavalry.
And laid his body at the South Gate, beside some scores of
others that were awaiting the arrival of the six-mule wagon
that hauled them to the Potter’s Field, which was to be their
last resting-place.
John Emerson and John Stiggall, of my company, were
two Norwegian boys, and fine specimens of their race—intel-
tigent, faithful, and always ready for duty. They had an
affection for each other that reminded one of the stories told











204 ANDERSON VILLE.
of the sworn attachment and the unfailing devotion that were
common between two Gothic warrior youths. Coming into
Andersonville some little time after the rest of us, they found
all the desirable ground taken up, and they established their
quarters at the base of the hill, near the Swamp. There they
dug a little hole to lie in, and put in a layer of pine leaves.
Between them they had an overcoat and a blanket. At night
they lay upon the coat and covered themselves with the blanket.
By day the blanket served as a tent. The hardships and
annoyances that we endured made everybody else cross and
irritable. At times it seemed impossible to say or listen to
pleasant words, and nobody was ever allowed to go any length
of time spoiling for a fight. He could usually be accommo. .
dated upon the spot to any extent he desired, by simply making
his wishes known. Even the best of chums would have sharp
quarrels and brisk fights, and this disposition increased as dis-
ease made greater inroads upon them. I saw in one instance
two brothers—both of whom died the next day of scurvy—
and who were so helpless as to be unable to rise, pull themselves
up on their knees by clenching the poles of their tents—in
order to strike each other with clubs, and they kept striking
until the bystanders interfered and took their weapons away
from them. f
But Stiggall and Emerson never quarreled with each other.
Their tenderness and affection were remarkable to wit-
ness. They began to go the way that so many were
going; diarrhea and scurvy set in; they wasted away till their
muscles and tissues almost disappeared, leaving the skin lying
flat upon the bones; but their principal solicitude was for each
other, and each seemed actually jealous of any person else doing
anything for the other. I met Emerson one day, with one leg
drawn clear out of shape, and rendered almost useless by the
scurvy. He was very weak, but was hobbling down towards
the Creek with a bucket made from a boot leg. I said:
“Johnny, just give me your bucket. I’ll fill it for you, and
bring it up to your tent.”
“No ; much obliged, M —” he wheezed out ; “my pardner
wants a cool drink, and I guess I’d better get it for him.”
Stiggall died in June. He was one of the first victims of
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 205
scurvy, which, in the succeeding few weeks, carried off so
many. All of us who had read sea stories had read much of
this disease and its horrors, but we had little conception of the
dreadful reality. It usually manifested itself first in the mouth.
The breath became unbearably fetid; the gums swelled until
they protruded, livid and disgusting, beyond the lips. The
teeth became so loose that
they frequently fell out,
and the sufferer would
pick them up and set them
back in their sockets. In
attempting to bite the
hard corn bread furnished
by the bakery the teeth
Often stuck fast and were
pulled out. The gums had
a fashion of breaking
away in large chunks,
which would be swallowed
or spit out. All the time
one was eating his mouth
would be filled with blood, fragments of gums and loosened teeth.
Frightful, malignant ulcers appeared in other parts of the
body; the ever-present maggot flies laid eggs in these, and soon
Worms swarmed therein. The sufferer looked and felt as if,
though he yet lived and moved, his body was anticipating the
rotting it would undergo a little later in the grave.
The last change was ushered in by the lower parts of the
legs swelling. When this appeared, we considered the man
doomed. We all had scurvy, more or less, but as long as it
kept out of our legs we were hopeful. First, the ankle joints
swelled, then the foot became useless. The swelling increased
until the knees became stiff, and the skin from these down was
distended until it looked pale, colorless and transparent as a
tightly blown bladder. The leg was so much larger at the bot-
tom than at the thigh, that the sufferers used to make grim
jokes about being modeled like a churn, “with the biggest end
down.” The man then became utterly helpless and usually
died in a short time. -
A CASE OF SCURYY.

206 ANDERSON VILLE,
The official report puts down the number of deaths from
scurvy at three thousand five hundred and seventy-four, but
Dr. Jones, the Rebel surgeon, reported to the Rebel Govern-
ment his belief that nine-tenths of the great mortality of the
prison was due, either directly or indirectly, to this cause.
The only effort made by the Rebel doctors to check its raw-
ages was occasionally to give a handful of Sumach berries to
some particularly bad case. $
When Stiggall died we thought Emerson would certainly
follow him in a day or two, but, to our surprise, he lingered
along until August before dying.
CHAPTER XXXII.
“or E Boo,” AND “OLE SOL, THE HAYMAKER"— A FETID, BURN-
ING DESERT-NOISOME WATER, AND THE EFFECTS OF DRINKING,
IT — STEALING SOFT SOAP.
The gradually lengthening Summer days were insufferably,
long and wearisome. Each was hotter, longer and more tedi-
ous than its predecessors. In my company was a none-too-bright,
fellow, named Dawson. During the chilly rains or the nipping:
winds of our first days in prison, Dawson would, as he rose in
the morning, survey the forbidding skies with lack-luster eyes,
and remark, Oracularly :
“Well, Ole Boo gifs us agin, to-day.”
He was so unvarying in this salutation to the morn that his,
designation of disagreeable weather as “Ole Boo” became.
generally adopted by us. When the hot weather came on,
Dawson’s remark, upon rising and seeing excellent prospects.
for a scorcher, changed to : “Well, Ole Sol, the Haymaker,
is going to git in his work on us agin to-day.” -
As long as he lived and was able to talk, this was Dawson's.
invariable observation at the break of day.
IIe was quite right. The Ole Haymaker would do some-
famous work before he descended in the West, sending his level
rays through the wide interstices between the somber pines.
By nine o’clock in the morning his beams would begin to,
fairly singe everything in the crowded pen. The hot sand.
would glow as one sees it in the center of the unshaded high-
way some scorching noon in August. The high walls of the
prison prevented the circulation inside of any breeze that
might be in motion, while the foul stench rising from the
$208 ANDERSON WILLE.
putrid Swamp and the rotting ground seemed to reach the
skies.
One can readily comprehend the horrors of death on the
burning sands of a desert. But the desert sand is at least
clean; there is nothing worse about it than heat and intense
dryness. It is not, as that was at Andersonville, poisoned with
the excretions of thousands of sick and dying men, filled with
disgusting vermin, and loading the air with the germs of death.
The difference is as that between a brick-kiln and a sewer.
Should the fates ever decide that I shall be flung out upon
sands to perish, I beg that the hottest place in the Sahara may
be selected, rather than such a spot as the interior of the Ander-
sonville Stockade.
It may be said that we had an abundance of water, which
made a decided improvement on a desert. Doubtless—had the
water been pure. But every mouthful of it was a blood poison,
and helped promote disease and death. Even before reaching
the Stockade it was so polluted by the drainage of the Rebel
camps as to be utterly unfit for human use. In our part of
the prison we sank several wells—some as deep as forty feet
—to procure water. We had no other tools for this than our
'ever-faithful half canteens, and nothing wherewith to wall the
wells. But a firm clay was reached a few feet below the sur-
face, which afforded tolerable strong sides for the lower part,
and furnished material to make adobe bricks for curbs to keep
out the sand of the upper part. The sides were continually
giving away, however, and fellows were perpetually falling
down the holes, to the great damage of their legs and arms.
The water, which was drawn up in little cans, or boot leg buck-
ets, by strings made of strips of cloth, was much better than
that of the creek, but was still far from pure, as it contained
the seepage from the filthy ground.
The intense heat led men to drink great quantities of water,
and this superinduced malignant dropsical complaints, which,
next to diarrhea, scurvy and gangrene, were the ailments most
active in carrying men off. Those affected in this way swelled
up frightfully from day to day. Their clothes speedily became
too small for them, and were ripped off, leaving them entirely
inaked, and they suffered intensely until death at last came to
. A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 209
their relief. Among those of my squad who died in this way,
was a young man named Baxter, of the Fifth Indiana Cavalry,
taken at Chicamauga. He was very fine looking —tall, slen-
der, with regular features and intensely black hair and eyes;
he sang nicely, and was generally liked. A more pitiable
object than he, when last I saw him, just before his death, can
not be imagined. His body had swollen until it seemed mar-
velous that the human skin could bear so much distention with-
out disruption, All the old look of bright intelligence had
been driven from his face by the distortion of his features.
IIis swarthy hair and beard, grown long and ragged, had that
peculiar repulsive look which the black hair of the sick is prone
to assume.
I attributed much of my freedom from the diseases to which
others succumbed to abstention from water drinking. Long
before I entered the army, I had constructed a theory— on
premises that were doubtless as insufficient as those that boyish
theories are usually based upon — that drinking water was a
habit, and a pernicious One, which sapped away the energy. I
took some trouble to curb my appetite for water, and soon
found that I got along very comfortably without drinking
anything beyond that which was contained in my food. I fol-
lowed this up after entering the army, drinking nothing at any
time but a little coffee, and finding no need, even on the dust-
iest marches, for anything more. I do not presume that in a
year I drank a quart of cold water. Experience seemed to con-
firm my views, for I noticed that the first to sink under a
fatigue, or to yield to sickness, were those who were always on
the lookout for drinking water, springing from their horses
and struggling around every well or spring on the line of
march for an opportunity to fill their canteens.
I made liberal use of the Creek for bathing purposes, how-
ever, visiting it four or five times a day during the hot days, to
wash myself all over. This did not cool one off much, for the
shallow stream was nearly, as hot as the sand, but it seemed to
do some good, and it helped pass away the tedious hours. The
stream was nearly all the time filled as full of bathers as they
could stand, and the water could do little towards cleansing so
many. The Occasional rain storms that swept across the prison
14
210 ANDERSON WILLE,
were welcomed, not only because they cooled the air tempor.
arily, but because they gave us a shower-bath. As they came
up, nearly every one stripped naked and got out where he
could enjoy the full benefit of the falling water. Fancy, if
possible, the spectacle of twenty-five thousand or thirty thou-
sand men without a stitch of clothing upon them. The like
has not been seen, I imagine, since the naked followers of
Boadicea gathered in force to do battle to the Roman invaders.
It was impossible to get really clean. Our bodies seemed
covered with a warnish-like, gummy matter that defied removal
by water alone. I imagined that it came from the rosin or
turpentine, arising from the little pitch pine fires over which
we hovered when cooking our rations. It would yield to noth-
ing except strong soap —and soap, as I have before stated—
was nearly as scarce in the Southern Confederacy as salt. We
in prison saw even less of it, or rather, none at all. The
scarcity of it, and our desire for it, recalls a bit of personal
experience.
I had steadfastly refused all offers of positions outside the
prison on parole, as, like the great majority of the prisoners,
my hatred of the Rebels grew more bitter, day by day; I felt
as if I would rather die than accept the smallest favor at their
hands, and I shared the common contempt for those who did.
But, when the movement for a grand attack on the Stockade
—mentioned in a previous chapter— was apparently rapidly
coming to a head, I was offered a temporary detail outside to
assist in making up some rolls. I resolved to accept; first
because I thought I might get some information that would be
of use in our enterprise ; and, next, because I foresaw that the
rush through the gaps in the Stockade would be bloody
business, and by going out in advance I would avoid that much
of the danger, and still be able to give effective assistance.
I was taken up to Wirz's office. Tſe was writing at a desk
at one end of a large room when the Sergeant brought me in.
IIe turned around, told the Sergeant to leave me, and ordered
me to sit down upon a box at the other end of the room.
Turning his back and resuming his writing, in a few minutes
he had forgotten me. I sat quietly, taking in the details for a
half-hour, and then, having exhausted everything else in the
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 211
*
room, I began wondering what was in the box I was sitting
upon. The lid was loose; I hitched it forward a little without
attracting Wirz's attention, and slipped my left hand down on
a voyage of discovery. It seemed very likely that there Was
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CONFISCATING SOFT SOAP.
something there that a loyal Yankee deserved better than a
Rebel. I found that it was a fine article of soft soap. A handful
was scooped up and speedily shoved into my left pantaloons
pocket. Expecting every instant that Wirz would turn around
and order me to come to the desk to show my handwriting, I
hastily and furtively wiped my hand on the back of my shirt
and watched Wirz with as innocent an expression as a school
boy assumes when he has just flipped a chewed paper wad
across the room. Wirz was still engrossed in his writing, and
did not look around. I was emboldened to reach down for
another handful. This was also successfully transferred, the
hand wiped off on the back of the shirt, and the face wore its
expression of infantile ingenuousness. Still Wirz did not look
up. I kept dipping up handful after handful, until I had
gotten about a quart in the left hand pocket. After each
handful I rubbed my hand off on the back of my shirt and
waited an instant for a summons to the desk. Then the pro-
cess was repeated with the other hand, and a quart of the
saponaceous mush was packed in the right hand pocket.









212 ANDERSON WILL).
Shortly after Wirz rose and ordered a guard to take me away
and keep me, until he decided what to do with me. The day
was intensely hot, and soon the soap in my pockets and on the
back of my shirt began burning like double strength Spanish
fly blisters. There was nothing to do but grin and bear it. I
set my teeth, squatted down under the shade of the parapet of
the fort, and stood it silently and sullenly. For the first time
in my life I thoroughly appreciated the story of the Spartan
boy, who stole the fox and suffered the animal to tear his
bowels out rather than give a sign which would lead to the
exposure of his theft.
Between four and five o’clock—after I had endured the thing
for five or six hours, a guard came with orders from Wirz that
Ishould be returned to the Stockade. Upon hastily removing my
clothes, after coming inside, I found I had a blister on each
thigh, and, one down my back, that would have delighted an
old practitioner of the heroic school. But I also had a half
gallon of excellent soft soap. My chums and I took a magnifi-
cent wash, and gave our clothes the same, and we still had soap
enough left to barter for some onions that we had long cow-
eted, and which tasted as sweet to us as manna to the Israel-
ites. a
CHAPTER XXXIII.
“Pour PASSER LE TEMPs"— A SET of CHESSMEN PRocuFFD UNDER
DIFFICULTIES — RELIGIOUS SERVICES — THE DEVOTED PRIEST —
WAR SONG.
The time moved with leaden feet. Do the best we could,
there were very many tiresome hours for which no occupation
whatever could be found. . All that was necessary to be done
during the day—attending roll call, drawing and cooking
rations, killing lice and washing — could be disposed of in an
hour's time, and we were left with fifteen or sixteen waking
hours, for which there was absolutely no employment. Very
many tried to escape both the heat and ennui by sleeping as
much as possible through the day, but I noticed that those who
did this soon died, and consequently I did not do it. Card
playing had sufficed to pass away the hours at first, but our
cards soon wore out, and deprived us of this resource. My
chum, Andrews, and I constructed a set of chessmen with an
infinite deal of trouble. We found a soft, white root in the
swamp which answered our purpose. A boy near us had a
tolerably sharp pocket-knife, for the use of which a couple of
hours each day, we gave a few spoonfuls of meal. The knife
was the only one among a large number of prisoners, as the
Rebel guards had an affection for that style of cutlery, which
led them to search incoming prisoners very closely. The fortu-
nate owner of this derived quite a little income of meal by
shrewdly loaning it to his knifeless comrades. The shapes
that we made for pieces and pawns were necessarily very rude,
214 ANDERSON VILLE.
but they were sufficiently distinct for identification. We
blackened one set with pitch pine soot, found a piece of plank
that would answer for a board and purchased it from its posses-
SOr for part of a ration of meal, and so were fitted out with
What served until our release to distract our attention from
much of the surrounding misery.
Every one else procured such amusement as they could.
Newcomers, who still had money and cards, gambled as long
as their means lasted. Those who had books read them until
the leaves fell apart. Those who had paper and pen and ink
tried to write descriptions and keep journals, but this was
usually given up after being in prison a few weeks. I was for-
tunate enough to know a boy who had brought a copy of
“Gray's Anatomy” into prison with him. I was not spec-
ially interested in the subject, but it was Hobson’s choice; I
could read anatomy or nothing, and so I tackled it with such
good will that before my friend became sick and was taken
outside, and his book with him, Ihad obtained a very fair knowl-
edge of the rudiments of physiology.
There was a little band of devoted Christian workers, among
whom were Orderly Sergeant Thomas J. Sheppard, Ninety-
Seventh O. V. I., now a leading Baptist minister in Eastern
Ohio; Boston Corbett, who afterward slew John Wilkes Booth,
and Frank Smith, now at the head of the Railroad Bethel work
at Toledo. They were indefatigable in trying to evangelize
the prison. A few of them would take their station in some
part of the Stockade (a different one every time), and begin
singing some old familiar hymn like
“Come, Thou fount of every blessing,”
and in a few minutes they would have an attentive audience of
as many thousand as could get within hearing. The singing
would be followed by regular services, during which Sheppard,
Smith, Corbett, and some others would make short, spirited,
practical addresses, which no doubt did much good to all who
heard them, though the grains of leaven were entirely too small to
leaven such an immense measure of meal. They conducted
several funerals, as nearly like the way it was done at home as
possible. Their ministrations were not confined to mere lip
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 215
service, but they labored assiduously in caring for the sick,
and made many a poor fellow's way to the grave much
smoother for him.
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This was about all the religious services that we were favored
with. The Rebel preachers did not make that effort to save
our misguided souls which one would have imagined they
would. Having us where we could not choose but hear they
might have taken advantage of our situation to rake us fore
and aft with their theological artillery. They only attempted
it in one instance. While in Richmond a preacher came into
our room and announced in an authoritative way that he would
address us on religious subjects. We uncovered respectfully,
and gathered around him. He was a loud-tongued, brawling
Boanerges, who addressed the Lord as if drilling a brigade.
He spoke but a few moments before making apparent his
belief that the worst of crimes was that of being a Yankee, and
that a man must not only be saved through Christ's blood, but
also serve in the Rebel army before he could attain to heaven.

216 ANDERSON VILLE.
Of course we raised such a yell of derision that the sermon
was brought to an abrupt conclusion.
The only minister who came into the Stockade was a Cath-
olic priest, middle-aged, tall, slender, and unmistakably devout.
He was unwearied in his attention to the sick, and the Whole
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THE PRIEST ANOINTING THE DYING.
day could be seen moving around through the prison, attending
to those who needed spiritual consolation. It was interesting
to see him administer the extreme unction to a dying man.
Placing a long purple Scarf about his own neck and a small
brazen crucifix in the hands of the dying one, he would knee!
by the latter's side and anoint him upon the eyes, ears, nostrils,
lips, hands, feet and breast, with sacred oil, from a little brass
vessel, repeating the while, in an impressive voice, the solemn
offices of the Church. . ;
IHis unwearying devotion gained the admiration of all, no
matter how little inclined one might be to view priestliness
generally with favor. He was evidently of such stuff as Chris-
tian heros have ever been made of, and would have faced
stake and fagot, at the call of duty, with unquailing eye. His
name was Father Hamilton, and he was stationed at Macon.
The world should know more of a man whose services were so
creditable to humanity and his Church.
The good father had the wisdom of the serpent, with the
*








A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON8. 217.
harmlessness of the dove. Though full of commiseration for
the unhappy lot of the prisoners, nothing could betray him into
the slightest expression of opinion regarding the war or those
who were the authors of all this misery. In our impatience at
our treatment, and hunger for news, we forgot his sacerdotal
character, and importuned him for tidings of the exchange.
His invariable reply was that he lived apart from these things
and kept himself ignorant of them.
“But, father,” said I one day, with an impatience that I
could not wholly repress, “you must certainly hear or read
something of this, while you are outside among the Rebel
officers.” Like many other people, I supposed that the whole
world was excited over that in which I felt a deep interest.
“No, my son,” replied he, in his usual calm, measured tones.
“I go not among them, nor do I hear anything from them.
When I leave the prison in the evening, full of sorrow at what
I have seen here, I find that the best use I can make of my
time is in studying the Word of God, and especially the Psalms.
of Đavid.”
We were not any longer good company for each other. We
had heard over and over again all each other's stories and jokes,
and each knew as much about the other’s previous history as we
chose to communicate. The story of every individual’s past life,
relations, friends, regiment, and soldier experience had been told
again and again, until the repetition was wearisome. The cool
nights following the hot days were favorable to little gossiping
seances like the yarn-spinning watches of sailors on pleasant
nights. Our Squad, though its stock of stories was worn thread-
bare, was fortunate enough to have a sweet singer in Israel—
“Nosey” Payne—of whose tunefulness we never tired. He
had a large repertoire of patriotic songs, which he sang with
feeling and correctness, and which helped much to make the
calm Summer nights pass agreeably. Among the best of these
was the following, which I always thought was the finest
ballad, both in poetry and music, produced by the War: —
3.18 ANDERSON VILLE.
BRAVE BOYS ARE THEY!
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A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 219
Under the homestead roof,
Nestled so cozy and warm,
While soldiers sleep, with little or naught,
To shelter them from the storm.
Resting on grassy couches,
Pillow'd on hillocks damp ;
of martial fare, how little we know,
Till brothers are in the camp.
Chorus—Brave boys are they !
Gone at their country's call;
And yet, and yet, we cannot forget,
That many brave boys must fall.
Thinking no less of them,
Loving our country the more,
We sent them forth to fight for the flag,
Their fathers before them bore.
Though the great tear-drops started,
This was our parting trust: T
"God bless you boys 1 we'll welcome you home
When Rebels are in the dust.”
Choruse—Brave boys are they
Gone at their country's call;
And yet, and yet, we cannot forget,
That many brave boys must fall.
May the bright wings of love,
Guard them wherever they roam ;
The time has come when brothers must fight
And sisters must pray at home.
Oh I the dread field ef battle I
Soon to be strewn with graves 1
if brothers fall, then bury them where
Our banner in triumph waves.
Chorus—Brave boys are they i
Gone at their country's call;
And yet, and yet, we cannot forget,
That many brave boys must fall.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
MAGGOTs, LICE AND RAIDERS– PRACTICES OF THESE HUMAN
VERMIN — PLUNDERING THE SICK AND DYING— NIGHT ATTACKs,
AND BATTLES BY DAY – HARD TIMES FOR THE SMALL TRADERS.
With each long, hot Summer hour the lice, the maggot-flies
and the N’Yaarkers increased in numbers and venomous activ-
ity. They were ever-present annoyances and troubles; no time
was free from them. The lice worried us by day and tormented
us by night; the maggot-flies fouled our food, and laid in sores
and wounds larvae that speedily became masses of wriggling
worms. The N’Yaarkers were human vermin that preyed upon
and harried us unceasingly.
They formed themselves into bands numbering from five to
twenty-five, each led by a bold, unscrupulous, energetic scoun-
drel. We now called them “Raiders,” and the most prominent
and best known of the bands were called by the names of their
ruffian leaders, as “Mosby's Raiders,” “Curtis's Raiders,”
“Delaney's Raiders,” “Sarsfield's Raiders,” “Collins's Raid-
ers,” etc.
As long as we old prisoners formed the bulk of those inside
the Stockade, the Raiders had slender picking. They would
occasionally snatch a blanket from the tent poles, or knock a
boy down at the Creek and take his silver watch from him;
but this was all. Abundant opportunities for securing richer
swag came to them with the advent of the Plymouth Pilgrims.
As had been before stated, these boys brought in with them a
large portion of their first instalment of veteran bounty—
aggregating in amount, according to varying estimates, between
twenty-five thousand and one hundred thousand dollars. The
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 221
Pilgrims were likewise well clothed, had an abundance of
blankets and camp equipage, and a plentiful supply of per-
sonal trinkets, that could be readily traded off to the Rebels.
An average one of them—even if his money were all gone—
was a bonanza to any band which could succeed in plundering
him. His watch and chain, shoes, knife, ring, handkerchief,
combs and similar trifles, would net several hundred dollars in
Confederate money. The blockade, which cut off the Rebel
3ommunication, with the outer world, made these in great
demand. Many of the prisoners that came in from the Army
of the Potomac repaid robbing equally well. As a rule those
from that Army were not searched so closely as those from the
West, and not unfrequently they came in with all their belong-
ings untouched, where Sherman’s men, arriving the same day,
would be stripped nearly to the buff.
The methods of the Raiders were various, ranging all the
way from sneak thievery to highway robbery. All the arts
learned in the prisons and purlieus of New York were put into
exercise. Decoys, “bunko-steerers” at home, would be on the
look-out for promising subjects as each crowd of fresh prison-
ers entered the gate, and by kindly offers to find them a sleep-
ing place, lure them to where they could be easily despoiled
during the night. If the victim resisted there was always suffi-
cient force at hand to conquer him, and not seldom his life
paid the penalty of his contumacy. I have known as many as
three of these to be killed in a night, and their bodies—with
throats cut, or skulls crushed in — be found in the morning
among the dead at the gates.
All men having money or valuables were under continual
espionage, and when found in places convenient for attack, a
rush was made for them. They were knocked down and their
persons rifled with such swift dexterity that it was done before
they realized what had happened.
At first these depredations were only perpetrated at night.
The quarry was selected during the day, and arrangements
made for a descent. After the victim was asleep the band
dashed down upon him, and sheared him of his goods with
incredible swiftness. Those near would raise the , cry of
“Raiders!” and attack the robbers. If the latter had secured
222 ANDERSON VILLE.
their booty they retreated with all possible speed, and were
soon lost in the crowd. If not, they would offer battle, and
signal for assistance from the other bands. Severe engage-
ments of this kind were of continual occurrence, in which men
were so badly beaten as to die from the effects. The weapons
used were fists, clubs, axes, tent-poles, etc. The Raiders were
ºplentifully provided with the usual weapons of their class—
slung-shots and brass-knuckles. Several of them had succeeded
in Smuggling bowie-knives into prison.
They had the great advantage in these rows of being well
acquainted with each other, while, except the Plymouth
Pilgrims, the rest of the prisoners were made up of small
squads of men from each regiment in the service, and total
strangers to all outside of their own little band. The Taiders
could concentrate, if necessary, four hundred or five hundred
men upon any point of attack, and each member of the gangs
had become so familiarized with all the rest by long association
in New York, and elsewhere, that he never dealt a blow amiss,
while their opponents were nearly as hikely to attack friends as
enemies.
By the middle of June the continual success of the IRaiders
emboldened them so that they no longer confined their depre-
dations to the night, but made their forays in broad daylight,
and there was hardly an hour in the twenty-four that the cry
of “Taiders! Taiders l’” did not go up from some part of the
pen, and on looking in the direction of the cry one would see a
surging commotion, men struggling, and clubs being plied
vigorously. This was even more common than the guards
shooting men at the Creek crossing.
One day I saw “Dick Allen's Raiders,” eleven in number,
attack a man wearing the uniform of Ellett's Marine Brigade.
He was a recent comer, and alone, but he was brave. [He had
come into possession of a spade, by some means or another, and
he used this with delightful vigor and effect. Two or three
times he struck one of his assailants so fairly on the head and
with such good will that I congratulated myself that he had
killed him. Finally, Dick Allen managed to slip around
behind him unnoticed, and striking him on the head with a
slung-shot, knocked him down, when the Whole crowd pounced
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 223
upon him to kill him, but were driven off by others rallying to
his assistance.
The proceeds of these forays enabled the Raiders to wax fat
and lusty, while others were dying from starvation. They all
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had good tents, constructed of stolen blankets, and their head-
quarters was a large, roomy tent, with a circular top, situated
on the street leading to the South Gate, and capable of accom-
modating from seventy-five to one hundred men. All the
material for this had been wrested away from others. While
hundreds were dying of Scurvy and diarrhea, from the miser-
able, insufficient food, and lack of vegetables, these fellows had
flour, fresh meat, onions, potatoes, green beans, and otber




224 ANDERSON VILLE,
things, the very looks of which were a torture to hungry, scor-
butic, dysenteric men. They were on the best possible terms
with the Rebels, whom they fawned upon and groveled before,
and were in return allowed many favors, in the way of trading,
going out upon detail, and making purchases. ry
Among their special objects of attack were the small traders
in the prison. We had quite a number of these whose genius
for barter' was so strong that it took root and flourished even
in that unpropitious soil, and during the time when new pris-
oners were constantly coming in with money, they managed to
accumulate small sums—from ten dollars upward, by trading
between the guards and the prisoners. In the period immedi-
ately following a prisoner's entrance he was likely to spend
all his money and trade off all his possessions for food, trusting
to fortune to get him out of there when these were gone.
Then was when he was profitable to these go-betweens, who
managed to make him pay handsomely for what he got. The
Raiders kept watch of these traders, and plundered them
whenever occasion served. It reminded one of the habits of
the fishing eagle, which howers around until some other bird
catches a fish, and then takes it away.
CHAPTER XXXV.
A COMMUNITY witHouT GOVERNMENT — FORMATION or THE REG-
ULATORs—RAIDERS ATTACK KEY BUT ARE BLUFFED OFF-
ASSAULT OF THE REGULATORS ON THE RAIDERS — DESPERATES
BATTLE — OVERTHROW OF TEIE RAIDERS. -
To fully appreciate the condition of affairs let it be remem-
bered that we were a community of twenty-five thousand boys
and young men—none too regardful of control at best—and
now wholly destitute of government. The Rebels never made
the slightest attempt to maintain order in the prison. Their
whole energies were concentrated in preventing our escape. So
long as we staid inside the Stockade, they cared as little what
we did there as for the performances of savages in the interior
of Africa. I doubt if they would have interfered had one-half
of us killed and eaten the other half. They rather took a
delight in such atrocities as came to their notice. It was an
ocular demonstration of the total depravity of the Yankees.
Among ourselves there was no one in position to lay down
law and enforce it. Being all enlisted men we were on a dead
level as far as rank was concerned — the highest being only
Sergeants, whose stripes carried no weight of authority. The
time of Our stay was — it was hoped—too transient to make it
worth while bothering about organizing any form of govern-
ment. The great bulk of the boys were recent comers,
who hoped that in another week or so they would be out again.
There were no fat salaries to tempt any one to take upon him-
self the duty of ruling the masses, and all were left to their own
devices, to do good or evil, according to their several bents,
and as fear of consequences swayed them. Each little squad of
15
226 ANDERSON VILLE.
men was a law unto themselves, and made and enforced their
own regulations on their own territory. The administration of
justice was reduced to its simplest terms. If a fellow did
wrong he was pounded—if there was anybody capable of
doing it. If not he went free.
The almost unvarying success of the Raiders in their forays
gave the general impression that they were invincible—that is,
that not enough men could be concentrated against them to
whip them. Our ill-success in the attack we made on them in
April helped us to the same belief. If we could not beat them
then, we could not now, after we had been enfeebled by months
of starvation and disease. It seemed to us that the Plymouth
Pilgrims, whose organization was yet very strong, should under-
take the task; but, as is usually the case in this world, where
we think somebody else ought to undertake the performance of
a disagreeable public duty, they did not see it in the light that
we wished them to. They established guards around their
squads, and helped beat off the Raiders when their own territory
was invaded, but this was all they would do. The rest of us
formed similar guards. In the southwest corner of the Stock-,
ade—where I was—we formed ourselves into a company of
fifty active boys—mostly belonging to my own battalion and
to other Illinois regiments—of which I was elected Cap-
tain. My First Lieutenant was a tall, taciturn, long-armed
member of the One Hundred and Eleventh Illinois, whom we
called “Egypt,” as he came from that section of the State.
DHe was wonderfully handy with his fists. I think he could
knock a fellow down so that he would fall harder, and lie
longer than any person I ever saw. We made a tacit division
of duties: I did the talking, and “Egypt” went through the man-
ual labor of knocking our opponents down. In the numerous
little encounters in which our company was engaged, “Egypt.”
would stand by my side, silent, grim and patient, while I pur-
sued the dialogue with the leader of the other crowd. As soon
as he thought the conversation had reached the proper point,
his long left arm stretched out like a flash, and the other fellow
dropped as if he had suddenly come in range of a mule that
was feeling well. That unexpected left-hander never failed.
It would have made Charles Reade's heart leap for joy to see it.
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON 3. 227
In spite of our company and our watchfulness, the Raiders
beat us badly on one occasion. Marion Friend, of Company I
of our battalion, was one of the small traders, and had accumu-
lated forty dollars by his bartering. One evening at dusk
Delaney's Raiders, about twenty-five strong, took advantage of
the absence of most of us drawing rations, to make a rush for
Marion. They knocked him down, cut him across the wrist
and neck with a razor, and robbed him of his forty dollars.
By the time we could rally Delaney and his attendant scoun-
drels were safe from pursuit in the midst of their friends.
This state of things had become unendurable. Sergeant
Leroy L. Key, of Company M, our battalion, resolved to make
an effort to crush the Raiders. He was a printer, from Bloom-
ington, Illinois, tall, dark, intelligent and strong-willed, and
one of the bravest men I ever knew. He was ably seconded
by “Limber Jim,” of the Sixty-Seventh Illinois, whose lithe,
sinewy form, and striking features reminded one of a young
Sioux brave. He had all of Key's desperate courage, but not
his brains or his talent for leadership. Though fearfully
reduced in numbers, our battalion had still about one hundred
well men in it, and these formed the nucleus for Key's band of
“Regulators,” as they were styled. Among them were several
who had no equals in physical strength and courage in any of
the Raider chiefs. Our best man was Ned Carrigan, Corporal
of Company I, from Chicago—who was so confessedly the
best man in the whole prison that he was never called upon to
demonstrate it. He was a big-hearted, genial Irish boy, who
was never known to get into trouble on his own account, but
only used his fists when some of his comrades were imposed
upon. He had fought in the ring, and on one occasion had
killed a man with a single blow of his fist, in a prize fight near
St. Louis. We were all very proud of him, and it was as good
as an entertainment to us to see the noisiest roughs subside into
deferential silence as Ned would come among them, like some
grand mastiff in the midst of a pack of yelping curs. Ned
entered into the regulating scheme heartily. Other stalwart
specimens of physical manhood in our battalion were Sergeant
Goody, Ned Johnson, Tom Larkin, and others, who, while not
228 ANDERSON VILLE.
approaching Carrigan's perfect manhood, were still more than
a match for the best of the Raiders.
Key proceeded with the greatest secresy in the organization
of his forces. He accepted none but Western men, and pre-
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ferred Illinoisans, Iowans, Kansans, Indianians and Ohioans.
The boys from those States seemed to naturally go together,
and be moved by the same motives. He informed Wirz what
he proposed doing, so that any unusual commotion within the
prison might not be mistaken for an attempt upon the Stock-
ade, and made the excuse for opening with the artillery.
Wirz, who happened to be in a complaisant humor, approved of
the design, and allowed him the use of the enclosure of the
North Gate to confine his prisoners in.
In spite of Key's efforts at secresy, information as to his
scheme reached the Raiders. It was debated at their head-

A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 229
quarters, and decided there that Key must be killed. Three
men were selected to do this work. They called on Key, at
dusk, on the evening of the 2d of July. In response to.
their inquiries, he came out of the blanket-covered hole on the
hillside that he called his tent. They told him what they had
heard, and asked if it was true. IIe said it was. One of them
then drew a knife, and the other two, “billies” to attack him.
But, anticipating trouble, Key had procured a revolver
which one of the Pilgrims had brought in in his knapsack,
and drawing this he drove them off, but without firing a shot.
The occurrence caused the greatest excitement. To us of
the Regulators it showed that the Raiders had penetrated our
designs, and were prepared for them. To the great majority
of the prisoners it was the first intimation that such a thing
was contemplated; the news spread from squad to squad with
the greatest rapidity, and soon everybody was discussing the
chances of the movement. For awhile men ceased their inter-
minable discussion of escape and exchange—let those over-
worked words and themes have a rare spell of repose—and
debated whether the Raiders would whip the Regulators, or
the Regulators conquer the Raiders. The reasons which I
have previously enumerated, induced a general disbelief in the
probability of our success. The Taiders were in good health,
well fed, used to operating together, and had the confidence
begotten by a long series of successes. The Regulators lacked
in all these respects.
Whether Key had originally fixed on the next day for
making the attack, or whether this affair precipitated the
crisis, I know not, but later in the evening he sent us all orders
to be on our guard all night, and ready for action the next
morning.
There was very little sleep anywhere that night. The
Rebels learned through their spies that something unusual was
going on inside, and as their only interpretation of anything
unusual there was a design upon the Stockade, they strength-
ened the guards, took additional precautions in every way, and
spent the hours in anxious anticipation. -
We, fearing that the Raiders might attempt to frustrate the
scheme by an attack in overpowering force on Key's Squad,
.930 ANDERSON WILLE.
which would be accompanied by the assassination of him and
Limber Jim, held ourselves in readiness to offer any assistance
that might be needed.
The Raiders, though confident of success, were no less
exercised. They threw out pickets to all the approaches to
their headquarters, and provided otherwise against surprise.
They had smuggled in some canteens of a cheap, vile whisky—
made from sorghum —and they grew quite hilarious in their
Big Tent over their potations. Two songs had long ago been
accepted by us as peculiarly the Raiders' own—as some one
in their crowd sang them nearly every evening, and we never
heard them anywhere else. The first began:
In Athol lived a man named Jerry Lanagan;
He battered away till he hadn't a pound.
His father he died, and he made him a man agin;
Left him a farm of ten acres of ground.
The other related the exploits of an Irish highwayman
named Brennan, whose chief virtue was that
What he rob-bed from the rich he gave unto the poor.
And this was the villainous chorus in which they all joined,
and sang in such a way as suggested highway robbery, murder,
mayhem and arson:
Brennan on the moor l
Brennan on the moor l
Proud and undaunted stood
John Brennan on the moor.
They howled these two nearly the live-long night. They
became eventually quite monotonous to us, who were waiting
and watching. It would have been quite a relief if they had
thrown in a new one every hour or so, by way of variety.
Morning at last came. Our companies mustered on their
grounds, and then marched to the space on the South Side
where the rations were issued. Each man was armed with a
small club, secured to his wrist by a string.
The Rebels—with their chronic fear of an outbreak ani-
mating them—had all the infantry in line of battle with
loaded guns. The cannon in the works were shotted, the fuses
thrust into the touch-holes and the men stood with lanyards in
hand ready to mow down everybody, at any instant.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 23.1
The sun rose rapidly through the clear sky, which soon
glowed down on us like a brazen oven. The whole camp
gathered where it could best view the encounter. This was
upon the North Side. As I have before explained the two
REBEL ARTILLERISTS TRAINING THE CANNON ON THE PRISON.
sides sloped toward each other like those of a great trough.
The Taiders' headquarters stood upon the center of the southern
slope, and consequently those standing on the northern slope
saw everything as if upon the stage of a theater.
While standing in ranks waiting the orders to move, one of
my comrades touched me on the arm, and said:—
“My God I just look over there!”
I turned from watching the Rebel artillerists, whose inten-
tions gave me more uneasiness than anything else, and looked
in the direction indicated by the speaker. The sight was the
strangest one my eyes ever encountered. There were at least
fifteen thousand—perhaps twenty thousand—men packed
together on the bank, and every eye was turned on us. The
slope was such that each man’s face showed over the shoulders
of the one in front of him, making acres on acres of faces. It
was as if the whole broad hillside was paved or thatched with
human countenances.

232 ANDERSON VILLE.
When all was ready we moved down upon the Big Tent, in
as good order as we could preserve while passing through the
narrow tortuous paths between the tents. Key, Limber Jim,
Ned Carrigan, Goody, Tom Larkin, and Ned Johnson led the
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advance with their companies. The prison was as silent as a
graveyard. As We approached, the Raiders massed themselves
in a strong, heavy line, with the center, against which our
advance was moving, held by the most redoubtable of their
leaders. How many there were of them could not be told, as
it was impossible to say where their line ended and the mass of
spectators began. They could not themselves tell, as the atti-
tude of a large portion of the spectators would be determined
by which way the battle went. º
Not a blow was struck until the lines came close together.
Then the Raider center launched itself forward against ours,
and grappled Savagely with the leading Regulators. For an
instant—it seemed an hour—the struggle was desperate.

A STORY OF REBEL MILITA RY PRISONS. 233
Strong, fierce men clenched and strove to throttle each other;
great muscles strained almost to bursting, and blows with fist
and club—dealt with all the energy of mortal hate—fell like
hail. One—perhaps two — endless minutes the lines surged
—throbbed—backward and forward a step or two, and then,
as if by a concentration of mighty effort, our men flung the
Raider line back from it—broken—shattered. The next
instant our leaders were striding through the mass like raging
lions. Carrigan, Limber Jim, Larkin, Johnson and Goody
each smote down a swath of men before them, as they moved
resistlessly forward.
We light weights had been sent around on the flanks to
separate the spectators from the combatants, strike the Raiders
en revers, and, as far as possible, keep the crowd from reinforc-
ing them. . . .
In five minutes after the first blow was struck the overthrow
of the Raiders was complete. Resistance ceased, and they
sought safety in flight. - - ... "
As the result became apparent to the watchers on the opposite
hillside, they vented their pent-up excitement in a yell that
made the very ground tremble, and we answered them with a
shout that expressed not only our exultation over our victory,
but our great relief from the intense strain we had long borne.
We picked up a few prisoners on the battle field, and retired
without making any special effort to get any more then, as we
knew that they could not escape us.
We were very tired, and very hungry. The time for draw-
ing rations had arrived. Wagons containing bread and mush
had driven to the gates, but Wirz would not allow these to be
opened, lest in the excited condition of the men an attempt
might be made to carry them. Key ordered operations to
cease, that Wirz might be re-assured and let the rations enter.
It was in vain. Wirz was thoroughly scared. The wagons
stood out in the hot sun until the mush fermented and soured,
and had to be thrown away, while we went rationless to bed,
and rose the next day with more than usually empty stomachs
to goad us on to our work. -
CHAPTER XXXVI.
WHY THE REGULATORS WERE NOT ASSISTED BY THE ENTIRE
CAMP — PECULIARITIES OF BOYS FROM DIFFERENT SECTIONS —
HUNTING THE RAIDERS DOWN — ExPLOITS OF MY LEFT-HANDED.
LIEUTENANT—RUNNING THE GAUNTLET.
I may not have made it wholly clear to the reader why we
did not have the active assistance of the whole prison in the
struggle with the Raiders. There were many reasons for this.
First, the great bulk of the prisoners were new comers, having
been, at the farthest, but three or four weeks in the Stockade.
They did not comprehend the situation of affairs as we older
prisoners did. They did not understand that all the outrages
—or very nearly all—were the work of a relatively small
crowd of graduates from the metropolitan school of vice. The
activity and audacity of the Raiders gave them the impression
that at least half the able-bodied men in the Stockade were
engaged in these depredations. This is always the case. A
half dozen burglars or other active criminals in a town will
produce the impression that a large portion of the population
are law-breakers. We never estimated that the raiding
N’Yaarkers, with their spies and other accomplices, exceeded
five hundred, but it would have been difficult to convince a new
prisoner that there were not thousands of them. Secondly,
the prisoners were made up of small squads from every regi-
ment at the front along the whole line from the Mississippi to
the Atlantic. These were strangers to and distrustful of all out-
side their own little circles. The Eastern men were especially
so. The Pennsylvanians and New Yorkers each formed groups,
and did not fraternize readily with those outside their
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON S. 235
State lines. The New Jerseyans held aloof from all the rest,
while the Massachusetts soldiers had very little in common
with anybody—even their fellow New Englanders. The
Michigan men were modified New Englanders. They had the
same tricks of speech ; they said “I be’” for “I am,” and
“haag" for “hog; ” “Let me look at your knife half a sec-
ond,” or “Give me just a sup of that water,” where we said
simply “Lend me your knife,” or “hand me a drink.” They
were less reserved than the true Yankees, more disposed to be
social, and, with all their eccentricities, were as manly, honor-
able a set of fellows as it was my fortune to meet with in the
army. I could ask no better comrades than the boys of the
Third Michigan Infantry, who belonged to the same “Ninety”
with me. The boys from Minnesota and Wisconsin were very
much like those from Michigan. Those from Ohio, Indiana,
Illinois, Iowa and Kansas all seemed cut off the same piece.
To all intents and purposes they might have come from the
same County. They spoke the same dialect, read the same
newspapers, had studied McGuffey’s Readers, Mitchell's Geog-
raphy, and Tay’s Arithmetics at school, admired the same
great men, and held generally the same opinions on any given
subject. It was never difficult to get them to act in
unison—they did it spontaneously; while it required an effort
to bring about harmony of action with those from other sec-
tions. IIad the Western boys in prison been thoroughly
advised of the nature of our enterprise, we could, doubtless,
have commanded their cordial assistance, but they were not,
and there was no way in which it could be done readily, until
after the decisive blow was struck.
The work of arresting the leading Raiders went on actively
all day on the Fourth of July. They made occasional shows of
fierce resistance, but the events of the day before had destroyed
their prestige, broken their confidence, and driven away from
their support very many who followed their lead when they
were considered all-powerful. They scattered from their
former haunts, and mingled with the crowds in other parts of
the prison, but were recognized, and reported to Key, who
sent parties to arrest them. Several times they managed to
collect enough adherents to drive off the squads sent after them,
236 ANDERSON VILLE.
but this only gave them a short respite, for the squad would
return reinforced, and make short work of them. Desides, the
prisoners generally were beginning to understand and approve
of the Regulators’ movement, and were disposed to give all the
assistance needed.
Myself and “Egypt,” my taciturn Lieutenant of the sinewy
left arm, were sent with our company to arrest Pete Donnelly,
a notorious character, and leader of a bad crowd. IIe was
more “knocker’” than Raider, however. IIe was an old Pem-
berton building acquaintance, and as we marched up to where
he was standing at the head of his gathering clan, he recognized
me and said :
“Hello, Illinoy,” (the name by which I was generally known
in prison) “what do you want here ?”
I replied, “Pete, Key has sent me for you. I want you to go
to headquarters.”
“What the does Key want with me?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure; he only said to bring you.”
“But I haven’t had anything to do with them other snoozers
you have been a-having trouble with.”
“I don’t know anything about that ; you can talk to Key as
to that. I only know that we are sent for you.”
“Well, you don’t think you can take me unless I choose to
go? You haint got anybody in that crowd big enough to make
it worth while for him to waste his time trying it.”
I replied diffidently that one never knew what he could do
till he tried; that while none of us were very big, we were as
willing a lot of little fellows as he ever saw, and if it were all
the same to him, we would undertake to waste a little time
getting him to headquarters.
The conversation seemed unnecessarily long to “Egypt,” who
stood by my side, about a half step in advance. Pete was
becoming angrier and more defiant every minute. His
followers were crowding up to us, club in hand. Finally Pete
thrust his fist in my face, and roared out:— -
“By , I ain’t a going with ye, and ye can’t take me,
53
you — — —
This was “Egypt’s” cue. His long left arm uncoupled like the
loosening of the weight of a pile-driver. It caught Mr. Donnelly
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 237
under the chin, fairly lifted him from his feet, and dropped
him on his back among his followers. It seemed to me that
the predominating expression in his face as he went over was
that of profound wonder as to where that blow could have
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come from, and why he did not see it in time to dodge or ward
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As Pete dropped, the rest of us stepped forward with our
clubs, to engage his followers, while “Egypt” and One or two
others tied his hands and otherwise secured him. But his
henchmen made no effort to rescue him, and we carried him
over to headquarters without molestation.
The work of arresting increased in interest and excitement
until it developed into the furore of a hunt, with thousands
eagerly engaged in it. The Raiders' tents were torn down and
pillaged. Blankets, tent poles, and cooking utensils were
carried off as spoils, and the ground was dug over for secreted
property. A large quantity of watches, chains, knives, rings,
gold pens, etc., etc.—the booty of many a raid—was found, and
helped to give impetus to the hunt. Even the Rebel Quarter-
master, with the characteristic keen scent of the Rebels for
spoils, smelled from the outside the opportunity for gaining







































238 ANDERSON VILLE.
plunder, and came in with a squad of Rebels equipped with
spades, to dig for buried treasures. How successful he was I
know not, as I took no part in any of the operations of that
nature. - -
It was claimed that several skeletons of victims of the Raid-
ers were found buried beneath the tents. I cannot speak with
any certainty as to this, though my impression is that at least
one was found. - - *
By evening Key had perhaps one hundred and twenty-five of
the most noted Raiders in his hands. Wirz had allowed him.
the use of the small stockade forming the entrance to the
North Gate to confine them in. -
The next thing was the judgment and punishment of the
arrested ones. For this purpose Key organized a court martial
composed of thirteen Sergeants, chosen from the latest arrivals
of prisoners, that they might have no prejudice against the
Raiders. I believe that a man named Dick McCullough,
belonging to the Third Missouri Cavalry, was the President of
the Court. The trial was carefully conducted, with all the
formality of a legal procedure that the Court and those manag-
ing the matter could remember as applicable to the crimes with
which the accused were charged. Each of these was con-
fronted by the witnesses who testified against him, and allowed
to cross-examine them to any extent he desired. The defense
was managed by one of their crowd, the foul-tongued Tombs
shyster, Pete Bradley, of whom I have before spoken. Such
was the fear of the vengeance of the Raiders and their friends
that many who had been badly abused dared not testify against
them, dreading midnight assassination if they did. Others would
not go before the Court except at night. But for all this there
was no lack of evidence; there were thousands who had been
robbed and maltreated, or who had seen these outrages com-
mitted on others, and the boldness of the leaders in their hight
of power rendered their identification a matter of no difficulty
whatever.
The trial lasted several days, and concluded with sentencing
quite a large number to run the gauntlet, a smaller number to
wear balls and chains, and the following six to be hanged:
John Sarsfield, One Hundred and Forty-Fourth New York.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 239
William Collins, alias “Mosby,” Company D, Eighty-Eighth
Pennsylvania, -
Charles Curtis, Company A, Fifth Rhode Island Artillery.
Patrick Delaney, Company E, Eighty-Third Pennsylvania.
A. Muir, United States Navy.
Terence Sullivan, Seventy-Second New York.
These names and regiments are of little consequence, how-
ever, as I believe all the rascals were professional bounty-jump-
ers, and did not belong to any regiment longer than they could
find an opportunity to desert and join another.
Those sentenced to ball-and-chain were brought in immedi-
ately, and had the irons fitted to them that had been worn
by some of our men as a punishment for trying to escape
It was not yet determined how punishment should be meted
out to the remainder, but circumstances themselves decided the
matter. Wirz became tired of guarding so large a number as
Key had arrested, and he informed Key that he should turn
them back into the Stockade immediately. Key begged for
little farther time to consider the disposition of the cases, but
Wirz refused it, and ordered the Officer of the Guard to return
all arrested, save those sentenced to death, to the Stock-
ade. In the meantime the news had spread through the prison
that the Raiders were to be sent in again unpunished, and an
angry mob, numbering some thousands, and mostly composed
of men who had suffered injuries at the hands of the maraud-
ers, gathered at the South Gate, clubs in hand, to get such sat-
isfaction as they could out of the rascals. They formed in two.
long, parallel lines, facing inward, and grimly awaited the
incoming of the objects of their vengeance.
The Officer of the Guard opened the wicket in the gate, and
began forcing the Raiders through it—one at a time—at the
point of the bayonet, and each as he entered was told what he
already realized well—that he must run for his life. They
did this with all the energy that they possessed, and as they
ran blows rained on their heads, arms and backs. If they could
Succeed in breaking through the line at any place they were
generally let go without any further punishment. Three of the
number were beaten to death. I saw one of these killed. §
had no liking for the gauntlet performance, and refused to have
240 ANDERSON VILLE,
anything to do with it, as did most, if not all, of my crowd.
While the gauntlet was in operation, I was standing by my tent
at the head of a little street, about two hundred feet from the
dine, watching what was being done. A sailor was let in. He had
a large bowie knife concealed about his person somewhere, which
he drew, and struck Savagely with at his tormentors on either
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side. They fell back from before him, but closed in behind
and pounded him terribly. He broke through the line, and ran
up the street towards me. About midway of the distance
stood a boy who had helped carry a dead man out during the
day, and while out had secured a large pine rail which he had
brought in with him. He was holding this straight up in the
air, as if at a “present arms.” He seemed to have known from
the first that the Raider would run that way. Just as he came
squarely under it, the boy dropped the rail like the bar of a toll
gate. It struck the Raider across the head, felled him as if by
a shot, and his pursuers then beat him to death.
*ºs







CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE EXECUTION – BUILDING THE SCAEFOLD — DOUBTS OF THE
CAMP — CAPTAIN WIRZ THINKS IT IS PROBABLY A RUSE TO
FORCE THE STOCKADE — HIS -PREPARATIONS AGAINST SUCH AN
ATTEMPT — ENTRANCE OF THE DOOMED ONES — THEY FEALIZE
THEIR FATE — ONE MAKES A DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE –
HIS RECAPTURE–INTENSE ExCITEMENT—wſRz ORDERS THE
GUNS TO OPEN — FORTUNATELY THEY DO NOT-THE SIX ARE
HANGED — ONE BREAKS HIS ROPE – SCENE WHEN THE RAIDERS
ARE CUT DOWN.
It began to be pretty generally understood through the prison
that six men had been sentenced to be hanged, though no
authoritative announcement of the fact had been made. There
was much canvassing as to where they should be executed, and
whether an attempt to hang them inside of the Stockade
would not rouse their friends to make a desperate effort to res-
cue them, which would precipitate a general engagement of
even larger proportions than that of the 3d. Despite the
result of the affairs of that and the succeeding days, the camp
was not yet convinced that the Raiders were really conquered,
and the Regulators themselves were not thoroughly at ease on
that score. Some five thousand or six thousand new prisoners
had come in since the first of the month, and it was claimed
that the Raiders had received large reinforcements from those,
—a claim rendered probable by most of the new-comers being
from the Army of the Potomac.
Rey and those immediately about him kept their own counsel
in the matter, and suffered no secret of their intentions to Ieak
out, until on the morning of the 11th, when it became generally
16
242 ANDERSON VILLE.
known that the sentences were to be carried into effect that day,
and inside the prison. - -
My first direct information as to this was by a messenger
from Key with an order to assemble my company and stand
guard over the carpenters who were to erect the scaffold. He
informed me that all the Regulators would be held in readiness
to come to our relief if we were attacked in force. I had
hoped that if the men were to be hanged I would be spared the
unpleasant duty of assisting, for, though I believed they richly
deserved that punishment, I had much rather some one else
administered it upon them. There was no way out of it, how-
ever, that I could see, and so “Egypt” and I got the boys
together, and marched down to the designated place, which
was an open space near the end of the street running from the
South Gate, and kept vacant for the purpose of issuing rations.
It was quite near the spot where the Raiders’ Big Tent had
stood, and afforded as good a view to the rest of the camp as
could be found. *
Key had secured the loan of a few beams and rough planks,
sufficient to build a rude scaffold with. Our first duty was to
care for these as they came in, for such was the need of wood,
and plankfortent purposes, that they would scarcely have fallen
to the ground before they were spirited away, had we not stood
over them all the time with clubs.
The carpenters sent by Key came over and set to work.
The N’Yaarkers gathered around in considerable numbers,
sullen and abusive. They cursed us with all their rich Vocab-
ulary of foul epithets, vowed that we should never carry out
the execution, and swore that they had marked each one for
vengeance. We returned the compliments in kind, and occasion-
ally it seemed as if a general collision was imminent; but we
succeeded in avoiding this, and by noon the scaffold was
finished. It was a very simple affair. A stout beam was
fastened on the top of two posts, about fifteen feet high. At about
the hight of a man's head a couple of boards stretched across
the space between the posts, and met in the center. The ends
at the posts laid on cleats; the ends in the center rested upon
a couple of boards, standing upright, and each having a piece
of rope fastened through a hole in it in such a manner, that a.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITA RY JPRISONS. 243
*
man could snatch it from under the planks serving as the floor
of the scaffold, and let the whole thing drop. A rude ladder to
ascend by completed the preparations. -
As the arrangements neared completion the excitement in
and around the prison grew intense. Key came over with the
balance of the Regulators, and we formed a hollow square
around the scaffold, our company making the line on the East
Side. There were now thirty thousand in the prison. Of
these about one-third packed themselves as tightly about our
Square as they could stand. The remaining twenty thousand
were wedged together in a solid mass on the North Side.
Again I contemplated the wonderful, startling, spectacle of
a mosaic pavement-of-human faces covering the whole-broad
hillside.
Outside, the Rebel infantry was standing in the rifle pits, the
artillerymen were in place about their loaded and trained
pieces, the No. 4 of each gun holding the lanyard cord
in his hand, ready to fire the piece at the instant of command.
The small squad of cavalry was drawn up on the hill near the
Star Fort, and near it were the masters of the hounds, with their
yelping packs.
All the hangers-on of the Rebel camp — clerks, teamsters,
employes, negros, hundreds of white and colored women, in all
forming a motley crowd of between one and two thousand,
were gathered together in a group between the end of the rifle
pits and the Star Fort. They had a good view from there, but
a still better one could be had a little farther to the right, and
in front of the guns. They kept edging up in that direction,
as crowds will, though they knew the danger they would incur
if the artillery opened. - -
The day was broiling hot. The sun shot his perpendicular
rays down with blistering fierceness, and the densely packed,
motionless crowds made the heat almost insupportable.
Rey took up his position inside the square to direct matters.
With him were Limber Jim, Dick McCullough, and One or two
others. Also, Ned Johnson, Tom Larkin, Sergeant Goody,
and three others who were to act as hangmen. Each of these
six was provided with a white sack, such as the Rebels brought
in meal in. Two Corporals of my company—“Stag” Harris
244 - ANDERSON VILLE.
and Wat Payne—were appointed to pull the stays from under
the platform at the signal. • -
A little after noon the South Gate opened, and Wirz rode in,
dressed in a suit of white duck, and mounted on his white
horse—a conjunction which had gained for him the appella-
tion of “Death on a Pale Horse.” Behind him walked the
faithful old priest, wearing his Church’s purple insignia of the
deepest sorrow, and reading the service for the condemned.
The six doomed men followed, walking between double ranks
of Rebel guards.
All came inside the hollow square and halted. Wirz then
said:
“Brizners, I return to you dese men so goot as I got dem.
You haſ tried dem yourselves, and found dem guilty. I haſ
had notting to do wit it. I wash my hands of eferyting con-
nected wit dem. Do wit dem as you like, and may Gott haſ
mercy on you and on dem. Garts, about face | Worwarts,
march 1 °
With this he marched out and left us. * -
For a moment the condemned looked stunned. They seemed
to comprehend for the first time that it was really the deter-
mination of the Regulators to hang them. Before that they had
evidently thought that the talk of hanging was merely bluff.
One of them gasped out : -
“My God, men, you don't really mean to hang us up there?”
Rey answered grimly and laconically:
“That seems to be about the size of it.”
At this they burst out in a passionate storm of intercessions
and imprecations, which lasted for a minute or so, when it
was stopped by one of them saying imperatively: -
“All of you stop now, and let the priest talk for us.” -
At this the priest closed the book upon which he had kept
his eyes bent since his entrance, and facing the multitude on
the North Side began a plea for mercy. ,
The condemned faced in the same direction, to read their
fate in the countenances of those whom he was addressing.
This movement brought Curtis—a low-statured, massively
built man—on the right of their line, and about ten or fifteen
steps from my company. -
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A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 247
The whole camp had been as still as death since Wirz's exit.
The silence seemed to become even more profound as the priest
began his appeal. For a minute every ear was strained to
catch what he said. Then, as the nearest of the thousands
comprehended what he was saying they raised a shout of
“No 1 no // NO !! ”
“Hang them l hang them l’”
“Don’t let them go! Never!”
“Hang the rascals l hang the villains!”
“Hang 'em! hang'em! hang 'em!”
This was taken up all over the prison, and tens of thousands
throats yelled it in a fearful chorus. - -
Curtis turned from the crowd with desperation convulsing
his features. Tearing off the broad-brimmed hat which he
wore, he flung it on the ground with the exclamation:
“By God, I’ll die this way first !” and, drawing his head
down and folding his arms about it, he dashed forward for
the center of my company, like a great stone hurled from a
catapult.
“Egypt” and I saw where he was going to strike, and ran
down the line to help stop him. As he came up we rained
blows on his head with our clubs, but so many of us struck at
him at once that we broke each other's clubs to pieces, and
only knocked him on his knees. He rose with an almost super-
human effort, and plunged into the mass beyond.
The excitement almost became delirium. For an instant I
feared that everything was gone to ruin. “Egypt” and Istrained
every energy to restore our lines, before the break could be
taken advantage of by the others. Our boys behaved splen-
didly, standing firm, and in a few seconds the line was
restored.
As Curtis broke through, Delaney, a brawny Irishman stand-
ing next to him, started to follow. He took one step. At the
same instant Limber Jim's long legs took three great strides,
and placed him directly in front of Delaney. Jim's right hand
held an enormous bowie-knife, and as he raised it above
Delaney he hissed out :
“If you dare move another step, you — — —, I’ll
open you from one end to the other.”
248 ANDERSON VILLE.
Delaney stopped. This checked the others till our lines
reformed.
When Wirz saw the commotion he was panic-stricken with
fear that the long-dreaded assault on the Stockade had begun.
He ran down from the headquarter steps to the Captain of the
battery, shrieking
“Fire fire I fire 12”
The Captain, not being a fool, could see that the rush was not
towards the Stockade, but away from it, and herefrained from
giving the order.
But the spectators who had gotten before the guns, heard
Wirz's excited yell, and remembering the consequences to them-
selves should the artillery be discharged, became frenzied with
fear, and screamed, and fell down over and trampled upon each
other in endeavoring to get away. The guards on that side of
the Stockade ran down in a panic, and the ten thousand pris-
oners immediately around us, expecting no less than that the
next instant we would be swept with grape and canister, stam-
peded tumultuously. There were quite a number of wells right
around us, and all of these were filled full of men that fell into
them as the crowd rushed away. Many had legs and arms bro-
ken, and I have no doubt that several were killed.
It was the stormiest five minutes that I ever saw.
While this was going on two of my company, belonging to
the Fifth Iowa Cavalry, were in hot pursuit of Curtis. I had
seen them start and shouted to them to come back, as I feared
they would be set upon by the Raiders and murdered. But
the din was so overpowering that they could not hear me, and
doubtless would not have come back if they had heard.
Curtis ran diagonally down the hill, jumping over the tents
and knocking down the men who happened in his way. Arriv-
ing at the swamp he plunged in, sinking nearly to his hips in
the fetid, filthy ooze. He forged his way through with terrible
effort. His pursuers followed his example, and caught up to
him just as he emerged on the other side. They struck him on
the back of the head with their clubs, and knocked him down.
By this time order had been restored about us. The guns
remained silent, and the crowd massed around us again. From
where we were we could see the successful end of the chase
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 249
after Curtis, and could see his captors start back with him.
Their success was announced with a roar of applause from the
North Side. Both captors and captured were greatly ex-
hausted, and they were coming back very slowly. Key ordered
the balance up on to the scaffold. They obeyed promptly.
The priest resumed his reading of the service for the condemned.
The excitement seemed to make the doomed ones exceedingly
thirsty. I never saw men drink such inordinate quantities of
water. They called for it continually, gulped down a quart or
more at a time, and kept two men going nearly all the time.
carrying it to them.
When Curtis finally arrived, he sat on the ground for a min-
ute or so, to rest, and then, reeking with filth, slowly and pain-
fully climbed the steps. Delaney seemed to think he was
suffering as much from fright as anything else, and said to
him :
“Come on up, now, show yourself a man, and die game.”
Again the priest resumed his reading, but it had no interest
to Delaney, who kept calling out directions to Pete Donelly,
who was standing in the crowd, as to dispositions to be made
of certain bits of stolen property: to give a watch to this one,
a ring to another, and so on. Once the priest stopped and
said:
“My son, let the things of this earth go, and turn your atten-
tion toward those of heaven.”
Delaney paid no attention to this admonition. The whole
six then began delivering farewell messages to thūse in the
crowd. Key pulled a watch from his pocket and said:
“Two minutes more to talk.”
Delaney said cheerfully:
“Well, good by, bºys; if I’ve hurted any of yez, I hope ye’ll
forgive me. Shpake up, now, any of yez that I’ve hurted, and
say ye'll forgive me.”
We called upon Marion Friend, whose throat Delaney had
tried to cut three weeks before while robbing him of forty
dollars, to come forward, but Friend was not in a forgiving
mood, and refused with an oath.
Key said:
“Time's up!”
$250 4. ANDERSON VILLE,
put the watch back in his pocket and raised his hand like an
officer commanding a gun. Harris and Payne laid hold of the
ropes to the supports of the planks. Each of the six hangmen
tied a condemned man’s hands, pulled a meal sack down over
his head, placed the noose around his neck, drew it up tolerably
close, and sprang to the ground. The priest began praying
aloud.
Key dropped his hand. Payne and Harris Snatched the Sup-
ports out with a single jerk. The planks fell with a clatter.
Five of the bodies swung around dizzily in the air. The sixth
—that of “Mosby,” a large, powerful, raw-boned man, one of
the worst in the lot, and who, among other crimes, had killed
Limber Jim's brother—broke the rope, and fell with a thud to
the ground. Some of the men ran forward, examined the
body, and decided that he still lived. The rope was cut off his
neck, the meal sack removed, and water thrown in his face until
consciousness returned. At the first instant he thought he was
in eternity. He gasped Out:
“Where am I? Am I in the other world?”
Limber Jim muttered that they would soon show him where
he was, and went on grimly fixing up the scaffold anew.
“Mosby’’ soon realized what had happened, and the unrelent-
ing purpose of the Regulator Chiefs. Then he began to beg
piteously for his life, saying: - sº
“O for God’s sake, do not put me up there again! God has
spared my life once. He meant that you should be merciful
to me.” "
Limber Jim deigned him no reply. When the scaffold was
re-arranged, and a stout rope had replaced the broken one, he
pulled the meal sack once more over “Mosby’s ” head, who
never ceased his pleadings. Then picking up the large man as
if he were a baby, he carried him to the scaffold and handed
him up to Tom Larkin, who fitted the noose around his neck
and sprang down. The supports had not been set with the
same delicacy as at first, and Limber Jim had to set his heel
and wrench desperately at them before he could force them
out. Then “Mosby’’ passed away without a struggle.
After hanging till life was extinct, the bodies were cut down,
the mealsacks pulled off their faces, and the Regulators formed
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 25?
two parallel lines, through which all the prisoners passed and
took a look at the bodies. Pete Donnelly and Dick Allen knelt
down and wiped the froth off Delaney’s lips, and swore ven-
geance against those who had done him to death. -->
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
AFTER THE EXECUTION — FORMATION OF A POLICE FORCE — IT?
FIRST CHIEF—“SPANKING” AN of FENDER.
After the executions Key, knowing that he, and all those promi-
‘nently connected with the hanging, would be in hourly danger
of assassination if they remained inside, secured details as
nurses and ward-masters in the hospital, and went outside. In
this crowd were Key, Ned Carrigan, Limber Jim, Dick
McCullough, the six hangmen, the two Corporals who pulled
the props from under the scaffold, and perhaps some others
whom I do not now remember. -
In the meanwhile provision had been made for the future
maintenance of order in the prison by the organization of a
regular police force, which in time came to number twelve
hundred men. These were divided into companies, under
appropriate officers. Guards were detailed for certain loca-
tions, patrols passed through the camp in all directions contin-
ually, and signals with whistles could summon sufficient assist-
ance to suppress any disturbance, or carry out any orders from
the chief.
The chieftainship was first held by Key, but when he went
outside he appointed Sergeant A. R. Hill, of the One Hun-
dredth O. V. I. —now a resident of Wauseon, Ohio, -his suc-
cessor. Hill was one of the notabilities of that immense
throng. A great, broad-shouldered giant, in the prime of his
manhood—the beginning of his thirtieth year—he was as
good-natured as big, and as mild-mannered as brave. He
spoke slowly, softly, and with a slightly rustic twang, that was
very tempting to a certain class of sharps to take him up for a
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. : 253
“lubberly greeny.” The man who did so usually repented his
error in sack-cloth and ashes.
Hill first came into prominence as the victor in the most
stubbornly contested fight in the prison history of Belle Isle.
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modestly; few
Kings of Muscle can, or do. The possession of a right arm
capable of knocking an ordinary man into that indefinite
locality known as “the middle of next week,” is something
that the possessor can as little resist showing as can a girl
her first solitaire ring. To know that one can certainly
strike a disagreeable fellow out of time is pretty sure to breed
a desire to do that thing whenever occasion serves. Jack
Oliver was one who did not let his biceps rust in inaction,
but thrashed everybody on the Island whom he thought
needed it, and his ideas as to those who should be included
in this class widened daily, until it began to appear that he
would soon feel it his duty to let no unwhipped man escape,
but pound everybody on the Island.
SERGEANT A. R. HILL, 100TH o. v. 1.

























































254 - - ANDERSON WILLE.
One day his evil genius led him to abuse a rather elderly man
belonging to Hill's mess. As he fired off his tirade of con-
tumely, Hill said with more than his usual “soft” rusticity:
“Mister—I —don't—think—it —just—right—for —a—
young — man — to — call — an — old — one — such — bad —
names.” º
* Jack Oliver turned on him savagely.
“Well! may be you want to take it up?”
The grin on Hill's face looked still more verdant, as he
answered with gentle deliberation:
“Well—mister—I—don't—go—around—a —hunting—
things—but — I—ginerally—take—care— of — all—that's
—sent—me!”
Jack foamed, but his fiercest bluster could not drive that
infantile smile from Hill's face, nor provoke a change in the
calm slowness of his speech.
It was evident that nothing would do but a battle-royal, and
Jack had sense enough to see that the imperturbable rustic was
likely to give him a job of some difficulty. He went off and
came back with his clan, while Hill’s comrades of the One
Hundredth gathered around to insure him fair play. Jack
pulled off his coat and vest, rolled up his sleeves, and made
other elaborate preparations for the affray. Hill, without
removing a garment, said, as he surveyed him with a mocking
smile: -
“Mister—you —seem —to-be-one—of —them—par-
tick—e —ler—fellers.”
Jack roared out,
“By , I'll make you partickeler before I get through with
you. Now, how shall we settle this? Tegular stand-up-and-
knock-down, or rough and tumble?”
If anything Hill’s face was more vacantly Serene, and his
tones blander than ever, as he answered:
“Strike—any—gait — that —suits—you, - Mister; –I—
guess—I—will—be—able—to-keep—up—with — you.”
They closed. Hill feinted with his left, and as Jack uncov-
ered to guard, he caught him fairly on the lower left ribs, by a
blow from his mighty right fist, that sounded—as one of the
by-standers expressed it—“like striking a hollow log with a
maul.”
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 255
The color in Jack's face paled. He did not seem to under-
stand how he had laid himself open to such a pass, and made
the same mistake, receiving again a sounding blow in the short
ribs. This taught him nothing, either, for again he opened his
guard in response to a feint, and again caught a blow on his
luckless left ribs, that drove the blood from his face and the
breath from his body. He reeled back among his supporters for
an instant to breathe. Tecovering his wind, he dashed at Hill,
feinted strongly with his right, but delivered a terrible kick
against the lower part of the latter's abdomen. Both closed
and fought savagely at half-arm’s length for an instant, during
which Hill struck Jack so fairly in the mouth as to break out
three front teeth, which the latter swallowed. Then they
clenched and struggled to throw each other. Hill's superior
strength and skill crushed his opponent to the ground, and he
fell upon him. As they grappled there, one of Jack's followers
sought to aid his leader by catching Hill by the hair, intending
to kick him in the face. In an instant he was knocked down
by a stalwart member of the One Hundredth, and then literally
lifted out of the ring by kicks.
Jack was soon so badly beaten as to be unable to cry
“enough 1” One of his friends did that service for him, the
fight ceased, and thenceforth Mr. Oliver resigned his pugilistic
crown, and retired to the shades of private life. He died of
scurvy and diarrhea, some months afterward, in Andersonville.
The almost hourly scenes of violence and crime that marked
the days and nights before the Regulators began operations were
now succeeded by the greatest order. The prison was freer
from crime than the best governed City. There were frequent
squabbles and fights, of course, and many petty larcenies. Ra-
tions of bread and of wood, articles of clothing, and the
wretched little cans and half canteens that formed our cooking
utensils, were still stolen, but all these were in a sneak-thief
way. There was an entire absence of the audacious open-day
robbery and murder—the “raiding” of the previous few
weeks. The summary punishment inflicted on the condemned
was sufficient to cow even bolder men than the IRaiders, and
they were frightened into at least quiescence.
Sergeant Hill's administration was vigorous, and secured tº
256 ANDERSON VILLE.
best results. He became a judge of all infractions of 'morals
and law, and sat at the door of his tent to dispense justice to all
comers, like the Cadi of a Mahometan Willage. His judicial
methods and punishments also reminded one strongly of the
primitive judicature of Oriental lands. The wronged one came
before him and told his tale: he had his blouse, or his quart
cup, or his shoes, or his watch, or his money stolen during the
night. The suspected one was also summoned, confronted with
his accuser, and sharply interrogated. Hill would revolve the
stories in his mind, decide the innocence or guilt of the accused,
and if he thought the accusation sustained, order the culprit to
punishment. He did not imitate his Mussulman prototypes to
the extent of bowstringing or decapitating the condemned, nor
did he cut any thief's hands off, nor yet nail his ears to a door-
post, but he introduced a modification of the bastinado that
- made those who were punished
by it even wish they were dead.
The instrument used was what is
called in the South a “shake” —
a split shingle, a yard or more
long, and with one end whittled
down to form a handle. The
culprit was made to bend down
until he could catch around his
ankles with his hands. The part
of the body thus brought into
most prominence was denuded of
{{
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* º * clothing and “spanked” from
|. ** * one to twenty times, as Hill
º * ordered, by the “shake” in some
* º strong and willing hand. It was
to enter very heartily into the
“spANKING " A THIEF. mirth of the Occasion. As a rule
he slept on his face for a week or so after, and took his meals
“standing.
The fear of the spanking, and Hill's skill in detecting the
guilty ones, had a very salutary effect upon the smaller criminals.









A 8TORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 257
The Raiders who had been put into irons were very restive
under the infliction, and begged Hill daily to release them.
They professed the greatest penitence, and promised the most
exemplary behavior for the future. Hill refused to release
them, declaring that they should wear the irons until delivered
up to our Government.
One of the Raiders—named Heffron—had, shortly after his
- arrest, turned State's evidence, and given testimony that assisted
materially in the conviction of his companions. One morning,
a week or so after the hanging, his body was found lying among
the other dead at the South Gate. The impression made by the
fingers of the hand that had strangled him, were still plainly
visible about the throat. There was no doubt as to why he had
been killed, or that the Raiders were his murderers, but the
actual perpetrators were never discovered.
17 -
CHAPTER XXXIX.
JULY —THE PRISON BECOMEs MORE CROWDED, THE WEATHER HOTTER,
RATIONS POORER, AND MORTALITY GREATER— SOME OF THE PHE-
Iº.ſ0MENA OF SUFFERING AND DEATH.
All during July the prisoners came streaming in by hundreds
and thousands from every portion of the long line of battle,
stretching from the Eastern bank of the Mississippi to the
shores of the Atlantic. Over one thousand squandered by
Sturgis at Guntown came in ; two thousand of those captured
in the desperate '. dealt by Iſood against the Army of the
Tennessee on the 22d of the month before Atlanta; hundreds
from IIunter's luckless column in the Shenandoah Valley, thou-
sands from Grant’s lines in front of Petersburg. In all, seven
thousand one hundred and twenty-eight were, during the
month, turned into that seething mass of corrupting humanity
to be polluted and tainted by it, and to assist in turn to make
it fouler and deadlier. Over seventy hecatombs of chosen vic-
tims— of fair youths in the first flush of hopeful manhood, at
the threshold of a life of honor to themselves and of useful-
ness to the community; beardless boys, rich in the priceless
affections of homes, fathers, mothers, sisters and sweethearts,
with minds thrilling with high aspirations for the bright
future, were sent in as the monthly sacrifice to this Minotaur
of the Rebellion, who, couched in his foul lair, slew them, not
with the merciful delivery of speedy death, as his Cretan
prototype did the annual tribute of Athenian youths and maidens,
but, gloating over his prey, doomed them to lingering destruc-
tion. He rotted their flesh with the scurvy, racked their minds
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 259
with intolerable suspense, burned their bodies with the slow fire
of famine, and delighted in each separate pang, until they
sank beneath the fearful accumulation. Theseus—the de-
liverer—was coming. His terrible sword could be seen gleam-
ing as it rose and fell on the banks of the James, and in the
mountains beyond Atlanta, where he was hewing his way
towards them and the heart of the Southern Confederacy. But
he came too late to save them. Strike as swiftly and as heavily
as he would, he could not strike so hard nor so sure at his foes
with Saber blow and musket shot, as they could at the hapless
youths with the dreadful armament of starvation and disease,
Though the deaths were one thousand eight hundred and
seventeen—more than were killed at the battle of Shiloh – this
left the number in the prison at the end of the month thirty-one
thousand six hundred and seventy-eight. Let me assist the
reader's comprehension of the magnitude of this number by
giving the population of a few important Cities, according to
the census of 1870:
Cambridge, Mass 39,639
Charleston, S. C. ...48,956
Charlestown, Mass. © tº e º gº ºn tº 28,323
Columbus, O 31,274
Dayton, O 30,473
Hall River, Mass ---26,766
Hartford, Conn * * * - 37,180
Kansas City, Mo is ºs se - m as ºn ºn 32,260
Lawrence, Mass 28,921
Lynn, Mass.----- .... -----28,233
Memphis, Tenn 40,266
Mobile, Ala.-----.... * - ºn m ----32,034
Paterson, N. J. 33,579
Portland, Me. - - - - tº º ſº tº gº ºn tº º º sº tº gº º tº º 'º - 31,413
Reading, Pa. –33,930
Savannah, ſºa. 28,235
Syracuse, N.Y. 43,051
Toledo, O ... ------------81,584
Utica, N. Y.----- –28,804
Wilmington, Del. 30,840
The number of prisoners exceeded the whole number of men
between the ages of eighteen and forty-five in several of the
260 ANDERSON VILLE.
States and Territories in the Union. Here, for instance, are
the returns for 1870, of men of military age in some portions
of the country:
Arizona ---------------------- tº tº - tº 5,157
Colorado ---- -15,156
Dakota tº- 5,301
Florida ---- 34,539
Idaho -------------------------------------------------------------------- 9,431
Montana * * * * * - tº º tº tº º º ºs º ºs sº tº ºn ºf wº 12,418
Nebraska 35,677
Nevada ---- 24,762
New Hampshire tº s sº tº 60,684
Oregon----- º, ºn wº wº ------23,959
Rhode Island ----------------------------------------------------------- 44,377
Vermont----------------------------------------------------------------- 62,450
West Virginia - - - as 76,832
It was more soldiers than could be raised to-day, under strong
pressure, in either Alabama, Arizona, Arkansas, California,
Colorado, Connecticut, Dakota, Delaware, District of Columbia,
Florida, Idaho, Louisiana, Maine, Minnesota, Montana, Nebras-
ka, Nevada, New Hampshire, New Mexico, Oregon, Rhode
Island, South Carolina, Utah, Vermont or West Virginia.
These thirty-one thousand six hundred and seventy-eight
active young men, who were likely to find the confines of a
State too narrow for them, were cooped up on thirteen acres
of ground—less than a farmer gives for play-ground for a half
dozen colts or a small flock of sheep. There was hardly room
for all to lie down at night, and to walk a few hundred feet in
any direction would require an hour's patient threading of the
mass of men and tents.
The weather became hotter and hotter; at midday the sand
would burn the hand. The thin skins of fair and auburn-haired
men blistered under the sun’s rays, and swelled up in great
watery puffs, which soon became the breeding grounds of the
hideous maggots, or the still more deadly gangrene. The
loathsome swamp-grew in rank offensiveness with every burn-
ing hour. The pestilence literally stalked at noon-day, and
struck his victims down on every hand. One could not look a
rod in any direction without seeing at least a dozen men in the
last frightful stages of rotting Death.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 261
Let me describe the scene immediately around my own tent
during the last two weeks of July, as a sample of the con-
dition of the whole prison: I will take a
space not larger than a good sized parlor or
sitting room. On this were at least fifty
§: , of us. Directly in front of me lay two
§ brothers—named Sherwood—belonging to
§ Company I, of my battalion, who came
originally from Missouri. They were now
in the last stages of scurvy and diarrhea.
Every particle of muscle and fat about
their limbs and bodies had apparently
wasted away, leaving the skin clinging
close to the bone of the face, arms, hands,
ribs and thighs—everywhere except the
feet and legs, where it was swollen tense
and transparent, distended with gallons of
purulent matter. Their livid gums, from
which most of their teeth had already
'fallen, protruded far beyond their lips. To
war wounded minoissen their left lay a Sergeant and two others of
GEANT. their company, all three slowly dying from
diarrhea, and beyond was a fair-haired German, young and
intelligent looking, whose life was ebbing tediously away.
To my right was a handsome young Sergeant of an Illinois
Infantry Regiment, captured at Kenesaw. His left arm had
been amputated between the shoulder and elbow, and he
was turned into the Stockade with the stump all undressed,
save the ligating of the arteries. Of course, he had not been
inside an hour until the maggot flies had laid eggs in the open
wound, and before the day was gone the worms were hatched
out, and rioting amid the inflamed and super-sensitive nerves,
where their every motion was agony. Accustomed as we
were to misery, we found a still lower depth in his misfortune,
and I would be happier could I forget his pale, drawn face, as
he wandered uncomplainingly to and fro, holding his maimed
limb with his right hand, Occasionally stopping to Squeeze it, as
One does a boil, and press from it a stream of maggots and pus.
I do not think he ate or slept for a week before he died. Next

262 ANDERSON VILLE.
to him staid an Irish Sergeant of a New York Regiment, a fine
soldierly man, who, with pardonable pride, wore, conspicuously
on his left breast, a medal gained by gallantry while a British
soldier in the Crimea. He was wasting away with diarrhea,
and died before the month was out.
This was what one could see on every square rod of the
prison. Where I was was not only no worse than the rest of
the prison, but was probably much better and healthier, as it
was the highest ground inside, farthest from the Swamp, and
having the dead line on two sides, had a ventilation that those
nearer the center could not possibly have. Yet, with all these
conditions in our favor, the mortality was as I have described.
Near us an exasperating idiot,
who played the flute, had
established himself. Like all
poor players, he affected the
low, mournful notes, as plaint-
ive as the distant cooing of the
dove in lowering weather. He
played or rather tooted away
§§ in his “blues”-inducing strain
ºMW \, 㺠hour after hour, despite our
. \º ~ energetic protests, and occa-
==
-**
–F
ğ sional fling of a club at him.
*Nº There was no more stop to him
& than to a man with a hand-
Organ, and to this day the low,
sad notes of a flute are the Swiftest reminder to me of those
sorrowful, death-laden days.
I had an illustration one morning of how far decomposition
would progress in a man’s body before he died. My chum and
I found a treasure-trove in the streets, in the shape of the body
of a man who died during the night. The value of this “find ’’
was that if we took it to the gate, we would be allowed to
carry it outside to the deadhouse, and on our way back have an
opportunity to pick up a chunk of wood, to use in cooking.
While discussing our good luck another party came up and
claimed the body. A verbal dispute led to one of blows, in
which we came off victorious, and I hastily caught hold of the
THE IDIOTIC, FLUTE-P1, AYER.




A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 268
arm near the elbow to help bear the body away. The skin gave
way under my hand, and slipped with it down to the wrist, like
a torn sleeve. It was sickening, but I clung to my prize, and
secured a very good chunk of wood while outside with it. The
wood was very much needed by my mess, as our squad had
then had none for more than a week.
CHAPTER XL.
THE BATTLE OF THE 22D OF JULY — THE ARMY OF THE TENNESSEE
ASSAULTED FRONT AND REAR — DEATH OF GENERAL, MCPHERSON:
- ASSUMPTION OF COMMAND BY GENERAL LOGAN — RESULT OF
THE BATTLE. ur
Naturally, we had a consuming hunger for news of what
was being accomplished by our armies toward crushing the
Rebellion. Now, more than ever, had we reason to ardently
wish for the destruction of the Rebel power. Before capture
we had love of country and a natural desire for the triumph of .
her flag to animate us. Now we had a hatred of the Rebels
that passed expression, and a fierce longing to see those who
daily tortured and insulted us trampled down in the dust of
humiliation.
The daily arrival of prisoners kept us tolerably well informed
as to the general progress of the campaign, and we added to
the information thus obtained by getting — almost daily— in
some manner or another—a copy of a Rebel paper. Most fre-
quently these were Atlanta papers, or an issue of the “Memphis-
Corinth-Jackson-Grenada-Chattanooga-Resacca-Marietta-Atlan-
ta Appeal,” as they used to facetiously term a Memphis paper
that left that City when it was taken in 1862, and for two years
fell back from place to place, as Sherman's Army advanced,
until at last it gave up the struggle in September, 1864, in
a little Town south of Atlanta, after about two thousand miles
of weary retreat from an indefatigable pursuer. The papers
were brought in by “fresh fish,” purchased from the guards
at from fifty cents to one dollar apiece, or occasionally thrown
in to us when they had some specially disagreeable intelligence,
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 265;
like the defeat of Banks, or Sturgis, or Hunter, to exult over.
I was particularly fortunate in getting hold of these. Becom-
ing installed as general reader for a neighborhood of several
thousand men, everything of this kind was immediately brought
to me, to be read aloud for the benefit of everybody. All the
older prisoners knew me by the nick-name of “Illinoy’” — a
designation arising from my wearing on my cap, when I
entered prison, a meat little white metal badge of “ILLs.” When
any reading matter was brought into our neighborhood, there
would be a general cry of
“Take it up to ‘Illinoy,’”
and then hundreds would mass around my quarters to hear the
news read. -
The Rebel papers usually had very meager reports of the
operations of the armies, and these were greatly distorted, but
they were still very interesting, and as we always started in to
read with the expectation that the whole statement was a mass
of perversions and lies, where truth was an infrequent accident,
we were not likely to be much impressed with it.
There was a marked difference in the tone of the reports
brought in from the different armies. Sherman's men were
always sanguine. They had no doubt that they were pushing
the enemy straight to the wall, and that every day brought the
Southern Confederacy much nearer its downfall. Those from
the Army of the Potomac were never so hopeful. They would
admit that Grant was pounding Lee terribly, but the shadow of
the frequent defeats of the Army of the Potomac seemed to
hang depressingly over them.
There came a day, however, when our Sanguine hopes as to
Sherman were checked by a possibility that he had failed; that
his long campaign towards Atlanta had culminated in such a
reverse under the very walls of the City as would compel an
abandonment of the enterprise, and possibly a humiliating
retreat. We knew that Jeff. Davis and his Government were
strongly dissatisfied with the Fabian policy of Joe Johnston.
The papers had told us of the Rebel President's visit to
Atlanta, of his bitter comments on Johnston's tactics; of his
going so far as to sneer about the necessity of providing pon-
toons at Key West, so that Johnston might continue his retreat,
$266 ANDERSON VILLE,
even to Cuba. Then came the news of Johnston's supersession
by Hood, and the papers were full of the exulting predictions
of what would now be accomplished “when that gallant young
soldier is once fairly in the saddle.”
All this meant one supreme effort to arrest the onward course
of Sherman. It indicated a resolve to stake the fate of Atlanta,
and the fortunes of the Confederacy in the West, upon the
hazard of one desperate fight. We watched the summoning up
of every Rebel energy for the blow with apprehension. We
dreaded another Chickamauga. *
The blow fell on the 22d of July. It was well planned. The
Army of the Tennessee, the left of Sherman’s forces, was the
part struck. On the night of the 21st Hood marched a heavy
force around its left flank and gained its rear. On the 22d this
force fell on the rear with the impetuous violence of a cyclone,
while the Rebels in the works immediately around Atlanta
attacked furiously in front.
It was an ordeal that no other army ever passed through
successfully. The steadiest troops in Europe would think it
foolhardiness to attempt to withstand an assault in force in
front and rear at the same time. The finest legions that follow
any flag to-day must almost inevitably succumb to such a mode
of attack. But the seasoned veterans of the Army of the Ten-
nessee encountered the shock with an obstinacy which showed
that the finest material for soldiery this planet holds was
that in which undaunted hearts beat beneath blue blouses. Spring-
ing over the front of their breastworks, they drove back with
a withering fire the force assailing them in the rear. This
beaten off, they jumped back to their proper places, and
repulsed the assault in front. This was the way the battle was
waged until night compelled a cessation of operations. Our
boys were alternately behind the breastworks firing at Rebels
advancing upon the front, and in front of the works firing upon
those coming up in the rear. Sometimes part of our line would
be on one side of the works, and part on the other.
In the prison we were greatly excited over the result of the
engagement, of which we were uncertain for many days.
A host of new prisoners—perhaps two thousand—was brought
in from there, but as they were captured during the progress of
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 267
the fight, they could not speak definitely as to its issue. The
Rebel papers exulted without stint over what they termed “a
glorious victory.” They were particularly jubilant over the
death of McPherson, who, they claimed, was the brain and
guiding hand of Sherman’s army. One paper likened him to
the pilot-fish, which guides the shark to his prey. Now that
he was gone, said the paper, Sherman’s army becomes a great
lumbering hulk, with no one in it capable of directing it, and
it must soon fall to utter ruin under the skilfully delivered
strokes of the gallant Hood.
We also knew that great numbers of wounded had been
brought to the prison hospital, and this seemed to confirm the
Rebel claim of a victory, as it showed they retained possession
of the battle field.
About the 1st of August a large squad of Sherman’s men,
captured in one of the engagements subsequent to the 22d, came
in. We gathered around them eagerly. Among them Inoticed
a bright, curly-haired, blue-eyed infantryman—or boy, rather,
as he was yet beardless. His cap was marked “68th O. W. W.
I.,” his sleeves were garnished with re-enlistment stripes, and on
the breast of his blouse was a silver arrow. To the eye of the
soldier this said that he was a veteran member of the Sixty-Eighth
Regiment of Ohio Infantry (that is, having already served
three years, he had re-enlisted for the war), and that he belonged
to the Third Division of the Seventeenth Army Corps. He
was so young and fresh looking that one could hardly believe
him to be a veteran, but if his stripes had not said this,
the soldierly arrangement of clothing and accoutrements, and
the graceful, self-possessed pose of limbs and body would have
told the observer that he was one of those “Old Reliables” with
whom Sherman and Grant had already subdued a third of the
Confederacy. His blanket, which, for a wonder, the Rebels had
neglected to take from him, was tightly rolled, its ends tied
together, and thrown over his shoulder scarf-fashion. His
pantaloons were tucked inside his stocking tops, that were
pulled up as far as possible, and tied tightly around his ankle
with a string. A none-too-clean haversack, containing the
inevitable sooty quart cup, and even blacker half-canteen, was
slung easily from the shoulder opposite to that on which the
368 ANDERSON WILL.E.
blanket rested. Hand him his faithful Springfield rifle, put
three days' rations in his haversack, and forty rounds in his
cartridge box, and he would be ready, without an instant's
demur or question, to march
to the ends of the earth, and
fight anything that crossed
his path. He was a type of
the honest, honorable, self-
respecting American boy, who,
as a soldier, the world has not
equaled in the sixty centuries
that war has been a profession.
I suggested to him that he
was rather a youngster to be
wearing veteran chevrons.
“Yes,” said he, “I am not
so old as some of the rest of
the boys, but I have seen
about as much service and
º, been in the business about as
iſ long as any of them. They
tº call me ‘Old Dad, I suppose
because I was the youngest
boy in the Regiment, when
we first entered the service,
ONE OF SHERMAN’s “WETERANs.” though our whole Company,
officers and all, were only a lot of boys, and the Regiment to
day, what’s left of 'em, are about as young a lot of officers and
men as there are in the service. Why, our old Colonel ain’t
only twenty-four years old now, and he has been in command ever
since we went into Wicksburg. I have heard it said by our
boys that since we veteranized the whole Regiment, officers,
and men, average less than twenty-four years old. But they
are grayhounds to march and stayers in a fight, you bet. Why,
the rest of the troops over in West Tennessee used to call our
Brigade ‘Leggett's Cavalry,’ for they always had us chasing
Old Forrest, and we kept him skedaddling, too, pretty lively.
But I tell you we did get into a red hot scrimmage on the
22d. It just laid over Champion Hills, or any of the big fights

A §TORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 269
around Wicksburg, and they were lively enough to amuse any
one.”
“So you were in the affair on the 22d, were you? We are
awful anxious to hear all about it. Come over here to my quar-
ters and tell us all you know. All we know is that there has
been a big fight, with McPherson killed, and a heavy loss of
life besides, and the Rebels claim a great victory.”
“O, they be It was the sickest victory they ever got.
About one more victory of that kind would make their infernal
old Confederacy ready for a coroner's inquest. Well, I can tell
you pretty much all about that fight, for I reckon if the truth
was known, our regiment fired about the first and last shot that
opened and closed the fighting on that day. Well, you see the
whole Army got across the river, and were closing in around the
City of Atlanta. Our Corps, the Seventeenth, was the extreme
left of the army, and were moving up toward the City from the
East. The Fifteenth (Logan's) Corps joined us on the right,
then the Army of the Cumberland further to the right. We
run onto the Rebs about sundown the 21st. They had
some breastworks on a ridge in front of us, and we had a pretty
sharp fight before we drove them off. We went right to work,
and kept at it all night in changing and strengthening the old
Rebel barricades, fronting them towards Atlanta, and by morn-
ing had some good solid works along our whole line. During
the night we fancied we could hear wagons or artillery moving
away in front of us, apparently going South, or towards our
left. About three or four o'clock in the morning, while I was
shoveling dirt like a beaver out on the works, the Lieutenant
came to me and said the Colonel wanted to see me, pointing to
a large tree in the rear, where I could find him. I reported and
found him with General Leggett, who commanded our Division,
talking mighty serious, and Bob Wheeler, of F Company,
standing there with his Springfield at a parade rest. As soon
as I came up, the Colonel says:
“‘Boys, the General wants two level-headed chaps to go out
beyond the pickets to the front and toward the left. I have
selected you for the duty. Go as quietly as possible and as fast
as you can; keep your eyes and ears open; don’t fire a shot if
you can help it, and come back and tell us exactly what you
have seen and heard, and not what you imagine or suspect. I
have selected you for the duty.’
“He gave us the countersign, and off we started over the
breastworks and through the thick woods. We soon came to
our skirmish or pickets, only a few rods in front of our works,
and cautioned them not to fire on us in going or returning. We
went out as much as half a mile or more, until we could plainly
hear the sound of wagons and artillery. We then cautiously
crept forward until we could see the main road leading south
from the City filled with marching men, artillery and teams.
We could hear the commands of the officers and see the flags
and banners of regiment after regiment as they passed us.
We got back quietly and quickly, passed through our picket
line all right, and found the General and our Colonel sitting on
a log where we had left them, waiting for us. We reported
what we had seen and heard, and gave it as our opinion
*-*. that the Johnnies were
evacuating Atlanta.
The General shook his
head, and the Colonel
says: ‘You may re-
turn to your company.’
Bob says to me:
“‘The old General
Shakes his head as
though he thought them
A d-d Rebs ain’t evacu-
* ating Atlanta so mighty
* Sudden, but are up to
Some devilment again.
I ain’t sure but he's
right. They aint going
- “You HEAR ME.” - to keep falling back and
- . falling back to all eter-
nity, but are just agoin’ to give us a rip-roaring great big fight
one o' these days—when they get a good ready. You hear me!’
“Saying which we both went to our companies, and laid down
to get a little sleep. It was about daylight then, and I must
have snoozed away until near noon, when I heard the order
ºº

A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON8. 27?
“fall in l’ and found the regiment getting into line, and the boys
all talking about going right into Atlanta; that the Rebels had
evacuated the City during the night, and that we were going
to have a race with the Fifteenth Corps as to which would get
into the City first. We could look away out across a large
field in front of our works, and see the skirmish line advancing
steadily towards the main works around the City. Not a shot
was being fired on either side.
“To our surprise, instead of marching to the front and toward
the City, we filed off into a small road cut through the woods.
and marched rapidly to the rear. We could not understand
What it meant. We marched at quick time, feeling pretty mad
that we had to go to the rear, when the rest of our Division
were going into Atlanta.
“We passed the Sixteenth Corps lying on their arms, back
in some open fields, and the wagon trains of our Corps alk
comfortably corralled, and finally found ourselves out by the
Seventeenth Corps headquarters. Two or three companies.
were sent out to picket several roads that seemed to cross at
that point, as it was reported ‘Rebel Cavalry’ had been seen on
these roads but a short time before, and this accounted for Our
being rushed out in such a great hurry.
“We had just stacked arms and were going to take a little
rest after our rapid march, when several Rebel prisoners were:
brought in by some of the boys who had straggled a little.
They found the Rebels on the road we had just marched out on.
Up to this time not a shot had been fired. All was quiet back
at the main works we had just left, when suddenly we saw
several staff officers come tearing up to the Colonel, who ordered
us to “fall in l’ ‘take arms l’ ‘about, face l’ The Lieutenant
Colonel dashed down one of the roads where one of the com-
panies had gone out on picket. The Major and Adjutant.
galloped down the others. We did not wait for them to come
back, though, but moved right back on the road we had just
come out, in line of battle, Our colors in the road, and our flanks
in open timber. We soon reached a fence enclosing a large
field, and there could see a line of Rebels moving by the flank,
and forming, facing toward Atlanta, but to the left and in the
rear of the position occupied by Our Corps. As soon as we,
272 ANDERSON VILLE,
reached the fence we fired a round or two into the backs of
these gray coats, who broke into confusion.
“Just then the other companies joined us, and we moved off
on ‘double quick by the right flank,’ for you see we were com-
pletely cut off from the troops up at the front, and we had to
get well over to the right to get around the flank of the IRebels.
Just about the time we fired on the Rebels the Sixteenth Corps
opened up a hot fire of musketry and artillery on them, some
of their shot coming over mighty close to where we were. We
marched pretty fast, and finally turned in through some open
fields to the left, and came out just in the rear of the Sixteenth
Corps, who were fighting like devils along their whole line.
“Just as we came out into the open field we saw General R.
K. Scott, who used to be our Colonel, and who commanded our
brigade, come tearing toward us with one or two aids or order-
lies. He was on his big clay-bank horse, “Old Hatchie,” as we
called him, as we captured him on the battlefield at the battle
of ‘Matamora,’ or ‘Hell on the Hatchie,’ as our boys always
called it. He rode up to the Colonel, said something hastily,
when all at once we heard the all-firedest crash of musketry and
artillery way up at the front where we had built the works the
night before and left the rest of our brigade and Division get-
ting ready to prance into Atlanta when we were sent off to the
rear. Scott put spurs to his old horse, who was one of the fast-
est runners in our Division, and away he went back towards the
position where his brigade and the troops immediately to their
left were now hotly engaged. Iſe rode right along in rear of the
Sixteenth Corps, paying no attention apparently to the shot and
shell and bullets that were tearing up the earth and exploding
and striking all around him. His aids and orderlies vainly
tried to keep up with him. We could plainly see the Rebel
lines as they came out of the woods into the open grounds to
attack the Sixteenth Corps, which had hastily formed in the
open field, without any signs of works, and were standing up
like men, having a hand-to-hand fight. We were just far enough
in the rear so that every blasted shot or shell that was fired too
high to hit the ranks of the Sixteenth Corps came rattling
over amongst us. All this time we were marching fast, follow-
ing in the direction General Scott had taken, who evidently had
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 273
ordered the Colonel to join his brigade up at the front. We
Were down under the crest of a little hill, following along the
bank of a little creek, keeping under cover of the bank as much
as possible to protect us from the shots of the enemy. We
suddenly saw General Logan and one or two of his staff upon
it. • *
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LOGAN TAKING COMMAND OF THE ARMY OF THE TENNESSEE.
the right bank of the ravine riding rapidly toward us. As he
neared the head of the regiment he shouted:
“‘Halt! What regiment is that, and where are you going?”
“The Colonel, in a loud voice, that all could hear, told him :
“The Sixty-Eighth Ohio; going to join our brigade of the
Third Division—your old Division, General, of the Seventeenth
Corps.”
“Logan says, “you had better go right in here on the left of
Dodge. The Third Division have hardly ground enough left
now to bury their dead. God knows they need you. But try it
on, if you think you can get to them.”
“Just at this moment a staff officer came riding up on the

18
274 ANDERSON VILLE.
opposite side of the ravine from where Logan was and inter-
rupted Logan, who was about telling the Colonel not to try to
go to the position held by the Third Division by the road cut
through the woods whence we had come out, but to keep off to
the right towards the Fifteenth Corps, as the woods referred to
were full of Rebels. The officer saluted Logan, and shouted
aCrOSS : +
“‘General Sherman directs me to inform you of the death of
General McPherson, and orders you to take command of the
Army of the Tennessee; have Dodge close well up to the
Seventeenth Corps, and Sherman will reinforce you to the
extent of the whole army.”
“Logan, standing in his stirrups, on his beautiful black horse,
formed a picture against the blue sky as we looked up the
ravine at him, his black eyes fairly blazing and his long black
hair waving in the wind. He replied in a ringing, clear tone
that we all could hear: -
“‘Say to General Sherman I have heard of McPherson's
death, and have assumed the command of the Army of the
Tennessee, and have already anticipated his orders in regard to
closing the gap between Dodge and the Seventeenth Corps.’
“This, of course, all happened in One quarter of the time I
have been telling you. Logan put spurs to his horse and rode
in one direction, the staff officer of General Sherman in another,
and we started on a rapid step toward the front. This was the
first we had heard of McPherson’s death, and it made us feel
very bad. Some of the officers and men cried as though they
had lost a brother; others pressed their lips, gritted their teeth,
and swore to avenge his death. He was a great favorite with
all his Army, particularly of Our Corps, which he commanded
for a long while. Our company, especially, knew him well,
and loved him dearly, for we had been his Headquarters Guard
for over a year. As we marched along, toward the front, we
could see brigades, and regiments, and batteries of artillery,
coming over from the right of the Army, and taking position
in new lines in rear of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps.
Major Generals and their staffs, Brigadier Generals and their
staffs, were mighty thick along the banks of the little ravine
we were following; stragglers and wounded men by the
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 275
hundred were pouring in to the safe shelter formed by the
broken ground along which we were rapidly marching; stories
were heard of divisions, brigades and regiments that these
wounded or stragglers belonged, having been all cut to pieces;
officers all killed; and the speaker, the only one of his command
not killed, wounded or captured. But you boys have heard and
seen the same cowardly sneaks, probably, in fights that you
were in. The battle raged furiously all this time; part of the
time the Sixteenth Corps seemed to be in the worst; then it
would let up on them and the Seventeenth Corps would be
hotly engaged along their whole front.
“We had probably marched half an hour since leaving Logan,
and were getting pretty near back to our main line of works,
when the Colonel ordered a halt and knapsacks to be unslung
and piled up. I tell you it was a relief to get them off, for it
was a fearful hot day, and we had been marching almost double
quick. We knew that this meant business though, and that we
were stripping for the fight, which we would soon be in. Just
at this moment we saw an ambulance, with the horses on a dead
run, followed by two or three mounted officers and men, coming
right towards us out of the very woods Logan had cautioned
the Colonel to avoid. When the ambulance got to where we
were it halted. It was pretty well out of danger from the
bullets and shell of the enemy. They stopped, and we recog-
nized Major Strong, of McPherson’s Staff, whom we all knew,
as he was the Chief Inspector of our Corps, and in the ambu-
lance he had the body of General McPherson. Major Strong,
it appears, during a slight lull in the fighting at that part of
the line, having taken an ambulance and driven into the very
jaws of death to recover the remains of his loved commander.
It seems he found the body right by the side of the little road
that we had gone out on when we went to the rear. He was
dead when he found him, having been shot off his horse, the
bullet striking him in the back, just below his heart, probably
killing him instantly. There was a young fellow with him who
was wounded also, when Strong found them. He belonged to
our First Division, and recognized General McPherson, and
stood by him until Major Strong came up. He was in the
ambulance with the body of McPherson when they stopped by us.
276 ANDERSON WILLE.
“It seems that when the fight opened away back in the rear
where we had been, and at the left of the Sixteenth Corps,
which was almost directly in the rear of the Seventeenth Corps,
McPherson sent his staff and orderlies with various orders to
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DEATH OF M'PHERSON.
different parts of the line, and started himself to ride over
from the Seventeenth Corps to the Sixteenth Corps, taking
exactly the same course our Tegiment had, perhaps an hour
before, but the Rebels had discovered there was a gap between
the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Corps, and meeting no opposi-
tion to their advances in this strip of woods, where they were
hidden from view, they had marched right along down in the
rear, and with their line at right angles with the line of works
occupied by the left of the Seventeenth Corps; they were thus
parallel and close to the little road McPherson had taken, and
probably he rode right into them and was killed before he real-
ized the true situation.





















A STORY OF FEBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 277
“Having piled our knapsacks, and left a couple of our older
men, who were played out with the heat and most ready to
drop with sunstroke, to guard them, we started on again. The
ambulance with the corpse of Gen. McPherson moved off
towards the right of the Army, which was the last we ever saw
of that brave and handsome soldier.
“We bore off a little to the right of a large open field on top
of a high hill where one of our batteries was pounding away at
a tremendous rate. We came up to the main line of works just
about at the left of the Fifteenth Corps. They seemed to be
having an easy time of it just then — no fighting going on in
their front, except occasional-shots from some heavy guns on
the main line of Rebel works around the City. We crossed
right over the Fifteenth Corps' works and filed to the left,
keeping along on the outside of our works. We had not gone
far before the Rebel gunners in the main works around the
City discovered us; and the way they did tear loose at us was a
caution. Their aim was rather bad, however, and most of their
shots went over us. We saw one of them — I think it was a
shell—strike an artillery caisson belonging to one of our bat-
teries. It exploded as it struck, and then the caisson, which
was full of ammunition, exploded with an awful noise, throw-
ing pieces of wood and iron and its own load, of shot and shell
high into the air, scattering death and destruction to the men
and horses attached to it. We thought we saw arms and legs
and parts of bodies of men flying in every direction; but we
were glad to learn afterwards that it was the contents of the
knapsacks of the Battery boys, who had strapped them on the
caissons for transportation.
“Just after passing the hill where our battery was making
things so lively, they stopped firing to let us pass. We saw
General Leggett, our Division Commander, come riding toward
us. He was outside of our line of works, too. You know how we
build breastworks—sort of ZigZag like, you know, so they can-
not be enfiladed. Well, that’s just the way the works were
along there, and you never saw such a curious shape as we
formed our Division in. Why, part of them were on one side
of the works, and go along a little further and here was a reg-
278 ANDERSON VILLE.
iment, or part of a regiment on the other side, both sets firing
in opposite directions.
“No sir'ee, they were not demoralized or in confusion, they
were cool and as steady as on parade. But the Old Division
had, you know, never been driven from any position they had
once taken, in all their long service, and they did not propose
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to leave that ridge until they got orders from some one beside
the Rebs.
“There were times when a fellow did not know which side
of the works was the safest, for the Johnnies were in front of
us and in rear of us. You see, our Fourth Division, which had
been to the left of us, had been forced to quit their works, when
the Rebs got into the works in their rear, so that our Division
was now at the point where our line turned sharply to the left,
and rear—in the direction of the Sixteenth Corps.
“We got into business before we had been there over three
minutes. A line of the Rebs tried to charge agross the open
fields in front of us, but by the help of the old twenty-four-
pounders (which proved to be part of Cooper's Illinois Battery,
that we had been alongside of in many a hard fight before),
we drove them back a-flying, only to have to jump over on the
outside of our works the next minute to tackle a heavy force












A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON S. 27 A
that came for our rear through that blasted strip of woods.
We soon drove them off, and the firing on both sides seemed to
have pretty much stopped.
“‘Our Brigade,’ which we discovered, was now commanded
by ‘Old Whiskers” (Colonel Wiles, of the Seventy-Eighth Ohio.
I’ll bet he's got the longest whiskers of any man in the Army.)
You see General Scott had not been seen or heard of since he
had started to the rear after our regiment when the fighting
first commenced. We all believed that he was either killed or
captured, or he would have been with his command. He was a
splendid soldier, and a bull-dog of a fighter. His absence was
a great loss, but we had not much time to think of such things,
for our brigade was then ordered to leave the works and to
move to the right about twenty or thirty rods across a large
ravine, where we were placed in position in an open corn-field,
forming a new line at quite an angle from the line of works we
had just left, extending to the left, and getting us back nearer
on to a line with the Sixteenth Corps. The battery of howit-
zers, now reinforced by a part of the Third Ohio heavy guns,
still occupied the old works on the highest part of the hill, just
to the right of our new line. We took our position just on the
brow of a hill, and were ordered to lie down, and the rear rank
to go for rails, which we discovered a few rods behind us in the
shape of a good ten-rail fence. Every rear-rank chap came
back with all the rails he could lug, and we barely had time to
lay them down in front of us, forming a little baricade of six
to eight or ten inches high, when we heard the most unearthly
Rebel yell directly in front of us. It grew louder and came
nearer and nearer, until we could see a solid line of the gray
coats coming out of the woods and down the opposite slope,
their battle flags flying, officers in front with drawn swords,
arms at right shoulder, and every one of them yelling like so
many Sioux Indians. The line seemed to be massed six or
eight ranks deep, followed closely by the second line, and that
by the third, each, if possible, yelling louder and appearing
more desperately reckless than the one ahead. At their first
appearance we opened on them, and so did the bully old twenty-
four-pounders, with canister.
“On they came; the first line staggered and wavered back on
A80 - AINTERSON VILLE.
to the second, which was coming on the double quick. Such a
raking as we did give them. Oh, Lordy, how we did wish that
we had the breech loading Spencers or Winchesters. But we
had the old reliable Springfields, and we poured it in hot and
heavy. By the time the charging column got down the oppo-
site slope, and were struggling through the thicket of under-
growth in the ravine, they were one confused mass of officers
and men, the three lines now forming one solid column, which
made several desperate efforts to rush up to the top of the hill
where we were punishing them so. One of their first surges
came mighty near going right over the left of our Regiment,
as they were lying down behind their little rail piles. But the
boys clubbed their guns and the officers used their revolvers
and swords and drove them back down the hill. -
“The Seventy-Eighth and Twentieth Ohio, our right and left
bowers, who had been brigaded with us ever since ‘Shiloh,’
were into it as hot and heavy as we had been, and had lost
numbers of their officers and men, but were hanging on to their
little rail piles when the fight was over. At one time the Rebs
were right in on top of the Seventy-Eighth. One big Reb
grabbed their colors, and tried to pull them out of the hands of
the color-bearer. But old Captain Orr, a little, short, dried-up
fellow, about sixty years old, struck him with his sword across
the back of the reck, and killed him deader than a mackerel,
right in his tracks. -
“It was now getting dark, and the Johnnies concluded they
had taken a bigger contract in trying to drive us off that hill
in One day than they had counted on, so they quit charging on
us, but drew back under cover of the woods and along the old
line of works that we had left, and kept up a pecking away and
sharpshooting at us all night long. They opened fire on us
from a number of pieces of artillery from the front, from the
left, and from some heavy guns away over to the right of us,
in the main works around Atlanta.
“We did not fool away much time that night, either. We
got our shovels and picks, and while part of us were sharp-
shooting and trying to keep the Rebels from working up too
close to us, the rest of the boys were putting up some good
solid earthworks right where our rail piles had been, and by
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 281
morning we were in splendid shape to have received our friends,
no matter which way they had come at us, for they kept up
such an all-fired shelling of us from so many different directions,
that the boys had built traverses and bomb-proofs at all sorts
of angles and in all directions.
“There was one point off to our right, a few rods up along
THE FIGHT FOR THE FILAG.
our old line of works where there was a crowd of Rebel sharp.
shooters that annoyed us more than all the rest, by their con-
stant firing at us through the night. They killed one of Com-
pany H's boys, and wounded several others. Finally Captain
Williams, of D Company, came along and said he wanted a
couple of good shots. Out of Our company to go with him, so I
went for one. He took about ten of us, and we crawled down
into the ravine in front of where we were building the works,
and got behind a large fallen tree, and we laid there and could
just fire right up into the rear of those fellows as they lay in

282 - ANDERSON VILL E.
behind a traverse extending back from our old line of works.
It was so dark we could only see where to fire by the flash of
guns, but every time they would shoot, some of us would let
them have one. They staid there until almost daylight, when
they concluded as things looked, since we were going to stay,
they had better be going. • ,
“It was an awful night. Down in the ravine below us lay
hundreds of killed and wounded Rebels, groaning and crying
aloud for water and for help. We did do what we could for
those right around us—but it was so dark, and so many shell
bursting and bullets flying around that a fellow could not get
about much. I tell you it was pretty tough next morning to
go along to the different companies of our regiment and hear
who were among the killed and wounded, and to see the long
row of graves that were being dug to bury our comrades and
our officers. There was the Captain of Company E, Nelson
Skeeles, of Fulton County, O., one of the bravest and best
officers in the regiment. By his side lay First Sergeant Lesnit,
and next were the two great, powerful Shepherds — cousins—
but more like brothers. One, it seems, was killed while sup-
porting the head of the other, who had just received a death
wound, thus dying in each other’s arms.
“But I can’t begin to think or tell you the names of all the
poor boys that we laid away to rest in their last, long sleep on
that gloomy day. Our Major was severely wounded, and
several other officers had been hit more or less badly.
“It was a frightful sight, though, to go over the field in front
of our works on that morning. The Rebel dead and badly
wounded laid where they had fallen. The bottom and opposite
side of the ravine showed how destructive our fire and that of
the canister from the howitzers had been. The underbrush was
cut, slashed, and torn into shreds, and the larger trees were
scarred, bruised and broken by the thousands of bullets and
other missiles that had been poured into them from almost
every conceivable direction during the day before.
“A lot of us boys went way over to the left into Fuller's
Division of the Sixteenth Corps, to see how some of our boys
over there had got through the scrimmage, for they had about
as nasty a fight as any part of the Army, and if it had not been
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 283
for their being just where they were, I am not sure but what
the old Seventeenth Corps would have had a different story to
tell now. We found our friends had been way out by Decatur,
where their brigade had got into a pretty lively fight on their
own hook.
“We got back to camp, and the first thing I knew I was
IN THE RIFILE-PTT AFTER THE BATTLE.
detailed for picket duty, and we were posted over a few rods
across the ravine in our front. We had not been out but a
short time when we saw a flag of truce, borne by an officer,
coming towards us. We halted him, and made him wait until
a report was sent back to Corps headquarters. The Rebel
officer was quite chatty and talkative with our picket officer,
while waiting. He said he was on General Cleburne's staff,
and that the troops that charged us so fiercely the evening
before was Cleburne’s whole Division, and that after their last
repulse, knowing the hill where we were posted was the most
important position along our line, he felt that if they would
keep close to us during the night, and keep up a show of fight,
that we would pull out and abandon the hill before morning.
He said that he, with about fifty of their best men, had volun-

284 ANDERSON VILLE.
teered to keep up the demonstration, and it was his party that
had occupied the traverse in our old works the night before
and had annoyed us and the Battery men by their constant
sharpshooting, which we fellows behind the old tree had
finally tired out. He said they staid until almost daylight, and
that he lost more than half his men before he left. He also
told us that General Scott was captured by their Division, at
about the time and almost the same spot as where General
McPherson was killed, and that he was not hurt or wounded,
and was now a prisoner in their hands.
“Quite a lot of our staff officers soon came out, and as near
as we could learn the Rebels wanted a truce to bury their dead.
Our folks tried to get up an exchange of prisoners that had
been taken by both sides the day before, but for some reason
they could not bring it about. But the truce for burying the
dead was agreed to. Along about dusk some of the boys on
my post got to telling about a lot of silver and brass instru-
ments that belonged to one of the bands of the Fourth Division,
which had been hung up in some small trees a little way over in
front of where we were when the fight was going on the day
before, and that when a bullet would strike one of the horns
they could hear it go ‘pin-g’ and in a few minutes ‘pan—g’
would go another bullet through one of them.
“A new picket was just coming on, and I had picked up my
blanket and haversack, and was about ready to start back to
camp, when, thinks I, ‘I’ll just go out there and see about them
horns.’ I told the boys what I was going to do. They all
seemed to think it was safe enough, so out I started. I had not
gone more than a hundred yards, I should think, when here I
found the horns all hanging around on the trees just as the
boys had described. Some of them had lots of bullet holes in
them. Dut I saw a beautiful, nice looking silver bugle hanging
off to one side a little. “Thinks,’ says I, ‘I’ll just take that
little toot horn in out of the wet, and take it back to camp.” I
was just reaching up after it when I heard some one say,
“Halt!’ and I’ll be dog-goned if there wasn’t two of the
meanest looking Rebels, standing not ten feet from me, with
their guns cocked and pointed at me, and, of course, I knew I
was a goner. They walked me back about one hundred and
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 285
fifty yards, where their picket line was. From there I was
kept going for an hour or two until we got over to a place on
the railroad called East Point. There I got in with a big
crowd of our prisoners, who were taken the day before, and We
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“So this is “Andersonville,” is it? Well, by —l”




















CHAPTER XLI.
ſlot HING: ITS RAPID DETERIORATION, AND DEVICEs. To REPLENISH
IT-DESPERATE EFFORTS TO COVER NAKEDNEss—“LITTLE RED-
CAP’’ AND HIs LETTER.
Clothing had now become an object of real solicitude to us
older prisoners. The veterans of our crowd—the surviving
remnant of those captured at Gettysburg — had been pris-
oners over a year. The next in seniority—the Chickamauga
boys—had been in ten months. The Mine Run fellows were
eight months old, and my battalion had had seven months' in-
carceration. None of us were models of well-dressed gentle-
men when captured. Our garments told the whole story of
the hard campaigning We had undergone. Now, with months
of the wear and tear of prison life, sleeping on the sand,
working in tunnels, digging Wells, etc., we were tattered and
torn to an extent that a second-class tramp would have con-
sidered disgraceful.
This is no reflection upon the quality of the clothes furnished
by the Government. We simply reached the limit of the wear
of textile fabrics. I am particular to say this, because I want
to contribute my little mite towards doing justice to a badly
abused part of Our Army Organization—the Quartermaster's
Department. It is fashionable to speak of “shoddy,” and utter
some stereotyped sneers about “brown paper shoes,” and “mus-
keto-netting overcoats,” when any discussion of the Quarter-
master service is the subject of conversation, but I have no
hesitation in asking the indorsement of my comrades to the
statement that We have never found anywhere else as durable
garments as those furnished us by the Government during our
2
S.
7
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS.
service in the Army. The clothes were not as fine in texture,
nor so stylish in cut as those we wore before or since, but when
it came to wear they could be relied on to the last thread. It
was always marvelous to me that they lasted so well, with the
rough usage a soldier in the field must necessarily give them.
But to return to my subject. I can best illustrate the way
our clothes dropped off us, piece by piece, like the petals from
the last rose of Summer, by taking my own case as an example:
When I entered prison I was clad in the ordinary garb of an
enlisted man of the cavalry — stout, comfortable boots, woolen
*Ocks, drawers, pantaloons, with a “re-enforcement,” or “ready"
made patches,” as the infantry called them;
west, warm, snug-fitting jacket, under and
over shirts, heavy overcoat, and a forage-cap.
First my boots fell into cureless ruin, but this
was no special hardship, as the weather had
become quite warm, and it was more pleasant
than otherwise to go barefooted. Then part
of the underclothing retired from service,
The jacket and west followed, their end being
hastened by having their best portions taken
to patch up the pantaloons, which kept giving
2 out at the most embarrassing places. Then
# the cape of the overcoat was called upon to
assist in repairing these continually-recurring
ra, J.T.s, a breaches in the nether garments. The same
* Ascs on ENTERINo insatiate demand finally consumed the whole
PRISON. coat, in a vain attempt to prevent an exposure
of person greater than consistent with the usages of society.
The pantaloons — or what, by courtesy, I called such, were a
monument of careful and ingenious, but hopeless, patching, that
should have called forth the admiration of a Florentine artist
in mosaic. I have been shown — in later years—many table
tops, ornamented in marquetry, inlaid with thousands of little
bits of wood, cunningly arranged, and patiently joined together.
I always look at them with interest, for I know the work spent
upon them : I remember my Andersonville pantaloons.
The clothing%. the upper part of my body had been
reduced to the femains of a knit undershirt. It had fallen into

288 ANDERSON VILLE.
so many holes that it looked like the coarse “riddles” through
which ashes and gravel are sifted. Wherever these holes were
the sun had burned my back, breast and shoulders deeply black.
The parts covered by the threads and fragments forming the
* boundaries of the holes, were still
white. When I pulled my alleged
shirt off, to wash or to free it from
Some of its teeming population, my
skin showed a fine lace pattern in
black and white, that was very in-
teresting to my comrades, and the
subject of countless jokes by them.
They used to descant loudly on the
chaste elegance of the design, the
= richness of the tracing, etc., and beg
me to furnish them with a copy of it
when I got home, for their sisters to
—-ºr--> work window curtains or tidies by.
* Arrºwance is ſurr, 1864. They were sure that so striking a
novelty in patterns would be very acceptable. I would reply
to their witticisms in the language of Porţia’s Prince of
Morocco :
Mislike me not for my complexion—
The shadowed livery of the burning Sun.
One of the stories told me in my childhood by an old negro
nurse, was of a poverty stricken little girl “who slept on the
floor and was covered with the door,” and she once asked—
“Mamma, how do poor folks get along who haven’t any
door 2 °
In the same spirit I used to wonder how poor fellows got
along who hadn’t any shirt.
One common way of keeping up one’s clothing was by stealing
mealsacks. The meal furnished as rations was brought in in
white cotton sacks. | Sergeants of detachments were required
to return these wheh the rations were issued the next day. I
have before alluded to the general incapacity of the Rebels to
deal accurately with even simple numbers. It was never very
difficult for a shrewd Sergeant to make nine sacks count as ten.
After awhile the Rebels began to see throught this sleight of

A. STORY OF REBEL \{[[,][TARY HIRISON 8. 289
hand manipulation, and to check it. Then the Sergeants
resorted to the device of tearing the sacks in two, and turning
each half in as a whole one. The cotton cloth gained in this
way was used for patching, or, if a boy could succeed in beating
the Rebels out of enough of it, he would fabricate himself a
shirt or a pair of pantaloons. We obtained all our thread in
the same way. A half of a sack, carefully raveled out, would
furnish a couple of handfuls of thread. Had it not been for
this resource all our sewing and mending would have come to
a standstill. - *
Most of our needles were manufactured by ourselves from
bones. A piece of bone, split as near as possible to the required
size, was carefully rubbed down upon a brick, and then had an
eye laboriously worked through it with a bit of wire or some-
thing else available for the purpose. The needles were about
the size of ordinary darning needles, and answered the purpose
very well.
These devices gave one some conception of the way. Savages
provide for the wants of their lives. Time was with them,
as with us, of little importance. It was no loss of time to
them, nor to us, to spend a large portion of the waking hours
of a week in fabricating a needle Out of a bone, where a civi-
lized man could purchase a much better one with the product
of three minutes’ labor. I do not think any red Indian of the
plains exceeded us in the patience with which we worked away
at these minutiae of life's needs.
areer-es=====
Of course the most common source of clothing was the dead,
and no body was carried out with any clothing on it that could
be of service to the survivors. The Plymouth Pilgrims, who
were so well clothed on coming in, and were now dying off
very rapidly, furnished many good suits to cover the nakedness
of older prisoners. Most of the prisoners from the Army of
the Potomac were well dressed, and as very many died within
a month or six weeks after their entrance, they left their clothes
in pretty good condition for those who constituted themselves
their heirs, administrators and assigns.
For my own part, I had the greatest aversion to wearing
dead men’s clothes, and could only bring myself to it after I
19
290 ANDERSON VILLE.
had been a year in prison, and it became a question between
doing that and freezing to death.
Every new batch of prisoners was besieged with anxious
inquiries on the subject which lay closest to all our hearts:
“What are they doing about eachange 2"
Nothing in human experience—save the anxious expectancy
of a sail by Castaways on a desert island — could equal the
intense eagerness with which this question was asked, and the
answer awaited. To thousands now hanging on the verge of
eternity it meant life or death. Between the first day of July
and the first of November over twelve thousand men died, who
would doubtless have lived had they been able to reach our
lines—“get to God’s country,” as we expressed it.
The new comers brought little reliable news of contemplated
exchange. There was Lone to bring in the first place, and in
the next, soldiers in active service in the field had other things
to busy themselves with than reading up the details of the
negotiations between the Commissioners of Exchange. They
had all heard rumors, however, and by the time they reached
Andersonville, they had crystallized these into actual statements
of fact. A half hour after they entered the Stockade, a report
like this would spread like wildfire:
“An Army of the Potomac man has just come in, who was
captured in front of Petersburg. He says that he read in the
New York Herald, the day before he was taken, that an
exchange had been agreed upon, and that our ships had already
started for Savannah to take us home.”
Then our hopes would soar up like balloons. We fed our-
selves on such stuff from day to day, and doubtless many lives
were greatly prolonged by the continual encouragement. There
was hardly a day when I did not say to myself that I would
much rather die than endure imprisonment another month, and
had I believed that another month would see me still there, I
am pretty certain that I should have ended the matter by
crossing the Dead Line. I was firmly resolved not to die the
disgusting, agonizing death that so many around me were dying.
One of our best purveyors of information was a bright, blue-
eyed, fair-haired little drummer boy, as handsome as a girl,
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITA RY PRISONS. 291
well-bred as a lady, and evidently the darling of some refined,
lowing mother. He belonged, I think, to some loyal Virginia
regiment, was captured in one of the actions in the Shenandoah
Valley, and had been with us in Richmond. We called him
“Red Cap,” from his wearing a jaunty, gold-laced, crimson
cap. Ordinarily, the smaller a drummer boy is the harder he
is, but no amount of attrition
with rough men could coarsen
the ingrained refinement of Red
Cap's manners. He was between
thirteen and fourteen, and it
seemed utterly shameful that
men, calling themselves soldiers,
should make war on such a tender
boy and drag him off to prison.
But no six-footer had a more
soldierly heart than little Red
§ Cap, and none were more loyal
\!" to the cause. It was a pleasure
to hear him tell the story of the
fights and movements his regi-
ment had been engaged in. He
was a good observer and told
- his tale with boyish fervor.
Shortly after Wirz assumed command he took Red Cap into
his office as an Orderly. His bright face and winning manners
fascinated the women visitors at headquarters, and numbers of
them tried to adopt him, but with poor success. Like the rest
Of us, he could see few charms in an existence under the Rebel
flag, and turned a deaf ear to their blandishments. He kept
his ears open to the conversation of the Rebel officers around
him, and frequently secured permission to visit the interior of
the Stockade, when he would communicate to us all that he had
heard. He received a flattering reception every time he came
in, and no Orator ever Secured a more attentive audience than
would gather around him to listen to what he had to say. He
was, beyond a doubt, the best known and most popular person
in the prison, and I know all the survivors of his old admirers
share my great interest in him, and my curiosity as to whether
LTTTLE RED CAP.

292 - ANDERSON WILLE.
he yet lives, and whether his subsequent career has justified the
Sanguine hopes we all had as to his future. I hope that if he
sees this, or any one who knows anything about him, he will
communicate with me. There are thousands who will be glad
to hear from him. \
[A most remarkable coincidence occurred in regard to this
comrade. Several days after the above had been written, and
“set up,” but before it had yet appeared in the paper, Ireceived
the following letter:
ECKHART MINEs,
Alleghany County, Md., March 24,
To the Editor of the BLADE :
Last evening I saw a copy of your paper, in which was a chapter or two of
a prison life of a soldier during the late war. I was forcibly struck with the
correctness of what he wrote, and the names of several of my old comrades
which he quoted: Hill, Limber Jim, etc., etc. I was a drummer boy of Com-
pany I, Tenth West Virginia Infantry, and was fifteen years of age a day or
two after arriving in Andersonville, which was in the last of February, 1864.
Nineteen of my comrades were there with me, and, poor fellows, they are there
yet. I have no doubt that I would have remained there, too, had I not been
more fortunate.
I do not know who your soldier correspondent is, but assume to say that
from the following description he will remember having seen me in Ander-
sonville: I was the little boy that for three or four months officiated as
orderly for Captain Wirz. I wore a red cap, and every day could be seen
riding Wirz's gray mare, either at headquarters, or about the Stockade. I
was acting in this capacity when the six raiders—“Mosby,” (proper name
Collins) Delaney, Curtis, and—I forget the other names—were executed.
I believe that I was the first that conveyed the intelligence to them that Con-
federate General Winder had approved their sentence. As soon as Wirz
received the dispatch to that effect, I ran down to the stocks and told them.
I visited Hill, of Wauseon, Fulton County, O., since the war, and found
him hale and hearty. I have not heard from him for a number of years until
reading your correspondent's letter last evening. It is the only letter of the
series that I have seen, but after reading that one, I feel called upon to certify
that I have no doubts of the truthfulness of your correspondent's story.
The world will never know or believe the horrors of Andersonville and
other prisons in the South. No living, human being, in my judgment, will
ever be able to properly paint the horrors of those infernal dens.
I formed the acquaintance of several Ohio Soldiers whilst in prison.
Among these were O. D. Streeter, of Cleveland, who went to Andersonville
about the same time that I did, and escaped, and was the only man that I
ever knew that escaped and reached our lines. After an absence of several
months he was retaken in one of Sherman's battles before Atlanta, and
brought back. I also knew John L. Richards, of Fostoria, Seneca County,
O., or Eaglesville, Wood County. Also, a man by the name of Beverly, who
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 293
was a partner of Charley Huckleby, of Tennessee. I would like to hear from
all of these parties. They all know me.
Mr. Editor, I will close by wishing all my comrades who shared in the suf,
ferings and dangers of Confederate prisons, a long and useful life.
Yours truly,
RANSOM. T. POWELL.
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“FRESH FISH.”

CHAPTER XLII.
HOME FEATURES OF THE MORTALITY — PERCENTAGE OF DEATHS TO
THOSE LIVING — AN AWERAGE MAN ONLY STANDS THE MISERY
THREE MONTHS — DESCRIPTION OF THE PRISON AND THE CONDI-
TION OF THE MEN THEREIN, BY A LEADING SCIENTIFIC MAN OF
THE SOUTH.
Speaking of the manner in which the Plymouth Pilgrims
were now dying, I am reminded of my theory that the ordinary
man’s endurance of this prison life did not average over three
months. The Plymouth boys arrived in May; the bulk of
those who died passed away in July and August. The great
increase of prisoners from all sources was in May, June and
July. The greatest mortality among these was in August,
September and October. The following table, which shows the
number of new prisoners arriving each month, and the number
dying the third month after, will illustrate on what I base my
theory:
NUMBER ARRIVED UN NUMBER DIED IN
May ----------------------------------- 8,785 August--------------------------------- 8,076
June ---------------------------------- 9,114 September ----------------------------- 2,794
July ----------------------------------- 7,228 October -------------------------------- 1,590
Many came in who had been in good health during their ser-
vice in the field, but who seemed utterly overwhelmed by the
appalling misery they saw on every hand, and giving way to
despondency, died in a few days or weeks. I do not mean to
include them in the above class, as their sickness was more
mental than physical. My idea is that, taking one hundred
ordinarily healthful young soldiers from a regiment in active
service, and putting them into Andersonville, by the end of the
third month at least thirty-three of those weakest and most
[T º --------
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% º
º |
/
W/
º

A STORY OF REBEL FMILITARY PEISON3. 29'ſ
vulnerable to disease would have succumbed to the exposure, the
pollution of ground and air, and the insufficiency of the ration
of coarse corn meal. After this the mortality would be some-
what less, say at the end of six months fifty of them would be
dead. The remainder would hang on still more tenaciously,
and at the end of a year there would be fifteen or twenty still
alive. There were sixty-three of my company taken; thirteen
lived through. I believe this was about the usual proportion
for those who were in as long as we. In all there were forty-
five thousand six hundred and thirteen prisoners brought into
Andersonville. Of these twelve thousand nine hundred and
twelve died there, to say nothing of thousands that died in
other prisons in Georgia and the Carolinas, immediately after -
their removal from Andersonville. One of every three and
a-half men upon whom the gates of the Stockade closed never
repassed them alive. Twenty-nine per cent. of the boys who
so much as set foot in Andersonville died there. Let it be kept
in mind all the time, that the average stay of a prisoner there
was not four months. The great majority came in after the
1st of May, and left before the middle of September. May 1,
1864, there were ten thousand four hundred and twenty-seven
in the Stöckade. August 8, there were thirty-three thousand
one hundred and fourteen; September 30 all these were dead or
gone, except eight thousand two hundred and eighteen, of
whom four thousand five hundred and ninety died inside of the
next thirty days. The records of the world can show no
parallel to this astounding mortality.
Since the above matter was first published in the BLADE, a
friend has sent me a transcript of the evidence at the Wirz
trial, of Professor Joseph Jones, a Surgeon of high rank in the
Rebel Army, and who stood at the head of the medical pro-
fession in Georgia. He visited Andersonville at the instance of
the Surgeon-General of the Confederate States' Army, to make
a study, for the benefit of science, of the phenomena of disease
occurring there. His capacity and opportunities for observa-
tion, and for clearly estimating the value of the facts coming
under his notice were, of course, vastly superior to mine, and
as he states the case stronger than I dare to, for fear of being
accused of exaggeration and downright untruth, I reproduce
298 ANDERSON VILLE.
the major part of his testimony—embodying also his official
report to medical headquarters at Richmond—that my readers
may know how the prison appeared to the eyes of one who,
though a bitter Rebel, was still a humane man and a conscien-
tious observer, striving to learn the truth:
MEDICAL TESTIMONY.
[Transcript from the printed testimony at the Wirz Trial, pages 618 to 639, inclusive.]
OCTOBER 7, 1865.
Dr. Joseph Jones, for the prosecution:
By the Judge Advocate:
Question. Where do you reside?
Answer. In Augusta, Georgia.
Q. Are you a graduate of any medical college?
A. Of the University of Pennsylvania. -
Q. How long have you been engaged in the practice of medi-
cine?
A. Eight years.
Q. Has your experience been as a practitioner, or rather as
an investigator of medicine as a science?
A. Both.
Q. What position do you hold now?
A. That of Medical Chemist in the Medical College of Geor.
gia, at Augusta. -
Q. How long have you held your position in that college?
A. Since 1858.
Q. How were you employed during the Rebellion?
A. I served six months in the early part of it as a private in
the ranks, and the rest of the time in the medical department.
Q. Under the direction of whom?
A. Under the direction of Dr. Moore, Surgeon General.
Q. Did you, while acting under his direction, visit Anderson-
ville, professionally?
A. Yes, sir. -
Q. For the purpose of making investigations there?
A. For the purpose of prosecuting investigations ordered by
the Surgeon General. -
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. , 299
Q You went there in obedience to a letter of instructions?
A. In obedience to orders which I received.
Q. Did you reduce the results of your investigations to the
shape of a report'
A. I was engaged at that work when General Johnston sur-
rendered his army.
(A document being handed to witness.]
Q. Have you examined this extract from your report and
compared it with the original?
A. Yes, sir; I have.
Q. Is it accurate?
A. So far as my examination extended, it is accurate."
The document just examined by witness was offered in evi-
dence, and is as follows:
Observations upon the diseases of the Federal prisoners, confined in Camp Sumter,
Andersonville, in Sumter County, Georgia, instituted with a view to illustrate
chiefly the origin and causes of hospital gangrene, the relations of continued
and malarial fevers, and the pathology of camp diarrhea and dysentery, by
Joseph Jones, Surgeon P. A. C. S., Professor of Medical Chemistry in the Medº-
cal College of Georgia, at Augusta, Georgia.
Hearing of the unusual mortality among the Federal pris-
oners confined at Andersonville, Georgia, in the month of
August, 1864, during a visit to Richmond, Va., I expressed to
the Surgeon General, S. P. Moore, Confederate States of
America, a desire to visit Camp Sumter, with the design of
instituting a series of inquiries upon the nature and causes of
the prevailing diseases. Smallpox had appeared among the
prisoners, and I believed that this would prove an admirable
field for the establishment of its characteristic lesions. The
condition of Peyer's glands in this disease was considered as
worthy of minute investigation. It was believed that a large
body of men from the Northern portion of the United States,
suddenly transported to a warm Southern climate, and confined
upon a small portion of land, would furnish an excellent field
for the investigation of the relations of typhus, typhoid, and
malarial fevers.
The Surgeon General of the Confederate States of America
furnished me with the following letter of introduction to the
300 ANDERSON VILLE.
Surgeon in charge of the Confederate States Military Prison at
Andersonville, Ga.:
SURGEON GENERAL'S OFFICE, RICHMOND, WA.,
CoNFEDERATE STATES OF AMERICA, |
August 6, 1864.
SIR:—The field of pathological investigations afforded by the large collec-
tion of Federal prisoners in Georgia, is of great extent and importance, and
it is believed that results of value to the profession may be obtained by a
careful investigation of the effects of disease upon the large body of men sub-
jected to a decided change of climate and the circumstances peculiar to prison
life. The Surgeon in charge of the hospital for Federal prisoners, together
with.his assistants, will afford every facility to Surgeon Joseph Jones, in the
prosecution of the labors ordered by the Surgeon General. Efficient assist-
ance must be rendered Surgeon Jones by the medical officers, not only in his
examinations into the causes and symptoms of the various diseases, but
especially in the arduous labors of post mortem examinations.
The medical officers will assist in the performance of such post mortems as
Surgeon Jones may indicate, in order that this great field for pathological
investigation may be explored for the benefit of the Medical Department of
the Confederate Army.
S. P. MOORE, Surgeon General.
Surgeon IsAIAH. H. WHITE,
In charge of Hospital for Federal prisoners, Andersonville, Ga.
In compliance with this letter of the Surgeon General, Isaiah
H. White, Chief Surgeon of the post, and R. R. Stevenson,
Surgeon in charge of the Prison Hospital, afforded the neces-
sary facilities for the prosecution of my investigations among
the sick outside of the Stockade. After the completion of my
labors in the military prison hospital, the following communi-
cation was addressed to Brigadier General John H. Winder, in
consequence of the refusal on the part of the commandant of
the interior of the Confederate States Military Prison to admit
me within the Stockade upon the order of the Surgeon Gen-
eral:
CAMP SUMTER, ANDERSON VILLE, GA.,
September 16, 1864.
GENERAL:—I respectfully request the commandant of the post of Ander-
sonville to grant me permission and to furnish the necessary pass to visit the
sick and medical officers within the Stockade of the Confederate States
Prison. I desire to institute certain inquiries ordered by the Surgeon Gen-
eral. Surgeon Isaiah H. White, Chief Surgeon of the post, and Surgeon
R. R. Stevenson, in charge of the Prison Hospital, have afforded me every
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 301
facility for the prosecution of my labors among the sick outside of the
Stockade. Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
JOSEPH JONES, Surgeon P. A. C. S.
Brigadier General JoHN H. WINDER,
Commandant, Post Andersonville.
In the absence of General Winder from the post, Captain
Winder furnished the following order:
CAMP SUMTER, ANDERSON VILLE, }
September 17, 1864.
CAPTAIN :—You will permit Surgeon Joseph Jones, who has orders from
the Surgeon General, to visit the sick within the Stockade that are under
medical treatment. - Surgeon Jones is ordered to make certain investigations
which may prove useful to his profession. By direction of General Winder.
Very respectfully,
W. S. WINDER, A. A. G.
Captain H. WIRz, Commanding Prison.
ADescription of the Confederate States Military Prison Hospital at Andersonville.
Number of prisoners, physical condition, food, clothing, habits, moral condition,
diseases.
The Confederate Military Prison at Andersonville, Ga., con-
sists of a strong Stockade, twenty feet in height, enclosing
twenty-seven acres. The Stockade is formed of strong pine
logs, firmly planted in the ground. The main Stockade is sur-
rounded by two other similar rows of pine logs, the middle
Stockade being sixteen feet high, and the Outer twelve feet.
These are intended for offense and defense. If the inner
Stockade should at any time be forced by the prisoners, the
second forms another line of defense; while in case of an
attempt to deliver the prisoners by a force operating upon the
exterior, the outer line forms an admirable protection to the
Confederate troops, and a most formidable obstacle to cavalry
or infantry. The four angles of the outer line are strengthened
by earthworks upon commanding eminences, from which the
cannon, in case of an outbreak among the prisoners, may sweep
the entire enclosure; and it was designed to connect these
works by a line of rifle pits, running zig-zag, around the outer
Stockade; those rifle pits have never been completed. The
ground enclosed by the innermost Stockade lies in the form of
a parallelogram, the larger diameter running almost due north
802 ANDERSON WILLE,
and south. This space includes the northern and southern
opposing sides of two hills, between which a stream of water
runs from west to east. The surface soil of these hills is com-
posed chiefly of sand with varying admixtures of clay and
oxide of iron. The clay is sufficiently tenacious to give a con-
siderable degree of consistency to the soil. The internal
structure of the hills, as revealed by the deep wells, is similar
to that already described. The alternate layers of clay and
sand, as well as the oxide of iron, which forms in its various
combinations a cement to the sand, allow of extensive tunnel-
ling. The prisoners not only constructed numerous dirt huts
with balls of clay and sand, taken from the wells which they
have excavated all over those hills, but they have also, in some
cases, tunneled extensively; from these wells. The lower por-
tions of these hills, bordering on the stream, are wet and boggy
from the constant oozing of water. The Stockade was built
originally to accommodate only ten thousand prisoners, and
included at first seventeen acres. Near the close of the month
of June the area was enlarged by the addition of ten acres.
The ground added was situated on the northern slope of the
largest hill.
The following table presents a view of the density of the
population of the prison at different periods:
Table illustrating the mean number of prisoners confined in the Confederate
States military prison at Andersonville, Georgia, from its organization, Feb-
ruary 24, 1864, to September, 1864, and the average number of Square feet of
ground to each prisoner.
‘s g; & ‘sº
© cº * 3: 5
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§ §§ 㺠3
CO p . .';
MONTH AND YEAE. £º. g ää 5.
ad cº ‘5 cº §2, co º
5 5, ##3
§§ §: § #:
#. #5 # #8
*Targh, 1884---------------------------------------------------- 7,500 740,520 98.7
April, 1864----------------------------------------------------- 10,000 740,520 4
*Y, 1864------------------------------------------------------ 15, 740,520 49.3
June, 1864------------------------------------------------------ 22,291 740,520 33.2
July, 1864------------------------------------------------------ 29,030 1,176,120 40.5
August, 1864--------------------------------------------------- 32,899 1,176,120 35.7
Within the circumscribed area of the Stockade the Federal
prisoners were compelled to perform all the offices of life —
A STORY OF REBEL MII,ITARY PRISON8. 303
cooking, washing, the calls of nature, exercise, and sleeping.
During the month of March the prison was less crowded than
at any subsequent time, and then the average space of ground
to each prisoner was only 98.7 feet, or less than seven square
yards. The Federal prisoners were gathered from all parts of
the Confederate States east of the Mississippi, and crowded
into the confined space, until in the month of June the average
number of square feet of ground to each prisoner was only 33.2
or less than four square yards. These figures represent the
condition of the Stockade in a better light even than it really
was; for a considerable breadth of land along the stream, flow-
ing from west to east between the hills, was low and boggy,
and was covered with the excrement of the men, and thus ren-
dered wholly uninhabitable, and in fact useless for every pur-
pose except that of defecation. The pines and other small trees
and shrubs, which originally were scattered sparsely over these
hills, were in a short time cut down and consumed by the pris-
oners for firewood, and no shade tree was left in the entire
enclosure of the stockade. With their characteristic industry
and ingenuity, the Federals constructed for themselves small
huts and caves, and attempted to shield themselves from the
rain and sun and night damps and dew. Ibut few tents were
distributed to the prisoners, and those were in most cases torn
and rotten. In the location and arrangement of these tents
and huts no order appears to have been followed; in fact, regu-
lar streets appear to be out of the question in so crowded an
area; especially too, as large bodies of prisoners were from
time to time added suddenly without any previous preparations.
The irregular arrangement of the huts and imperfect shelters
was very unfavorable for the maintenance of a proper system
of police. -
The police and internal economy of the prison was left almost
entirely in the hands of the prisoners themselves; the duties of
the Confederate soldiers acting as guards being limited to the
occupation of the boxes or lookouts ranged around the stockade
at regular intervals, and to the manning of the batteries at the
angles of the prison. Even judicial matters pertaining to them-
selves, as the detection and punishment of such crimes as theft
and murder appear to have been in a great measure abandoned
364 AYPEESONTVILLE,
to the prisoners. A striking instance of this occurred in the
month of July, when the Federal prisoners within the Stockade
tried, condemned, and hanged six (6) of their own number, who
had been convicted of stealing and of robbing and murdering
their fellow-prisoners. They were all hung upon the same day,
and thousands of the prisoners gathered around to witness the
execution. The Confederate authorities are said not to have
interfered with these proceedings. In this collection of men
from all parts of the world, every phase of human character was
represented; the stronger preyed upon the weaker, and even
the sick who were unable to defend themselves were robbed of
their scanty supplies of food and clothing. Dark stories were
afloat, of men, both sick and well, who were murdered at night,
strangled to death by their comrades for scant supplies of cloth-
ing or money. I heard a sick and wounded Federal prisoner
accuse his nurse, a fellow-prisoner of the United States Army,
of having stealthily, during his sleep inoculated his wounded
arm with gangrene, that he might destroy his life and fall heir
to his clothing.
* * 33. 3& •% 35. -3% .#
The large number of men confined within the Stockade soon,
under a defective system of police, and with imperfect arrange-
ments, covered the surface of the low grounds with excrements.
The sinks over the lower portions of the stream were imperfect
in their plan and structure, and the excrements were in large
measure deposited so near the borders of the stream as not to
be washed away, or else accumulated upon the low boggy
ground. The volume of water was not sufficient to wash away
the feces, and they accumulated in such quantities in the lower
portion of the stream as to form a mass of liquid excrement.
Heavy rains caused the water of the stream to rise, and as the
arrangements for the passage of the increased amounts of
water out of the Stockade were insufficient, the liquid feces
overflowed the low grounds and covered them several inches,
after the subsidence of the waters. The action of the sun
upon this putrefying mass of excrements and fragments of
bread and meat and bones excited most rapid fermentation
and developed a horrible stench, Improvements were projected
for the removal of the filth and for the prevention of its accu.
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 305
mulation, but they were only partially and imperfectly carried
out. As the forces of the prisoners were reduced by confine-
ment, want of exercise, improper diet, and by Scurvy, diarrhea,
and dysentery, they were unable to evacuate their bowels.
within the stream or along its banks, and the excrements were
deposited at the very doors of their tents. The vast majority
appeared to lose all repulsion to filth, and both sick and well
disregarded all the laws of hygiene and personal cleanliness.
The accommodations for the sick were imperfect and insufficient.
From the organization of the prison, February 24, 1864, to
May 22, the sick were treated within the Stockade. In the
crowded condition of the Stockade, and with the tents and huts
clustered thickly around the hospital, it was impossible to secure
proper ventilation or to maintain the necessary police. The
Federal prisoners also made frequent forays upon the hospital
stores and carried off the food and clothing of the sick. The
hospital was, on the 22d of May, removed to its present site
without the Stockade, and five acres of ground covered with
oaks and pines approprated to the use of the sick.
The supply of medical officers has been insufficient from the
foundation of the prison.
The nurses and attendants upon the sick have been most gen-
erally Federal prisoners, who in too many cases appear to have
been devoid of moral principle, and who not only neglected
their duties, but were also engaged in extensive robbing of the
sick.
From the want of proper police and hygienic regulations
alone it is not wonderful that from February 24 to September
21, 1864, nine thousand four hundred and seventy-nine deaths,
nearly one-third the entire number of prisoners, should have
been recorded. I found the Stockade and Hospital in the fol-
lowing condition during my pathological investigations, insti-
tuted in the month of September, 1864:
STOCKADE, CONFEDERATE STATES MILITARY PRISON.
At the time of my visit to Andersonville a large number of
Federal prisoners had been removed to Millen, Savannah,
Charleston, and other parts of the Confederacy, in anticipation
20 3
306 ANDERSON VILLE.
of an advance of General Sherman’s forces from Atlanta, with
the design of liberating their captive brethren; however, about
fifteen thousand prisoners remained confined within the limits
of the Stockade and Confederate States Military Prison Hos-
pital.
In the Stockade, with the exception of the damp lowlands
bordering the small stream, the surface was covered with huts,
and small ragged tents and parts of blankets and fragments of
oil-cloth, coats, and blankets stretched upon sticks. The tents
and huts were not arranged according to any order, and there
was in most parts of the enclosure scarcely room for two men
to walk abreast between the tents and huts. -
* * * * * * * * .
If one might judge from the large pieces of corn-bread scat-
tered about in every direction on the ground the prisoners were
either very lavishly supplied with this article of diet, or else this
kind of food was not relished by them. /
Each day the dead from the Stockade were carried out by
their fellow-prisoners and deposited upon the ground under a
bush arbor, just outside of the Southwestern Gate. From
thence they were carried in carts to the burying ground, one-
quarter of a mile northwest of the Prison. The dead were
buried without coffins, side by side, in trenches four feet deep.
The low grounds bordering the stream were covered with
human excrements and filth of all kinds, which in many places
appeared to be alive with working maggots. An indescribable
sickening stench arose from these fermenting masses of human
filth.
There were near five thousand seriously ill Federals in the
Stockade and Confederate States Military Prison Hospital, and
the deaths exceeded one hundred per day, and large numbers of
the prisoners who were walking about, and who had not been
entered upon the sick reports, were suffering from severe and
incurable diarrhea, dysentery, and scurvy. The sick were
attended almost entirely by their fellow-prisoners, appointed as
nurses, and as they received but little attention, they were com-
pelled to exert themselves at all times to attend to the calls of
nature, and hence they retained the power of moving about to
within a comparatively short period of the close of life. Owing
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 307
to the slow progress of the diseases most prevalent, diarrhea
and chronic dysentery, the corpses were as a general rule
emaciated. -
I visited two thousand sick within the Stockade, lying under
sº
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BURYING THE DEAD.
(From a Rebel photograph in possession of the Author.)
some long sheds which had been built at the northern portion
for themselves. At this time only one medical officer was in
attendance, whereas at least twenty medical officers should have
been employed.
* -
X: * * * º 3& •k.
Died in the Stockade from its organization, February 24, 1864 to September 21------------ 3,254
Pied in Hospital during same time------------------------------------------------------- 6,225
Total deaths in Hospital and Stockade--------------------------------...------- 9,479
Scurvy, diarrhea, dysentery, and hospital gangrene were the
prevailing diseases. I was surprised to find but few cases of
malarial fever, and no well-marked cases either of typhus or
typhoid fever. The absence of the different forms of malarial
fever may be accounted for in the supposition that the artificial
atmosphere of the Stockade, crowded densely with human





308 ANDERSON VILLE,
beings and loaded with animal exhalations, was unfavorable to
the existence and action of the malarial poison. The absence
of typhoid and typhus fevers amongst all the causes which are
Supposed to generate these diseases, appeared to be due to the
fact that the great majority of these prisoners had been in cap-
tivity in Virginia, at Belle Island, and in other parts of the
Confederacy for months, and even as long as two years, and
during this time they had been subjected to the same bad influ-
ences, and those who had not had these fevers before either had
them during their confinement in Confederate prisons or else
their systems, from long exposure, were proof against their
action. - - - -
The effects of scurvy were manifested on every hand, and in
all its various stages, from the muddy, pale complexion, pale
gums, feeble, languid muscular motions, lowness of spirits, and
fetid breath, to the dusky, dirty, leaden complexion, swollen
features, spongy, purple, livid, fungoid, bleeding gums, loose
teeth, Cedematous limbs, covered with livid vibices, and petechiae
Spasmodically flexed, painful and hardened extremities, sponta-
neous hemorrhages from mucous canals, and large, ill-condi-
tioned, spreading ulcers covered with a dark purplish fungus
growth. I observed that in some of the cases of scurvy the
parotid glands were greatly swollen, and in some instances to
such an extent as to preclude entirely the power to articulate.
In several cases of dropsy of the abdomen and lower extreme-
ties supervening upon scurvy, the patients affirmed that pre-
viously to the appearance of the dropsy they had suffered with
profuse and obstinate diarrhea, and that when this was checked
by a change of diet, from Indian corn-bread baked with the
husk, to boiled rice, the dropsy appeared. The severe pains
and livid patches were frequently associated with swellings in
various parts, and especially in the lower extremities, accompan-
ied with stiffness and contractions of the knee joints and ankles,
and often with a brawny feel of the parts, as if lymph had been
effused between the integuments and apeneuroses, preventing
the motion of the skin over the swollen parts. Many of the pris-
Oners believed that the scurvy was contagious, and I saw men
guarding their Wells and springs, fearing lest some man suffer-
ing with the scurvy might use the water and thus poison them.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 309
I observed also numerous cases of hospital gangrene, and of
spreading scorbutic ulcers, which had supervened upon slight
injuries. The scorbutic ulcers presented a dark, purple fungoid,
elevated surface, with livid swollen edges, and exuded a thin,
fetid, sanious fluid, instead of pus. Many ulcers which Origi-
nated from the scorbutic condition of the system appeared to
become truly gangrenous, assuming all the characteristics of
hospital gangrene. From the crowded condition, filthy habits,
bad diet, and dejected, depressed condition of the prisoners,
their systems had become so disordered that the smallest abra-
son of the skin, from the rubbing of a shoe, or from the effects
of the sun, or from the prick of a splinter, or from scratching,
or a musketo bite, in some cases, took on rapid and frightful
ulceration and gangrene. The long use of salt meat, ofttimes
imperfectly cured, as well as the most total deprivation of veg-
etables and fruit, appeared to be the chief causes of the scurvy.
I carefully examined the bakery and the bread furnished the
prisoners, and found that they were supplied almost entirely
with corn-bread from which the husk had not been separated.
This husk acted as an irritant to the alimentary canal, without
adding any nutriment to the bread. As far as my examination
extended no fault could be found with the mode in which the
bread was baked; the difficulty lay in the failure to . separate
the husk from the corn-meal. I strongly urged the preparation of
large quantities of soup made from the cow and calves' heads
with the brains and tongues, to which a liberal supply of sweet
potatos and vegetables might have been advantageously added.
The material existed in abundance for the preparation of such
soup in large quantities with but little additional expense.
Such aliment would have been not only highly nutritious, but
it would also have acted as an efficient remedial agent for
the removal of the scorbutio condition. The sick within the
Stockade lay under several long sheds which were originally
built for barracks. These sheds covered two floors which were
open on all sides. The sick lay upon the bare boards, or upon
such ragged blankets as they possessed, without, as far as I
observed, any bedding Or even straw.
* º * * % * 3% *}}
The haggard, distressed countenances of these miserable, com.
310 ANDERSON VILLE.
plaining, dejected, living skeletons, crying for medical aid and
food, and cursing their Government for its refusal to exchange
prisoners, and the ghastly corpses, with their glazed eye balls
staring up into vacant space, with the flies swarming down
their open and grinning mouths, and over their ragged clothes,
infested with numerous lice, as they lay amongst the sick and
dying, formed a picture of helpless, hopeless misery which it
would be impossible to portray by words or by the brush. A
feeling of disappointment and even resentment on account of
the United States Government upon the subject of the exchange
of prisoners, appeared to be widespread, and the apparent hope-
less nature of the negotiations for some general exchange of
prisoners appeared to be a cause of universal regret and deep
and injurious despondency. I heard some of the prisoners go
so far as to exonerate the Confederate Government from any
charge of intentionally subjecting them to a protracted confine-
ment, with its necessary and unavoidable sufferings, in a coun-
try cut off from all intercourse with foreign nations, and sorely
pressed on all sides, whilst on the other hand they charged
their prolonged captivity upon their own Government, which
was attempting to make the negro equal to the white man.
Some hundred or more of the prisoners had been released from
confinement in the Stockade on parole, and filled various offices
as clerks, druggists, and carpenters, etc., in the various depart-
ments. These men were well clothed, and presented a stout
and healthy appearance, and as a general rule they presented a
much more robust and healthy appearance than the Confederate
troops guarding the prisoners.
* * * * * * * *
The entire grounds are surrounded by a frail board fence,
and are strictly guarded by Confederate soldiers, and no pris-
oner except the paroled attendants is allowed to leave the
grounds except by a special permit from the Commandant of
the Interior of the Prison.
The patients and attendants, near two thousand in number,
are crowded into this confined space and are but poorly sup-
plied with old and ragged tents. Large numbers of them were
without any bunks in the tents, and lay upon the ground,
oft-times without even a blanket. No beds or straw appeared
A. STORY OF HEBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 311
to have been furnished. The tents extend to within a few
yards of the small stream, the eastern portion of which, as we
have before said, is used as a privy and is loaded with excre-
ments; and I observed a large pile of corn-bread, bones, and
filth of all kinds, thirty feet in diameter and several feet in
hight, swarming with myriads of flies, in a vacant space near
the pots used for cooking. Millions of flies swarmed over
everything, and covered the faces of the sleeping patients, and
crawled down their open mouths, and deposited their maggots
in the gangrenous wounds of the living, and in the mouths of
the dead. Musketos in great numbers also infested the tents,
and many of the patients were so stung by these pestiferous
insects, that they resembled those suffering from a slight attack
of the measles. * -
The police and hygiene of the hospital were defective in the
extreme; the attendants, who appeared in almost every
instance to have been selected from the prisoners, seemed to
have in many cases but little interest in the welfare of their
fellow-captives. The accusation was made that the nurses in
many cases robbed the sick of their clothing, money, and rations,
and carried on a clandestine trade with the paroled prisoners and
Confederate guards without the hospital enclosure, in the cloth-
ing, effects of thesick, dying, and dead Federals. They certainly
appeared to neglect the comfort and cleanliness of the sick
intrusted to their care in a most shameful manner, even after
making due allowances for the difficulties of the situation.
Many of the sick were literally encrusted with dirt and filth
and covered with vermin. When a gangrenous wound needed
washing, the limb was thrust out a little from the blanket, or
board, or rags upon which the patient was lying, and water
poured over it, and all the putrescent matter allowed to soak
into the ground floor of the tent. The supply of rags for dress-
ing wounds was said to be very scant, and I saw the most filthy
rags which had been applied several times, and imperfectly
washed, used in dressing wounds. Where hospital gangrene
was prevailing, it was impossible for any wound to escape con-
tagion under these circumstances. The results of the treatment
of wounds in the hospital were of the most unsatisfactory char.
\
312 ANDERSON VILLE.
acter, from this neglect of cleanliness, in the dressings and
wounds themselves, as well as from various other causes which
will be more fully considered. I saw several gangrenous
wounds filled with maggots. I have frequently seen neglected
Wounds amongst the Confederate soldiers similarly affected;
* -- * •---&
2
§§
§§ §§ º º §§ wº ޺ § - Rºº
§§º §§ º n §§ :
-ºš § §
tº crºss
s"-
ššs=––– 2' *
š= C/ſº
s:==ss-
S--~~~
THE GRAVEY ART) AT ANDERSON VILLE AS THE REBELS LEFT IT.
3. (From a Rebel photograph in possession of the Author.)
and as far as my experience extends, these worms destroy only
the dead tissues and do not injure specially the well parts. I
have even heard Surgeons affirm that a gangrenous wound
which had been thoroughly cleansed by maggots, healed more
rapidly than if it had been left to itself. This want of cleanli-
ness on the part of the nurses appeared to be the result of care-
lessness and inattention, rather than of malignant design, and
the whole trouble can be traced to the want of the proper

A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. - 313
police and sanitary regulations, and to the absence of intelligent
. Organization and division of labor. The abuses were in a large
measure due to the almost total absence of system, govern-
ment, and rigid, but wholesome Sanitary regulations. In
extenuation of these abuses it was alleged by the medical offi-
cers that the Confederate troops were barely sufficient to guard
the prisoners, and that it was impossible to obtain any number
of experienced nurses from the Confederate forces. In fact the
guard appeared to be too small, even for the regulation of the
internal hygiene and police of the hospital.
The manner of disposing of the dead was also calculated to
--depress the already desponding spirits of these men, many of
whom have been confined for months, and even for nearly two
years in Richmond and other places, and whose strength had
been wasted by bad air, bad food, and neglect of personal clean-
liness. The dead-house is merely a frame covered with old
tent cloth and a few bushes, situated in the southwestern corner
of the hospital grounds. When a patient dies, he is simply laid
in the narrow street in front of his tent, until he is removed by
Federal negros detailed to carry off the dead; if a patient dies
during the night, he lies there until the morning, and during
the day even the dead were frequently allowed to remain for
hours in these walks. In the dead-house the corpses lie upon
the bare ground, and were in most cases covered with filth and
Vermin.
36. * 3& * 3& * * #
The cooking arrangements are of the most defective character.
Five large iron pots similar to those used for boiling Sugar cane,
appeared to be the only cooking utensils furnished by the hos-
pital for the cooking of nearly two thousand men; and the
patients were dependent in great measure upon their own mis-
erable utensils. They were allowed to cook in the tent doors
and in the lanes, and this was another source of filth, and
another favorable condition for the generation and multiplica-
tion of flies and other vermin. -
The air of the tents was foul and disagreeable in the extreme,
and in fact the entire grounds emitted a most nauseous and dis-
gusting smell. I entered nearly all the tents and carefully
314 "ANDERSON VILLE.
examined the cases of interest, and especially the cases of gan.
grene, upon numerous occasions, during the prosecution of my
pathological inquiries at Andersonville, and therefore enjoyed
every opportunity to judge correctly of the hygiene and police
of the hospital. **
There appeared to be almost absolute indifference and neg
lect on the part of the patients of personal cleanliness; their
persons and clothing in most instances, and especially of those
suffering with gangrene and scorbutic ulcers, were filthy in the
extreme and covered with vermin. It was too often the case
that patients were received from the Stockade in a most deplor.
able condition. I have seen men brought in from the Stockade
in a dying condition, begrimed from head to foot with their
own excrements, and so black from smoke and filth that they
resembled negros rather than white men. That this descrip-
tion of the Stockade and hospital has not been overdrawn, will
appear from the reports of the surgeons in charge, appended to
this report.
* * º 3& * * *
We will examine first the consolidated report of the sick and
wounded Federal prisoners. During six months, from the 1st
of March to the 31st of August, forty-two thousand six hun-
dred and eighty-six cases of diseases and wounds were reported.
No classified record of the sick in the Stockade was kept after
the establishment of the hospital without the Prison. This
fact, in conjunction with those already presented relating to
the insufficiency of medical Officers and the extreme illness and
even death of many prisoners in the tents in the Stockade,
without any medical attention or record beyond the bare num-
ber of the dead, demonstrate that these figures, large as they
appear to be, are far below the truth.
As the number of prisoners varied greatly at different periods,
the relations between those reported sick and well, as far as
those statistics extend, can best be determined by a comparison
of the statistics of each month. The following table presents
the mean strength, the total diseases and deaths, and the total
cases and deaths of the most fatal diseases:
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS.
315
Table illustrating the mean strength, total cases of disease and death, and the rela-
tions of the cases and deaths of the most fatal diseases among the Federal pris-
oners confined at Andersonville, Ga.
(Consolidated from the original reports
on file in the office of the Surgeon in charge of the post of Andersonville, by
Joseph Jones, Surgeon Provisional Army Confederate States.)
1864.
March. April. May. June. July. August. Total.
Mean strength, Federal prisoners --| 7,500 | 10,000 15,000 22,291 29,030 32,899 ||--------
Total taken sick or wounded dur- *,
ing the month-------------------- 1,530 2,425 | 8,583 || 7,968 || 10,834 || 11,346 || 42,686
Ratio of sick to well; one sick in- 49-10 || 48-100 || 1 7-10 || 2 8-10 || 2 6-10 29-10 ||--------
Total deaths from all causes ------- 283 576 708 1,201 | 1,952 2,992 7,712
Per cent. of deaths to sick entered
- on sick reports during month ----| 18.42 23.7 8.2 15.0 18.1 26.8 1--------
One death in so many sick and
wounded prisoners -------------- 26.4 17.3 – 21.18 || 18.5 14.8 10.9 --------
Per cent. of deaths to mean strength, - - - - -
sick and Well--------------------- 3.7 5.76 4.72 5.38 6.64 9.09 --------
Typhoid fever—
&SeS ---------------------------- 67 56 92 18 39 200 47?
Deaths.--------------------------- 28 18 17 32 58 32 185
Congestive fever—
Cases ----------------------------|-------- 5 1 -------- 1 I 8
Deaths.---------------------------|------------ * - - - 1. 2 2 1 6
Intermittent fever, quotidian— - *
8888 ----------------------------|-------- 10 481 205 150 324 1,170
Deaths---------------------------|-------- 4 9 7 7 29 56
Intermittent fever, tertian— -
28SeS ------------- |- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 35 24 385 192 139 775
Deaths.--------------------------- ? ----------------|--------|--------|-------- 2
Intermittent fever, quartern—
&SeS ----------------------------|--------|-------- 114 25 56 -------- 195
Deaths.---------------------------|----------------|--------|----------------|----------------
Remittent fever—
Cases ---------------------------- 37 10 181 240 ---- 468
Deaths.-------- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 5 1 9 18 -------- 28
Bilious remittent fever—
&SCS ----------** * * * * * * * * * * * * * = * * * | * * * * * * * *- : * ~ * * * = • - 1 = - * * * * * = i < * se se s = * * 160 190 850
Deaths.---------------------------|--------|--------|--------|-------- 15 I2 27
Pneumonia—
Cases ---------------------------- 102 108 103 21 28 116 528
Deaths.-- tº tºº tº º 65 58 28 41 27 15 234
Scurvy—
Cases ---------------------------- 15 50 | 1,221 2,097 3,092 3,026 9,501
Deaths.---------------------------|--------|-------- 14 6 195 *22 999
Acute diarrhoea—
Cases ---------------------------- 386 916 1,729 || 1,966 || 2,796 || 1,982 9,775
Deaths.-------------------------- 51 220 251 330 517 '92 2,161
Chronic diarrhoea.—
Cases ---------------------------- 95 235 608 510 349 520 2,315
Deaths.-------- ---------------- 26 115 171 447 330 280 y
Acute dysentery—
Cases ---------------------------- 143 133 870 540 999 859 3,549
Deaths.--------------------------- 29 49 93 98 215 364 848
Chronic dysentery—
8 SeS . . . . ------------------------ 42 51 407 271 180 187 1,138
Deaths.--------------------------- 12 27 8 5 27 72 151
Morbiben. Tº
Cases ----------------------------|-------- 100 6 9 203 156 474
DeathS- 17 -------- 3 8 181 156 565
Dropsy—
Cases ---- 28 32 233 248 304 665 1,510
Deaths- 2 6 50 '71 66 120 815


During this period of six months no less than five hundred
and sixty-five deaths are recorded under the head of morbi
In other words, those men died without having received
vanie.
^
316 ANDERSON VILLE.
sufficient medical attention for the determination of even the
name of the disease causing death. -
During the month of August fifty-three cases and fifty-three
deaths are recorded as due to marasmus. Surely this large
number of deaths must have been due to some other morbid
state than slow wasting. If they were due to improper and
insufficient food, they should have been classed accordingly,
and if to diarrhea or dysentery or scurvy, the classification
should in like manner have been explicit.
We observe a progressive increase of the rate of mortality,
from 3.11 per cent. in March to 9.09 per cent. of mean strength,
sick and well, in August. The ratio of mortality continued to
increase during September, for notwithstanding the removal of
One-half of the entire number of prisoners during the early
portion of the month, one thousand seven hundred and sixty-
seven (1,767) deaths are registered from September 1 to 21, and
the largest number of deaths upon any one day occurred during
this month, on the 16th, viz.: one hundred and nineteen.
The entire number of Federal prisoners confined at Anderson-
ville was about forty thousand six hundred and eleven; and dur
ing the period of near seven months, from February 24 to Septem-
ber 21, nine thousand four hundred and seventy-nine (9,479)
deaths were recorded; that is, during this period near one-fourth,
or more, exactly one in 4.2, or $3.3 per cent., terminated fatally.
This increase of mortality was due in great measure to the
accumulation of the sources of disease, as the increase of excre-
ments and filth of all kinds, and the concentration of noxious
effluvia, and also to the progressive effects of Salt diet, crowding,
and the hot climate.
CONCLUSIONS,
1st. The great mortality among the Federal prisoners con-
fined in the military prison at Andersonville was not referable
to climatic causes, or to the nature of the soil and waters. &
2d. The chief causes of death were scurvy and its results and
bowel affections—chronic and acute diarrhea and dysentery.
The bowel affections appear to have been due to the diet, the
habits of the patients, the depressed, dejected state of the ner-
vous system and moral and intellectual powers, and to the
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 317
effluvia arising from the decomposing animal and vegetable
filth. The effects of Salt meat, and an unvarying diet of corn-
meal, with but few vegetables, and imperfect supplies of vinegar
and syrup, were manifested in the great prevalence of scurvy.
This disease, without doubt, was also influenced to an important
extent in its origin and course by the foul animal emanations.
3d. From the sameness of the food and form, the action of
the poisonous gases in the densely crowded and filthy Stockade
and hospital, the blood was altered in its constitution, even
before the manifestation of actual disease. In both the Well
and the sick the red corpuscles were diminished; and in all
diseases uncomplicated with inflammation, the fibrous element
was deficient. In cases of ulceration of the mucous membrane
of the intestinal canal, the fibrous element of the blood was
increased; while in simple diarrhea, uncomplicated with ulcera-
tion, it was either diminished or else remained stationary.
Heart clots were very common, if not universally present, in
cases of ulceration of the intestinal mucous membrane, while
in the uncomplicated cases of diarrhea and scurvy, the blood
was fluid and did not coagulate readily, and the heart clots and
fibrous concretions were almost universally absent. From the
watery condition of the blood, there resulted various serous
effusions into the pericardium, ventricles of the brain, and into
the abdomen. In almost all the cases which I examined after
death, even the most emaciated, there was more or less serous
effusion into the abdominal cavity. In cases of hospital gan-
grene of the extremities, and in cases of gangrene of the
intestines, heart clots and fibrous coagula were universally
present. The presence of those clots in the cases of hospital
gangrene, while they were absent in the cases in which there
was no inflammatory symptoms, sustains the conclusion that
hospital gangrene is a species of inflammation, imperfect and
irregular though it may be in its progress, in which the fibrous
element and coagulation of the blood are increased, even in
those who are suffering from such a condition of the blood,
and from such diseases as are naturally accompanied with a
decrease in the fibrous constituent. -
4th. The fact that hospital gangrene appeared in the Stockade
first, and Originated spontaneously without any previous con-
318 ANDERSON VILLE.
tagion, and occurred sporadically all over the Stockade and
prison hospital, was proof positive that this disease will arise
whenever the conditions of crowding, filth, foul air, and bad
diet are present. The exhalations from the hospital and
Stockade appeared to exert their effects to a considerable dis-
tance outside of these localities. The origin of hospital gan-
grene among these prisoners appeared clearly to depend in
great measure upon the state of the general system induced by
diet, and various external noxious influences. The rapidity of
the appearance and action of the gangrene depended upon the
powers and state of the constitution, as well as upon the inten-
sity of the poison in the atmosphere, or upon the direct appli-
cation of poisonous matter to the wounded surface. This was
further illustrated by the important fact that hospital gangrene,
or a disease resembling it in all essential respects, attacked the
intestinal. canal of patients laboring under ulceration of the
bowels, although there were no local manifestations of gangrene
upon the surface of the body. This mode of termination in
cases of dysentery was quite common in the foul atmosphere of
the Confederate States Military Hospital, in the depressed,
depraved condition of the system of these Federal prisoners.
5th. A scorbutic condition of the system appeared to favor
the origin of foul ulcers, which frequently took on true hospital
gangrene. Scurvy and hospital gangrene frequently existed
in the same individual. In such cases, vegetable diet, with
vegetable acids, would remove the scorbutic condition without
curing the hospital gangrene. From the results of the existing
war for the establishment of the independence of the Confede-
rate States, as well as from the published observations of Dr.
Trotter, Sir Gilbert Blane, and others of the English navy and
army, it is evident that the scorbutic condition of the system,
especially in crowded ships and camps, is most favorable to the
origin and spread of foul ulcers and hospital gangrene. As in
the present case of Andersonville, so also in past times when
medical hygiene was almost entirely neglected, those two
diseases were almost universally associated in crowded ships.
In many cases it was very difficult to decide at first whether
the ulcer was a simple result of Scurvy or of the action of the
prison or hospital gangrene, for there was great similarity in
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON Se 319
the appearance of the ulcers in the two diseases. So commonly
have those two diseases been combined in their origin and
action, that the description of scorbutic ulcers, by many authors,
evidently includes also many of the prominent characteristics
of hospital gangrene. This will be rendered evident by an
examination of the observations of Dr. Lind and Sir Gilbert
Blane upon scorbutic ulcers. -
6th. Gangrenous spots followed by rapid destruction of tissue
appeared in some cases where there had been no known wound.
Without such well-established facts, it might be assumed that
the disease was propagated from one patient to another. In
such a filthy and crowded hospital as that of the Confederate
States Military Prison at Andersonville, it was impossible to
isolate the wounded from the sources of actual contact of the
gangrenous matter. The flies swarming over the wounds and
over filth of every kind, the filthy, imperfectly washed and
scanty supplies of rags, and the limited supply of washing
utensils, the same wash-bowl serving for scores of patients,
were sources of such constant circulation of the gangrenous
matter that the disease might rapidly spread from a single gan-
grenous wound. The fact already stated, that a form of moist
gangrene, resembling hospital gangrene, was quite common in
this foul atmosphere, in cases of dysentery, both with and with-
out the existence of the disease upon the entire surface, not only
demonstrates the dependence of the disease upon the state of
the constitution, but proves in the clearest manner that neither
the contact of the poisonous matter of gangrene, nor the direct
action of the poison us atmosphere upon the ulcerated surface
is necessary to the development of the disease.
7th. In this foul atmosphere amputation did not arrest hos-
pital gangrene; the disease almost invariably returned. Almost
every amputation was followed finally by death, either from
the effects of gangrene or from the prevailing diarrhea and
dysentery. Nitric acid and escharotics generally in this
crowded atmosphere, loaded with noxious effluvia, exerted only
temporary effects; after their application to the diseased sur-
faces, the gangrene would frequently return with redoubled
energy; and even after the gangrene had been completely
removed by local and constitutional treatment, it would fre-
320 ANDERSON VILLE.
quently return and destroy the patient. As far as my observ-
ation extended, very few of the cases of amputation for gan-
grene recovered. The progress of these cases was frequently
very deceptive. I have observed after death the most exten-
sive disorganization of the structures of the stump, when dur-
ing life there was but little swelling of the part, and the patient
was apparently doing well. I endeavored to impress upon the
medical officers the view that in this disease treatment was
almost useless, without an abundant supply of pure, fresh air,
nutritious food, and tonics and stimulants. Such changes, how-
ever, as would allow of the isolation of the cases of hospital
gangrene appeared to be out of the power of the medical officers.
8th. The gangrenous mass was without true pus, and con-
sisted chiefly of broken-down, disorganized structures. The
reaction of the gangrenous matter in certain stages was alkaline.
9th. The best, and in truth the only means of protecting
large armies and navies, as well as prisoners, from the ravages
of hospital gangrene, is to furnish liberal supplies of well-cured
meat, together with fresh beef and vegetables, and to enforce a
rigid system of hygiene.
10th. Finally, this gigantic mass of human misery calls loudly
for relief, not only for the sake of suffering humanity, but also
on account of our own brave soldiers now captives in the hands
of the Federal Government. Strict justice to the gallant men
of the Confederate Armies, who have been or who may be, so
unfortunate as to be compelled to surrender in battle, demands
that the Confederate Government should adopt that course
which will best secure their health and comfort in captivity; or
at least leave their enemies without a shadow of an excuse for
any violation of the rules of civilized warfare in the treatment
of prisoners.
- [End of the Witness's Testimony.]
The variation—from month to month—of the proportion
of deaths to the whole number living is singular and interesting.
It supports the theory I have advanced above, as the following
facts, taken from the Official report, will show:
In April one in every sixteen died.
In May one in every twenty-six died.
In June one in every twenty-two died.
'...}
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 321
In July one in every eighteen died.
In August one in every eleven died.
In September one in every three died.
In October one in every two died.
In November one in every three died.
Does the reader fully understand that in September one-
third of those in the pen died, that in October one-half of the
remainder perished, and in November one-third of those who
still survived, died? Let him pause for a moment and read
this over carefully again, because its startling magnitude will
hardly dawn upon him at first reading. It is true that the
fearfully disproportionate mortality of those months was largely
due to the fact that it was mostly the sick that remained behind,
but even this diminishes but little the frightfulness of the show-
ing. Did any. One ever hear of an epidemic so fatal that one-
third of those attacked by it in one month died; one-half of the
remnant the next month, and one-third of the feeble remainder
the next month? If he did, his reading has been much more
extensive than mine.
The number of prisoners in the Stockade, the number of
deaths each month, and the daily average is given as follows:

Number in Daily
MoRTHS. 2, - Stockade. Deaths. Average.
March ------------------------------------------------ 4,703 283 9
April-------------------------------------------------- 9,577 592 19
May-------------------------------------------------- 18,454 711 23
June -------------------------------------------------- 26,367 1,202 40
July--------------------------------------------------- 31,678 1,742 56
August ----------------------------------------------- 31,693 3,076 99
September-------------------------------------------- 8,218 2,790 90
October ----------------------------------------------- 4,208 1,595 51
November---- * - - - - - - * * * * * * * * * * - * * * * * se eas 1,359 485 10
The greatest number of deaths in one day is reported to have
occurred on the 23d of August, when one hundred and twenty-
seven died, or one man every eleven minutes. -
The greatest number of prisoners in the Stockade is stated to
have been August 8, when there were thirty-three thousand
one hundred and fourteen.
, I have always imagined both these statements to be short of
the truth, because my remembrance is that one day in August
f
21
322 ANDERSON VILLE.
I counted over two hundred dead lying in a row. As for the
greatest number of prisoners, I remember quite distinctly
standing by the ration wagon during the whole time of the
delivery of rations, to see how many prisoners there really were
inside. That day the One Hundred and Thirty-Third Detach-
ment was called, and its Sergeant came up and drew rations
for a full detachment. All the other detachments were habi-
tually kept full by replacing those who died with new comers.
As each detachment consisted of two hundred and seventy
men, one hundred and thirty-three detachments would make
thirty-five thousand nine hundred and ten, exclusive of those
in the hospital, and those detailed outside as cooks, clerks,
hospital attendants and various other employments—say from
One to two thousand more.
CHAPTER XLIII.
IOff"FICULTY OF EXERCISING — EMBARRASSMENTS OF A MORNING WALR
. — THE RIALTO OF THE PRISON —CURSING THE SOUTHERN CONFED-
... ERAOY — THE-STORY-OF THE BATTLE OF-SPOTTSYLVANIA COURT
HOUSE.
Certainly in no other great community that ever existed upon
the face of the globe was there so little daily ebb and flow as
in this. Dull as an ordinary Town or City may be; however
monotonous, eventless, even stupid the lives of its citizens, there
is yet, nevertheless, a flow every day of its life-blood—its pop-
ulation—towards its heart, and an ebb of the same, every even-
ing towards its extremities. These recurring tides mingle all
classes together and promote the general healthfulness, as the
constant motion hither and yon of the ocean’s waters purify
and sweeten them.
The lack of these helped vastly to make the living mass
inside the Stockade a human Dead Sea—or rather a Dying
Sea — a putrefying, stinking lake, resolving itself into phos-
phorescent corruption, like those rotting southern seas, whose
seething filth burns in hideous reds, and ghastly greens and
yellows.
Being little call for motion of any kind, and no room to
exercise whatever wish there might be in that direction, very
many succumbed unresistingly to the apathy which was so
strongly favored by despondency and the weakness induced by
continual hunger, and lying Supinely on the hot sand, day in
and day out, speedily brought themselves into such a condition
as invited the attacks of disease.
It required both determination and effort to take a little
324 ANDERSON VILLE.
walking exercise. The ground was so densely crowded with
holes and other devices for shelter that it took one at least ten
minutes to pick his way through the narrow and tortuous
labyrinth which served as paths for communication between
different parts of the Camp. Still further, there was nothing
to see anywhere or to form sufficient inducement for any one
to make so laborious a journey. One simply encountered at
every new step the same unwelcome sights that he had just
left; there was a monotony in the misery as in everything else,
and consequently the temptation to sit or lie still in one’s own
quarters became very great. - -
I used to make it a point to go to some of the remoter parts
of the Stockade once every day, simply for exercise. One can
gain some idea of the crowd, and the difficulty of making one’s
way through it, when I say that no point in the prison could
be more than fifteen hundred feet from where I staid, and,
had the way been clear, I could have walked thither and back
in at most a half an hour, yet it usually took me from two to
three hours to make one of these journeys. -
This daily trip, a few visits to the Creek to wash all over, a
few games of chess, attendance upon roll call, drawing rations,
cooking and eating the same, “lousing ” my fragments of
clothes, and doing some little duties for my sick and helpless
comrades, constituted the daily routine for myself, as for most
of the active youths in the prison. -
The Creek was the great meeting point for all inside the
Stockade. All able to walk were certain to be there at least
once during the day, and we made it a rendezvous, a place to
exchange gossip, discuss the latest news, canvass the prospects
of exchange, and, most of all, to curse the Rebels. Indeed no
conversation ever progressed very far without both speaker and
listener taking frequent rests to say bitter things as to the
Rebels generally, and Wirz, Winder and Davis in particular.
A conversation between two boys—Strangers to each other—
who came to the Creek to wash themselves or their clothes, or
for some other purpose, would progress thus:
First Boy—“I belong to the Second Corps, Hancock's,
[the Army of the Potomac boys always mentioned what Corps
they belonged to, where the Western boys stated their Reg-
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON 8. 325
iment.] They got me at Spottsylvania, when they were butting
their heads against our breast-works, trying to get even with us
for gobbling up Johnson in the morning,”—He stops suddenly
and changes tone to say: “I hope to God, that when our folks
get Richmond, they will put old Ben Butler in command of it,
with orders to limb,
skin and jayhawk it
worse than he did
New Orleans.”
Second Boy, (fer-
vently:) “I wish to
| God he would, and
that he'd catch old
Jeff, and that gray-
headed devil, Win-
der, and the old
Dutch Captain, strip
'em just as we were,
put 'em in this pen,
with just the rations
they are givin’ us,
sº:######: Bºšº §º _ and set a guard of
#º ñºl plantation niggers
=º: º ºf over'em, with orders
to blow their whole
infernal heads off, if they dared so much as to look at the dead
line.”
First Boy—(returning to the story of his capture.) “Old
Hancock caught the Johnnies that morning the neatest you
ever saw anything in your life. After the two armies had
murdered each other for four or five days in the Wilderness, by
fighting so close together that much of the time you could
almost shake hands with the Graybacks, both hauled off a
little, and lay and glowered at each other. Each side had lost
about twenty thousand men in learning that if it attacked the
other it would get mashed fine. So each built a line of works
and lay behind them, and tried to nag the other into coming
out and attacking. At Spottsylvania. Our lines and those of the
Johnnies weren’t twelve hundred yards apart. The ground
º
DENOUNCING THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY.

826 - ANDERSON VILLE.
was clear and clean between them, and any force that
attempted to cross it to attack would be cut to pieces, as sure
as anything. We laid there three or four days watching each
Other—just like boys at school, who shake fists and ‘dare.”
each other. At one place the Rebel line ran out towards us
like the top of a great letter “A.” The night of the 11th of May
it rained very hard, and then came a fog so thick that you
couldn’t see the length of a company. Hancock thought he'd
take advantage of this. We were all turned out very quietly
about four o’clock in the morning. Not a bit of noise was
allowed. We even had to take off our canteens and tin cups,
that they might not rattle against our bayonets. The ground
was so wet that our footsteps couldn’t be heard. It was one of
those deathly still movements, when you think your heart is
making as much noise as a bass drum. -
“The Johnnies didn’t seem to have the faintest suspicion of
what was coming, though they ought, because we would have
expected such an attack from them if we hadn’t made it our-
selves. Their pickets were out just a little ways from their
works, and we were almost on to them before they discovered
us. They fired and ran back. At this we raised a yell and
dashed forward at a charge. As we poured over the works, the
Rebels came double-quicking up to defend them. We flanked
Johnson’s Division quicker'n you could say “Jack Robinson,’ and
had four thousand of 'em in our grip just as nice as you please.
We sent them to the rear under guard, and started for the next
line of Rebel works about a half a mile away. But we had
now waked up the whole of Lee's army, and they all came
straight for us, like packs of mad wolves. Ewell struck us in
the center; Longstreet let drive at our left flank, and Hill
tackled our right. We fell back to the works we had taken,
Warren and Wright came up to help us, and we had it hot and
heavy for the rest of the day and part of the night. The John-
nies seemed so mad over what we’d done that they were half
crazy. They charged us five times, coming up every time just
as if they were going to lift us right out of the works with the
bayonet. About midnight, after they’d lost over ten thousand
men, they seemed to understand that we had pre-empted that
piece of real estate, and didn't propose to allow anybody to
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 327
jump our claim, so they fell back sullen like to their main
works. When they came on the last charge, our Brigadier
walked behind each of our regiments and said:
“' Boys, we'll send ’em back this time for keeps. Give it to
'em by the acre, and when they begin to waver, we'll all jump
over the works and go for them with the bayonet.’
“We did it just that way. We poured such a fire on them
that the bullets knocked up the ground in front just like you
have seen the deep dust in a road in the middle of Summer fly
up when the first great big drops of a rain storm strike it.
But they came on, yelling and swearing, officers in front wav-
ing swords, and shouting—all that business, you know. When
they got to about one hundred yards from us, they did not seem
to be coming so fast, and there was a good deal of confusion
among them. The brigade bugle sounded
“‘Stop firing.’ -
“We all ceased instantly. The Rebels looked up in astonish-
ment. Our General sang out
“Fix bayonets!'
but we knew what was coming, and were already executing the
order. You can imagine the crash that ran down the line, as
every fellow snatched his bayonet out and slapped it on the
muzzle of his gun. Then the General's voice rang out like a
bugle: -
“‘Ready l—FoRw ARD ! CILARGE l’
“We cheered till everything seemed to split, and jumped
over the works, almost every man at the same minute. The
Johnnies seemed to have been puzzled at the stoppage of our
fire. When we all came sailing over the works, with guns
brought right down where they meant business, they were so
astonished for a minute that they stood stock still, not knowing
whether to come for us, or run. We did not allow them long
to debate, but went right towards them on the double quick,
with the bayonets looking awful Savage and hungry. It was
too much for Mr. Johnny Reb's nerves. They all seemed to
“about face’ at once, and they lit out of there as if they had
been sent for in a hurry. We chased after ’em as fast as we
could, and picked up just lots of 'em. Finally it began to be
real funny. A Johnny's wind would begin to give out he'd
328 ANDERSON VILLE.
*
fall behind his comrades; he’d hear us yell and think that We
were right behind him, ready to sink a bayonet through him;
he'd turn around, throw up his hands, and sing out :
“I surrender, mister! I surrender l’ and find that we were
THE CHARGE.
a hundred feet off, and would have to have a bayonet as long
as one of McClellan’s general orders to touch him.
“Well, my company was the left of our regiment, and Our
regiment was the left of the brigade, and we swung out ahead
of all the rest of the boys. In our excitement of chasing the
Johnnies, we didn’t see that we had passed an angle of their
works. About thirty of us had become separated from the
company and were chasing a squad of about seventy-five or one
hundred. We had got up so close to them that we hollered:
“‘Halt there, now, or we'll blow your heads off.”

A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON8. 329
“They turned round with ‘Halt yourselves; you
Yankee
“We looked around at this, and saw that we were not one
hundred feet away from the angle of the works, which were
filled with Rebels waiting for our fellows to get to where they
could have a good flank fire upon them. There was nothing
to do but to throw down our guns and surrender, and we had
hardly gone inside of the works, until the Johnnies opened on
our brigade and drove it back. This ended the battle at Spott-
sylvania Court House.” )
Second Boy (irrelevantly.) “Some day the underpinning will
fly out from under the – South, and let it sink right into
the middle kittle o’ hell.” T Tº"-- ---------------------------—
First Boy (Savagely.) “I only wish the whole Southern Con-
federacy was hanging over hell by a single string, and I had a
knife.”
CELAPTER XLIV.
REBEL MUSIC — SINGULAR LACK OF THE CREATIVE POWER AMONG
THE SOUTHERNER.S — CONTRAST WITH SIMILAR PEOPLE ELSE-
WHERE — THEIR FAVORITE MUSIC, AND WHERE IT WAS BORROWED
FROM — A FIFER WITH ONE TUNE.
I have before mentioned as among the things that grew upon
one with increasing acquaintance with the Rebels on their
native heath, was astonishment at their lack of mechanical skill,
and at their inability to grapple with numbers and the simpler
processes of arithmetic. Another characteristic of the same
nature was their wonderful lack of musical ability, or of any
kind of tuneful creativeness.
Elsewhere, all over the world, people living under similar
conditions to the Southerners are exceedingly musical, and we
owe the great majority of the sweetest compositions which
delight the ear and subdue the senses to unlettered song-makers
of the Swiss mountains, the Tyrolese valleys, the Bavarian
Highlands, and the minstrels of Scotland, Ireland and Wales.
The music of English-speaking people is very largely mads
up of these contributions from the folk-songs of dwellers in the
wilder and more mountainous parts of the British Isles. One
rarely goes far out of the way in attributing to this source any
air that he may hear that captivates him with its seductive opu-
lence of harmony. Exquisite melodies, limpid and unstrained
as the carol of a bird in Spring-time, and as plaintive as the coo-
ing of a turtle-dove seems as natural products of the Scottish
Highlands as the gorse which blazons on their hillsides in
August. Debarred from expressing their aspirations as people
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 331
of broader culture do—in painting, in sculpture, in poetry and
prose, these mountaineers make song the flexible and ready
instrument for the communication of every emotion that sweeps
across their souls.
Love, hatred, grief, revenge, anger, and especially war seems
to tune their minds to harmony, and awake the voice of song
in their hearts. The battles which the Scotch and Irish fought
to replace the luckless Stuarts upon the British throne—the
bloody rebellions of 1715 and 1745, left a rich legacy of sweet
Song, the outpouring of loving, passionate loyalty to a wretched
cause; songs which are to-day esteemed and sung wherever the
English language is spoken, by people who have long since for-
gotten what burning feelings gave birth to their favorite mel-
Odies.
For a century the bones of both the Pretenders have mol-
dered in alien soil; the names of James Edward, and Charles
Edward, which were once trumpet blasts to rowse armed men,
mean as little to the multitude of to-day as those of the Saxon
Ethelbert, and Danish Hardicanute, yet the world goes on sing-
ing—and will probably as long as the English language is spo- "
ken—“Wha’ll be King but Charlie?” “When Jamie Comes
Hame,” “Over the Water to Charlie,” “Charlie is my Dar-
ling,” “The Bonny Blue Bonnets are Over the Border,” “Sad-
dle Your Steeds and Awa,” and a myriad others whose infinite
tenderness and melody no modern composer can equal.
Yet these same Scotch and Irish, the same Jacobite English,
transplanted on account of their chronic rebelliousness to the
mountains of Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia, seem to have
lost their tunefulness, as some fine singing birds do when car-
ried from their native shores. The descendants of those who
drew swords for James and Charles at Preston Pans and Cullo-
den dwell to-day in the dales and valleys of the Alleganies, as
their fathers did in the dales and valleys of the Grampians, but
their voices are mute.
As a rule the Southerners are fond of music. They are fond
of singing and listening to old-fashioned ballads, most of which
have never been printed, but handed down from one generation
to the other, like the Volklieder of Germany. They sing these
with the wild, fervid impressiveness characteristic of the ballad
332 - ANDERSON VILLE,
singing of unlettered people. Very many play tolerably on the
violin and banjo, and occasionally one is found whose instru-
mentation may be called good. But above this hight they
never soar. The only musician produced by the South of whom
the rest of the country has ever heard, is Blind Tom, the negro
idiot. No composer, no song writer of any kind has appeared
within the borders of Dixie.
It was a disappointment to me that even the stress of the
war, the passion and fierceness with which the Rebels felt and
fought, could not stimulate any adherent of the Stars and Bars
into the production of a single lyric worthy in the remotest
degree of the magnitude of the struggle, and the depth of the
popular feeling. Where two million Scotch, fighting to restore
the fallen fortunes of the worse than worthless Stuarts, filled
the world with immortal music, eleven million of Southerners,
fighting for what they claimed to be individual freedom and
national life, did not produce any original verse, or a bar of
music that the world could recognize as such. This is the fact;
and an undeniable one. Its explanation I must leave to abler
analysts than I am.
Searching for peculiar causes we find but two that make the
South differ from the ancestral home of these people. These
two were Climate and Slavery. Climatic effects will not
account for the phenomenon, because we see that the peasantry
of the mountains of Spain and the South of France—as
ignorant as these people, and dwellers in a still more enervating
atmosphere—are very fertile in musical composition, and their
songs are to the Romanic languages what the Scotch and Irish
ballads are to the English.
Then it must be ascribed to the incubus oy Slavery upon the
intellect, which has repressed this as it has all other healthy
growths in the South. Slavery seems to benumb all the
faculties except the passions. The fact that the mountaineers
had but few or no slaves, does not seem to be of importance in
the case. They lived under the deadly shadow of the upas
tree, and suffered the consequences of its stunting their devel-
opment in all directions, as the ague-smitten inhabitant of the
Roman Campana finds every sense and every muscle clogged
by the filtering in of the insidious miasma. They did not
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON8. 333
compose songs and music, because they did not have the intel-
lectual energy for that work.
The negros displayed all the musical creativeness of that sec-
tion. Their wonderful prolificness in wild, rude songs, with
strangely melodious airs that burned themselves into the mem-
ory, was one of the salient characteristics of that down-trodden
race. Like the Russian serfs, and the bondmen of all ages and
lands, the songs they made and sang all had an undertone of
touching plaintiveness, born of ages of dumb suffering. The
themes were exceedingly simple, and the range of subjects lim-
ited. The joys, and sorrows, hopes and despairs of love's grat-
ification or disappointment, of struggles for freedom, contests
with malign persons and influences, of rage, hatred, jealousy,
revenge, such as form the motifs for the majority of the poetry
of free and strong races, were wholly absent from their lyrics.
Religion, hunger and toil were their main inspiration. They
Sang of the pleasures of idling in the genial sunshine; the
delights of abundance of food; the eternal happiness that
awaited them in the heavenly future, where the slave-driver
ceased from troubling and the weary were at rest; where Time
rolled around in endless cycles of days spent in basking, harp
in hand, and silken clad, in golden streets, under the soft
effulgence of cloudless skies, glowing with warmth and kind-
ness emanating from the Creator himself. IIad their masters
condescended to borrow the music of the slaves, they would
have found none whose sentiments were suitable for the Odes
of a people undergoing the pangs of what was hoped to be the
birth of a new nation.
The three songs most popular at the South, and generally
regarded as distinctively Southern, were “The Bonnie Blue
Flag,” “Maryland, My Maryland,” and “Stonewall Jackson
Crossing into Maryland.” The first of these was the greatest
favorite by long odds. Women sang, men whistled, and
the so-called musicians played it wherever we went. While in
the field before capture, it was the commonest of experiences to
have Rebel women sing it at us tauntingly from the houses
that we passed or near which we stopped. If ever near enough
a Rebel camp, we were sure to hear its wailing crescendos
rising upon the air from the lips or instruments of some one or
334 ANDERSON VILLE.
more quartered there. At Richmond it rang upon us con-
stantly from some source or another, and the same was true
wherever else we went in the so-called Confederacy. I give
the air and words below:
“THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG.”

| V * * | Lºlº T Tl
Eð;EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Q. -s. *
We are a band of brothers, And na - tive to the soil,

ſº Aº zºn a
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Fight-ing for our Lib - cr - ty, With treasure, blood, and toil; And
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when our rights were threatened, The cry rose near and far, Hur-

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rah for the Bon-nie Blue Flag, that bears a Sin - gle Star!
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Hur - rah! Hur - rah for South - ern Rights, Hur - rah Hur-

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rah ! for the Bonnie Blue Flag, that bears a Sin - gle Star !
All familiar with Scotch songs will readily recognize the
name and air as an old friend, and One of the fierce Jacobite
melodies that for a long time disturbed the tranquility of the
Brunswick family on the English throne. The new words sup-
plied by the Rebels are the merest doggerel, and fit the
music as poorly as the unchanged name of the song fitted to its
new use. The flag of the Rebellion was not a bonnie blue one;
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 335
but had quite as much red and white as azure. It did not have
a single star, but thirteen.
Next in popularity was “Maryland, My Maryland.” The
versification of this was of a much higher order, being fairly
respectable. The air is old, and a familiar one to all college
students, and belongs to one of the most common of German
household songs: w
O, Tannenbaum! O, Tannenbaum, wie tru sind deine Blaetter!
Du gruenst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit,
Nein, auch in Winter, when es Schneit, etc.
which Longfellow has finely translated,
O, hemlock tree! O, hemlock tree! how faithful are thy branches!
Green not alone in Summer time,
But in the Winter's flost and rime.
O, hemlock treel O, hemlock treel how faithful are thy branches. etº,
The Rebel version ran:
MARYLAND.
The despot's heel is on thy shore,
- Maryland!
His touch is at thy temple door,
Maryland!
Avenge the patriotic gore
That flecked the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battle queen of yore,
Maryland! My Maryland!
Hark to the wand'ring son's appeal,
Maryland!
My mother State, to thee I kneel,
Maryland!
For life and death, for woe and weal,
Thy peerless chivalry reveal,
And gird thy beautcous limbs with steel,
Maryland! My Maryland!
Thou wilt not cower in the dust,
Maryland!
Thy beaming sword shall never rust.
Maryland!
Remember Carroll’s sacred trust,
Remember Howard's warlike thrust-
And all thy slumberers with the just,
Maryland! My Maryland!
Come! 'tis the red dawn of the day,
Maryland!
Come! with thy panopfied array,
rºtaryland!
With Ringgold's spirit for the fray,
With Watson's blood at Monterey,
With fearless Lowe and dashing May,
Maryland! My Marylard
336. AND HERSON VILLE.
Come! for thy shield is bright and strong,
Maryland!
Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong,
Maryland!
Come! to thine own heroic throng,
That stalks with Liberty along,
And give a new Key to thy song,
Maryland! My Maryland!
Dear Mother! burst the tyrant's chain,
Maryland!
Virginia should not call in vain,
Maryland!
She meets her sisters on the plain —
“Sic semper,” 'tis the proud refrain,
That baffles millions back amain,
Maryland!
Arise, in majesty again,
Maryland! My Maryland!
I see the blush upon thy cheek,
Maryland!
But thou wast ever bravely meek,
Maryland!
But lo! there surges forth a shriek
From hill to hill, from creek to creek —
Potomac calls to Chesapeake,
Maryland l My Maryland!
&2
Thou wilt not yield the Wandal toll.
Maryland!
Thou wilt not crook to his control,
Maryland!
Better the fire upon thee roll,
Better the blade, the shot, the bowl,
Than crucifixion of the soul,
Maryland! My Maryland!
I hear the distant Thunder hum,
Maryland!
The Old Line's bugle, fife, and drum.
Maryland!
She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb -
Huzzal she spurns the Northern scum!
She breathes — she burns! she’ll come! she'll come?
Maryland! My Maryland!
“Stonewall Jackson Crossing into Maryland,” was another
travesty, of about the same literary merit, or rather demerit, as
“The Bonnie Blue Flag.” Its air was that of the well-known
and popular negro minstrel song, “Billy Patterson.” For all
that, it sounded very martial and stirring when played by a
brass band.
We heard these songs with tiresome iteration, daily and
nightly, during our stay in the Southern Confederacy. Some
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 337
one of the guards seemed to be perpetually beguiling the wear.
iness of his watch by singing in all keys, in every sort of a
voice, and with the wildest latitude as to air and time. They
became so terribly irritating to us, that to this day the remem-
brance of those soul-lacerating lyrics abides with me as one of
the chief of the minor torments of our situation. They were, in
fact, nearly as bad as the lice.
We revenged ourselves as best we could by constructing
fearfully wicked, obscene and insulting parodies on these, and
by singing them with irritating effusiveness in the hearing of
the guards who were inflicting these nuisances upon us.
Of the same nature was the garrison music. One fife, played
by an asthmatic old fellow whose breathings were nearly as
audible as his notes, and one rheumatic drummer, constituted
the entire band for the post. The fifer actually knew but one
tune—“The Bonnie Blue Flag”— and did not know that well.
But it was all that he had, and he played it with wearisome
monotony for every camp call—five or six times a day, and
seven days in the week. He called us up in the morning with
it for a reveille; he sounded the “roll call ” and “drill call,”
breakfast, dinner and Supper with it, and finally sent us to bed,
with the same dreary wail that had rung in our ears all day.
I never hated any piece of music as I came to hate that thren-
ody of treason. It would have been such a relief if the old
asthmatic who played it could have been induced to learn another
tune to play on Sundays, and give us one day of rest. He did
not, but desecrated the Lord’s Day by playing as Vilely as on
the rest of the week. The Rebels were fully conscious of their
musical deficiencies, and made repeated but unsuccessful
attempts to induce the musicians among the prisoners to come
outside and form a band.
22
CHAPTER XLV.
AUGUST — NEEDLES STUCK IN PUMPRIN SEEDS — SOME PHENOMENA
OF STARVATION — RIOTING IN REMEMBERED LUXURIES.
“Illincy,” said tall, gaunt Jack North, of the One Hun-
dred and Fourteenth Illinois, to me, one day, as we sat contem-
plating our naked, and sadly attenuated underpinning; “what
do our legs and feet most look like?”
“Give it up, Jack,” said I.
“Why—darning needles stuck in pumpkin seeds, of course.”
I never heard a better comparison for our wasted limbs.
The effects of the great bodily emaciation were sometimes
ſº very startling. Boys of a fleshy habit
§ would change so in a few weeks as to lose
all resemblance to their former selves, and
comrades who came into prison later
would utterly fail to recognize them.
§ Most fat men, as most large men, died
in a little while after entering, though
there were exceptions. One of these
was a boy of my own company, named
George Hillicks. George had shot up
within a few years to over six feet in
p hight, and then, as such boys occasionally
sº do, had, after enlisting with us, taken on
º ==> such a development of flesh that we nick-
ºsnamed him the “Giant,” and he became a
; # pretty good load for even the strongest
*=#º: •
** RLAGSTAFF.” horse. George held his flesh through
Belle Isle, and the earlier weeks in Andersonville, but June,
July, and August “fetched him,” as the boys said. He
q







A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON8. 339
seemed to melt away like an icicle on a Spring day, and he
grew so thin that his hight seemed preternatural. We called
him “Flagstaff,” and cracked all sorts of jokes about putting
an insulator on his head, and setting him up for a telegraph
pole, braiding his legs and using him for a whip lash, letting
his hair grow a little longer, and trading him off to the Rebels
for a sponge and staff for the artillery, etc. We all expected
him to die, and looked continually for the development of the
fatal scurvy symptoms, which were to seal his doom. But he
worried through, and came out at last in good shape, a happy
result due as much as to anything else to his having in Chester
Hayward, of Prairie City, Ill., one of the most devoted
chums I ever knew. Chester nursed and looked out for George
... • **
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with wife-like fidelity, and had his reward in bringing him safe
through our lines. There were thousands of instances of this
generous devotion to each other by chums in Andersonville,
and I know of nothing that reflects any more credit upon our
boy soldiers. -
There was little chance for any one to accumulate flesh on
the rations we were receiving. I say it in all soberness that I
do not believe that a healthy hen could have grown fat









340 ANDERSON VILLE,
upon them. I am sure that any good-sized “shanghai.” eats
more every day than the meager half loaf that we had to
maintain life upon. Scanty as this was, and hungry as all
were, very many could not eat it. Their stomachs revolted
against the trash; it became so nauseous to them that they
could not force it down, even when famishing, and they
died of starvation with the chunks of the so-called bread
under their head. Ifound myself rapidly approaching this con-
dition. I had been blessed with a good digestion and a talent
for sleeping under the most discouraging circumstances. These,
I have no doubt, were of the greatest assistance to me in my
struggle for existence. But now the rations became fearfully
obnoxious to me, and it was only with the greatest effort—
pulling the bread into little pieces and swallowing each of these
as one would a pill—that I succeeded in worrying the stuff
down. I had not as yet fallen away very much, but as I had
never, up to that time, weighed so much as one hundred and
twenty-five pounds, there was no great amount of adipose to
lose. It was evident that unless some change occurred my time
was near at hand.
There was not only hunger for more food, but longing with
an intensity beyond expression for alteration of some kind in
the rations. The changeless monotony of the miserable saltless
bread, or worse mush, for days, weeks and months, became
unbearable. If those wretched mule teams had only Once a
month hauled in something different—if they had come in
loaded with sweet potatos, green corn or wheat flour, there
would be thousands of men still living who now slumber
beneath those melancholy pines. It would have given some-
thing to look forward to, and remember when past. But to
know each day that the gates would open to admit the same
distasteful apologies for food took away the appetite and raised
one's gorge, even while famishing for something to eat.
We could for a while forget the stench, the lice, the heat, the
maggots, the dead and dying around us, the insulting malig-
nance of our jailors; but it was very hard work to banish
thoughts and longings for food from our minds. Hundreds
became actually insane from brooding over it. Crazy men
could be found in all parts of the camp. Numbers of them
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 341
wandered around entirely naked. Their babblings and maun-
derings about something to eat were painful to hear. I have
before mentioned the case of the Plymouth Pilgrim near me,
whose insanity took the form of imagining that he was sitting
at the table with his family, and who would go through the
show of helping them to imaginary Viands and delicacies. The
cravings for green food of those afflicted with the scurvy were
agonizing. Large numbers of watermelons were brought to
the prison, and sold to those who had the money to pay for
them at from one to five dollars, greenbacks, apiece. A boy
who had means to buy a piece of these would be followed
about while eating it by a crowd of perhaps twenty-five or –
thirty livid-gummed scorbutics, each imploring him for the
rind when he was through with it.
We thought of food all day, and were visited with torturing
dreams of it at night. One of the pleasant recollections of my
pre-military life was a banquet at the “Planter's House,” St.
Louis, at which I was a boyish guest. It was, doubtless, an
ordinary affair, as banquets go, but to me then, with all the
keen appreciation of youth and first experience, it was a feast
worthy of Lucullus. But now this delightful reminiscence
became a torment. Hundreds of times I dreamed I was again
at the “Planter’s.” I saw the wide corridors, with their mosaic
pavement; I entered the grand dining-room, keeping timidly
near the friend to whose kindness I owed this wonderful favor;
I saw again the mirror-lined walls, the evergreen decked ceil-
ings, the festoons and mottos, the tables gleaming with cut-
glass and silver, the buffets with wines and fruits, the brigade
of sleek, black, white-aproned waiters, headed by one who had
presence enough for a Major General. Again I reveled in all
the dainties and dishes on the bill-of-fare; calling for every-
thing that I dared to, just to see what each was like, and to be
able to say afterwards that I had partaken of it; all these
bewildering delights of the first realization of what a boy has
read and wondered much over, and longed for, would dance
their rout and reel through my somnolent brain. Then I would
awake to find myself a half-naked, half-starved, vermin-eaten
wretch, crouching in a hole in the ground, waiting for my
keepers to fling me a chunk of corn bread.
842 - ANDERSON VILLI.
Naturally the boys—and especially the country boys and
new prisoners—talked much of victuals—what they had had,
and what they would have again, when they got out. Take
this as a sample of the conversation which might be heard in
any group of boys, sitting together on the sand, killing lice and
talking of exchange: -
Tom —“Well, Bill, when we get back to God's country, you
and Jim and John must all come to my house and take dinner
with me. I want to give you a square meal. I want to show
you just what good livin’ is. You know my mother is just the
best cook in all that section. When she lays herself out to get
up a meal all the other women in the neighborhood just stand
back and admire 33 º
Bill—“O, that’s all right; but I’ll bet she can’t hold a
candle to my mother, when it comes to good cooking.”
Jim — “No, nor to mine.” -
John —(with patronizing contempt.) “O, shucks! None of
you fellers were ever at our house, even when we had one of
our common week-day dinners.”
Tom — (unheedful of the counter claims.) I hev been
studyin' up the dinner I’d like, and the bill-of-fare I’d set out
for you fellers when you come over to see me. First, of course,
we’ll lay the foundation like with a nice, juicy loin roast, and
some mashed potatos.
Bill—(interrupting.) “Now, do you like mashed potatos
with beef? The way my mother does is to pare the potatos,
and lay them in the pan along with the beef. Then, you know,
they come out just as nice and crisp, and brown; they have
soaked up all the beef gravy, and they crinkle between yo
teeth—”
Jim —“Now, I tell you, mashed Neshamnocks with butter
on 'em is plenty good enough for me.” X-
John—“If you’d et some of the new kind of peachblows
that we raised in the old pasture lot the year before I enlisted,
you’d never say another word about your Neshannocks.”
Tom — (taking breath and starting in fresh.) “Then we'll
hev some fried Spring chickens, of our dominick breed. Them
dominicks of ours have the nicest, tenderest meat, better’n
quail, a durned sight, and the way my mother can fry Spring
chickens — ” -
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON & 348
Bill—(aside to Jim.) “Every durned woman in the coun-
try thinks she can “spry ching frickens; ” but my mother 39
John—“You fellers all know that there's nobody knows
half as much about chicken doin’s as these ’tinerant Methodis’
preachers. They give 'em chicken wherever they go, and folks
do say that out in the new settlements they can’t get no
preachin', no gospel, nor nothin’, until the chickens become so
plenty that a preacher is reasonably sure of havin’ One for his
dinner wherever he may go. Now, there's old Peter Cart-
wright, who has traveled over Illinoy and Indianny since the
the Year One, and preached more good sermons than any other
man who ever set on saddle-bags, and has et more chickens
than there are birds in a big pigeon roost. Well, he took din-
ner at our house when he came up to dedicate the big, white
church at Simpkin's Corners, and when he passed up his plate
the third time for more chicken, he sez, sez he ‘I’ve et at a
great many hundred tables in the fifty years I have labored in
the vineyard of the Redeemer, but I must say, Mrs. Kiggins,
that your way of frying chickens is a leetle the nicest that I
ever knew. I only wish that the sisters generally would get
your reseet.” Yes, that's what he said, ‘a leetle the nicest.’”
Tom—“An’ then, we’ll hew biscuits an’ butter. I’ll just bet
five hundred dollars to a cent, and give back the cent if I win,
that we have the best butter at our house that there is in Cen-
tral Illinoy. You can’t never hew good butter onless you have
a spring house; there's no use of talkin’—all the patent churns
that lazy men ever invented—all the fancy milk pans an’ cool-
ers, can’t make up for a spring house. Locations for a spring
house are scarcer than hen’s teeth in Illinoy, but we hew one,
and there ain’t a better one in Orange County, New York.
Then you’ll see some of the biscuits my mother makes.”
Bill—“Well, now, my mother's a boss biscuit-maker, too.”
Jim —“You kin just gamble that mine is.”
John—“O, that’s the way you fellers ought to think an’
talk, but my mother —”
Tom — (coming in again with fresh vigor)—“They’re just as
light an’ fluffy as a dandelion puff, and they melt in your mouth
like a ripe Bartlett pear. You just pull 'em open—[Now you
know that I think there's nothin’ that shows a person's raisin’
344 ANDERSON VILLE.
so well as to see him eat biscuits an’ butter. If he's been
raised mostly on corn bread, an’ common doins,’ an’ don’t know
much about good things to eat, he'll most likely cut his biscuit
open with a case knife, an’ make it fall as flat as one o' yester-
day’s pancakes. But if he is used to biscuits, has had 'em often
at his house, he'll just pull 'em open, slow an’ easy like, then
he'll lay a little slice of butter inside, and drop a few drops of
clear honey on this, an’ stick the two halves back together
again, an’—” -
“O, for God Almighty's sake, stop talking that infernal
nonsense,” roar out a half dozen of the surrounding crowd,
whose mouths have been watering over this unctuous recital of
the good things of the table. “You blamed fools, do you want
to drive yourselves and everybody else crazy with such stuff as
that. Dry up and try to think of something else.”
E::=:.
º
§º
§§§

CHAPTER XLVI.
A SURLY BRITON – THE 5TOLID COURAGE THAT MAIKES THE ENGLISH
FLAG A BANNER OF TRIUMPH – OUR COMPANY BUGLER, HIS CHAR-
ACTERISTICS AND HIS DEATH — URGENT DEMAND FOR MECHANICS
— NONE WANT TO GO — TREATMENT OF A REBEL SEIOEMAKER -
ENLARGEMENT OF THE STOCKADE — IT IS BROKEN BY A. STORM –
THE WONDERFUL SPRING.
Early in August, F. Marriott, our Company Bugler, died.
Previous to coming to America, he had been for many years an
English soldier, and I accepted him as a type of that stolid,
doggedly brave class, which forms the bulk of the English
armies, and has for centuries carried the T3ritish flag with
dauntless courage into every land under the Sun. Tough, surly
and unsocial, he did his duty with the unemotional steadiness
of a machine. He knew nothing but to obey orders, and
obeyed them under all circumstances promptly, but with stony
impassiveness. Was the command to move forward into action,
he moved forward without a word, and with face as blank as a
side of sole leather. He went as far as Ordered, halted at the .
word, and retired at command as phlegmatically as he advanced.
If he cared a straw whether he advanced or retreated, if it
mattered to the extent of a pinch of salt whether we whipped
the Rebels or they defeated us, he kept that feeling so deeply
hidden in the recesses of his sturdy bosom that no one ever sus-
pected it. In the excitement of action the rest of the boys
shouted, and swore, and expressed their tense feelings in various
ways, but Marriott might as well have been a graven image, for
all the expression that he suffered to escape. Doubtless, if the
346 ANDERSON VILLE.
Captain had ordered him to shoot one of the company through
the heart, he would have executed the command according to
the manual of arms, brought his carbine to a “recover,” and at
the word marched back to his quarters without an inquiry as
to the cause of the proceedings.
He made no friends, and though
his surliness repelled us, he made
few enemies. Indeed, he was
rather a favorite, since he was
a genuine character; his gruff-
ness had no taint of selfish
greed in it; he minded his own
business strictly, and wanted
others to do the same. When
he first came into the company,
it is true, he gained the enmity
of nearly everybody in it, but
an incident occurred which
turned the tide in his favor.
Some annoying little depreda-
tions had been practiced on the
boys, and it needed but a word
of suspicion to inflame all their
minds against the surly Englishman as the unknown perpetra-
tor. The feeling intensified, until about half of the company
were in a mood to kill the Bugler outright. As we were
returning from stable duty one evening, some little occurrence
fanned the smoldering anger into a fierce blaze; a couple of
the smaller boys began an attack upon him; others hastened to
their assistance, and soon half the company were engaged in
the assault.
He succeeded in disengaging himself from his assailants, and,
squaring himself off, said, defiantly:
“Dom yer cowardly heyes; jest come hat me one hat a time,
hand h[’ll wollop the 'ole gang uv ye’s.” -
One of our Sergeants styled himself proudly “a Chicago
rough,” and was as vain of his pugilistic abilities as a small boy
is of a father who plays in the band. We all hated him cor-
dially—even more than we did Marriott. He thought this was
TEU. ENGLISH BUGLEB,

A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON8. 347
a good time to show off, and forcing his way through the
crowd, he said, vauntingly:
“Just fall back and form a ring, boys, and see me polish off
the fool l’”
The ring was formed, with the Bugler and the Sergeant in
the center. Though the latter was the younger and stronger,
the first round showed him that it would have profited him
much more to have let Marriott's challenge pass unheeded. As
a rule, it is as well to ignore all invitations of this kind from
Englishmen, and especially from those who, like Marriott, have
served a term in the army, for they are likely to be so handy
with their fists as to make the consequences of an acceptance
more lively than desirable.
So the Sergeant found. “Marriott’ as one of the spectators
expressed it, “went around him like a cooper around a barrel.”
He planted his blows just where he wished, to the intense
delight of the boys, who yelled enthusiastically whenever he
got in “a hot one,” and their delight at seeing the Sergeant
drubbed so thoroughly and artistically, worked an entire revo-
lution in his favor. *
Thenceforward we viewed his eccentricities with lenient eyes,
and became rather proud of his bull-dog stolidity and surliness.
The whole battalion soon came to share this feeling, and every-
body enjoyed hearing his deep-toned growl, which mischievous
boys would incite by some petty annoyances deliberately
designed for that purpose. I will mention, incidentally, that
after his encounter with the Sergeant no one ever again volun-
teered to “polish” him off.
Andersonville did not improve either his temper or his com-
municativeness. He seemed to want to get as far away from
the rest of us as possible, and took up his quarters in a remote
corner of the Stockade, among utter strangers. Those of us
who wandered up in his neighborhood occasionally, to see how
he was getting along, were received with such scant courtesy,
that we did not hasten to repeat the visit. At length, after
none of us had seen him for weeks, we thought that comrade-
ship demanded another visit. We found him in the last stages
of scurvy and diarrhea. Chunks of uneaten corn bread lay by
his head. They were at least a Week old. The rations since
348 ANDERSON VILLE.
then had evidently been stolen from the helpless man by those
around him. The place where he lay was indescribably filthy,
and his body was swarming with vermin. Some good Samari-
tan had filled his little black oyster can with water, and placed
it within his reach. For a week, at least, he had not been able
to rise from the ground; he could barely reach for the water
near him. He gave us such a glare of recognition as I remem-
bered to have seen light up the fast-darkening eyes of a savage
old mastiff, that I and my boyish companions once found dying
in the woods of disease and hurts. Had he been able he would
have driven us away, or at least assailed us with biting English
epithets. Thus he had doubtless driven away all those who
had attempted to help him. We did what little we could, and
staid with him until the next afternoon, when he died. We
prepared his body, in the customary way: folded the hands
across his breast, tied the toes together, and carried it outside,
not forgetting each of us, to bring back a load of wood.
* * +& $ 3% * º *
The scarcity of mechanics of all kinds in the Confederacy,
and the urgent needs of the people for many things which the
war and the blockade prevented their obtaining, led to contin-
ual inducements being offered to the artizans among us to go
outside and work at their trade. Shoemakers seemed most in
demand ; next to these blackSmiths, machinists, molders and
metal-workers generally. Not a week passed during my
imprisonment that I did not see a Rebel emissary of some kind
about the prison seeking to engage skilled workmen for some
purpose or another. While in Richmond the managers of the
Tredegar Iron Works were brazen and persistent in their efforts
to seduce what are termed “malleable iron workers,” to enter
their employ.
A boy who was master of any one of the commoner trades
had but to make his wishes known, and he would be allowed to
go out on parole to work. I was a printer, and I think that
at least a dozen times I was approached by Rebel publishers
with offers of a parole, and work at good prices. One from
Columbia, S. C., offered me two dollars and a half a “thousand”
for composition. As the highest price for such work that I had
received before enlisting was thirty cents a thousand, this
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 349
seemed a chance to accumulate untold wealth. Since a man
working in day time can set from thirty-five to fifty “thou-
Sand” a week, this would make weekly wages run from eighty-
Seven dollars and fifty cents to one hundred and twenty-five
dollars—but it was in Confederate money, then worth from ten
to twenty cents on the dollar. º
Still better offers were made to iron workers of all kinds,
to shoemakers, tanners, weavers, tailors, hatters, engineers,
machinists, millers, railroad men, and similar tradesmen. Any
of these could have made a handsome thing by accepting the
offers made them almost weekly. As nearly all in the prison
had useful trades, it would have been of immense benefit to
the Confederacy if they could have been induced to work at
them. There is no measuring the benefit it would have been to
the Southern cause if all the hundreds of tanners and shoe-
makers in the Stockade could have been persuaded to go
outside and labor in providing leather and shoes for the almost
shoeless people and soldiery. The machinists alone could have
done more good to the Southern Confederacy than one of our
brigades was doing harm, by consenting to go to the railroad
shops at Griswoldville and ply their handicraft. The lack of
material resources in the South was one of the strongest allies
our arms had. This lack of resources was primarily caused by
a lack of skilled labor to develop those resources, and nowhere
could there be found a finer collection of skilled laborers than
in the thirty-three thousand prisoners incarcerated in Ander-
sonville.
All solicitations to accept a parole and go outside to work at
one's trade were treated with the scorn they deserved. If any
mechanic yielded to them, the fact did not come under my
notice. The usual reply to invitations of this kind was:
“No, sir! By God, I’ll stay in here till I rot, and the mag-
gots carry me out through the cracks in the Stockade, before
I’ll so much as raise my little finger to help the infernal Con-
federacy, or Rebels, in any shape or form.”
In August a Macon shoemaker came in to get some of his
trade to go back with him to work in the Confederate shoe fac-
tory. He prosecuted his search for these until he reached the
center of the camp on the North Side, when some of the shoe-
350 ANDERSON VILLE,
Á
makers who had gathered around him, apparently considering
his propositions, seized him and threw him into a well. He
was kept there a whole day, and only released when Wirz cut
off the rations of the prison for that day, and announced that no
more would be issued until the man was returned safe and sound
to the gate.
* + " & $ º $º º *
The terrible crowding was somewhat ameliorated by the
opening in July of an addition — six hundred feet long—to the
North Side of the Stockade. This increased the room inside to
twenty acres, giving about an acre to every one thousand seven
hundred men, a preposterously contracted area still. The
new ground was not a hot-bed of virulent poison like the old,
however, and those who moved on to it had that much in their
favor. te
The palisades between the new and the old portions of the
pen were left standing when the new portion was opened. We
were still suffering a great deal of inconvenience from lack of
wood. That night the standing timbers were attacked by
thousands of prisoners armed with every species of a tool to cut
wood, from a case-knife to an ax. They worked the live-long
night with such energy that by morning not only every inch
of the logs above ground had disappeared, but that below had
been dug up, and there was not enough left of the eight hun-
dred foot wall of twenty-five-foot logs to make a box of
matches.
One afternoon— early in August — one of the violent rain
storms common to that section sprung up, and in a little while
the water was falling in torrents. The little creek running
through the camp swelled up immensely, and swept out large
gaps in the Stockade, both in the west and east sides. The
Rebels noticed the breaches as soon as the prisoners. Two
guns were fired from the Star Fort, and all the guards rushed
out, and formed so as to prevent any egress, if one was
attempted. Taken by Surprise, we were not in a condition to
profit by the opportunity until it was too late.
The storm did one good thing: it swept away a great deal
of filth, and left the Camp much more wholesome. The foul
stench rising from the camp made an excellent electrical con-
i
A 8TORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONE. 35%
ductor, and the lightning struck several times within one hun.
dred feet of the prison.
Toward the end of August there happened what the relig-
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THE BREAK IN THE STOCKADE.
ously inclined termed a Providential Dispensation. The water
in the Creek was indescribably bad. No amount of familiarity
with it, no increase of intimacy with our offensive surroundings,
could lessen the disgust at the polluted water. As I have said,
previously, before the stream entered the Stockade, it was ren-
dered too filthy for any use by the contaminations from the
camps of the guards, situated about a half-mile above. Imme-
diately on entering the Stockade the contamination became
terrible. The oozy seep at the bottom of the hillsides drained
directly into it all the mass of filth from a population of thirty-
three thousand. Imagine the condition of an Open sewer, pass-
ing through the heart of a city of that many people, and
receiving all the offensive product of so dense a gathering into
a shallow, sluggish stream, a yard wide and five inches deep,

§5? AJ& DEF:80NVII, L.E.
and heated by the burning rays of the sun in the thirty-second
degree of latitude. Imagine, if one can, without becoming sick
at the stomach, all of these people having to wash in and drink
of this foul flow.
There is not a scintilla of exaggeration in this statement.
That it is within the exact truth is demonstrable by the testi-
mony of any man—Rebel or Union—who ever saw the inside
of the Stockade at Andersonville. I am quite content to have
its truth—as well as that of any other statement made in this
book—be determined by the evidence of any one, no matter
how bitter his hatred of the Union, who had any personal
knowledge of the condition of affairs at Andersonville. No
one can successfully deny that there were at least thirty-three
thousand prisoners in the Stockade, and that the one shallow,
narrow Creek, which passed through the prison, was at once
their main sewer and their source of supply of water for bath-
ing, drinking and washing. With these main facts admitted,
the reader's common sense of natural consequences will furnish
the rest of the details.
It is true that some of the more fortunate of us had wells;
thanks to our own energy in overcoming extraordinary obstacles;
no thanks to our gaolers for making the slightest effort to pro-
vide these necessities of life. We dug the wells with case and
pocket knives, and half canteens to a depth of from twenty to
thirty feet, pulling up the dirt in pantaloons legs, and running
continual risk of being smothered to death by the caving in
of the unwalled sides. Not only did the Rebels refuse to give
us boards with which to wall the wells, and buckets for drawing
the water, but they did all in their power to prevent us from
digging the wells, and made continual forays to capture the
digging tools, because the wells were frequently used as the
starting places for tunnels. Professor Jones lays special stress
on this tunnel feature in his testimony, which I have introduced
in a previous chapter.
The great majority of the prisoners who went to the Creek
for water, went as near as possible to the Dead Line on the
West Side, where the Creek entered the Stockade, that they
might get water with as little filth in it as possible. In the
crowds struggling there for their turn to take a dip, some one
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 353
nearly every day got so close to the Dead Line as to arouse a sus-
picion in the guard’s mind that he was touching it. The sus-
picion was the unfortunate one's death warrant, and also its
execution. As the sluggish brain of the guard conceived it he
leveled his gun; the distance to his victim was not over one hun-
dredfeet; he never failed his aim ; the first warning the wretched
prisoner got that he was suspected of transgressing a prison rule
was the charge of “ball-and-buck” that tore through his body.
It was lucky if he was the only one of the group killed. More
wicked and unjustifiable murders never were committed than
these almost daily assassinations at the Creek.
One morning the camp was astonished beyond measure to
discover that during the night a large, bold spring had burst.
out on the North Side, about midway between the Swamp and
the summit of the hill. It poured out its grateful flood of pure,
Sweet waterin an apparently exhaustless quantity. To the many
who looked in wonder upon it, it seemed as truly a heaven-
Wrought miracle as when Moses's enchanted rod smote the
parched rock in Sinai’s desert waste, and the living waters
gushed forth.
The police took charge of the spring, and every one was com-
pelled to take his
regular turn in fill-
ing his vessel. This
was kept up dur-
ing our whole stay
in Andersonville,
§ and every morn-
º * ing, shortly after
º, daybreak, a thou-
jº sand men could be
º seen standing in
line, waiting their
turns to fill their
cans and cups with
the precious liquid.
I am told by
Comrades who have
revisited the Stockade of recent years, that the spring is yet
s
AT THE SPEING.

23
354 ANDERSON VILLE.
running as when we left, and is held in most pious veneration
by the negros of that vicinity, who still preserve the tradition
of its miraculous origin, and ascribe to its water wonderful
grace giving and healing properties, similar to those which
pious Catholics believe exist in the holy water of the fountain
at Lourdes. -
I must confess that I do not think they are so very far from
right. If I could believe that any water was sacred and thau-
maturgic, it would be of that fountain which appeared so oppor-
tunely for the benefit of the perishing thousands of Anderson-
ville. And when I hear of people bringing water for baptismal
purposes from the Jordan, I say in my heart, “How much more
would I value for myself and friends the administration of the
chrismal sacrament with the diviner flow from that low sand-
hill in Western Georgia. -
CHAPTER XLVII.
,-
* SICK CALL,” AND THE SCENES THAT ACCOMPANIED TT–MUSTERING
THE LAME, HALT AND DISEASED AT THE SOUTH GATE–AN UNUSU-
ALLY BAD CASE— GOING OUT TO THE HOSPITAL – ACCOMMODATION
AND TREATMENT OF THE PATIENTS THERE — THE HORRIBLE SUF-
FERING IN THIE GANGRENE WARD — BüTNGLING AMPUTATIONS BY
BLUNDERING PRACTITIONERS — AFFECTION BETWEEN A SAILOR AND
EIIS WARD — DEATH OF MY COMFAIDE.
Every morning after roll-call, thousands of sick gathered at
the South Gate, where the doctors made some pretense of
affording medical relief. The scene there reminded me of the
illustrations in my Sunday-School lessons of that time when
“great multitudes came unto IIim,” by the shores of the Sea of
Galilee, “having with them those that were lame, blind, dumb,
maimed, and many others.” Had the crowds worn the flowing:
robes of the East, the picture would have lacked nothing but
the presence of the Son of Man to make it complete. Here
were the burning Sands and parching Sun; hither came scores
of groups of three or four comrades, laboriously staggering
under the weight of a blanket in which they had carried a
disabled and dying friend from some distant part of the Stockade.
|Beside them hobbled the scorbutics with swollen and distorted
limbs, each more loathsome and nearer death than the lepers
whom Christ's divine touch made whole. Dozens, unable to
walk, and having no comrades to carry them, crawled painfully
along, with frequent stops, on their hands and knees. Every
form of intense physical Suffering that it is possible for disease
to induce in the human frame was visible at these daily parades
of the sick of the prison. As over three thousand (three thou-
356 ANDERSON WILLE,
sand and seventy-six) died in August, there were probably twelve
#1ſ ºf tº 3: . . ; thousand dangerous-
ly sick at any given
time during the
month, and a large
part of these collect-
ed at the South Gate
every morning.
Measurably cal-
loused as we had be-
come by the daily
sights of horror
around us, we en-
countered spectacles
in these gatherings
which no amount
of visible misery
could accustom us
to. I remember One
especially that burn-
ed itself deeply into
my memory. It was
of a young man —
not over twenty-
five— who a few
weeks ago—his
clothes looked com-
paratively new—
had evidently been
the picture of manly
beauty and youthful
vigor. He had had a
well-knit, lithe form;
dark curling hair
fell over a forehead
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sº showed that they
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A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 357
leaf on his cap showed that he belonged to the First Division
of the Second Corps, the three chevrons on his arm that he
was a Sergeant, and the stripe at his cuff that he was a veteran.
Some kind-hearted boys had found him in a miserable condition
On the North Side, and carried him over in a blanket to where
the doctors could see him. He had but little clothing on, save
his blouse and cap. Ulcers of some kind had formed in his
abdomen, and these were now masses of squirming worms. It
was so much worse than the usual forms of suffering, that
quite a little crowd of compassionate spectators gathered
around and expressed their pity. The sufferer turned to one
who lay beside him with:
“Comrade: If we were only under the old Stars and Stripes,
we wouldn’t care a G–d d-n for a few worms, would we?”
This was not profane. It was an utterance from the depths
of a brave man’s heart, couchéd in the strongest language at
his command. It seemed terrible that so gallant a soul should
depart from earth in this miserable fashion. Some of us, much
moved by the sight, went to the doctors and put the case as
strongly as possible, begging them to do something to alleviate
his suffering. They declined to see the case, but got rid of us
by giving us a bottle of turpentine, with directions to pour it
upon the ulcers to kill the maggots. We did so. It must have
been cruel torture, and as absurd remedially as cruel, but our
hero set his teeth and endured, without a groan. He was then
carried out to the hospital to die.
I said the doctors made a pretense of affording medical relief.
It was hardly that, since about all the prescription for those
inside the Stockade consisted in giving a handful of sumach
berries to each of those complaining of scurvy. The berries
might have done some good, had there been enough of them,
and had their action been assisted by proper food. As it was,
they were probably nearly, if not wholly, useless. Nothing
was given to arrest the ravages of dysentery.
A limited number of the Worst cases were admitted to the
Hospital each day. As this only had capacity for about one-
quarter of the sick in the Stockade, new patients could only be
admitted as others died. It seemed, anyway, like signing a
man’s death warrant to send him to the Hospital, as three out
358 ANDERSON VILLE.
of every four who went out there died. The following from
the official report of the Hospital shows this:
Total number admitted - 12,400
Died ---- 8,663
Exchanged 823
Took the oath of allegiance 25
Sent elsewhere - 2,889
Total - - 12,400
Average deaths, 76 per cent.
Early in August I made a successful effort to get out to the
Hospital. I had several reasons for this: First, one of my
chums, W. W. Watts, of my own company, had been sent out
a little while before very sick with scurvy and pneumonia, and
I wanted to see if I could do anything for him, if he still lived.
I have mentioned before that for awhile after our entrance into
Andersonville five of us slept on one overcoat and covered our-
selves with one blanket. Two of these had already died, leav-
ing as possessors of the blanket and overcoat, W. W. Watts,
B. B. Andrews, and myself.
Next, I wanted to go out to see if there was any prospect of
escape. I had long since given up hopes of escaping from the
Stockade. All our attempts at tunneling had resulted in dead
failures, and now, to make us wholly despair of success in that
direction, another Stockade was built clear around the prison,
at a distance of one hundred and twenty feet from the first
palisades. It was manifest that though we might succeed in
tunneling past one Stockade, we could not go beyond the
second one. 4. *
I had the scurvy rather badly, and being naturally slight in
frame, I presented a very sick appearance to the physicians, and
was passed out to the Hospital. - -
While this was a wretched affair, it was still a vast improve-
ment on the Stockade. About five acres of ground, a little
southeast of the Stockade, and bordering on a creek, were
enclosed by a board fence, around which the guard walked,
Trees shaded the ground tolerably well. There were tents and
flies to shelter part of the sick, and in these were beds made of
pine leaves. There were regular streets and alleys running
through the grounds, and as the management was in the hands
A STORY OF R.E.B.E.L. MILITARY PRISONS. 359
of our own men, the place was kept reasonably clean and
orderly—for Andersonville.
There was also some improvement in the food. Rice in Some
degree replaced the nauseous and innutritious corn bread, and
if served in sufficient quantitles, would doubtless have promoted
the recovery of many men dying from dysenteric diseases.
We also received small quantities of “okra,” a plant peculiar to
the South, whose pods contained a mucilaginous matter that
made a soup very grateful to those suffering from Scurvy.
But all these ameliorations of condition were too slight to
even arrest the progress of the disease of the thousands of
dying men brought out from the Stockade. These still wore
he same lice-infested garments as in prison ; no baths or even-
Ordinary applications of soap and water cleaned their dirt-grimed
skins, to give their pores an opportunity to assist in restoring
them to health; even their long, lank and matted hair, swarming
with vermin, was not trimmed. The most ordinary and obvious
measures for their comfort and care were neglected. If a man
recovered he did it almost in spite of fate. The medicines given
were scanty and crude. The principal remedial agent — as far
as my observation extended — was a rank, fetid species of
unrectified spirits, which, I was told, was made from sorgum
Seed. It had a light-green tinge, and was about as inviting to
the taste as spirits of turpentine. It was given to the sick in
Small quantities mixed with water. I had had some experience
with Kentucky “apple-jack,” which, it was popularly believed
among the boys, would dissolve a piece of the fattest pork
thrown into it, but that seemed balmy and oily alongside of
this. After tasting some, I ceased to wonder at the atrocities
of Wirz and his associates. Nothing would seem too bad to a
man who made that his habitual tipple.
[For a more particular description of the Hospital I must
refer my reader to the testimony of Professor Jones, in a pre-
vious chapter.] -
Certainly this continent has never seen — and I fervently
trust it will never again see — such a gigantic concentration of
misery as that Hospital displayed daily. The official statistics
tell the story of this with terrible brevity: There were three
thousand seven hundred and nine in the Hospital in August;
360 ANDERSON VILLE,
one thousand four hundred and eighty-nine—nearly every
other man—died. The rate afterwards became much higher
than this.
The most conspicuous suffering was in the gangrene Wards.
Horrible sores spreading almost visibly from hour to hour,
devoured men's limbs and bodies. I remember one ward in
which the ulcerations appeared to be altogether in the back,
where they ate out the tissue between the skin and the ribs.
The attendants seemed trying to arrest the progress of the
sloughing by drenching the sores with a solution of blue vitriol.
This was exquisitely painful, and in the morning, when the
drenching was going on, the whole Hospital rang with the most
agonizing Screams.
But the gangrene mostly attacked the legs and arms, and
the legs more than the arms. Sometimes it killed men inside
of a week; sometimes they lingered on indefinitely. I remem-
ber one man in the Stockade who cut his hand with the sharp
corner of a card of corn bread he was lifting from the ration
wagon; gangrene set in immediately, and he died four days
after.
One form that was quite prevalent was a cancer of the lower
lip. It seemed to start at One corner of the mouth, and it fin-
ally ate the whole side of the face out. Of course the sufferer
ºšº had the greatest trouble in eating
sºs and drinking. For the latter it was
customary to whittle out a little
Wooden tube, and fasten it in a tin
cup, through which he could suck up
ºº3.-
S.&
.ºº
ºº
SC º § the water. As this mouth cancer
§º #º -
§ § seemed contagious, none of us would
sº * glous,
%
%
º
º
%
|
º
allow any one afflicted with it to use
any of Our cooking utensils.
The Rebel doctors at the Hospital
—-2-3-Tº: resorted to wholesale amputations to
CANCER IN THE MOUTH. check the progress of the gangrene.
They had a two hours session of limb-lopping every morning,
each of which resulted in quite a pile of severed members. I
presume more bungling operations are rarely seen outside of
Russian or Turkish hospitals. Their unskilfulness Was appar-
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A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 361
ent even to non-scientific observers like myself. The standard
of medical education in the South—as indeed of every other
form of education—was quite low. The Chief Surgeon of the
prison, Dr. Isaiah White, and perhaps two or three others,
seemed to be gentlemen of fair abilities and attainments. The
remainder were of that class of illiterate and unlearning quacks
who physic and blister the poor whites and negros in the coun-
try districts of the South; who believe they can stop bleeding
of the nose by repeating a verse from the Bible; who think
that if in gathering their favorite remedy of boneset they cut
the stem upwards it will purge their patients, and if downwards
it will vomit them, and who hold that there is nothing so good
for “fits” as a black cat, killed in the dark of the moon, cut
Open, and bound while yet warm, upon the naked chest of the
victim of the convulsions.
They had a case of instruments captured from some of our
field hospitals, which were dull and fearfully out of order.
With poor instruments and unskilled hands the operations
- became mangling.
In the Hospital I saw
an admirable illustra-
tion of the affection
which a sailor will lavish
On a ship's boy, whom he
takes a fancy to, and
makes his “chicken,”
tºº--> º as the phrase is. The
#º United States sloop
ſº “Water Witch 22 had
recently been captured
in Ossabaw Sound, and
her crew brought into
prison. One of her boys
—a bright, handsome
little fellow of about
fifteen—had lost one
of his arms in the fight.
# He was brought into
the Hospital, and the old fellow whose “chicken” he was, was
::Fºº
$ºſſ
:
h
ºlº
| º
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OLD SAILOR AND CHICKEN.












362 ANDERSON VILLE.
allowed to accompany and nurse him. This “old barnacle-
back” was as surly a growler as ever went aloft, but to his
“chicken” he was as tender and thoughtful as a woman. Thoy
found a shady nook in one corner, and any moment one looked
in that direction he could see the old tar hard at work at SOme-
thing for the comfort and pleasure of his pet. Now he was
dressing the wound as deftly and gently as a mother caring for
a new-born babe; now he was trying to concoct some relish out
of the slender materials he could beg or steal from the Quar-
termaster; now trying to arrange the shade of the bed of pine
leaves in a more comfortable manner; now repairing or Wash-
ing his clothes, and so on. . -
All the sailors were particularly favored by being allowed
to bring their bags in untouched by the guards. This
“chicken” had a wonderful supply of clothes, the handi-
work of his protector who, like most good sailors, was very
skillful with the needle. He had sults of fine white duck,
embroidered with blue in a way that would ravish the heart of
a fine lady, and blue suits similarly embroidered with white. No
belle ever kept her clothes in better order than these were.
When the duck came up from the old sailor’s patient washing
it was as spotless as new-fallen snow.
I found my chum in a very bad condition. His appetite was
entirely gone, but he had an inordinate craving for tobacco–
for strong, black plug- which he smoked in a pipe. He had
already traded off all his brass buttons to the guards for this.
I had accumulated a few buttons to bribe the guard to take me
out for wood, and I gave these also for tobacco for him.
When I awoke one morning the man who laid next to me on
the right was dead, having died sometime during the night. I
searched his pockets and took what was in them. These were a
silk pocket handkerchief, a gutta percha finger ring, a comb, a
pencil, and a leather pocket-book, making in all quite a nice little
“find.” I hied over to the guard, and succeeded in trading the
personalestate which I had inherited from the intestate deceased,
for a handful of peaches, a handful of hardly ripe figs, and a
long plug of tobacco. I hastened back to Watts, expecting that
the figs and peaches would do him a world of good. At first
I did not show him the tobacco, as I was strongly Opposed to
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 363
his using it, thinking that it was making him much worse. But
he looked at the tempting peaches and figs with lack-luster
eyes; he was too far gone to care for them. He pushed them
back to me, saying faintly:
“No, you take 'em, Mc; I don’t want ’em ; I can’t eat 'em
I then produced the tobacco, and his face lighted up. Con-
cluding that this was all the comfort that he could have, and
that I might as well gratify him, I cut up some of the Weed,
filled his pipe and lighted it. He smoked calmly and almost
happily all the afternoon, hardly speaking a word to me. As
it grew dark he asked me to bring him a drink. I did so, and as I
raised him up he said:
“Mc, this thing's ended. Tell my father that I stood it as
long as I could, and—”
The death rattle sounded in his throat, and when I laid him
back it was all over. Straightening out his limbs, folding his
hands across his breast, and composing his features as best I
could, I lay down beside the body and slept till morning, when
I did what little else I could toward preparing for the grave all
that was left of my long-suffering little friend.
p.
º()
§
W
DEATH OF WATTS.

CHAPTER XLVIII.
DETERMINATION TO ESCAPE— DIFFERENT PLANS AND THEIR MERITs
— I PREFER THE APPALACHICOLA, ROUTE — FIREPARATIONS FOR
DEPARTURE — A HOT DAY — THE FENCE PASSED SUCCESSFULLY —
PURSUED BY THE HOUNDS— CAUGHT – RETURNED TO THE STOCK-
ADE.
After Watt’s death, I set earnestly about seeing what could
be done in the way of escape. Frank Harney, of the First
West Virginia Cavalry, a boy of about my own age and dis-
position, joined with me in the scheme. I was still possessed
with my original plan of making my way down the creeks to
the Flint River, down the Flint River to where it emptied into
the Appalachicola River, and down that stream to its debouchwre
into the bay that connected with the Gulf of Mexico. I was
sure of finding my way by this route, because, if nothing else
offered, I could get astride of a log and float down the current.
The way to Sherman, in the other direction, was long, torturous
and difficult, with a fearful gauntlet of blood-hounds, patrols and
the scouts of Hood's Army to be run. I had but little diffi-
culty in persuading Harney into an acceptance of my views,
and we began arranging for a solution of the first great prob-
lem—how to get outside of the Hospital guards. As I have
explained before, the Hospital was surrounded by a board
fence, with guards walking their beats on the ground outside.
A small creek flowed through the Southern end of the grounds,
and at its lower end was used as a sink. The boards of the
fence came down to the surface of the water, where the Creek
passed out, but we found, by careful prodding with a stick, that
the hole between the boards and the bottom of the Creek was
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 365
sufficiently large to allow the passage of our bodies, and there
had been no stakes driven or other precautions used to prevent
egress by this channel. A guard was posted there, and prob-
ably ordered to stand at the edge of the stream, but it Smelled
so vilely in those scorching days that he had consulted his feel-
ings and probably his health, by retiring to the top of the bank,
a rod or more distant. We watched night after night, and
at last were gratified to find that none went nearer the Creek
than the top of this bank.
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Then we waited for the moon to come right, so that the first
part of the night should be dark. This took several days, but at
last we knew that the next night she would not rise until
between 9 and 10 o’clock, which would give us nearly two hours of
the dense darkness of a moonless Summer night in the South.
We had first thought of saving up some rations for the trip, but
then reflected that these would be ruined by the filthy water
into which we must sink to go under the fence. It was not
difficult to abandon the food idea, since it was very hard to
force ourselves to lay by even the smallest portion of our scanty
rations.
As the next day wore on, Our minds were wrought up into





























866 ANDERSON WILLE.
exalted tension by the rapid approach of the Supreme moment,
with all its chances and consequences. The experience of the
past few months was not such as to mentally fit us for such a haz-
ard. It prepared us for sullen, uncomplaining endurance, for
calmly contemplating the worst that could come; but it did not
strengthen that fiber of mind that leads to venturesome activity
and daring exploits. Doubtless the weakness of our bodies
reacted upon our spirits. We contemplated all the perils that
confronted us; perils that, now looming up with impending
nearness, took a clearer and more threatening shape than they
had ever done before.
We considered the desperate chances of passing the guard
unseen; or, if noticed, of escaping his fire without death or
severe wounds. But supposing him fortunately evaded, then
came the gauntlet of the hounds and the patrols hunting
deserters. After this, a long, weary journey, with bare feet
and almost naked bodies, through an unknown country abound-
ing with enemies; the dangers of assassination by the embit-
tered populace; the risks of dying with hunger and fatigue in
the gloomy depths of a swamp; the scanty hopes that, if we
reached the seashore, we could get to our vessels.
Not one of all these contingencies failed to expand itself to
all its alarming proportions, and unite with its fellows to form
a dreadful vista, like the valleys filled with demons and genii,
dragons and malign enchantments, which confront the heros of
the “Arabian Nights,” when they set out to perform their
exploits.
But behind us lay more miseries and horrors than a riotous
imagination could conceive; before us could certainly be moth-
ing worse. We would put life and freedom to the hazard of a
touch, and win or lose it all. -
The day had been intolerably hot. The sun's rays seemed to
sear the earth, like heated irons, and the air that lay on the
burning sand was broken by wavy lines, such as one sees indi-
cate the radiation from a hot stove.
Except the wretched chain-gang plodding torturously back
and forward on the hillside, not a soul nor an animal could be
seen in motion outside the Stockade. The hounds were pant-
ing in their kennel; the Rebel officers, half or wholly drunken
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITAlix Y PikiSON 8. 367
with villainous sorgum whisky, were stretched at full length in
the shade at headquarters; the half-naked gunners crouched
under the shadow of the embankments of the forts, the guards
hung limply over the Stockade in front of their little perches;
the thirty thousand boys inside the Stockade, prone or Supine
upon the glowing sand, gasped for breath—for one draft of
sweet, cool, wholesome air that did not bear on its wings the
subtle seeds of rank corruption and death. Everywhere was
the prostration of discomfort—the inertia of sluggishness.
Only the sick moved; only the pain-racked cried out; only
the dying struggled; only the agonies of dissolution could
make life assert itself against the exhaustion of the heat. . . . .
Harney and I, lying in the scanty shade of the trunk of a
tall pine, and with hearts filled with solicitude as to the out-
come of what the evening would bring us, looked out over the
scene as we had done daily for long months, and remained
silent for hours, until the sun, as if weary with torturing and
slaying, began going down in the blazing West. The groans
of the thousands of sick around us, the shrieks of the rotting
ones in the gangrene wards rang incessantly in our ears.
As the sun disappeared, and the heat abated, the suspended
activity was restored. The Master of the Hounds came out
with his yelping pack, and started on his rounds; the Rebel
officers aroused themselves from their siesta and went lazily
about their duties; the fifer produced his cracked fife and piped
forth his unvarying “Bonnie Blue Flag,” as a signal for dress
parade, and drums beaten by unskilled hands in the camps of
the different regiments, repeated the signal. In the Stockade
the mass of humanity became full of motion as an ant hill, and
resembled it very much from our point of view, with the boys
threading their way among the burrows, tents and holes.
It was becoming dark quite rapidly. The moments seemed
galloping onward toward the time when we must make the
decisive step. We drew from the dirty rag in which it was
Wrapped the little piece of corn bread that we had saved for
our Supper, carefully divided it into two equal parts, and each
took one and ate it in silence. This done, we held a final
consultation as to our plans, and went over each detail care-
fully, that we might fully understand each other under all
368 ANDERSON WILLB,
possible circumstances, and act in concert. One point we .
laboriously impressed upon each other, and that was, that under
no circumstances were we to allow ourselves to be tempted
to leave the Creek until we reached its junction with the
Flint River. I then picked up two pine leaves, broke them off
to unequal lengths, rolled them in my hands behind my back
for a second, and presenting them to Harney with their ends
sticking out of my closed hand, said:
“The one that gets the longest one goes first.”
Harney reached forth and drew the longer one.
We made a tour of reconnoissance. Everything seemed as
usual, and wonderfully calm compared with the tumult in our
minds. The Hospital guards were pacing their beats lazily;
those on the Stockade were drawling listlessly the first “call
around * of the evening:
“Post numbah foah l Half-past seven o’clock 1 and a-l-l’s
W-e-1-1 || ?” -
Inside the Stockade was a Babel of sounds, above all
of which rose the melody of religious and patriotic songs,
sung in various parts of the camp. From the headquarters
came the shouts and laughter of the Rebel officers having a
little “frolic ’’ in the cool of the evening. The groans of the
sick around us were gradually hushing, as the abatement of the
terrible heat let all but the worst cases sink into a brief slumber,
from which they awoke before midnight to renew their outcries.
But those in the Gangrene wards seemed to be denied even
this scanty blessing. Apparently they never slept, for their
shrieks never ceased. A multitude of whip-poor-wills in the
woods around us began their usual dismal cry, which had never
seemed so unearthly and full of dreadful presages as now.
It was now quite dark, and we stole noiselessly down to the
Creek and reconnoitered. We ſistened. The guard was not
pacing his beat, as we could not hear his footsteps. A large,
ill-shapen lump against the trunk of one of the trees on the
bank showed that he was leaning there resting himself. We
watched him for several minutes, but he did not move, and the
thought shot into our minds that he might be asleep; but it
seemed impossible: it was too early in the evening.
Now, if ever, was the opportunity. Harney squeezed my
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON.S. 369
hand, stepped noiselessly into the Creek, laid himself gently
down into the filthy water, and while my heart was beating so
that I was certain it could be heard some distance from me,
began making toward the fence. He passed under easily, and
I raised my eyes toward the guard, while on my strained ear
fell the soft plashing made by Harney as he pulled himself
cautiously forward. It seemed as if the sentinel must hear this;
he could not help it, and every second I expected to see the
black lump address itself to motion, and the musket flash out
fiendishly. But he did not; the lump remained motionless;
the musket silent.
When I thought that Harney had gained a sufficient distance
Ifollowed. It seemed as if the disgusting water would smother
me as I laid myself down into it, and such was my agitation
that it appeared almost impossible that I should escape making
such a noise as would attract the guard’s notice. Catching hold
of the roots and limbs at the side of the stream, I pulled myself
slowly along, and as noiselessly as possible.
I passed under the fence without difficulty, and was out.
side, and within fifteen feet of the guard. I had lain down
into the creek upon my right side, that my face might be toward
the guard, and I could watch him closely all the time.
As I came under the fence he was still leaning motionless
against the tree, but to my heated imagination he appeared to
have turned and be watching me. I hardly breathed; the
filthy water rippling past me seemed to roar to attract the
guard’s attention; I reached my hand out cautiously to grasp a
root to pull myself along by, and caught instead a dry branch,
which broke with a loud crack. My heart absolutely stood still.
The guard evidently heard the noise. The black lump separated
itself from the tree, and a straight line which I knew to be his
musket separated itself from the lump. In a brief instant I lived
a year of mortal apprehension. So certain was I that he had
discovered me, and was leveling his piece to fire, that I could
scarcely restrain myself from springing up and dashing away
to avoid the shot. Then I heard him take a step, and to my
unutterable surprise and relief, he walked off farther from the
Creek, evidently to speak to the man whose beat joined his.
I pulled away more swiftly, but still with the greatest cau.
24
370 ANDERSON VILLE.
tion, until after half-an-hour's painful effort I had gotten fully
one hundred and fifty yards away from the Hospital fence,
and found Harney crouched on a cypress knee, close to the
Water's edge, watching for me.
We waited there a few minutes, until I could rest, and calm
my perturbed nerves down to something nearer their normal
equilibrium, and then started on. We hoped that if we were
“our PROGRESS was TERRIBLY SLow – EvKRY STEP HURT
FEARFULLY.”
as lucky in our next step as in the first one we would reach the
Flint River by daylight, and have a good long start before the
morning roll-call revealed our absence. We could hear the
hounds still baying in the distance, but this sound was too cus-
tomary to give us any uneasiness. * ,
But our progress was terribly slow. Every step hurt fear-
fully. The Creek bed was full of roots and snags, and briers,
and vines trailed across it. These caught and tore our bare
feet and legs, rendered abnormally tender by the scurvy. It

A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 371
seemed as if every step was marked with blood. The vines
tripped us, and we frequently fell headlong. We struggled on
determinedly for nearly an hour, and were perhaps a mile from
the Hospital.
The moon came up, and its light showed that the creek con-
tinued its course through a dense jungle like that we had been
traversing, while on the high ground to our left were the open
pine woods I have previously described.
We stopped and debated for a few minutes. We recalled
our promise to keep in the Creek, the experience of other
boys who had tried to escape and been caught by the hounds.
If we staid in the Creek we were sure the hounds would not
find our trail, but it was equally certain that at this rate we
would be exhausted and starved before we got out of sight of
the prison. It seemed that we had gone far enough to be out
of reach of the packs patrolling immediately around the Stock-
ade, and there could be but little risk in trying a short walk on
the dry ground. We concluded to take the chances, and,
ascending the bank, we walked and ran as fast as we could for
about two miles further. t .
All at once it struck me that with all our progress the hounds
sounded as near as when we started. Ishivered at the thought,
and though nearly ready to drop with fatigue, urged myself
and Harney on. * • . -
An instant later their baying rang out on the still night air
right behind us, and with fearful distinctness. There was no
mistake now; they had found our trail, and were running us
down. The change from fearful apprehension to the crushing
reality stopped us stock-still in our tracks.
At the next breath the hounds came bursting through the
woods in plain sight, and in full cry. We obeyed our first
impulse; rushed back into the swamp, forced our way for a few
yards through the flesh-tearing impediments, until we gained a
large cypress, upon whose great knees we climbed—thoroughly
exhausted—just as the yelping pack reached the edge of the
water, and stopped there and bayed at us. It was a physical
impossibility for us to go another step.
In a moment the low-browed Villain Who had charge of the
372 . ANDERSON VILLE.
hounds came galloping up on his mule, tooting signals to his
dogs as he came, on the cow-horn slung from his shoulders.
He immediately discovered us, covered us with his revolver,
and yelled out: .
“Come ashore, there, quick: you
There was no help for it. We climbed down off the knees
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and started towards the land. As we neared it, the hounds
became almost frantic, and it seemed as if we would be torn to
pieces the moment they could reach us. But the master dis-
mounted and drove them back. He was surly — even Savage
– to us, but seemed in too much hurry to get back to Waste
any time annoying us with the dogs. He ordered us to get
around in front of the mule, and start back to camp. We
moved as rapidly as our fatigue and our lacerated feet would
allow us, and before midnight were again in the hospital,





A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 373
fatigued, filthy, torn, bruised and wretched beyond description
or conception.
The next morning we were turned back into the Stockade as
punishment.
CHAPTER XLIX.
AUG Oſs'T — GOOD LUCK IN NOT MEETING CAPTAIN WIRZ — THAT WOR-
THY’s TREATMENT OF RECAPTURED PRISONERS — SECRET soonFTIES
IN PRISON – SINGULAR MEETING AND ITS RESULT – DISCOVERY AND
REMOVA L OF THE OFFICERS AMONG THE ENLISTED MEN.
Harney and I were specially fortunate in being turned back
into the Stockade without being brought before Captain Wirz.
We subsequently learned that we owed this good luck to
Wirz’s absence on sick leave—his place being supplied by Lieu-
tenant Davis, a moderate brained Baltimorean, and one of that
horde of Marylanders in the Rebel Army, whose principal ser-
vice to the Confederacy consisted in working themselves into
“bomb-proof” places, and forcing those whom they displaced
into the field. Winder was the illustrious head of this crowd
of bomb-proof Rebels from “Maryland, My Maryland!” whose
enthusiasm for the Southern cause and consistency in serving it
only in such places as were out of range of the Yankee artillery,
was the subject of many bitter jibes by the Rebels—especially
by those whose secure berths they possessed themselves of.
Lieutenant Davis went into the war with great brashness.
He was one of the mob which attacked the Sixth Massachusetts
in its passage through Baltimore, but, like all of that class of
roughs, he got his stomach full of war as soon as the real busi-
mess of fighting began, and he retired to where the chances of
attaining a ripe old age were better than in front of the Army
of the Potomac's muskets. We shall hear of Davis again.
Encountering Captain Wirz was one of the terrors of an
abortive attempt to escape. When recaptured prisoners were
brought before him he would frequently give way to paroxysms
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS.
375
of screaming rage, so violent as to closely verge on insanity.
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“HE SHRIEKED IMPRECATIONS AND CURSES.”
er— of which I
have spoken—
in such a man-
ner as to threat-
en the luckless
captives within-
stant death, he
would shriek
out impre ca-
tions, curses,
and foul epi-
thets in French,
German and En-
glish, until he
fairly frothed at
the mouth.
There were
plenty of stories
current in camp of his having several times given away to
his rage so far as to actually shoot men down in these inter-
views, and still more of his knocking boys down and jumping
upon them, until he inflicted injuries that soon resulted in death.
How true these rumors were I am unable to say of my own
personal knowledge, since I never saw him kill any one, nor
have Italked with any one who did. There were a number of
cases of this kind testified to upon his trial, but they all
happened among “paroles” outside the Stockade, or among the
prisoners inside after we left, so I knew nothing of them.
One of the Old Switzer's favorite ways of ending these
seances was to inform the boys that he would have them shot
in an hour or so, and bid them prepare for death. After keep-
ing them in fearful suspense for hours he would order them to
be punished with the stocks, the ball-and-chain, the chain-gang,
or—if his fierce mood had burned itself entirely out—as was
quite likely with a man of his shallow brain and vacillating
temper—to be simply returned to the Stockade.
Nothing, I am sure, since the days of the Inquisition—or
still later, since the terrible punishments visited upon the insur-















































376 - ANDERSON VILLE.
gents of 1848 by the Austrian aristocrats—has been so diaboli-
cal as the stocks and chain-gangs, as used by Wirz. At one
time seven men, sitting in the stocks near the Star Fort — in
plain view of the camp — became objects of interest to every-
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THE CHAIN GANG.
body inside. They were never relieved from their painful
position, but were kept there until all of them died. I think
it was nearly two weeks before the last one succumbed. What
they endured in that time even imagination cannot conceive.
I do not think that an Indian tribe ever devised keener torture
for its captives. -
The chain-gang consisted of a number of men—varying from
twelve to twenty-five, all chained to one sixty-four pound ball.
They were also stationed near the Star Fort, standing out in
the hot sun, without a particle of shade over them. When one
moved they all had to move. They were scourged with the
dysentery, and the necessities of some one of their number kept
them constantly in motion. I can see them distinctly, yet,

A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 377
tramping laboriously and painfully back and forward over that
burning hillside, every moment of the long, weary Summer
days.
A comrade writes to remind me of the beneficent work of
the Masonic Order. I mention it most gladly, as it was the
sole recognition on the part of any of our foes of our claims to
human kinship. The churches of all denominations—except
the solitary Catholic priest, Father Hamilton, ignored us as
wholly as if we were dumb beasts. Lay humanitarians were
equally indifferent, and the only interest manifested by any
Rebel in the welfare of any prisoner was by the Masonic
brotherhood. The Rebel Masons interested themselves in secur-
ing details outside the Stockade in the cook-house, the commis-
sary, and elsewhere, for the brethren among the prisoners who
would accept such favors. Such as did not feel inclined to go
outside on parole received frequent presents in the way of food,
and especially of vegetables, which were literally beyond price.
Materials were sent inside to build tents for the Masons, and I
think such as made themselves known before death, received
burial according to the rites of the Order. Doctor White, and
perhaps other Surgeons, belonged to the fraternity, and the
wearing of a Masonic emblem by a new prisoner was pretty
sure to catch their eyes, and be the means of securing for the
wearer the tender of their good offices, such as a detail into the
Hospital as nurse, ward-master, etc.
I was not fortunate enough to be one of the mystic brethren,
and so missed all share in any of these benefits, as well as in
any others, and I take special pride in one thing: that during
my whole imprisonment I was not beholden to a Rebel for a
single favor of any kind. The Rebel does not live who can
say that he ever gave me so much as a handful of meal, a
spoonful of salt, an inch of thread, or a stick of wood. From
first to last I received nothing but my rations, except occasional
trifles that I succeeded in stealing from the stupid officers
charged with issuing rations. I owe no man in the Southern
Confederacy gratitude for anything—not even for a kind word.
Speaking of secret society pins recalls a noteworthy story
which has been told me since the war, of boys whom I knew.
At the breaking out of hostilities there existed in Toledo a
&
378 ANDERSON VILI,E.
festive little secret society, such as larking boys frequently
Organize, with no other object than fun and the usual adoles-
cent love of mystery. There were a dozen or so members in it
who called themselves “The Royal Reubens,” and were headed
by a bookbinder named Ned Hopkins. Some one started a
branch of the Order in Napoleon, O., and among the members .
was Charles E. Reynolds, of that town. The badge of the
Society was a peculiarly shaped gold pin. Reynolds and Hop-
kins never met, and had no acquaintance with each other.
When the war broke out, Hopkins enlisted in Battery H, First
Ohio Artillery, and was sent to the Army of the Potomac,
where he was captured, in the Fall of 1863, while scouting, in
the neighborhood of Richmond. Reynolds entered the Sixty-
Eighth Ohio Volunteer Infantry, and was taken in the neigh-
borhood of Jackson, Miss., -two thousand miles from the place
of Hopkins's capture. At Andersonville Hopkins became one
of the officers in charge of the Hospital. One day a Rebel
Sergeant, who called the roll in the Stockade, after studying
Hopkins's pin a minute, said:
“I seed a Yank in the Stockade to-day a-wearing a pin
egzackly like that ere.”
This aroused Hopkins's interest, and he went inside in search
of the other “feller.” Having his squad and detachment there
was little difficulty in finding him. He recognized the pin,
spoke to its wearer, gave him the “grand hailing sign” of the
“Royal Reubens,” and it was duly responded to. The upshot
of the matter was that he took Reynolds out with him as clerk,
and saved his life, as the latter was going down hill very rap-
idly. Reynolds, in turn, secured the detail of a comrade of the
Sixty-Eighth who was failing fast, and succeeded in saving his
life—all of which happy results were directly attributable to
that insignificant boyish society, and its equally unimportant
badge of membership. -
Along in the last of August the Rebels learned that there
were between two and three hundred Captains and Lieu-
tenants in the Stockade, passing themselves off as enlisted
men. The motive of these officers was two-fold: first, a chiv-
alrous wish to share the fortunes and fate of their boys, and
second, disinclination to gratify the Rebels by the knowledge
º
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 379
of the rank of their captives. The secret was so well kept that
none of us suspected it until the fact was announced by the
Rebels themselves. They were taken out immediately, and
sent to Macon, where the commissioned officers’ prison was.
It would not do to trust such possible leaders with us another
day. &
CHAPTER L.
Eoop—rrs MEAGERNESS, INFERIOR QUALITY, AND TERRIBLE SAME-
J&ES3 — REBEL TESTIMONY ON THE SUBJECT - FUTILITY OF SUC-
CESSFUL EXPLANATION.
I have in other places dwelt upon the insufficiency and the
nauseousness of the food. No words that I can use, no insist-
ence upon this theme, can give the reader any idea of its mortal
importance to us.
Let the reader consider for a moment the quantity, quality,
and variety of food that he now holds to be necessary for
the maintenance of life and health. I trust that every one
who peruses this book—that every one in fact over whom the
Stars and Stripes wave—has his cup of coffee, his biscuits and
his beefsteak for breakfast—a substantial dinner of roast or
boiled—and a lighter, but still sufficient meal in the evening.
In all, certainly not less than fifty different articles are set
before him during the day, for his choice as elements of nour-
ishment. Let him scan this extended bill-of-fare, which
long custom has made so commonplace as to be uninteresting
—perhaps even wearisome to think about — and see what he
could omit from it, if necessity compelled him. After a reluct-
ant farewell to fish, butter, eggs, milk, sugar, green and pre-
served fruits, etc., he thinks that perhaps under extraordinary
circumstances he might be able to merely sustain life for a
limited period on a diet of bread and meat three times a day,
washed down with creamless, unsweetened coffee, and varied
occasionally with additions of potatos, onions, beans, etc. It
would astonish the Innocent to have one of our veterans inform
him that this was not even the first stage of destitution; that a
A §TORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON8. 381
soldier who had these was expected to be on the summit level
of contentment. Any of the boys who followed Grant to
Appomattox Court House, Sherman to the Sea, or “Pap”
Thomas till his glorious career culminated with the annihilation
of Hood, will tell him of many weeks when a slice of fat pork
on a piece of “hard tack” had to do duty for the breakfast of
beefsteak and biscuits; when another slice of fat pork and
another cracker served for the dinner of roast beef and vegeta-
bles, and a third cracker and slice of pork was a substitute for
the Supper of toast and chops.
I say to these veterans in turn that they did not arrive at
the first stages of destitution compared with the depths to which
we were dragged. The restriction for a few weeks to a diet of
crackers and fat pork was certainly a hardship, but the crackers
alone, chemists tell us, contain all the elements necessary to
support life, and in our Army they were always well made and
very palatable. I believe I risk nothing in saying that one of
the ordinary Square crackers of our Commissary Department
contained much more real nutriment than the whole of our
average ration.
I have before compared the size, shape and appearance of the
daily half loaf of corn bread issued to us to a half-brick, and I
do not yet know of a more fitting comparison. At first we got
a small piece of rusty bacon along with this; but the size of this
diminished steadily until at last it faded away entirely, and
during the last six months of our imprisonment I do not believe
that we received rations of meat above a half-dozen times.
To this smallness was added ineffable badness. The meal
was ground very coarsely, by dull, weakly propelled stones,
that imperfectly crushed the grains, and left the tough, hard
coating of the kernels in large, sharp, mica-like scales, which
cut and inflamed the stomach and intestines, like handfuls of
pounded glass. The alimentary canals of all compelled to eat
it were kept in a continual state of irritation that usually term-
inated in incurable dysentery.
That I have not over-stated this evil can be seen by reference
to the testimony of so competent a scientific observer as Pro-
fessor Jones, and I add to that unimpeachable testimony the
following extract from the statement made in an attempted
383 ANDERSON VILLE,
defense of Andersonville by Doctor R. Randolph Stevenson,
Who styles himself “formerly Surgeon in the Army of the Con-
federate States of America, Chief Surgeon of the Confederate
States Military Prison Hospitals, Andersonville, Ga.”:
V. From the sameness of the food, and from the action of the
Poisonous gases in the densely crowded and filthy Stockade and
Hospital, the blood was altered in its constitution, even before the
manifestation of actual disease. ->
In both the well and the sick, the red corpuscles were dimin-
ished; and in all diseases uncomplicated with inflammation, the
fibrinous element was deficient. In cases of ulceration of the
mucous membrane of the intestinal canal, the fibrinous element
of the blood appeared to be increased; while in simple diarrhea,
uncomplicated with ulceration, and dependent upon the charac-
ter of the food and the existence of scurvy, it was either
diminished or remained stationary. Heart-clots were very
common, if not universally present, in the cases of ulceration
of the intestinal mucous membrane; while in the uncomplicated
cases of diarrhea and scurvy, the blood was fluid and did not
coagulate readily, and the heart-clots and fibrinous concretions
were almost universally absent. From the watery condition of
the blood there resulted various serous effusions into the pericar-
dium, into the wentricles of the brain, and into the abdomina]
cavity. - -
In almost all cases which I examined after death, even in the
most emaciated, there was more or less serous effusion into the
abdominal cavity. In cases of hospital gangrene of the extrem-
ities, and in cases of gangrene of the intestines, heart-clots and
firm coagula were universally present. The presence of these
clots in the cases of hospital gangrene, whilst they were absent
in the cases in which there were no inflammatory symptoms,
appears to sustain the conclusion that hospital gangrene is a
species of inflammation (imperfect and irregular though it may
be in its progress), in which the fibrinous element and coagula-
bility of the blood are increased, even in those who are suffering
from such a condition of the blood and from such diseases as
are naturally accompanied with a decrease in the fibrinous con-
stituent.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 383
WI. The impoverished condition of the blood, which led to
serous effusions within the ventricles of the brain, and around the
brain and spinal cord, and into the pericardial and abdominal
cavities, was gradually induced by the action of several causes,
but chiefly by the character of the food.
The Federal prisoners, as a general rule, had been reared upon
wheat bread and Irish potatos; and the Indian corn so exten-
sively used at the South, was almost unknown to them as an
article of diet previous to their capture. Owing to the impossi-
bility of obtaining the necessary sieves in the Confederacy for
the separation of the husk from the corn-meal, the rations of
the Confederate soldiers, as well as of the Federal prisoners,
consisted of unbolted corn flour, and meal and grist; this cir-
cumstance rendered the corn-bread still more disagreeable and
distasteful to the Federal prisoners. While Indian meal, even
when prepared with the husk, is one of the most wholesome
and nutritious forms of food, as has been already shown by the
health and rapid increase of the Southern population, and
especially of the negros, previous to the present war, and by
the strength, endurance and activity of the Confederate soldiers,
who were throughout the war confined to a great extent to
unbolted corn-meal; it is nevertheless true that those who have
not been reared upon corn-meal, or who have not accustomed
themselves to its use gradually, become excessively tired of this
kind of diet when suddenly confined to it without a due propor-
tion of wheat bread. Large numbers of the Federal prisoners
appeared to be utterly disgusted with Indian corn, and immense
piles of corn-bread could be seen in the Stockade and Hospital
inclosures. Those who were so disgusted with this form of
food that they had no appetite to partake of it, except in quan-
tities insufficient to supply the waste of the tissues, were, of
course, in the condition of men slowly starving, notwithstand-
ing that the only farinaceous form of food which the Confede-
rate States produced in sufficient abundance for the maintenance
of armies was not withheld from them. In such cases, an
urgent feeling of hunger was not a prominent symptom; and
even when it existed at first, it soon disappeared, and was suc-
ceeded by an actual loathing of food. In this state the muscu-
384 ANDERSON VILLE,
lar strength was rapidly diminished, the tissues wasted, and the
thin, skeleton-like forms moved about with the appearance of
utter exhaustion and dejection. The mental condition con-
nected with long confinement, with the most miserable sur-
roundings, and with no hope for the future, also depressed all
the nervous and vital actions, and was especially active in
destroying the appetite. The effects of mental depression, and
of defective nutrition, were manifested not only in the slow,
feeble motions of the wasted, skeleton-like forms, but also in
such lethargy, listlessness, and torpor of the mental faculties as
rendered these unfortunate men oblivious and indifferent to
their afflicted condition. In many cases, even of the greatest
apparent suffering and distress, instead of showing any anxiety
to communicate the causes of their distress, or to relate their
privations, and their longings for their homes and their friends
and relatives, they lay in a listless, lethargic, uncomplaining
state, taking no notice either of their own distressed condition,
or of the gigantic mass of human misery by which they were
surrounded. Nothing appalled and depressed me so much as
this silent, uncomplaining misery. It is a fact of great interest,
that notwithstanding this defective nutrition in men subjected
to crowding and filth, contagious fevers were rare; and typhus
fever, which is supposed to be generated in just such a state of
things as existed at Andersonville, was unknown. These facts,
established by my investigations, stand in striking contrast
with such a statement as the following by a recent English
Writer: - -
“A deficiency of food, especially of the nitrogenous part,
quickly leads to the breaking up of the animal frame. Plague,
pestilence and famine are associated with each other in the
public mind, and the records of every country show how closely
they are related. The medical history of Ireland is remarkable
for the illustrations of how much mischief may be occasioned
by a general deficiency of food. Always the habitat of fever,
it every now and then becomes the very hot-bed of its propa-
gation and development. Let there be but a small failure in
the usual imperfect supply of food, and the lurking seeds of
pestilence are ready to burst into frightful activity. The famine
of the present century is but too forcible and illustrative ef
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON 8. 385)
this. It fostered epidemics which have not been witnessed in
this generation, and gave rise to scenes of devastation and
misery which are not surpassed by the most appalling epidemics
of the Middle Ages. The principal form of the scourge was
known as the contagious famine fever (typhus), and it spread,
not merely from end to end of the country in which it had
Originated, but, breaking through all boundaries, it crossed the
broad ocean, and made itself painfully manifest in localities
where it was previously unknown. Thousands fell under the
virulence of its action, for wherever it came it struck down a
seventh of the people, and of those whom it attacked, one out
of nine perished. Even those who escaped the fatal influence
of it, were left the miserable victims of scurvy and low fever.”
While we readily admit that famine induces that state of the
system which is the most susceptible to the action of fever
poisons, and thus induces the state of the entire population
which is most favorable for the rapid and destructive spread of
all contagious fevers, at the same time we are forced by the
facts established by the present war, as well as by a host of
others, both old and new, to admit that we are still ignorant of
the causes necessary for the origin of typhus fever. Added to
the imperfect nature of the rations issued to the Federal
prisoners, the difficulties of their situation were at times greatly
increased by the sudden and desolating Federal raids in Vir-
ginia, Georgia, and other States, which necessitated the sudden
transportation from Richmond and other points threatened of
large bodies of prisoners, without the possibility of much pre-
vious preparation; and not only did these men suffer in transi-
tion upon the dilapidated and overburdened line of railroad
communication, but after arriving at Andersonville, the rations
were frequently insufficient to supply the sudden addition of
several thousand men. And as the Confederacy became more
and more pressed, and when powerful hostile armies were
plunging through her bosom, the Federal prisoners of Ander-
sonville suffered incredibly during the hasty removal to Millen,
Savannah, Charleston, and other points, supposed at the time
to be secure from the enemy. Each one of these causes must
be weighed when an attempt is made to estimate the unusual
mortality among these prisoners of war. ;
- - 25
386 ANDERSON VILLE.
VII. Scurvy, arising from sameness of food and imperfect
nutrition, caused, either directly or indirectly, nine-tenths of the
deaths among the Federal prisoners at Andersonville.
Not only were the deaths referred to unknown causes, to
apoplexy, to anasarca, and to debility, traceable to Scurvy and
its effects; and not only was the mortality in Small-pox, pneu-
INTERIOR OF THE STOCKADE — THE CREEK AT THE EAST SIDE.
(From a Rebel Photograph in possession of the Author.
monia, and typhoid fever, and in all acute diseases, more than
doubled by the scorbutic taint, but even those all but universal
and deadly bowel affections arose from the same causes, and
derived their fatal character from the same conditions which
fºoduced the scurvy. In truth, these men at Andersonville
were in the condition of a crew at sea, confined in a foul ship
upon salt meat and unvarying food, and without fresh vege-
^

A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 387
tables. Not only so, but these unfortunate prisoners were like
men forcibly confined, and crowded upon a ship tossed about
On a stormy ocean, without a rudder, without a compass, with-
out a guiding-star, and without any apparent boundary or end
to their voyage; and they reflected in their steadily increasing
miseries the distressed condition and waning fortunes of a
devastated and bleeding country, which was compelled, in jus-
tice to her own unfortunate sons, to hold these men in this
most distressing captivity. -
I saw nothing in the scurvy which prevailed so universally
at Andersonville, at all different from this disease as described
by various standard writers. The mortality was no greater
than that which has afflicted a hundred ships upon long voy-
ages, and it did not exceed the mortality which has, upon more
than one occasion, and in a much shorter period of time, anni-
hilated large armies and desolated beleaguered cities. The
general results of my investigations upon the chronic diarrhea
and dysentery of the Federal prisoners of Andersonville were
similar to those of the English surgeons during the war against
Russia. - -
IX. Drugs eacercised but little influence over the progress and
fatal termination of chronic diarrhea and dysentery in the
Military Prison and Hospital at Andersonville, chiefly because
the proper form of nourishment (milk, rice, vegetables, anti-scor-
butics, and nourishing animal and vegetable soups) was not
Žssued, and could not be procured in sufficient quantities for these
sick prisoners. * , -
Opium allayed pain and checked the bowels temporarily, but
the frail dam was soon swept away, and the patient appeared
to be but little better, if not the worse, for this merely palliative
treatment. The root of the difficulty could not be reached by
drugs; nothing short of the wanting elements of nutrition
would have tended in any manner to restore the tone of the
digestive system, and of all the wasted and degenerated organs
and tissues. My opinion to this effect was expressed most
decidedly to the medical officers in charge of these unfortunate
men. The correctness of this view was sustained by the
healthy and robust condition of the paroled prisoners, who
388 ANDERSON VILLE.
received an extra ration, and who were able to make consider-
able sums by trading, and who supplied themselves with a
liberal and varied diet.
X. The fact that hospital gangrene appeared in the Stockade
jºrst, and originated spontaneously, without any previous conta-
gion, and occurred sporadically all over the Stockade and Prison
Hospital, was proof positive that this disease will arise whenever
the conditions of crowding, filth, foul air, and bad diet are
present. *
The exhalations from the Hospital and Stockade appeared to
exert their effects to a considerable distance outside of these
localities. The origin of gangrene among these prisoners
appeared clearly to depend in great measure upon the state of
the general system, induced by diet, exposure, neglect of personal
cleanliness, and by various external noxious influences. The
rapidity of the appearance and action of the gangrene depended
upon the powers and state of the constitution, as well as upon
the intensity of the poison in the atmosphere, or upon the direct
application of poisonous matter to the wounded surface. This
was further illustrated by the important fact, that hospital
gangrene, or a disease resembling this form of gangrene, attacked
the intestinal canal of patients laboring under ulceration of the
bowels, although there were no local manifestations of gangrene
upon the surface of the body. This mode of termination in
cases of dysentery was quite common in the foul atmosphere
of the Confederate States Military Prison Hospital; and in the
depressed, depraved condition of the system of these Federal
prisoners, death ensued very rapidly after the gangrenous state
of the intestines was established. -
XI. A scorbutic condition of the system appeared to favor
the origin of foul ulcers, which frequently took on true hospital
gangréné.
Scurvy and gangrene frequently existed in the same indi-
vidual. In such cases, vegetable diet with vegetable acids
would remove the scorbutic condition without curing the
hospital gangrene. . . Scurvy consists not only in an alteration
in the constitution of the blood, which leads to passive hemor-
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS, 389
*
rhages from the bowels, and the effusion into the various tissues
of a deeply-colored fibrinous exudation; but, as we have con-
clusively shown by post-mortem examination, this state is also
attended with consistence of the muscles of the heart, and of
the mucous membrane of the alimentary canal, and of the
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(From Rebel Photographs in possession of the Author.)
solid parts generally. We have, according to the extent of the
deficiency of certain articles of food, every degree of scorbutic
derangement, from the most fearful depravation of the blood
and the perversion of every function subserved by the blood,
to those slight derangements which are scarcely distinguishable
from a state of health. We are as yet ignorant of the true
nature of the changes of the blood and tissues in Scurvy, and a
wide field for investigation is open for the determination of
the characteristic changes—physical, chemical, and physio-

390 ANDERSON WILLE.
logical—of the blood and tissues, and of the secretions and
excretions of scurvy. Such inquiries would be of great value
in their bearing upon the origin of hospital gangrene. Up to
the present war, the results of chemical investigations upon
the pathology of the blood in scurvy were not only contradic-
tory, but meager, and wanting in that careful detail of the cases
from which the blood was abstracted which would enable us
to explain the cause of the apparent discrepancies in different
analyses. Thus it is not yet settled whether the fibrin is
increased or diminished in this disease; and the differences
which exist in the statements of different writers appear to be
referable to the neglect of a critical examination and record of
all the symptoms of the cases from which the blood was
abstracted. The true nature of the changes of the blood in
scurvy can be established only by numerous analyses during
different stages of the disease, and followed up by carefully
performed and recorded post-mortem examinations. With such
data, we could settle such important questions as whether the
increase of fibrin in scurvy was invariably dependent upon
some local inflammation.
XII. Gangrenous spots, followed by rapid destruction of
tissue, appeared in Some cases in which there had been no pre-
vious or easisting wound or abrasion; and without such well
established facts, it might be assumed that the disease was propa-
gated from one patient to another in every case, either by eahala.
tions from the gangrenous swiface or by direct contact.
In such a filthy and crowded hospital as that of the Con-
federate States Military Prison of Camp Sumter, Anderson-
ville, it was impossible to isolate the wounded from the sources
of actual contact of the gangrenous matter. The flies swarming
over the wounds and over filth of every description; the filthy,
imperfectly washed, and scanty rags; the limited number of
sponges and wash-bowls (the same wash-bowl and sponge
serving for a score or more of patients), were one and all
sources of such constant circulation of the gangrenous matter,
that the disease might rapidly be propagated from a single
gangrenous wound. While the fact already considered, that
a form of moist gangrene, resembling hospital gangrene, was
A 8TORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 391
quite common in this foul atmosphere in cases of dysentery,
both with and without the existence of hospital gangrene upon
the surface, demonstrates the dependence of the disease upon
the state of the constitution, and proves in a clear manner that
neither the contact of the poisonous matter of gangrene, nor
the direct action of the poisoned atmosphere upon the ulcerated
surface, is necessary to the development of the disease; on the
other hand, it is equally well-established that the disease may
be communicated by the various ways just mentioned. It is
impossible to determine the length of time which rags and
clothing saturated with gangrenous matter will retain the
power of reproducing the disease when applied to healthy
Wounds. Professor Brugmans, as quoted by Guthrie in his
commentaries on the surgery of the war in Portugal, Spain,
France, and the Netherlands, says that in 1797, in IIolland,
charpie, composed of linen threads cut of different lengths,
which, on inquiry, it was found had been already used in the
great hospitals in France, and had been subsequently washed
and bleached, caused every ulcer to which it was applied to be
affected by hospital gangrene. Guthrie affirms in the same
work, that the fact that this disease was readily communicated
by the application of instruments, lint, or bandages which had
been in contact with infected parts, was too firmly established
by the experience of every one in Portugal and Spain to be a
matter of doubt. There are facts to show that flies may be
the means of communicating malignant pustules. Dr. Wagner,
who has related several cases of malignant pustule produced
in man and beasts, both by contact and by eating the flesh of
diseased animals, which happened in the village of Striessa in
Saxony, in 1834, gives two very remarkable cases which
occurred eight days after any beast had been affected with the
disease. Both were women, one of twenty-six and the other
of fifty years, and in them the pustules were well marked, and
the general symptoms similar to the other cases. The latter
patient said she had been bitten by a fly upon the back of the
neck, at which part the carbuncle appeared ; and the former,
that she had also been bitten upon the right upper arm by a
gnat. Upon inquiry, Wagner found that the skin of one of
the infected beasts had been hung on a neighboring wall, and
392 ANDERSON VILLE.
thought it very possible that the insects might have been
attracted to them by the smell, and had thence conveyed the
poison. -
- - [End of Dr. Stevenson's Statement.]
The old adage says that “Hunger is the best sauce for poor
food,” but hunger failed to render this detestable stuff palat-
able, and it became so loathsome that very many actually
starved to death because unable to force their organs of deglu-
tition to receive the nauseous dose and pass it to the stomach.
I was always much healthier than the average of the boys, and
my appetite consequently much better, yet for the last month
that I was in Andersonville, it required all my determination
to crowd the bread down my throat, and, as I have stated
before, I could only do this by breaking off small bits at a time,
and forcing each down as I would a pill.
A large part of this repulsiveness was due to the coarseness
and foulness of the meal, the wretched cooking, and the lack of
salt, but there was a still more potent reason than all these.
Nature does not intend that man shall live by bread alone, nor
by any one kind of food. She indicates this by the varying
tastes and longings that she gives him. If his body needs one
kind of constituents, his tastes lead him to desire the food that
is richest in those constituents. When he has taken as much
as his system requires, the sense of Satiety supervenes, and he
“becomes tired” of that particular food. If tastes are not per-
verted, but allowed a free but temperate exercise, they are the
surest indicators of the way to preserve health and strength by
a judicious selection of alimentation.
In this case Nature was protesting by a rebellion of the
tastes against any further use of that species of food. She was
saying, as plainly as she ever spoke, that death could only be
averted by a change of diet, which would supply our bodies
with the constituents they so sadly needed, and which could
not be supplied by corn meal.
How needless was this confinement of our rations to corn
meal, and especially to such Wretchedly prepared meal, is con-
clusively shown by the Rebel testimony heretofore given. It
would have been very little extra trouble to the Rebels to have
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY Pſ&ISON S. 393
had our meal sifted; we would gladly have done it ourselves if
allowed the utensils and opportunity. It would have been as
little trouble to have varied our rations with green corn and
sweet potatos, of which the country was then full.
A few wagon loads of roasting ears and Sweet potatos
would have banished every trace of scurvy from the camp,
healed up the wasting dysentery, and saved thousands of lives.
Any day that the Rebels had chosen they could have gotten a
thousand volunteers who would have given their solemn parole
not to escape, and gone any distance into the country, to gather
the potatos and corn, and such other vegetables as were read-
ily obtainable, and bring them into the camp.
—Whatever else may be said in defense of the Southern man-
agement of military prisons, the permitting seven thousand
men to die of the scurvy in the Summer time, in the midst of
an agricultural region, filled with all manner of green vegeta-
tion, must forever remain impossible of explanation.
CELAPTER LI.
SOLICITUDE As TO THE FATE OF ATLANTA AND SHERMAN's ARMY
— PAUCITY OF NEWS — HOW WIF. HEARD THAT ATLANTA HAD
FALLEN — ANNOUNCEMENT OF A GENERAL EXCHANGE — WE
LEAVE ANDERSON VILLE.
We again began to be exceedingly solicitous over the fate of
Atlanta and Sherman’s Army. We had heard but little directly
from that front for several weeks. Few prisoners had come in
since those captured in the bloody engagements of the 20th,
22d, and 28th of July. In spite of their confident tones,
and our own sanguine hopes, the outlook admitted of very
grave doubts. The battles of the last week of July had been
— look at it in the best light possible—indecisive. Our men
had held their own, it is true, but an invading army can not
afford to simply hold its own. Anything short of an absolute
success is to it disguised defeat. Then we knew that the cav-
alry column sent out under Stoneman had been so badly
handled by that inefficient commander that it had failed ridic-
ulously in its object, being beaten in detail, and suffering the
loss of its commander and a considerable portion of its num-
bers. This had been followed by a defeat of our infantry at
Etowah Creek, and then came a long interval in which we
received no news save what the Rebel papers contained, and
they pretended no doubt that Sherman's failure was already
demonstrated. Next came well-authenticated news that Sher-
man had raised the siege and fallen back to the Chattahoochee,
and we felt something of the bitterness of despair. For days
thereafter we heard nothing, though the hot, close Summer air
seemed surcharged with the premonitions of a war storm about
to burst, even as nature heralds in the same way a concentra-
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 395
tion of the mighty force of the elements for the grand crash of
the thunderstorm. We waited in tense expectancy for the
decision of the fates whether final victory or defeat should end
the long and arduous campaign. -
At night the guards in the perches around the Stockade
called out every half hour, so as to show the officers that they
were awake and attending to their duty. The formula for this
ran thus:
“Post numbah 1; half-past eight o'clock, and a-l-l—'s
W – e'–1–1 ° - e
Post No. 2 repeated this cry, and so it went around.
One evening when our anxiety as to Atlanta was wrought
to the highest pitch, one of the guards sang out:
“Post numbah foah — half past eight o’clock — and Atlanta's
—gone — t—o–h —l / / ?” *
The heart of every man within hearing leaped to his mouth.
* #:- We looked toward each
Other, almost speechless
with glad surprise, and
then gasped out :
“Did you hear THAT’’’
The next instant such a
ringing cheer burst out as
wells spontaneously from
the throats and hearts of
men, in the first ecstatic
A moments of victory — a
cheer to which our sad-
dened hearts and enfee-
3 bled lungs had long been
strangers. It was the gen-
uine, honest, manly North-
ern cheer, as different from
the shrill Rebel yell as the
h on est mastiff’s deep-
* HALF PAST EIGHT o'cLocR, AND ATLANTA's goNE To voiced welcome is from the
g H — L ] '' howl of the prowling wolf.
The shout was taken up all over the prison. Even those who
had not heard the guard understood that it meant that “Atlanta
*…*-----
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396 ANDERSON VILLE.
was ours and fairly won,” and they took up the acclamation
with as much enthusiasm as we had begun it. All thoughts of
sleep were put to flight: we would have a season of rejoicing.
Little knots gathered together, debated the news, and indulged
in the most sanguine hopes as to the effect upon the Rebels.
In some parts of the Stockade stump speeches were made. I
believe that Boston Corbett and his party organized a prayer
and praise meeting. In our corner we stirred up our tuneful
friend “Nosey,” who sang again the grand old patriotic hymns
that set our thin blood to bounding, and made us remember
that we were still Union soldiers, with higher hopes than that
of starving and dying in Andersonville. He sang the ever-
glorious Star Spangled Banner, as he used to sing it around the
camp fire in happier days, when we were in the field. He sang
the rousing “Rally Round the Flag,” with its wealth of patri-
otic fire and martial vigor, and we, with throats hoarse from
shouting, joined in the chorus until the well-in rang again.
The Rebels became excited, lest our exaltation of spirits
would lead to an assault upon the Stockade. They got under
arms, and remained so until the enthusiasm became less demon-
strative.
A few days later—on the evening of the 6th of September
—the Rebel Sergeants who called the roll entered the Stock-
ade, and each assembling his Squads, addressed them as follows:
“PRISONERs: I am instructed by General Winder to inform
you that a general exchange has been agreed upon. Twenty
thousand men will be exchanged immediately at Savannah,
where your vessels are now waiting for you. Detachments
from One to Ten will prepare to leave early to-morrow morning.”
The excitement that this news produced was simply inde-
scribable. I have seen men in every possible exigency that
can confront men, and a large proportion viewed that
which impended over them with at least outward composure.
The boys around me had endured all that we suffered with sto-
ical firmness. Groans from pain-racked bodies could not be
repressed, and bitter curses and maledictions against the Rebels
leaped unbidden to the lips at the slightest occasion, but there
was no murmuring or whining. There was not a day—hardly
an hour—in which one did not see such exhibitions of manly
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON8. 397
fortitude as made him proud of belonging to a race of which
every individual was a hero.
But the emotion which pain and suffering and danger could
not develop, joy could, and boys sang, and shouted and cried,
and danced as if in a delirium. “God’s country,” fairer than
the sweet promised land of Canaan appeared to the rapt Vision
of the IIebrew poet prophet, spread out in glad vista before the
mind's eye of every one. It had come—at last it had come-
that which we had so longed for, wished for, prayed for,
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OFF FOR “GOD’s COUNTRY.”
dreamed of; schemed, planned, toiled for, and for which went
up the last earnest, dying wish of the thousands of our com-
rades who would now know no exchange save into that eternal
“God’s country” where -
Sickness and sorrow, pain and death
Are felt and feared no more.
Our “preparations” for leaving were few and simple. When
the morning came, and shortly after the Order to move, Andrews

398 ANDERSON VILLE.
and I picked our well-worn blanket, our tattered overcoat, our
rude chessmen, and no less rude board, Our little black can, and
the spoon made of hoop-iron, and bade farewell to the hole-in-
the-ground that had been our home for nearly seven long
months. - -
My feet were still in miserable condition from the lacerations
received in the attempt to escape, but I took One of our tent
poles as a staff and hobbled away. We re-passed the gates
which we had entered on that February night, ages since, it
seemed, and crawled slowly over to the depot. tº
I had come to regard the Rebels around us as such measure-
less liars that my first impulse was to believe the reverse of
anything they said to us; and even now, while I hoped for the
best, my old habit of mind was so strongly upon me that I had
some doubts of our going to be exchanged, simply because it
was a Rebel who had said so. But in the crowd of Rebels who
stood close to the road upon which we were walking was a
young Second Lieutenant, who said to a Colonel as I passed:
“Well, those fellows can sing “Homeward Bound,’ can’t
they?”
This set my last misgiving at rest. Now I was certain that
we were going to be exchanged, and my spirits soared to the
skies. -
Entering the cars we thumped and pounded toilsomely along,
after the manner of Southern railroads, at the rate of six or
eight miles an hour. Savannah was two hundred and forty
miles away, and to our impatient minds it seemed as if we
would never get there. The route lay the whole distance
through the cheerless pine barrens which cover the greater
part of Georgia. The only considerable town on the way was
Macon, which had then a population of five thousand or there-
abouts. For scores of miles there would not be a sign of a
human habitation, and in the one hundred and eighty miles
between Macon and Savannah there were only three insignifi-
cant villages. There was a station every ten miles, at which
the only building was an open shed, to shelter from sun and
rain a casual passenger, or a bit of goods. -
The occasional specimens of the poor white “cracker” popu-
lation that we saw, seemed indigenous products of the starved
A. STORY OF RIEBEL, MILITARY PRISON 3. 399
soil. They suited their poverty-stricken surroundings as well
as the gnarled and scrubby vegetation suited the sterile sand.
Thin-chested, round-shouldered, scraggy-bearded, dull-eyed and
Open-mouthed, they all looked alike — all looked as ignorant,
as stupid, and as lazy as they were poor and weak. They were
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GEORGIAN DEVELOPMENT OF THE “PROUD CAUCASIAN.”
“low-downers” in every respect, and made our rough and simple-
minded East Tennesseans look like models of elegant and cul-
tured gentlemen in contrast.
We looked on the poverty-stricken land with good-natured
contempt, for we thought we were leaving it forever, and would































400 ANDERSON VILLEe
Soon be in one which, compared to it, was as the fatness of
Egypt to the leanness of the desert of Sinai.
The second day after leaving Andersonville our trainstruggled
across the swamps into Savannah, and rolled slowly down the
live oak shaded streets into the center of the City. It seemed
like another Deserted Village, so vacant and noiseless the
streets, and the buildings everywhere so overgrown with luxu-
riant vegetation. The limbs of the shade trees crashed along
and broke upon the tops of our cars, as if no train had passed
that way for years. Through the interstices between the trees
and clumps of foliage could be seen the gleaming white marble
of the monuments erected to Greene and Pulaski, looking like
giant tombstones in a City of the Dead. The unbroken still-
ness—so different from what we expected on entering the
metropolis of Georgia, and a City that was an important port
in Revolutionary days—became absolutely oppressive. We
could not understand it, but our thoughts were more intent
upon the coming transfer to our flag than upon any speculation
as to the cause of the remarkable somnolence of Savannah.
Finally some little boys straggled out to where our car was
standing, and we opened up a conversation with them :
“Say, boys, are our vessels down in the harbor yet º'
The reply came in that piercing treble shriek in which a boy
of ten or twelve makes even his most confidential communica-
tions: s
“I don’t know.”
“Well,” (with our confidence in exchange somewhat dashed,)
“they intend to exchange us here, don’t they P
Another falsetto scream, “I don’t know.”
“Well,” (with something of a quaver in the questioner's
voice,) “what are they going to do with us, any way?”
“O,” (the treble shriek became almost demoniac) “they are
fixing up a place over by the old jail for you.”
What a sinking of hearts was there then Andrews and I
would not give up hope so speedily as some others did, and
resolved to believe, for awhile at least, that we were going to
be exchanged.
Ordered out of the cars, we were marched along the street.
A crowd of small boys, full of the curiosity of the animal,
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON.S. 401
gathered around us as we marched. Suddenly a door in a
rather nice house opened; an angry-faced woman appeared on
the steps and shouted out:
“Boys / Boys!! What are you doin’ there? Come up on the
steps immejitely! Come away from them n-a-s-ty things!”
I will admit that we were not prepossessing in appearance;
nor were we as cleanly as young gentlemen should habitually
be; in fact, I may as well confess that I would not now, if I
could help it, allow a tramp, as dilapidated in raiment, as
unwashed, unshorn, uncombed, and populous with insects as we
were, to come within several rods of me. Nevertheless, it was
not pleasant to hear so accurate a description of our personal
appearance sent forth on the wings of the wind by a shrill-
Voiced Rebel female.
A short march brought us to the place “they were fixing for
us by the old jail.” It was another pen, with high walls of
thick pine plank, which told us only too plainly how vain were
Our expectations of exchange.
When we were turned inside, and I realized that the gates of
another prison had closed upon me, hope forsook me. I flung
Our odious little possessions—our can, chess-board, overcoat,
and blanket — upon the ground, and, sitting down beside them,
gave way to the bitterest despair. I wanted to die, O, so
badly. Never in all my life had I desired anything in the
world so much as I did now to get out of it. Had I had pistol,
knife, rope, or poison, I would have ended my prison life then
and there, and departed with the unceremoniousness of a French
leave. I remembered that I could get a quietus from a guard
with very little trouble, but I would not give one of the bitterly
hated Rebels the triumph of shooting me. I longed to be
another Samson, with the whole Southern Confederacy gath-
ered in another Temple of Dagon, that I might pull down the
supporting pillars, and die happy in slaying thousands of my
enemies.
While I was thus sinking deeper and deeper in the Slough of
Despond, the firing of a musket, and the shriek of the man who
was struck, attracted my attention. Looking towards the
opposite end of the pen I saw a guard bringing his still smok-
ing musket to a “recover arms,” and, not fifteen feet from him,
26
402 ANDERSON VILLIº.
a prisoner lying on the ground in the agonies of death. The
latter had a pipe in his mouth when he was shot, and his teeth
still clenched its stem. His legs and arms were drawn up con-
Vulsively, and he was rocking backward and forward on his
back. The charge had struck him just above the hip-bone.
The Rebel officer in command of the guard was sitting on his
horse inside the pen at the time, and rode forward to see what
the matter was. Lieutenant Davis, who had come with us from
Andersonville, was also sitting on a horse inside the prison, and
he called out in his usual harsh, disagreeable voice:
“That's all right, Cunnel; the man’s done just as I awdahed
him to.” &
I found that lying around inside were a number of bits of
plank—each about five feet long, which had been sawed off
by the carpenters engaged in building the prison. The ground
being a bare common, was destitute of all shelter, and the pieces
looke, as if they would be quite useful in building a tent.
There may have been an order issued forbidding the prisoners
to touch them, but if so, I had not heard it, and I imagine the
first intimation to the prisoner just killed that the boards were
not to be taken was the bullet which penetrated his vitals.
Twenty-five cents would be a liberal appraisement of the value
of the lumber for which the boy lost his life.
Half an hour afterward we thought we saw all the guards
march out of the front gate. There was still another pile of
these same kind of pieces of board lying at the further side of
the prison. The crowd around me noticed it, and we all made
a rush for it. In spite of my lame feet I outstripped the rest,
and was just in the act of stooping down to pick the boards up
when a loud yell from those behind startled me. Glancing to
my left I saw a guard cocking his gun and bringing it up to
shoot me. With one frightened spring, as quick as a flash, and
before he could cover me, Ilanded fully a rod back in the crowd,
and mixed with it. The fellow tried hard to draw a bead on me,
but I was too quick for him, and he finally lowered his gun with
an oath expressive of disappointment in not being able to kill a
Yankee. º -
Walking back to my place the full ludicrousness of the thing
dawned upon me so forcibly that I forgot all about my excite-
A §TORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISOFIS. 403
ment and scare, and laughed aloud. Here, not an hour ago,
I was murmuring because I could find no way to die; I sighed
for death as a bridegroom for the coming of his bride, and
yet, when a Rebel had pointed his gun at me, it had nearly
Scared me out of a year's growth, and made me jump farther
than I could possibly do when my feet were well, and I was in
good condition otherwise. •
CHAPTER LII.
BAWANNAH — DEVICES TO OBTAIN MATERLALS FOR A TENT — THIRI:8
DLTDMATE SUCCESS — F.E.S.U.M.PTION OF TUNNELING — ESOAPING SY
WHOLESALE AND BEING RECAPTURED EN MASSE – THE OBSTAOLES
THAT LAY BETWEEN US AND OUR LINES.
Andrews and I did not let the fate of the boy who was killed,
nor my own narrow escape from losing the top of my head,
deter us from farther efforts to secure possession of those cov-
eted boards. My readers remember the story of the boy who,
digging vigorously at a hole, replied to the remark of a passing
traveler that there was probably no ground-hog there, and,
even if there was, “ground-hog was mighty poor eatin’, any
way,” with —
“Mister, there's got to be a ground-hog there; our family's
out o’ meat /?”
That was what actuated us: we were out of material for a
tent. Our solitary blanket had rotted and worn full of holes
by its long double duty, as bed-clothes and tent at Anderson-
ville, and there was an imperative call for a substitute.
Andrews and I flattered ourselves that when we matched our
collective or individual wits against those of a Johnny his
defeat was pretty certain, and with this cheerful estimate of
our own powers to animate us, we set to work to steal the
boards from under the guard’s nose. The Johnny had malice
in his heart and buck-and-ball in his musket, but his eyes were
not sufficiently numerous to adequately discharge all the duties
laid upon him. He had too many different things to watch at
the same time. I would approach a gap in the fence not yet
closed as if I intended making a dash through it for liberty,
A STORY OF REBEL, MDLITARY PRISONº. 405
and when the Johnny had concentrated all his attention on
letting me have the contents of his gun just as soon as he could
have a reasonable excuse for doing so, Andrews would pick up
a couple of boards and slip away with them. Then I would
fall back in pretended (and some real) alarm, and Andrews
would come up and draw his attention by a similar feint, while
I made off with a couple more pieces. After a few hours of
this strategy, we found ourselves the possessors of some dozen
planks, with which we made a lean-to, that formed a tolerable
shelter for our heads and the upper portion of our bodies. As
the boards were not over five feet long, and the slope reduced
the sheltered space to about four-and-one-half feet, it left the
lower part of our naked feet and legs to project “out-of-doors.”
Andrews used to lament very touchingly the sunburning his
toe-nails were receiving. He knew that his complexion was
being ruined for life, and all the “Balm of a Thousand Flowers”
in the world
would not re-
store his come-
ly a nkles to
that condition
of pristine love-
liness which
would admit of
their introduc-
tion into good
Society again.
Another defect
was that, like
the fun in a
practical joke,
it was all on
one side; there
was not enough
of it to go clear
* round. It was
very unpleasant, when a storm came up in a direction different
from that we had calculated upon, to be compelled to get out in
as agº. -º-º-º: Eº: Fºº-º-º-º: -
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Tr was vKRY UNPLEASANT WHEN A STORM CAME UP.

406 ANDERSON VILLE.
the midst of it, and build our house over to face the other
way.
Still we had a tent, and were that much better off than threer
fourths of our comrades who had no shelter at all. We were
owners of a brown stone front on Fifth Avenue compared to
the other fellows.
Our tent erected, we began a general survey of our new
abiding place. The ground was a sandy common in the out-
skirts of Savannah. The sand was covered with a light sod.
- - The Rebels,
who knew noth-
ing of our bur-
rowing propen-
sities, had neg-
lected to make
the plank form-
ing the walls of
the Prison pro-
ject any dis-
tance below the
surface of the
ground, and
had put up no
Dead Line
############ is: wº around the in-
sº - side ; so that it
--- looked as if
everything was
arranged ex-
pressly to in-
vite us to tunnel out. We were not the boys to neglect such an
invitation. By night about three thousand had been received
from Andersonville, and placed inside. When morning came it
looked as if a colony of gigantic rats had been at work. There
was a tunnel every ten or fifteen feet, and at least twelve hun-
dred of us had gone out through them during the night. I never
understood why all in the pen did not follow our example,
and leave the guards Watching a forsaken Prison. There was
nothing to prevent it. An hour's industrious work with a half
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WHEN WE MATCHED OUR INTELLECTS AGAINS
A REBEL’s. -



A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 407
canteen would take any one outside, or if a boy was too lazy to
dig his own tunnel, he could have the use of one of the hundred
others that had been dug.
But escaping was only begun when the Stockade was passed.
The site of Savannah is virtually an island. On the north is the
Savannah River; to the east, southeast and south, are the two
Ogeechee Rivers, and a chain of sounds and lagoons connecting
with the Atlantic Ocean. To the west is a canal connecting
the Savannah and Big Ogeechee Rivers. We found ourselves
headed off by water whichever way we went. All the bridges
were guarded, and all the boats destroyed. Early in the morn-
---ing the Rebels discovered our absence, and the whole garrison of
Savannah was sent out on patrol after us. They picked up the
boys in squads of from ten to thirty, lurking around the shores
of the streams waiting for night to come, to get across, or
engaged in building rafts for transportation. By evening the
whole mob of us were back in the pen again. As nobody
was punished for running away, we treated the whole affair
as a lark, and those brought back first stood around the gate
and yelled derisively as the others came in. -
That night big fires were built all around the Stockade, and
a line of guards placed on the ground inside of these. In spite
of this precaution, quite a number escaped. The next day a
Dead Line was put up inside of the Prison, twenty feet from the
Stockade. This only increased the labor of burrowing, by
making us go farther. Instead of being able to tunnel out in
an hour, it now took three or four hours. That night several
hundred of us, rested from our previous performance, and hope-
ful of better luck, brought our faithful half canteens—now
scoured very bright by constânt. use—into requisition again,
and before the morning dawned we had gained the high reeds
of the swamps, where we lay concealed until night.
In this way we managed to evade the recapture that came to
most of those who went out, but it was a fearful experience.
Having been raised in a country where venomous snakes
abounded, I had that fear and horror of them that inhabitants
of those districts feel, and of which people living in sections free
from such a scourge know little. I fancied that the Southern
swamps were filled with all forms of loathsome and poisonous
408 ANDERSON WILLE.
reptiles, and it required all my courage to venture into them
barefooted. Besides, the snags and roots hurt our feet fear-
fully. Our hope was to find a boat somewhere, in which we
could float out to sea, and trust to being picked up by some of
the blockading fleet. But no boat could we find, with all our
painful and diligent search. We learned afterward that the
Rebels made a practice of breaking up all the boats along the
shore to prevent
º negros and their
-- % owndeserters from
escaping to the
blockading fleet.
We thought of
making a raft of
logs, but had we
had the strength to
do this, we would
doubtless have
thought it too
risky, since we
dreaded missing
the vessels, and
being carried out
sº sº - - - - - º t - sh f
ºf §ººse= - -
gººse======= o sea to peri no
--- hunger. During
THERE WAS A POST AND A FIRE. the night we came
to the railroad
bridge across the Ogeechee. We had some slender hope that
if we could reach this we might perhaps get across the river,
and find better opportunities for escape. But these last expect-
ations were blasted by the discovery that it was guarded.
There was a post and a fire on the shore next us, and a single
guard with a lantern was stationed on one of the middle spans.
Almost famished with hunger, and so weary and footsore that
we could scarcely move another step, we went back to a cleared
place on the high ground, and laid down to sleep, entirely reck-
less as to what became of us. Late in the morning we were
awakened by the Rebel patrol and taken back to the prison.
Lieutenant Davis, disgusted with the perpetual attempts to


A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 409
escape, moved the Dead Line out forty feet from the Stockade;
but this restricted our room greatly, since the number of pris.
oners in the pen had now risen to about six thousand, and,
besides, it offered little additional protection against tunneling.
º º
It was not much more difficult to dig
fifty feet than it had been to dig thirty
feet. Davis soon realized this, and put
# the Dead Line back to twenty feet.
: His next device was a much more sensi-
# ble one. A crowd of one hundred and
# fifty negros dug a trench twenty feet
| wide and five feet deep around the
# whole prison on the outside, and this
- = ditch was filled with water from the
# = CityWater Works. No one could cross
|-º-º-º-º- this without attracting the attention of
the guards.
CARRYING AWAY THE DIRT. Still we were not discouraged, and
Andrews and I joined a crowd that was
constructing a large tunnel from near our quarters on the east
side of the pen. We finished the burrow to within a few
inches of the edge of the ditch, and then ceased operations, to
await some stormy night, when we could hope to get across
the ditch unnoticed.
Orders were issued to guards to fire without warning on men
who were observed to be digging or carrying out dirt after
nightfall. They occasionally did so, but the risk did not keep
any one from tunneling. Our tunnel ran directly under a sentry
box. When carrying dirt away the bearer of the bucket had
to turn his back on the guard and walk directly down the
street in front of him, two hundred or three hundred feet, to





410 - ANDERSON VILLE.
the center of the camp, where he scattered the sand around — so
as to give no indication of where it came from. Though we
always waited till the moon went down, it seemed as if, unless
the guard were a fool, both by nature and training, he could
HIS NEW IDEA was To HAVE A HEAVILY LADEN CART DRIVEN
AROUND INSIDE THE DEAD IDNE.
not help taking notice of what was going on under his eyes. I
do not recall any more nervous promenades in my life, than
those when, taking my turn, I received my bucket of sand at
the mouth of the tunnel, and walked slowly away with it. The
most disagreeable part was in turning my back to the guard.
Could I have faced him, I had sufficient confidence in my quick-
ness of perception, and talents as a dodger, to imagine that I
could make it difficult for him to hit me. But in walking with
my back to him I was wholly at his mercy. Fortune, however,
favored us, and we were allowed to go on with our work—night
after night — without a shot.
In the meanwhile another happy thought slowly gestated in
Davis's alleged intellect. How he came to give birth to two
ideas with no more than a week between them, puzzled all who
knew him, and still more that he survived this extraordinary

A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON S. 411
strain upon the gray matter of the cerebrum. His new idea
was to have driven a heavily-laden mule cart around the inside
of the Dead Line at least once a day. The wheels or the mule's
feet broke through the thin sod covering the tunnels and
exposed them. Our tunnel went with the rest, and those of
our crowd who wore shoes had humiliation added to sorrow by
being compelled to go in and spade the hole full of dirt. This
put an end to subterranean engineering.
One day one of the boys watched his opportunity, got under
the ration wagon, and clinging close to the coupling pole with
hands and feet, was carried outside. He was detected, however,
as he came from under the Wagon, and brought back.
THEY STooD AROUND THE GATE AND YELLED DERISIVELY.

CEIAPTER LIII.
FAarºR BEVERSTOCK's ATTEMPT AT ESCAPE—PASSING or AS A
REBEL BOY HE REACHES GRISwoldvillE BY FAIL, AND THEN
STRIKES ACROSS THE country For SHERMAN, BUT Is GAUGHT
WITHIN TWENTY ſyſILES OF OUR LINES.
One of the shrewdest and nearest successful attempts to
escape that came under my notice was that of my friend Ser-
*.*.*.
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SERGEANT FEANK BEVERSTOCK.
geant Frank Beverstock, of the Third West Virginia Cavalry,
of whom I have before spoken. Frank, who was quite ~mall,









































































A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 4:13
with a smooth boyish face, had converted to his own use a citi-
zen's coat, belonging to a young boy, a Sutler's assistant, who
had died in Andersonville. He had made himself a pair of bag
pantaloons and a shirt from pieces of meal sacks which he had
appropriated from day to day. He had also the Sutler's assist-
ant's shoes, and, to crown all, he wore on his head one of those
hideous looking hats of quilted calico which the Rebels had
taken to wearing in the lack of felt hats, which they could
neither make nor buy. Altogether Frank looked enough like a
reasºnſ ſheasºn Rebel to be dan-
% º Fºº ; geroustotrustnear
a country store or
a stable full of
horses. When we
first arrived in the
prison quite a
crowd of the Sa-
vannahians rushed
in to inspect us.
The guards had
some difficulty in
keeping them and
us separate. While
-- &= ~ T. Sº Tºº- per plexed with
“SEE HEAH; YoU MUST STAND BACK!” this annoyance,
one of them saw
Frank standing in our crowd, and, touching him with his bayo-
met, said, with some sharpness:
“See heah; you must stand back; you musn't crowd on them
prisoners so.” t --
Frank stood back. He did it promptly but calmly, and then,
as if his curiosity as to Yankees was fully satisfied, he walked
slowly away up the street, deliberating as he went on a
plan for getting out of the City. He hit upon an excellent
one. Going to the engineer of a freight train making ready to
start back to Macon, he told him that his father was working
in the Confederate machine shops at Griswoldville, near Macon;
that he himself was also one of the machinists employed there,

414 ANDERSON VILLE.
and desired to go thither but lacked the necessary means to pay
his passage. If the engineer would let him ride up on the
engine he would do work enough to pay the fare. Frank told
the story ingeniously, the engineer and firemen were won over,
and gave their consent.
No more zealous assistant ever climbed upon a tender than
Frank proved to be. He loaded wood with a nervous industry,
that stood him in place of great strength. He kept the tender
in perfect order, and anticipated, as far as possible, every want
of the engineer and his assistant. They were delighted with
him, and treated him with the greatest kindness, dividing their
food with him, and insisting that he should share their bed
when they “laid by’’ for the night. Frank would have gladly
declined this latter kindness with thanks, as he was conscious
that the quantity of “graybacks” his clothing contained did not
make him a very desirable sleeping companion for any one, but
his friends were so pressing that he was compelled to accede.
His greatest trouble was a fear of recognition by some one
of the prisoners that were continually passing by the train load,
on their way from Andersonville to other prisons. He was one
of the best known of the prisoners in Andersonville; bright,
active, always cheerful, and forever in motion during waking
hours, every one in the Prison speedily became familiar with
him, and all addressed him as “Sergeant Frankie.” If any one
on the passing trains had caught a glimpse of him, that glimpse
would have been followed almost inevitably with a shout of—
“Hello, Sergeant Frankie! What are you doing there?”
Then the whole game would have been up. Frank escaped
this by persistent watchfulness, and by busying himself on the
opposite side of the engine, with his back turned to the other
trains.
At last when nearing Griswoldville, Frank, pointing to a
large white house at some distance across the fields, said:
“Now, right over there is where my uncle lives, and Ibelieve
I'll just run over and see him, and then walk into Griswoldville.”
He thanked his friends fervently for their kindness, promised
to call and see them frequently, bade them good by, and jumped
off the train. .
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 415
He walked towards the white house as long as he thought
he could be seen, and then entered a large corn field
and concealed himself in a thicket in the center of it until
dark, when he made
his way to the neigh-
boring woods, and be.
gan journeying north-
ward as fast as his
legs could carry him.
‘. When morning broke
&#=K %22 y he had made good
- ºr sºlº ſº ſº progress, but was ter-
ribly tired. It was
not prudent to travel
by daylight, so he
gathere d himself
some ears of corn and
some berries, of which
he made his breakfast,
and finding a suitable
thicket he crawled
into it, fell asleep, and
HE BADE THEM good By. did not wake up until
late in the afternoon.
After another meal of raw corn and berries he resumed
his journey, and that night made still better progress.
He repeated this for several days and nights—lying in the
woods in the day time, traveling by night through woods, fields,
and by-paths—avoiding all the fords, bridges and main roads,
and living on what he could glean from the fields, that he
might not take even so much risk as was involved in going to
the negro cabins for food.
But there are always flaws in every man’s armor of caution—
even in so perfect a one as Frank's. His complete success so
far had the natural effect of inducing a growing carelessness,
which wrought his ruin. One evening he started off briskly,
after a refreshing rest and sleep. He knew that he must be
very near Sherman's lines, and hope cheered him up with the
belief that his freedom would soon be won.
4 f %.
24, §§ Wºr wº sº £ºff
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hººz.
£2.





416 - ANDERSON VILLE.
Descending from the hill, in whose dense brushwood he had
made his bed all day, he entered a large field full of standing
corn, and made his way between the rows until he reached, on
the other side, the fence that separated it from the main road,
across which was another corn-field, that Frank intended
entering. - .
But he neglected his usual precautions on approaching a road,
and instead of coming up cautiously and carefully reconnoitering
in all directions before he left cover, he sprang boldly over the
fence and strode out for the other side. As he reached the
middle of the road, his ears were assailed with the sharp click
of a musket being cocked, and the harsh command—
“Halt I halt, dah, I say !” -
Turning with a start to his left he saw not ten feet from
him, a mounted patrol, the sound of whose approach had been
masked by the deep dust of the road, into which his horse's
hoofs sank noiselessly. - tº
Frank, of course, yielded without a word, and when sent to
the Officer in command he told the old story about his being an
employe of the Griswoldville shops, off on a leave of absence
to make a visit to sick relatives. But, unfortunately, his captors
belonged to that section themselves, and speedily caught him
in a maze of cross-questioning from which he could not extricate
himself. It also became apparent from his language that he
was a Yankee, and it was not far from this to the conclusion
that he was a spy—a conclusion to which the proximity of Sher.
man’s lines, then less than twenty miles distant—greatly
assisted. -
By the next morning this belief had become so firmly fixed
in the minds of the Rebels that Frank saw a halter dangling
alarmingly near, and he concluded the wisest plan was to confess
who he really was. -
It was not the smallest of his griefs to realize by how slight
a chance he had failed. Had he looked down the road before
he climbed the fence, or had he been ten minutes earlier or
later, the patrol would not have been there, he could have
gained the next field unperceived, and two more nights of suc-
cessful progress would have taken him into Sherman's lines at
Sand Mountain. The patrol which caught him was on the
A 8TORY OF EEBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 417
look-out for deserters and shirking conscripts, who had become
unusually numerous since the fall of Atlanta.
He was sent back to us at Savannah. As he came into the
prison gate Lieutenant Davis was standing near. He looked
sternly at Frank and his Rebel garments, and muttering,
“By God, I’ll stop this!”
caught the coat by the tails, tore it to the collar, and took it
and his hat away from Frank.
There was a strange sequel to this episode. A few weeks
afterward a special exchange for ten thousand was made, and
Frank succeeded in being included in this. He was given the
usual furlough from the paroled camp at Annapolis, and went
to his home in a little town near Mansfield, O.
One day while on the cars going—I think to Newark, O., -
he saw Lieutenant Davis on the train, in citizens’ clothes. He
had been sent by the Rebel Government to Canada, with dis-
patches relating to some of the raids then harassing our Nor-
thern borders. Davis was the last man in the world to success-
fully disguise himself. He had a large, coarse mouth, that
made him remembered by all who had ever seen him. Frank
recognized him instantly and said: -
“You are Tieutenant Davis 2°
Davis replied: -
“You are totally mistaken, Sah, I am 33
Frank insisted that he was right. Davis fumed and blus-
tered, but though Frank was Small, he was as game as a bantam
rooster, and he gave Davis to understand that there had been
a vast change in their relative positions; that the one, while
still the same insolent swaggerer, had not regiments of infan-
try or batteries of artillery to emphasize his insolence, and the
other was no longer embarrassed in the discussion by the
immense odds in favor of his jailor opponent.
After a stormy scene Frank called in the assistance of some
other soldiers in the car, arrested Davis, and took him to Camp
Chase—near Columbus, O., where he was fully identified by
a number of paroled prisoners. He was searched, and docu-
ments showing the nature of his mission beyond a doubt, were
found upon his person.
A court martial was immediately convened for his trial.
27
4.18 - ANDERSON WILLE.
This found him guilty, and sentenced him to be hanged as a
Spy. *
At the conclusion of the trial Frank stepped up to the pris.
oner and said: e
“Mr. Davis, I believe we’re even on that coat, now.”
Davis was sent to Johnson's Island for execution, but influ.
ences were immediately set at work to secure Executive clem-
ency. What they were I know not, but I am informed by the
Rev. Robert McCune, who was then Chaplain of the One Hun-
dred and Twenty-Eighth Ohio Infantry and the Post of John-
son’s Island and who was the spiritual adviser appointed to
prepare Davis for execution, that the sentence was hardly pro-
nounced before Davis was visited by an emissary, who told
him to dismiss his fears, that he should not suffer the punish-
ment.
It is likely that leading Baltimore Unionists were enlisted in
his behalf through family connections, and as the Border State
Unionists were then potent at Washington, they readily secured
a commutation of his sentence to imprisonment during the war.
It seems that the justice of this world is very unevenly dis-
pensed when so much solicitude is shown for the life of such a
man, and none at all for the much better men whom he assisted
to destroy. --
The official notice of the commutation of the sentence was
not published until the day set for the execution, but the cer-
tain knowledge that it would be forthcoming enabled Davis to
display a great deal of bravado on approaching what was Sup-
posed to be his end. As the reader can readily imagine, from
what I have heretofore said of him, Davis was the man to
improve to the utmost every opportunity to strut his little
hour, and he did it in this instance. He posed, attitudinized,
and vapored, so that the camp and the country were filled with
stories of the wonderful coolness with which he contemplated
his approaching fate.
Among other things he said to his guard, as he washed him-
self elaborately the night before the day announced for the
execution: -
“Well, you can be sure of one thing; to-morrow night there
will certainly be one clean corpse on this Island.”
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 419
Unfortunately for his braggadocio, he let it leak out in some
way that he had beerſ well aware all the time that he would
not be executed.
He was taken to Fort Delaware for confinement, and died
there some time after. \
Frank Beverstock went back to his regiment, and served
with it until the close of the war. He then returned home, and
after awhile became a banker at Bowling Green, O. He was
a fine business man and became very prosperous. But though
naturally healthy and vigorous, his system carried in it the seeds
of death, sown there by the hardships of captivity. He had
been one of the victims of the Rebels' vaccination; the virus
injected into his blood had caused a large part of his right tem-
ple to slough off, and when it healed it left a ghastly cicatrix.
Two years ago he was taken suddenly ill, and died before his
friends had any idea that his condition was serious.
CHAPTER LIV.
*AVANNAH PROVES TO BE A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER— ESCAPs
FROM THE BRATS OF GUARDS – COMPARISON BAETWEEN WIRZ AND
DAVIS — A BRIEF INTERVAL OF GOOD RATIONS — win DER, THE MAN
WITH THE EVIL EYE — THE DIS LOYAL WORK OF A 3ETYSTER.
After all Savannah was a wonderful improvement on Ander-
sonville. We got away from the pestilential Swamp and that
poisonous ground. Every mouthful of air was not laden with
disease germs, nor every cup of water polluted with the seeds
of death. The earth did not breed gangrene, nor the atmos-
phere promote fever. As only the more vigorous had come
away, we were freed from the depressing spectacle of every
third man dying. The keen disappointment prostrated very
many who, had been of average health, and I imagine, several
hundred died, but there were hospital arrangements of some
kind, and the sick were taken away from among us. Those of
us who tunneled out had an opportunity of stretching our legs,
which we had not had for months in the overcrowded Stockade
we had left. The attempts to escape did all engaged in them
good, even though they failed, since they aroused new ideas and
hopes, set the blood into more rapid circulation, and toned up
the mind and system both. I had come away from Anderson-
ville with considerable scurvy manifesting itself in my gums
and feet. Soon these signs almost wholly disappeared.
We also got away from those murderous little brats of
Reserves, who guarded us at Andersonville, and shot men down
as they would stone apples out of a tree. Our guards now were
mostly sailors, from the Rebel fleet in the harbor—Irishmen,
Englishmen and Scandinavians, as free-hearted and kindly as
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON3. 42?
sailors always are. I do not think they ever fired a shot at
one of us. The only trouble we had was with that portion of
the guard drawn from the infantry of the garrison. They had
the same rattlesnake venom of the Home Guard crowd wher-
ever we met it, and shot us down at the least provocation.
Fortunately they only formed a small part of the sentinels.
Best of all, we escaped for a while from the upas-like shadow
of Winder and Wirz, in whose presence strong men sickened and
died, as when near some malign genii of an Eastern story.
The peasantry of Italy believed firmly in the evil eye. Did
they ever know any such men as Winder and his satellite, Icould
comprehend how much foundation they could have for such a
belief. - -
Lieutenant Davis had many faults, but there was no com-
parison between him and the Andersonville commandant. He
was a typical young Southern man; ignorant and bumptious as
as to the most common matters of school-boy knowledge, inor-
dinately vain of himself and his family, coarse in tastes and
thoughts, violent in his préjudices, but after all with some
streaks of honor and generosity that made the widest possible
difference between him and Wirz, who never had any. As one
of my chums said to me:
“Wirz is the most even-tempered man I ever knew ; he’s
always foaming mad.”
This was nearly the truth. I never saw Wirz when he was
not angry; if not violently abusive, he was cynical and sar-
donic. Never, in my little experience with him did I detect a
glint of kindly, generous humanity; if he ever was moved by
any sight of Suffering its exhibition in his face escaped my eye.
If he ever had even a wish to mitigate the pain or hardship of
any man the expression of such wish never fell on my ear.
How a man could move daily through such misery as he
encountered, and never be moved by it except to scorn and
mocking is beyond my limited understanding.
Davis vapored a great deal, swearing big round oaths in the
broadest of Southern patois; he was perpetually threatening to
“Open on ye wid de ahtillery,”
but the only death that I knew him to directly cause or sanction
was that I have described in the previous chapter. He would
422 ANDERSON VILLE.
f
not put himself out of the way to annoy and oppress prisoners,
as Wirz would, but frequently showed even a disposition to
humor them in some little thing, when it could be done without
danger or trouble to himself.
By-and-by, however, he got an idea that there was some
money to be made out of the prisoners, and he set his wits to
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work in this direction. One day, standing at the gate, he gave
one of his peculiar yells that he used to attract the attention of
the camp with:
“Wh-ah-ye!!”
We all came to “attention,” and he announced:
“Yesterday, while I wuz in the camps (a Rebel always says
camps,) some of you prisoners picked my pockets of seventy-five
dollars in greenbacks. Now, I give you notice that I’ll not
send in any moah rations till the money's returned to me.”












A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 423
This was a very stupid method of extortion, since no one
believed that he had lost the money, and at all events he had
no business to have the greenbacks, as the Rebel laws imposed
Severe penalties upon any citizen, and still more upon any
Soldier dealing with, or having in his possession any of “the
money of the enemy.” We did without rations until night,
When they were sent in. There was a story that some of the
boys in the prison had contributed to make up part of the sum,
and Davis took it and was satisfied. I do not know how true
the story was. At another time some of the boys stole the
bridle and halter off an old horse that was driven in with a
Cart. The things were worth, at a liberal estimate, one dollar.
Davis cut off the rations of the whole six thousand of us for
one day for this. We always imagined that the proceeds went
into his pocket.
A special exchange was arranged between our Navy Depart-
ment and that of the Rebels, by which all seamen and marines
among us were exchanged. Lists of these were sent to the
different prisons and the men called for. About three-fourths
of them were dead, but many soldiers divining the situation of
affairs, answered to the dead men’s names, went away with the
Squad and were exchanged. Much of this was through the
connivance of the Rebel officers, who favored those who had
ingratiated themselves with them. In many instances money
was paid to secure this privilege, and I have been informed on
good authority that Jack Huckleby, of the Eighth Tennessee,
and Ira Beverly, of the One Hundredth Ohio, who kept the
big sutler shop on the North Side at Andersonville, paid Davis
five hundred dollars each to be allowed to go with the sailors.
As for Andrews and me, we had no friends among the Tebels,
nor money to bribe with, so we stood no show.
The rations issued to us for some time after our arr wal
seemed riotous luxury to what we had been getting at Ander-
sonville. Each of us received daily a half-dozen rude and coarse
imitations of our fondly-remembered hard tack, and with these
a small piece of meat or a few spoonfuls of molasses, and a
quart or so of vinegar, and several plugs of tobacco for each
“hundred.” How exquisite was the taste of the crackers and
molasses It was the first wheat bread I had eaten since my
$94 ANDERSON VILLE-
entry into Richmond—nine months before—and molasses had
been a stranger to me for years. After the corn bread we had
so long lived upon, this was manna. It seems that the Com-
missary at Savannah labored under the delusion that he must
issue to us the same rations as were served out to the Rebel
soldiers and sailors. It was some little time before the fearful
mistake came to the knowledge of Winder. I fancy that the
news almost threw him into an apoplectic fit. Nothing, save
his being ordered to the front, could have caused him such
poignant sorrow as the information that so much good food
had been worse than wasted in undoing his work by building up
the bodies of his hated, enemies.
Without being told, we knew that he had been heard from
when the tobacco, vinegar and molasses failed to come in, and
the crackers gave way to corn meal. Still this was a vast
improvement on Andersonville, as the meal was fine and sweet,
and we each had a spoonful of salt issued to us regularly.
I am quite sure that I cannot make the reader who has not
had an experience similar to ours comprehend the wonderful
importance to us of that spoonful of salt. Whether or not the
appetite for salt be, as Some scientists claim, a purely artificial
want, one thing is certain, and that is, that either the habit of
countless generations or some other cause, has so deeply
ingrained it into Our common nature, that it has come to be
nearly as essential as food itself, and no amount of deprivation
can accustom us to its absence. Rather, it seemed that the
longer we did without it the more overpowering became our
craving. I could get along to-day and to-morrow, perhaps the
whole week, without salt in my food, since the lack would be
supplied from the excess I had already swallowed, but at the
end of that time Nature would begin to demand that I renew
the supply of Saline constituent of my tissues, and she would
become more clamorous with every day that I neglected her
bidding, and finally summon Nausea to aid Longing.
The light artillery of the garrison of Savannah—four bat-
teries, twenty-four pieces—was stationed around three sides of
the prison, the guns unlimbered, planted at convenient distance,
and trained upon us, ready for instant use. We could see all
the grinning mouths through the cracks in the fence. There
were enough of them to send us as high as the traditional
A STORY OF REBEL MOLITARY PRISON8. 425
kite flown by Gilderoy. The having at his beck this array of
frowning metal lent Lieutenant Davis such an importance in
his own eyes that his demeanor swelled to the grandiose. It
became very amusing to see him puff up and vaunt over it, as
he did on every possible occasion. For instance, finding a
crowd of several hundred lounging around the gate, he would
throw open the wicket, stalk in with the air of a Jove threat-
ening a rebellious world with the dread thunders of heaven,
and shout :
“W-h-a-a y-e-el Prisoners, I give you jist two minutes to
cleah away from this gate, aw I’ll open on ye wid de ahtillery !”
-One of the buglers of the artillery was a superb musician —
evidently some old “regular” whom the Confederacy had
seduced into its service, and his instrument was so sweet toned
that we imagined that it was made of silver. The calls he
played were nearly the same as we used in the cavalry, and for
the first few days we became bitterly homesick every time he
sent ringing out the old familiar signals, that to us were so
closely associated with what now seemed the bright and happy
days when we were in the field with our battalion. If we were
only back in the valleys of Tennessee with what alacrity we
would respond to that “assembly;” no Orderly’s patience would
be worn out in getting laggards and lazy ones to “fall in for
roll-call; ” how eagerly we would attend to “stable duty;”
how gladly mount our faithful horses and ride away to “water,”
and what bareback races ride, going and coming. We would
be even glad to hear “guard” and “drill” sounded; and there
would be music in the disconsolate “surgeon’s call:”
“Come — get—your—q-u-i-m-i-n-e; come, get your quinine; it'll make you sad: it'll make you
sick. Come, come.”
O, if we were only back, what admirable soldiers we would be
One morning, about three or four o’clock, we were awakened
by the ground shaking and a series of heavy, dull thumps
sounding off seaward. Our silver-voiced bugler seemed to be
awakened, too. He set the echoes ringing with a vigorously
played “reveille;” a minute later came an equally earnest
“assembly,” and when “boots and saddles” followed, we knew
that all was not well in Denmark; the thumping and shaking
426 ANDERSON VILLE,
now had a significance. It meant heavy Yankee guns some-
where near. We heard the gunners hitching up; the bugle
signal “forward,” the wheels roll off, and for a half hour after-
wards we caught the receding sound of the bugle commanding
“right turn,” “left turn,” etc., as the batteries marched away.
Of course, we became considerably wrought up over the mat-
ter, as we fancied that, knowing we were in Savannah, our ves-
sels were trying to pass up to the City and take it. The
thumping and shaking continued until late in the afternoon.
We subsequently learned that some of our blockaders, find-
ing time hanging heavy upon their hands, had essayed a little
diversion by knocking Forts Jackson and Bledsoe—two small
forts defending the passage of the Savannah — about their
defenders' ears. After capturing the forts our folks desisted
and came no farther. -
Quite a number of the old Raider crowd had come with us
from Andersonville. Among these was the shyster, Peter
Bradley. They kept up their old tactics of hanging around the
gates, and currying favor with the Rebels in every possible
way, in hopes to get paroles outside or other favors. The great
mass of the prisoners were so bitter against the Rebels as to
feel that they would rather die than ask or accept a favor from
their hands, and they had little else than contempt for these
trucklers. The Raider crowd’s favorite theme of conversation
with the Rebels was the strong discontent of the boys with the
manner of their treatment by our Government. The assertion
that there was any such widespread feeling was utterly false.
We all had confidence—as we continue to have to this day—
that our Government would do everything for us possible,
consistent with its honor, and the success of military operations,
and outside of the little squad of which I speak, not an admis-
sion could be extracted from anybody that blame could be
attached to any one, except the Rebels. It was regarded as
unmanly and unsoldierlike to the last degree, as well as sense-
less, to revile our Government for the crimes committed by its
foes.
But the Rebels were led to believe that we were ripe for
revolt against our flag, and to side with them. Imagine, if
possible, the stupidity that would mistake our bitter hatred of
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON8. 427
those who were our deadly enemies, for any feeling that
Would lead us to join hands with those enemies. One day we
Were surprised to see the carpenters erect a rude stand in the
center of the camp. When it was finished, Bradley appeared
upon it, in company with some Rebel officers and guards. We
gathered around in curiosity, and Bradley began making a
speech.
He said that it had now become apparent to all of us that
our Government had abandoned us; that it cared little or
nothing for us, since it could hire as many more quite readily,
by offering a bounty equal to the pay which would be due us
now ; that it cost only a few hundred dollars to bring over a
shipload of Irish, “Dutch,” and French, who were only too
glad to agree to fight or do anything else to get to this coun-
try. [The peculiar impudence of this consisted in Bradley him-
self being a foreigner, and one who had only come out under
one of the later calls, and the influence of a big bounty.]
Continuing in this strain he repeated and dwelt upon the old
lie, always in the mouths of his crowd, that Secretary Stanton
and General Halleck had positively refused to enter upon nego-
tiations for exchange, because those in prison were “only a
miserable lot of ‘coffee-boilers’ and ‘blackberry pickers,” whom
the Army was better off without.”
The terms “coffee-boiler,” and “blackberry-pickers” were
considered the worst terms of opprobirum we had in prison.
They were applied to that class of stragglers and skulkers, who
were only too ready to give themselves up to the enemy, and
who, on coming in, told some gauzy story about “just having
stopped to boil a cup of coffee,” or to do something else which
they should not have done, when they were gobbled up. It is
not risking much to affirm the probability of Bradley and most
of his crowd having belonged to this dishonorable class.
The assertion that either the great Chief-of-Staff or the still
greater War-Secretary were even capable of applying such epi-
thets to the mass of prisoners is too preposterous to need refu-
tation, or even denial. No person outside the Raider crowd
ever gave the silly lie a moment's toleration.
Bradley concluded his speech in some such language as this:
“And now, fellow prisoners, I propose to you this: that we
428 - ANDERSONWIT,LE.
unite in informing our Government that unless we are exchanged
in thirty days, we will be forced by self-preservation to join the
Confederate army.” - *
For an instant his hearers seemed stunned at the fellow’s
audacity, and then there went up such a roar of denunciation
and execration that the air trembled. The Rebels thought that
the whole camp was going to rush on Bradley and tear him to
pieces, and they drew revolvers and leveled muskets to defend
him. The uproar only ceased when Bradley was hurried out of
the prison, but for hours everybody was savage and sullen, and
full of threatenings against him, when
opportunity served. We never saw him
afterward. - -
Angry as I was, I could not help being
amused at the tempestuous rage of a tall,
fine-looking and well educated Irish Ser-
geant of an Illinois regiment. He poured
forth denunciations of the traitor and the
Rebels, with the vivid fluency of his Hiber.
nian nature, vowed he’d “give a year of
me life, be J s, to have the handling
of the dirty spalpeen for ten minutes;
be G – d.” and finally in his rage, tore
off his own shirt and threw it on the
gº'ſ ground and trampled on it.
| Imagine my astonishment, some time
after getting out of prison, to find the
Southern papers publishing as a defense
against the charges in regard to Ander-
º - sonville, the following document, which
A MAD spirapart. they claimed to have been adopted by “a
mass meeting of the prisoners: ”
“At a mass meeting held September 28th, 1864, by the Fed-
eral prisoners confined at Savannah, Ga., it was unanimously
agreed that the following resolutions be sent to the President
of the United States, in the hope that he might thereby take
such steps as in his wisdom he may think necessary for our
speedy exchange or parole: -
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A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 429
“Resolved, That while we would declare our unbounded love for the Union,
for the home of our fathers, and for the graves of those we venerate, we
would beg most respectfully that our situation as prisoners be diligently
inquired into, and every obstacle consistent with the honor and dignity of
the Government at once removed.
“Resolved, That while allowing the Confederate authorities all due praise
for the attention paid to prisoners, numbers of our men are daily consigned
to early graves, in the prime of manhood, far from home and kindred, and
this is not caused intentionally by the Confederate Government, but by force
of circumstances ; the prisoners are forced to go without shelter, and, in a
great portion of cases, without medicine.
“Resolved, That, whereas, ten thousand of our brave comrades have
descended into an untimely grave within the last six months, and as we
believe their death was caused by the difference of climate, the peculiar kind
and insufficiency of food, and lack of proper medical treatment; and,
whereas, those difficulties still remain, we would declare as our firm belief,
that unless we are speedily exchanged, we have no alternative but to share
the lamentable fate of our comrades. Must this thing still go on? Is there
no hope?
“Resolved, That, whereas, the cold and inclement season of the year is fast
approaching, we hold it to be our duty as soldiers and citizens of the United
States, to inform our Governmant that the majority of our prisoners are
without proper clothing, in some cases being almost naked, and are without
blankets to protect us from the scorching sun by day or the heavy dews by
night, and we would most respectfully request the Government to make some
arrangement whereby we can be supplied with these, to us, necessary articles.
“Resolved, That, whereas, the term of service of many of our comrades
having expired, they, having served truly and faithfully for the term of their
several enlistments, would most respectfully ask their Government, are they
to be forgotten ? Are past services to be ignored f Not having seen their
wives and little ones for over three years, they would most respectfully, but
firmly, request the Government to make some arrangements whereby they
can be exchanged or paroled.
“Resolved, That, whereas, in the fortune of war, it was our lot to become
prisoners, we have suffered patiently, and are still willing to suffer, if by so
doing we can benefit the country; but we must most respectfully beg to say,
that we are not willing to suffer to further the ends of any party or clique to
the detriment of our honor, our families, and our country, and We beg that
this affair be explained to us, that we may continue to hold the Government
in that respect which is necessary to make a good citizen and Soldier.
“P. BRADLEY,
* Chairman of Committee in behalf of Prisoners.”
In regard to the above I will simply say this, that while I
cannot pretend to know all, or even much that went on around
430 ANDERSON VILLE-
me, I do not think it was possible for a mass meeting of pris-
oners to have been held without my knowing it, and its essen-
tial features. Still less was it possible for a mass meeting to
have been held which would have adopted any such a docu-
ment as the above, or anything else that a Rebel would have
found the least pleasure in republishing. The whole thing is a
brazen falsehood.
CHAPTER LV.
why we werE HURRIED out of ANDERSON VILLE – THE EFFECT
OF THE FALL OF ATLANTA — OUR LONGING TO HEAR THE NEWS
— ARRIVAL OF SOME FRESH FISH — HOW WIE ENEW TEIEY WERE
WESTERN BOYS — DIFFERENCE IN THE APPEARANCE OF THE SOL-
DIERS OF TEHE TWO AEMIES.
The reason of our being hurried out of Andersonville under
the false pretext of exchange dawned on us before we had been
in Savannah long. If the reader will consult the map of Geor-
gia, he will understand this, too. Let him remember that sev-
eral of the railroads which now appear were not built then.
The road upon which Andersonville is situated was about one
hundred and twenty miles long, reaching from Macon to Amer-
icus, Andersonville being about midway between these two.
It had no connections anywhere except at Macon, and it was
hundreds of miles across the country from Andersonville to
any other road. When Atlanta fell it brought our folks to
within sixty miles of Macon, and any day they were liable to
make a forward movement, which would capture that place,
and have us where we could be retaken with ease.
There was nothing left undone to rouse the apprehensions of
the Rebels in that direction. The humiliating surrender of
General Stoneman at Macon in July, showed them what our
folks were thinking of, and awakened their minds to the disas-
trous consequences of such a movement when executed by a
bolder and abler commander. Two days of one of Kilpatrick's
swift, silent marches would carry his hard-riding troopers
around Hood's right flank, and into the streets of Macon,
where a half hour's work with the torch on the bridges across
432 ANDERSON WILLE,
the Ocmulgee and the creeks that enter it at that point, would
have cut all of the Confederate Army of the Tennessee's com-
munications. Another day and night of easy marching would
bring his guidons fluttering through the woods about the Stock-
ade at Andersonville, and give him a re-inforcement of twelve
or fifteen thousand able-bodied soldiers, with whom he could
have held the whole Valley of the Chattahoochie, and become
the nether millstone, against which Sherman could have ground
Hood's army to powder.
Such a thing was not only possible, but very probable, and
doubtless would have occurred had we remained in Anderson-
ville another week.
Hence the haste to get us away, and hence the lie about
exchange, for, had it not been for this, one-quarter at least of
those taken on the cars would have succeeded in getting off and
attempted to have reached Sherman’s lines.
The removal went on with such rapidity that by the end of
September only eight thousand two hundred and eighteen
remained at Andersonville, and these were mostly too sick to be
moved; two thousand seven hundred died in September, fifteen
hundred and sixty in October, and four hundred and eighty-
five in November, so that at the beginning of December there
were only thirteen hundred and fifty-nine remaining. The
larger part of those taken out were sent on to Charleston, and
subsequently to Florence and Salisbury. About six or seven
thousand of us, as near as I remember, were brought to
Savannah. *
* * º # º $$. * *
We were all exceedingly anxious to know how the Atlanta
campaign had ended. So far our information only comprised
the facts that a sharp battle had been fought, and the result
was the complete possession of our great objective point. The
manner of accomplishing this glorious end, the magnitude of
the engagement, the regiments, brigades and corps participat-
ing, the loss on both sides, the completeness of the victories,
etc., were all matters that we knew nothing of, and thirsted to
learn.
The Rebel papers said as little as possible about the capture,
and the facts in that little were so largely diluted with fiction
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 433
as to convey no real information. But few new prisoners were
coming in, and none of these were from Sherman. However,
toward the last of September, a handful of “fresh fish” were
turned inside, whom our experienced eyes instantly told us were
Western boys.
There was never any difficulty in telling, as far as he could
be seen, whether a boy belonged to the East or the West.
First, no one from the Army of the Potomac was ever
without his corps badge worn conspicuously; it was rare
to see such a thing on one of Sherman's men. Then there was
a dressy air about the Army of the Potomac that was wholly
wanting in the soldiers serving west of the Alleghanies.
* The Army of the Potomac was always near to its base of
supplies, always had its stores accessible, and the care of the
clothing and equipments of the men was an essential part of its
discipline. A ragged or shabbily dressed man was a rarity.
Dress coats, paper collars, fresh woolen shirts, neat-fitting
pantaloons, good comfortable shoes, and trim caps or hats, with
all the blazing brass of company letters an inch long, regimental
number, bugle and eagle, according to the Regulations, were as
common to Eastern boys as they were rare among the West-
€I’IlêI’S.
The latter usually wore blouses, instead of dress coats, and
as a rule their clothing had not been renewed since the opening
of the campaign —and it showed this. Those who wore good
boots or shoes generally had to submit to forcible exchanges
by their captors, and the same was true of head gcer The
Rebels were badly off in regard to hats. They did not have
skill and ingenuity enough to make these out of felt or straw,
and the make-shifts they contrived of quilted calico and long-
leaved pine, were ugly enough to frighten horned cattle.
I never blamed them much for wanting to get rid of these,
even if they did have to commit a sort of highway robbery
upon defenseless prisoners to do so. To be a traitor in arms
was bad certainly, but one never appreciated the entire magni-
tude of the crime until he saw a Rebel wearing a calico or a
pine-leaf hat. Then one felt as if it would be a great mistake
to ever show such a man mercy.
The Army of Northern Virginia seemed to have supplied
28
434 ANDERSON WILLIR-
themselves with head-gear of Yankee manufacture of previous
years, and they then quit taking the hats of their prisoners.
Johnston's, Army did not have such good luck, and had to
keep plundering to the end of the war.
Another thing about the Army of the Potomac was the
variety of the uniforms. There were members of Zouave regi-
ments, wearing baggy breeches of various hues, gaiters, crimson
fezes, and profusely braided jackets. . I have before mentioned
the queer garb of the “Lost Ducks.” (Les Enfants Perdu,
Forty-eighth New York.)
One of the most striking uniforms was that of the “Four-
teenth Brooklyn.” They wore Scarlet pantaloons, a blue jacket
handsomely braided, and a red fez, with a white cloth wrapped
around the head, turban-fashion. As a large number of them
were captured, they formed quite a picturesque feature of every
crowd. They were generally good fellows and gallant soldiers.
Another uniform that attracted much, though not so favor-
able, attention was that of the Third New Jersey Cavalry, or
First New Jersey Hussars, as they preferred to call themselves.
The designer of the uniform must have had an interest in a
curcuma plantation, or else he was a fanatical Orangeman.
Each uniform would furnish occasion enough for a dozen New
York riots on the 12th of July. Never was such an eruption
of the yellows seen outside of the jaundiced livery of some
Eastern potentate. Down each leg of the pantaloons ran a
stripe of yellow braid one and one-half inches wide. The
jacket had enormous gilt buttons, and was embellished with
yellow braid until it was difficult to tell whether it was blue
cloth trimmed with yellow, or yellow adorned with blue.
Erom the shoulders swung a little, false hussar jacket, lined
with the same flaring yellow. The vizor-less cap was similarly
warmed up with the hue of the perfected sunflower. Their
saffron magnificence was like the gorgeous gold of the lilies
of the field, and Solomon in all his glory could not have been
arrayed like one of them. I hope he was not, I want to
retain my respect for him. We dubbed these daffodil cavaliers
“Butterflies,” and the name stuck to them like a poor relation.
Still another distinction that was always noticeable between
the two armies was in the bodily bearing of the men. The
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONB. - 435
Army of the Potomac was drilled more rigidly than the West-
ern men, and had comparatively few long marches. Its mem-
bers had something of the stiffness and precision of English and
German soldiery, while the Western boys had the long, “reachy”.
stride, and easy swing that made forty miles a day a rather
commonplace march for an infantry regiment.
This was why we knew the new prisoners to be Sherman's
boys as soon as they came inside, and we started for them to
hear the news. Inviting them over to our lean-to, we told
them our anxiety for the story of the decisive blow that gave
us the Central Gate of the Confederacy, and asked them to
give it to us.
CHAPTER LVI.
WHAT CAUSED THE FALL OF ATLANTA — A DISSERTATION UPON AN
IMPORTANT PSYCHOLOGICAL PROBLEMI — THE BATTLE OF JONES-
BORO – WHY IT WAS FOUGHT — HOW SHERMAN DECEIVED HOOD —
A DESPERATE BAYONET CHARGE, AND THE ONLY SUCCESSFUL on E
IN THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN – A GALLANT COLONEL AND HOW H.E.
DIED — THE HEROISM OF SOME ENLISTED MEN – GOING CALMILY
INTO CERTAIN DEATH.
An intelligent, quick-eyed, sunburned boy, without an ounce
of surplus flesh on face or limbs, which had been reduced to
gray-hound condition by the labors and anxieties of the months
of battling between Chattanooga and Atlanta, seemed to be the
accepted talker of the crowd, since all the rest looked at him,
as if expecting him to answer for them. He did so :
“You want to know about how we got Atlanta at last, do
you? Well, if you don’t know, I should think you would want
to. If I didn’t, I’d want somebody to tell me all about it just’
as soon as he could get to me, for it was one of the neatest
little bits of work that “old Billy’ and his boys ever did, and
it got away with Hood so bad that he hardly knew what hurt
him.
“Well, first, I’ll tell youthat we belong to the old Fourteenth
Ohio Volunteers, which, if you know anything about the Army
of the Cumberland, you’ll remember has just about as good a
record as any that trains around old Pap Thomas—and he
don’t low no slouches of any kind near him, either—you can
bet $500 to a cent on that, and offer to give back the cent if
you win. Ours is Jim Steedman’s old regiment—you’ve all
heard of old Chickamauga Jim, who slashed his division of
A. STORY OF EEBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 437
he gave Zollicoffer just a little the awfulest thrashing that a
7,000 fresh men into the Rebel flank on the second day at
Chickamauga, in a way that made Longstreet wish he'd staid
on the Rappahannock, and never tried to get up any little
sociable with the Westeners. If I do say it myself, I believe
we've got as good a crowd of square, stand-up, trust-'em-every-
minute-in-your-life boys, as ever chawed hard-tack and sow-
belly. We got all the grunters and weak sisters fanned out
the first year, and since then we’ve been on a business basis, all
the time. We’re in a mighty good brigade, too. Most of the
regiments have been with us since we formed the first brigade
Pap Thomas ever commanded, and waded with him through
the mud of Kentucky, from Wild Cat to Mill Springs, where
Rebel General ever got. That, you know, was in January, 1862,
and was the first victory gained by the Western Army, and
our people felt so rejoiced over it that—”
“Yes, yes; we’ve read all about that,” we broke in, “and we’d
like to hear it again, some other time; but tell us now about
Atlanta.”
“All right. Let's see: where was I? O, yes, talking about
our brigade. It is the Third Brigade, of the Third Division, of
the Fourteenth Corps, and is made up of the Fourteenth Ohio,
Thirty-eighth Ohio, Tenth Kentucky, and Seventy-fourth
Indiana. Our old Colonel—George P. Este — commands it.
We never liked him very well in camp, but I tell you he’s a
whole team in a fight, and he’d do so well there that all would
take to him again, and he'd be real popular for a while.”
“Now, isn’t that strange,” broke in Andrews, who was given
to fits of speculation of psychological phenomena: “None of
us yearn to die, but the Surest way to gain the affection of the
boys is to show zeal in leading them into scrapes where the
chances of getting shot are the best. Courage in action, like
charity, covers a multitude of sins. I have known it to make
the most unpopular man in the battalion, the most popular
inside of half an hour. Now, M. (addressing himself to me.)
you remember Lieutenant H., of our battalion. You know he
was a very fancy young fellow; wore as ‘snipsish’ clothes as
the tailor could make, had gold lace on his jacket wherever the
regulations would allow it, decorated his shoulders with the
438 ANDERSON VILLE,
stunningest pair of shoulder knots I ever saw, and so on. Well,
he did not stay with us long after we went to the front. He
went back on a detail for a court martial, and staid a good
while. When he rejoined us, he was not in good odor, at all,
and the boys weren’t at all careful in saying unpleasant things
when he could hear them, A little while after he came back
we made that reconnoissance up on the Virginia Road. We
stirred up the Johnnies with our skirmish line, and while the
firing was going on in front we sat on our horses in line, wait-
ing for the order to move forward and engage. You know how
solemn such moments are. I looked down the line and saw
Lieutenant H. at the right of Company—, in command
of it. I had not seen him since he came back, and I sung out:
“‘Hello, Lieutenant, how do you feel?’
“The reply came back, promptly, and with boyish cheerful-
IlêSS : º
“‘Bully, by —; I’m going to lead seventy men of Company
into action to-day /?
“How his boys did cheer him. When the bugle sounded
“forward, trot,’ his company sailed in as if they meant it, and
swept the Johnnies off in short meter. You never heard any-
body say anything against Lieutenant — after that.”
“You know how it was with Captain G., of our regiment,”
said one of the Fourteenth to another. “He was promoted
from Orderly Sergeant to a Second Lieutenant, and assigned to
Company D. All the members of Company D went to head-
quarters in a body, and protested against his being put in their
company, and he was not. Well, he behaved so well at Chicka-
... mauga that the boys saw that they had done him a great
injustice, and all those that still lived went again to headquar-
ters, and asked to take all back that they had said, and to have
him put into the company.”
“Well, that was doing the manly thing, sure; but go on about.
Atlanta.”
“I was telling about our brigade,” resumed the narrator.
“Of course, we think our regiment's the best by long odds in
the army—every fellow thinks that of his regiment—but next
to it come the other regiments of our brigade. There's not a
cent of discount on any of them.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PEISON8. 439
“Sherman had stretched out his right away to the south and
west of Atlanta. About the middle of August Our corps, com:
manded by Jefferson C. Davis, was lying in works at Utoy Creek,
a couple of miles from Atlanta. We could see the tall steeples
and the high buildings of the City quite plainly. Things had
gone on dull and quiet like for about ten days. This was
longer by a good deal than we had been at rest since we left
Resaca in the Spring. We knew that something was brewing,
and that it must come to a head soon.
“I belong to Company C. Our little mess—now reduced
to three by the loss of two of our best soldiers and cooks,
Disbrow and Sulier, killed behind head-logs in front of Atlanta,
by sharpshooters—had one-fellow that we called ‘Observer,
because he had such a faculty of picking up news in his
prowling around, headquarters. He brought us in so much
of this, and it was generally so reliable that we frequently
made up his absence from duty by taking his place. He was
never away from a fight, though. On the night of the 25th of
August, ‘Observer” came in with the news that something was
in the wind. Sherman was getting awful restless, and we had
found out that this always meant lots of trouble to our friends
on the other side.
“Sure enough, orders came to get ready to move, and the
next night we all moved to the right and rear, out of sight of
the Johnnies. Our well built works were left in charge of
Garrard’s Cavalry, who concealed their horses in the rear, and
came up and took our places. The whole army except the
Twentieth Corps moved quietly off, and did it so nicely that we
were gone some time before the enemy suspected it. Then the
Twentieth Corps pulled out towards the North, and fell back
to the Chattahoochie, making quite a show of retreat. The
Rebels Snapped up the bait greedily. They thought the siege
was being raised, and they poured over their works to hurry
the Twentieth boys off. The Twentieth fellowslet them know
that there was lots of sting in them yet, and the Johnnies were
not long in discovering that it would have been money in their
pockets if they had let that ‘moon-and-star’ (that’s the Twen-
tieth’s badge, you know) crowd alone.
“But the Rebs thought the rest of us were gone for good,
440 ANDERSON VILLE-
and that Atlanta was saved. Naturally they felt mighty happy
over it; and resolved to have a big celebration—a ball, a meet-
-ing of jubilee, etc. Extra trains were run in, with girls and
women from the surrounding country, and they just had a
high old time.
“In the meantime we were going through so many different
kinds of tactics that it looked as if Sherman was really crazy.
this time, sure. Finally we made a grand left wheel, and then
went forward a long way in line of battle. It puzzled us a
good deal, but we knew that Sherman couldn’t get us into any
scrape that Pap Thomas couldn’t get us out of, and so it was
all right.
“Along on the evening of the 31st our right wing seemed to
have run against a hornet's nest, and we could hear the mus-
ketry and cannon speak out real spiteful, but nothing came
down our way. We had struck the railroad leading south from
Atlanta to Macon, and began tearing it up. The jollity at
Atlanta was stopped right in the middle by the appalling news
that the Yankees hadn’t retreated worth a cent, but had broken
out in a new and much worse spot than ever. Then there was
no end of trouble all around, and Hood started part of his
army back after us.
“Part of Hardee’s and Pat Cleburne’s command went into
position in front of us. We left them alone till Stanley could
come up on our left, and Swing around, so as to cut off their
retreat, when we would bag every one of them. But Stanley
was as slow as he always was, and did not come up until it was
too late, and the game was gone. -
“The sun was just going down on the evening of the 1st of
September, when we began to see we were in for it, sure. The
Fourteenth Corps wheeled into position near the railroad, and
the sound of musketry and artillery became very loud and clear
on our front and left. We turned a little and marched straight
toward the racket, becoming more excited every minute. We
saw the Carlin’s brigade of regulars, who were some distance
ahead of us, pile knapsacks, form in line, fix bayonets, and dash
off with a rousing cheer.
“The Rebel fire beat upon them like a Summer rain-storm,
the ground shook with the noise, and just as we reached the
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON8. 441
edge of the cotton field, we saw the remnant of the brigade
come flying back out of the awful, blasting shower of bullets.
The whole slope was covered with dead and wounded—.”
“Yes,” interrupts one of the Fourteenth; “and they made
that charge right gamely, too, I can tell you. They were good
soldiers, and well led. When we went over the works, I
remember seeing the body of a little Major of one of the regi-
ments lying right on the top. If he hadn’t been killed he'd
been inside in a half-a-dozen steps more. There's no mistake
about it ; those regulars will fight.”
“When we saw this,” resumed the narrator, “it set our
fellows fairly wild; they became just crying mad; I never saw
them so before. The order came to strip for the charge, and
Our knapsacks were piled in half a minute. A Lieutenant of
Our company, who was then on the staff of Gen. Baird, our
division commander, rode slowly down the line and gave us
Our instructions to load our guns, fix bayonets, and hold fire
until we were on top of the Rebel works. Then Colonel Este
sang Out clear and steady as a bugle signal:
“‘Brigade, forward ' Guide center | MARCH !!”
“and we started. Heavens, how they did let into us, as we
came up into range. They had ten pieces of artillery, and
more men behind the breastworks than we had in line, and the
fire they poured on us was simply withering. We walked
across the hundreds of dead and dying of the regular brigade,
and at every step our own men fell down among them. General
Baird’s horse was shot down, and the General thrown far over
his head, but he jumped up and ran alongside of us. Major
Wilson, our regimental commander, fell mortally wounded;
Lieutenant Kirk was killed, and also Captain Stopfard, Adjutant
General of the brigade. Lieutenants Cobb and Mitchell dropped
with wounds that proved fatal in a few days. Captain Ogan
lost an arm, one-third of the enlisted men fell, but we went
straight ahead, the grape and the musketry becoming worse
every step, until we gained the edge of the hill, where we were
checked a minute by the brush, which the Rebels had fixed up
in the shape of abattis. Just then a terrible fire from a new
direction, our left, swept down the whole length of our line.
The Colonel of the Seventeenth New York—as gallant a man
442 ANDERSON VILLE-
as ever lived—saw the new trouble, took his regiment in on
the run, and relieved us of this, but he was himself mortally
wounded. If our boys were half-crazy before, they were frantic
now, and as we got out of the entanglement of the brush, we
raised a fearful yell and ran at the works. We climbed the
sides, fired right down into the defenders, and then began with
the bayonet and sword. For a few minutes it was simply
awful. On both sides men acted like infuriated devils. They
dashed each other's brains out with clubbed muskets; bayonets
- were driven into men’s bodies up to the muzzle of the gun ;
officers ran their swords through their opponents, and revolvers,
after being emptied into the faces of the Rebels, were thrown
with desperate force into the ranks. In our regiment was a
stout German butcher named Frank Fleck. Eſe became so
excited that he threw down his sword, and rushed among the
Rebels with his bare fists, knocking down a swath of them.
He yelled to the first Rebel he met :
“‘Py Gott, I’ve no patience mit you.’
“and knocked him sprawling. He caught hold of the commander
of the Rebel Brigade, and snatched him back over the works
by main strength. Wonderful to say, he escaped unhurt, but
the boys will probably not soon let him hear the last of
“‘Py Gott, I’ve no patience mit you.’
“The Tenth Kentucky, by the queerest luck in the world,
was matched against the Rebel Ninth Kentucky. The com-
manders of the two regiments were brothers-in-law, and the
men relatives, friends, acquaintances and schoolmates. They
hated each other accordingly, and the fight between them was
more bitter, if possible, than anywhere else on the line. The
Thirty-Eighth Ohio and Seventy-fourth Indiana put in some
work that was just magnificent. We hadn’t time to look at it
then, but the dead and wounded piled up after the fight told
the story.
“We gradually forced our way over the works, but the Reb-
els were game to the last, and we had to make them surrender
almost one at a time. The artillerymen tried to fire on us
when we were so close we could lay our hands on the guns.
“Finally nearly all in the works surrendered, and were dis-
armed and marched back. Just then an aid came dashing up
A STORY OF RIEBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 443
with the information that we must turn the works, and get
ready to receive Hardee, who was advancing to retake the posi-
tion. We snatched up some shovels lying near, and began
work. We had no time to remove the dead and dying Rebels
on the works, and the dirt we threw covered them up. It
proved a false alarm. Hardee had as much as he could do to
save his own hide, and the affair ended about dark.
“When we came to count up what we had gained, we found
that we had actually taken more prisoners from behind breast-
works than there were in our brigade when we started the
charge. We had made the only really successful bayonet
charge of the campaign. Every other time since we left Chat-
tanooga, the party standing on the defensive had been successful.
Here we had taken strong double lines, with ten guns, seven
battle flags, and over two thousand prisoners. We had lost
terribly—not less than one-third of the brigade, and many of
our best men. Our regiment went into the battle with fifteen
officers; nine of these were killed or wounded, and seven of
the nine lost either their limbs or lives. The Thirty-Eighth
Ohio, and the other regiments of the brigade lost equally
heavy. We thought Chickamauga awful, but Jonesboro dis-
counted it.”
“Do you know,” said another of the Fourteenth, “I heard
our Surgeon telling about how that Colonel Grower, of the
Seventeenth New York, who came in so splendidly on our left,
died? They say he was a Wall Street broker, before the war.
He was hit shortly after he led his regiment in, and after the
fight, was carried back to the hospital. While our Surgeon
was going the rounds Colonel Grower called him, and said
quietly, “When you get through with the men, come and see
me, please.”
“The Doctor would have attended to him then, but Grower
wouldn’t let him. After he got through he went back to
Grower, examined his wound, and told him that he could only
live a few hours. Grower received the news tranquilly, had
the Doctor write a letter to his wife, and gave him his things
to send her, and then grasping the Doctor's hand, he said:
“Doctor, I’ve just one more favor to ask; will you grant it?”
“The Doctor said, “Certainly; what is it?’
444 .ANDERSON WILL 3.
“‘You say I can’t live but a few hours?”
“‘Yes; that is true.”
“‘And that I will likely be in great pain?’
“‘I am sorry to say so.”
“‘Well, then, do give me morphia enough to put me to
sleep, so that I will wake up only in another world.”
“The Doctor did so; Colonel Grower thanked him; wrung
his hand, bade him good-by, and went to sleep to wake no
more.”
“Do you believe in presentiments and superstitions?” said
another of the Fourteenth. “There was Fisher Pray, Orderly
Sergeant of Company I. He came from Waterville, O., where
his folks are now living. The day before we started out he
had a presentiment that we were going into a fight, and that
he would be killed. He couldn’t shake it off. He told the
Lieutenant, and some of the boys about it, and they tried to
ridicule him out of it, but it was no good. When the sharp
firing broke out in front some of the boys said, “Fisher, I do
believe you are right,’ and he nodded his head mournfully.
When we were piling knapsacks for the charge, the Lieutenant,
who was a great friend of Fisher's, said:
“‘Fisher, you stay here and guard the knapsacks.”
“Fisher’s face blazed in an instant.
“‘No, sir,’ said he; I never shirked a fight yet, and I won’t
begin now.’
“So he went into the fight, and was killed, as he knew he
would be. Now, that’s what I call nerve.”
“The same thing was true of Sergeant Arthur Tarbox, of
Company A,” said the narrator; “he had a presentiment, too;
he knew he was going to be killed, if he went in, and he was
offered an honorable chance to stay out, but he would not take
it, and went in and was killed.”
“Well, we staid there the next day, buried our dead, took
care of our wounded, and gathered up the plunder we had
taken from the Johnnies. The rest of the army went off, ‘hot
blocks,' after Hardee and the rest of Hood's army, which it was
hoped would be caught outside of entrenchments. But Hood
had too much the start, and got into the works at Lovejoy,
ahead of our fellows. The night before we heard several very
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS, 445
loud explosions up to the north. We guessed what that meant,
and so did the Twentieth Corps, who were lying back at the
Chattahoochee, and the next morning the General commanding
—Slocum—sent out a reconnoissance. It was met by the
Mayor of Atlanta, who said that the Rebels had blown up their
stores and retreated. The Twentieth Corps then came in and
took possession of the City, and the next day—the 3d-Sher-
man came in, and issued an order declaring the campaign at an
end, and that we would rest awhile and refit. !
“We laid around Atlanta, a good while, and things quieted
down so that it seemed almost like peace, after the four months
of continual fighting we had gone through. We had been
under a strain so long that now we boys went in the other
direction, and became too careless, and that's how we got picked
up. We went out about five miles one night after a lot of nice
smoked hams that a nigger told us were stored in an old cotton
press, and which we knew would be enough sight better eating
for Company C, than the commissary pork we had lived on so
long. We found the cotton press, and the hams, just as the
nigger told us, and we hitched up a team to take them into
camp. As we hadn’t seen any Johnny signs anywhere, we set
our guns down to help load the meat, and just as we all came
stringing out to the wagon with as much meat as we could
carry, a company, of Ferguson’s Cavalry popped out of the
woods about one hundred yards in front of us and were on
top of us before we could say ‘scat.’ You see they’d heard of
the meat, too.” - -
ONE OF FERGUSON'S CAVALRY.

CHAPTER LVII.
A FAIR SACRIFICE—TEIE STORY OF ONE BOY WHO WILLINGLY GAVE
HIS YOUNG LIFE FOR HIS COUNTRY.
Charley Barbour was one of the truest-hearted and best-liked
of my school-boy chums and friends. For several terms we sat
together on the same uncompromisingly uncomfortable bench,
worried over the same boy-maddening problems in “Ray’s
Arithmetic—Part III.,” learned the same jargon of meaning-
less rules from “Greene's Grammar,” pondered over “Mitchell’s
Geography and Atlas,” and tried in vain to understand why
Providence made the surface of one State obtrusively pink and
another ultramarine blue; trod slowly and painfully over the
rugged road “Bullion” points out for beginners in Latin, and
began to believe we should hate ourselves and everybody else,
if we were gotten up after the manner shown by “Cutter's
Physiology.” We were caught together in the same long series
of school-boy scrapes—and were usually ferruled together by
the same strong-armedteacher. We shared nearly everything—
Our fun and work; enjoyment and annoyance—all were
generally meted out to us together. We read from the same
books the story of the wonderful world we were going to see in
that bright future “when we were men;” we spent our Satur-
days and vacations in the miniature explorations of the rocky
hills and caves, and dark cedar woods around our homes, to
gather ocular helps to a better comprehension of that magical
land which we were convinced began just beyond our horizon,
and had in it, visible to the eye of him who traveled through
its enchanted breadth, all that “ Gulliver's Fables,” the “Ara-
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 447
bian Nights,” and a hundred books of travel and adventure
told of. *.
We imagined that the only dull and commonplace spot on
earth was that where we lived. Everywhere else life Was a
grand spectacular drama, full of thrilling effects.
Brave and handsome young men were rescuing distressed
damsels, beautiful as they were wealthy; bloody pirates and
swarthy murderers were being foiled by quaint spoken back-
woodsmen, who carried unerring rifles; gallant but blundering
Irishmen, speaking the most delightful brogue, and making the
funniest mistakes, were daily thwarting cool and determined
villains; bold tars were encountering fearful sea perils; lion-
hearted adventurers were cowing and quelling whole tribes of
barbarians; magicians were casting spells, misers hoarding
gold, scientists making astonishing discoveries, poor and
unknown boys achieving wealth and fame at a single bound,
hidden mysteries coming to light, and so the World was going
on, making reams of history with each diurnal revolution, and
furnishing boundless material for the most delightful books.
At the age of thirteen a perusal of the lives of Benjamin
Franklin and Horace Greeley precipitated my determination
to no longer hesitate in launching my small bark upon the
great Ocean. I ran away from home in a truly romantic way,
and placed my foot on what I expected to be the first round of
the ladder of fame, by becoming “devil boy” in a printing
office in a distant large City. Charley's attachment to his
mother and his home was too strong to permit him to take this
step, and we parted in sorrow, mitigated on my side by roseate
dreams of the future.
Six years passed. One hot August morning I met an old
acquaintance at the Creek, in Andersonville. He told me to
come there the next morning, after roll-call, and he would take
me to see some person who was very anxious to meet me. I
was prompt at the rendezvous, and was soon joined by the
other party. He threaded his way slowly for over half an
hour through the closely-jumbled mass of tents and burrows,
and at length stopped in front of a blanket-tent in the north-
western corner. The occupant rose and took my hand. For
448 ANDERSON VILLE.
an instant I was puzzled; then the clear, blue eyes, and well-
remembered Smile recalled to me my old-time comrade, Charley
-—- IBarbour. His story
was soon told. He
was a Sergeant in
a Western Vir-
ginia cavalry regi-
ment—the Fourth,
I think. At the
time Eunter WaS
making his retreat
from the Valley of
Virginia, it was de-
cided to mislead
the enemy by send-
ing out a courier
with false dis-
patches to be cap-
Wºº & . . º.º.º. ºf º' M "w" "" w , , . . . . . . ; … º. º.º. *========us tured. There Was
THEN THE CLEAR BLUE EYES AND well- a call for a Volun-
REMEMBERED SMILE. teer for this Ser-
vice. Charley was
the first to offer, with that spirit of generous self-sacrifice that
was one of his pleasantest traits when a boy. He knew what
he had to expect. Capture meant imprisonment at Anderson-
ville; our men had now a pretty clear understanding of what
this was. Charley took the dispatches and rode into the enemy's
lines. He was taken, and the false information produced the
desired effect. On his way to Andersonville he was stripped
of all his clothing but his shirt and pantaloons, and turned into
the Stockade in this condition. When I saw him he had been
in a week or more. He told his story quietly—almost
diffidently — not seeming aware that he had done more than
his simple duty. I left him with the promise and expectation
of returning the next day, but when I attempted to find him
again, I was lost in the maze of tents and burrows. I had for-
gotten to ask the number of his detachment, and after spending
several days in hunting for him, I was forced to give the search
§
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A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 449
*&
up. He knew as little of my whereabouts, and though we were
all the time within seventeen hundred feet of each other, neither
we nor our common acquaintance could ever manage to meet
again. This will give the reader an idea of the throng com-
pressed within the narrow limits of the Stockade. After leaving
Andersonville, however, I met this man once more, and learned
from him that Charley had sickened and died within a month
after his entrance to prison.
Sc ended his day-dream of a career in the busy world.
29
CHAPTER LVIII.
WE LEAVE SAVANNAH — MORE HOPES OF EXCHANGE — SCENES AT
DEPARTURE–“ FLANKERS ’’ — ON THE BACK TRACK TOWARD
ANDERSON VILLE — ALARM THEREAT — AT THE PARTING OF TWO
WAYS — WE FINALLY BRING UP AT CAMP LAWTON.
On the evening of the 11th of October there came an order
for one thousand prisoners to fall in and march out, for trans-
fer to some other point. -
Of course, Andrews and I “flanked ” into this crowd. That
was our usual way of doing. Holding that the chances were
strongly in favor of every movement of prisoners being to our
lines, we never failed to be numbered in the first squad of pris-
oners that were sent out. The seductive mirage of “exchange”
was always luring us On. It must come some time, certainly,
and it would be most likely to come to those who were most
earnestly searching for it. . At all events, we should leave no.
means untried to avail ourselves of whatever seeming chances
there might be. There could be no other motive for this move,
we argued, than exchange. The Confederacy was not likely
to be at the trouble and expense of hauling us about the coun-
try without some good reason—something better than a wish
to make us acquainted with Southern Scenery and topography.
It would hardly take us away from Savannah so soon after
bringing us there for any other purpose than delivery to our
people.
The Rebels encouraged this belief with direct assertions of
its truth. They framed a plausible lie about there having
arisen some difficulty concerning the admission of our vessels
past the harbor defenses of Savannah, which made it necessary
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON 8. 451
to take us elsewhere—probably to Charleston—for delivery
to Our men.
Wishes are always the most powerful allies of belief. There
is little difficulty in convincing a man of that of which he wants
to be convinced. We forgot the lie told us when we were
taken from Andersonville, and believed the one which was told
US Il OW. -
Andrews and I hastily Snatched our worldly possessions—
our overcoat, blanket, can, spoon, chessboard and men, yelled
to some of our neighbors that they could have our hitherto
much-treasured house, and running down to the gate, forced
ourselves well up to the front of the crowd that was being
assembled to go out. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The usual scenes accompanying the departure of first squads
were being acted tumultuously. Every one in the camp wanted
to be one of the supposed-to-be-favored few, and if not selected
at first, tried to “flank in ’’ —that is, slip into the place of
some one else who had had better luck. This one naturally
resisted displacement, vi et armis, and the fights would become
so general as to cause a resemblance to the famed Fair of Don-
nybrook. The cry would go up —
“Look Out for flankers!”
The lines of the selected would dress up compactly, and out-
siders trying to force themselves in would get mercilessly
pounded. -
We finally got out of the pen, and into the cars, which soon
rolled away to the westward. We were packed in too densely.
to be able to lie down. We could hardly sit down. Andrews
and I took up our position in one corner, piled our little trea-
sures under us, and trying to lean against each other in such a
way as to afford mutual support and rest, dozed fitfully through
a long, weary night.
When morning came we found ourselves running northwest
through a poor, pine-barren country that strongly resembled
that we had traversed in coming to Savannah. The more we
looked at it the more familiar it became, and soon there was no
doubt we were going back to Andersonville.
By noon we had reached Millen—eighty miles from Savan-
nah, and fifty-three from Augusta. It was the junction of the
452 .ANDERSON VILLE,
road leading to Macon and that running to Augusta. We
halted a little while at the “Y,” and to us the minutes were
full of anxiety. If we turned off to the left we were going
back to Andersonville. If we took the right hand road we
were on the way to Charleston or Richmond, with the chances
in favor of exchange.
At length we started, and, to our joy, our engine took the
right hand track. We stopped again, after a run of five miles,
in the midst of one of the open, scattering forests of long
leaved pine that I have before described. We were ordered
out of the cars, and marching a few rods, came in sight of
another of those hateful Stockades, which seemed to be as
natural products of the sterile sand of that dreary land as its
desolate woods and its breed of boy murderers and gray-headed
a SS3, SSII].S.
Again our hearts sank, and death seemed more welcome than
incarceration in those gloomy wooden walls. We marched
despondently up to the gates of the Prison, and halted while a
party of Rebel clerks made a list of our names, rank, companies,
and regiments. As they were Rebels it was slow work. Read-
ing and writing never came by nature, as Dogberry would say,
to any man fighting for Secession. As a rule, he took to them .
as reluctantly as if he thought them cunning inventions of the
Northern Abolitionist to perplex and demoralize him. What a
half-dozen boys taken out of our own ranks would have done
with ease in an hour or so, these Rebels worried over all of the
afternoon, and then their register of us was so imperfect, badly
Written and misspelled, that the Yankee clerks afterwards
detailed for the purpose, never could succeed in reducing it to
intelligibility. - -
We learned that the place at which we had arrived was
Camp Lawton, but we almost always spoke of it as “Millen,”
the same as Camp Sumter is universally known as Anderson-
ville.
Shortly after dark we were turned inside the Stockade.
Being the first that had entered, there was quite a quantity of
wood—the offal from the timber used in constructing the
Stockade—lying on the ground. The night was chilly and
we soon had a number of fires blazing. Green pitch pine, whe.
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONs. 453
burned, gives off a peculiar, pungent odor, which is never for-
gotten by one who has once smelled it. I first became
acquainted with it on entering Andersonville, and to this day
it is the most powerful remembrance I can have of the opening
of that dreadful Iliad of woes. On my journey to Washington
of late years the locomotives are invariably fed with pitch
pine as we near the Capital, and as the well-remembered smell
reaches me, I grow sick at heart with the flood of saddening
recollections indissolubly associated with it.
As our fires blazed up the clinging, penetrating fumes dif-
fused themselves everywhere. The night was as cool as the one
when we arrived at Andersonville, the earth, meagerly sodded
with sparse, hard, wiry grass, was the same; the same piney
breezes blew in from the surrounding trees, the same dismal
owls hooted at us; the same mournful whip-poor-will lamented,
God knows what, in the gathering twilight. What we both
felt in the gloomy recesses of downcast hearts Andrews
expressed as he turned to me with:
“My God, Mc, this looks like Andersonville all over again.”
A cupful of corn meal was issued to each of us. I hunted up
some water. Andrews made a stiff dough, and spread it about
half an inch thick on the back of our chessboard. He propped
this up before the fire, and when the surface was neatly browned
“HE PROPPED THIS UP BEFORE THE FIRE.”
over, slipped it off the board and turned it over to brown the
other side similarly. This done, we divided it carefully between
us, swallowed it in silence, spread our old overcoat on the ground,
tucked chess-board, can, and spoon under far enough to be out
of the reach of thieves, adjusted the thin blanket so as to get

454 ANDERSON VILLE.
the most possible warmth out of it, crawled in close together,
and went to sleep. This, thank Heaven, we could do; We
could still sleep, and Nature had some opportunity to repair
the waste of the day. We slept, and forgot where we were.
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CEIAPTER LIX.
OUR NEW QUARTERS AT CAMP LAWTON – BUILDING A HUT – AN
EXCEPTIONAL COMMANDANT—HE IS A GOOD MAN, BUT WILL TAKE
BRIBES —RATIONS.
In the morning we took a survey of our new quarters, and
found that we were in a Stockade resembling very much in
construction and dimensions that at Andersonville. The princi-
pal difference was that the upright logs were in their rough
state, whereas they were hewed at Andersonville, and the brook
running through the camp was not bordered by a swamp, but
had clean, firm banks.
Our next move was to make the best of the situation. We
were divided into hundreds, each commanded by a Sergeant.
Ten hundreds constituted a division, the head of which was
also a Sergeant. I was elected by my comrades to the Ser-
geantcy of the Second Hundred of the First Division. As soon
as we were assigned to our ground, we began constructing
shelter. For the first and only time in my prison experience,
we found a full supply of material for this purpose, and the use
we made of it showed how infinitely better we would have
fared if in each prison the Rebels had done even so slight a
thing as to bring in a few logs from the surrounding woods and
distribute them to us. A hundred or so of these would probably
have saved thousands of lives at Andersonville and Florence.
A large tree lay on the ground assigned to our hundred.
Andrews and I took possession of one side of the ten feet
nearest the butt. Other boys occupied the rest in a similar
manner. One of our boys had succeeded in smuggling an ax in
with him, and we kept it in constant use day and night, each
456 - ANDERSON VILLE-
group borrowing it for an hour or so at a time. It was as dull
as a hoe, and we were very weak, so that it was slow work
“niggering off " — (as the boys termed it) a cut of the log. It
seemed as if beavers could have gnawed it off easier and more
quickly. We only cut an inch or so at a time, and then passed
the ax to the next users. Making little wedges with a dull
knife, we drove them into the log with clubs, and split off long,
thin strips, like the weatherboards of a house, and by the time
we had split off our share of the log in this slow and laborious
way, we had a fine lot of these strips. We were lucky enough
to find four forked sticks, of which we made the corners of our
dwelling, and roofed it carefully with our strips, held in place
by sods torn up from the edge of the creek bank. The sides
and ends were enclosed; we gathered enough pine tops to cover
the ground to a depth of several inches; we banked up the
outside, and ditched around it, and then had the most comfort-
able abode we had during our prison career. It was truly a
house builded with our own hands, for we had no tools what-
ever save the occasional use of the aforementioned dull ax and
equally dull knife.
The rude little hut represented as much actual hard, manual
labor as would be required to build a comfortable little cottage
in the North, but we gladly performed it, as we would have
done any other work to better our condition.
For a while wood was quite plentiful, and we had the luxury
daily of warm fires, which the increasing coolness of the weather
made important accessories to our comfort.
Other prisoners kept coming in. Those we left behind at
Savannah followed us, and the prison there was broken up.
Quite a number also came in from Andersonville, so that in a
little while we had between six and seven thousand in the Stock-
ade. The last comers found all the material for tents and all
the fuel used up, and consequently did not fare so well as the
earlier arrivals.
The commandant of the prison—one Captain Bowes—was
the best of his class it was my fortune to meet. Compared with
the senseless brutality of Wirz, the reckless deviltry of Davis,
or the stupid malignance of Barrett, at Florence, his adminis-
tration was mildness and wisdom itself.
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 457
{}
He enforced discipline better than any of those named, but
had what they all lacked—executive ability—and he secured
results that they could not possibly attain, and without any.
thing like the friction that attended their efforts. I do not
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remember that any one was shot during our six weeks' stay at
Millen—a circumstance simply remarkable, since I do not
recall a single week passed anywhere else without at least one
murder by the guards.
One instance will illustrate the difference of his administra-
tion from that of other prison commandants. He came upon
the grounds of our division one morning, accompanied by a
pleasant-faced, intelligent-appearing lad of about fifteen or
sixteen. He said to us:
“Gentlemen : (The only instance during our imprisonment
when we received so polite a designation.) This is my son, who

458 ANDERSON WILLE.
will hereafter call your roll. He will treat you as gentlemen,
and I know you will do the same to him.”
This understanding was observed to the letter on both sides.
Young Bowes invariably spoke civilly to us, and we obeyed his
orders with a prompt cheerfulness that left him nothing to
complain of.
The only charge I have to make against Bowes is made more
in detail in another chapter, and that is, that he took money
from well prisoners for giving them the first chance to go
through on the Sick Exchange. How culpable this was I must
leave each reader to decide for himself. I thought it very
wrong at the time, but possibly my views might have been
colored highly by my not having any money wherewith to
procure my own inclusion in the happy lot of the exchanged.
Of one thing I am certain: that his acceptance of money to
bias his official action was not singular on his part. I am con-
Vinced that every commandant we had over us—except Wirz
—was habitually in the receipt of bribes from prisoners. I
never heard that any one succeeded in bribing Wirz, and this is
the Sole good thing I can say of that fellow. Against this it
may be said, however, that he plundered the boys so effectually
on entering the prison as to leave them little of the where-
withal to bribe anybody.
Davis was probably the most unscrupulous bribe-taker of the
lot. He actually received money for permitting prisoners to
escape to Our lines, and got down to as low a figure as one hun-
dred dollars for this sort of service. I never heard that any of
the other commandants went this far.
The rations issued to us were somewhat better than those of
Andersonville, as the meal was finer and better, though it was
absurdedly insufficient in quantity, and we received no salt. On
several occasions fresh beef was dealt out to us, and each time
the excitement created among those who had not tasted fresh
meat for weeks and months was wonderful. On the first occa-
sion the meat was simply the heads of the cattle killed for the
use of the guards. Several wagon loads of these were brought
in and distributed. We broke them up so that every man got
a piece of the bone, which was boiled and reboiled, as long as
a single bubble of grease would rise to the surface of the water;
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. - 459
every vestige of meat was gnawed and scraped from the surface,
and then the bone was charred until it crumbled, when it was
eaten. No one who has not experienced it can imagine the inor-
dinate hunger for animal food of those who had eaten little else
t]. Nº.
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OUR FIRST MEAT.
than corn bread for so long. Our exhausted bodies were perish-
ing for lack of proper sustenance. Nature indicated fresh beef
as the best medium to repair the great damage already done,
and our longing for it became beyond description. -


CELAPTER LX.
THE RAIDERS RE-APPEAR ON THE SCENE–THE ATTEMPT TO ASSAsSIN-
ATE THOSE WEIO WERE CONCERNED IN THE EXECUTION — A COUPLE
- # of LIVELY FIGHTS, IN WHICH THE RAIDERS ARE DEFEATED–Hold-
ING AN ELECTION. -
Our old antagonists—the Raiders—were present in strong
force in Millen. Like ourselves, they had imagined the
departure from Andersonville was for exchange, and their
relations to the Rebels were such that they were all given a
chance to go with the first squads. A number had been allowed
to go with the sailors on the Special Naval Exchange from
Savannah, in the place of sailors and marines who had died.
On the way to Charleston a fight had taken place between
them and the real sailors, during which one of their number—a
curly-headed Irishman named Dailey, who was in such high
favor with the Rebels that he was given the place of driving
the ration wagon that came in the North Side at Anderson-
ville—was killed, and thrown under the wheels of the moving
train, which passed over him.
After things began to settle into shape at Millen, they seemed
to believe that they were in such ascendancy as to numbers and
organization that they could put into execution their schemes
of vengeance against those of us who had been active partici-
pants in the execution of their confederates at Andersonville.
After some little preliminaries they settled upon Corporal
“Wat” Payne, of my company, as their first victim. The
reader will remember Payne as one of the two Corporals who
pulled the trigger to the scaffold at the time of the execution.
Payne was a very good man physically, and was yet in fair
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 461
condition. The Raiders came up one day with their best man
—Pete Donnelly—and provoked a fight, intending, in the
course of it, to kill Payne. We, who knew Payne, felt reason-
ably confident of his ability to handle even so redoubtable a
pugilist as Donnelly, and we gathered together a little Squad of
our friends to see fair play.
The fight began after the usual amount of bad talk on both
sides, and we were pleased to see our man slowly get the better
of the New York plug-ugly. After several sharp rounds they
closed, and still Payne was ahead, but in an evil moment he
spied a pine knot at his feet, which he thought he could reach,
and end the fight by cracking Donnelly's head with it.
Donnelly took instant advantage of the movement to get it,
threw Payne heavily, and fell upon him. His crowd rushed in
to finish our man by clubbing him over the head. We sailed
in to prevent this, and after a rattling exchange of blows all
around, succeeded in getting Payne away.
The issue of the fight seemed rather against us, however, and
the Raiders were much emboldened. Payne kept close to his
crowd after that, and as we had shown such an entire willing-
ness to stand by him, the Raiders—with their accustomed pru-
dence when real fighting was involved— did not attempt to
molest him farther, though they talked very savagely.
A few days after this Sergeant Goody and Corporal Ned
Carrigan, both of our battalion, came in. I must ask the
reader to again recall the fact that Sergeant Goody was one of
the six hangmen who put the meal-Sacks over the heads, and the
ropes around the necks of the condemned. Corporal Carrigan
was the gigantic prizefighter, who was universally acknowledged
to be the best man physically among the whole thirty-four
thousand in Andersonville. The Raiders knew that Goody had
come in before we of his own battalion did. They resolved
to kill him then and there, and in broad daylight. He had
secured in some way a shelter tent, and was inside of it fixing it
up. The Raider crowd, headed by Pete Donnelly and Dick
Allen, went up to his tent and one of them called to him:
“Sergeant, come out; I want to see you.” -
Goody, supposing it was one of us, came crawling out on his
hands and knees. As he did so their heavy clubs crashed down
462 ANDERSON VILLE.
upon his head. He was neither killed nor stunned, as they had
reason to expect. He succeeded in rising to his feet, and break-
ing through the crowd of assassins. He dashed down the side
of the hill, hotly pursued by them. Coming to the Creek, he
leaped it in his excitement, but his pursuers could not, and were
checked. One of our battalion boys, who saw and compre-
hended the whole affair, ran over to us, shouting:
“Turn out ! turn out, for God’s sake! the Raiders are killing
Goody l’” *
We Snatched up our clubs and started after the Raiders,
but before we could reach them, Ned Carrigan, who also compre-
hended what the trouble was, had run to the side of Goody,
armed with a terrible looking club. The sight of Ned, and the
demonstration that he was thoroughly aroused, was enough for
the Raider crew, and they abandoned the field hastily. We
did not feel ourselves strong enough to follow them on to their
own dung hill, and try conclusions with them, but we deter-
mined to report the matter to the Rebel Commandant, from
whom we had reason to believe we could expect assistance.
We were right. He sent in a squad of guards, arrested Dick
Allen, Pete Donnelly, and several other ringleaders, took them
out and put them in the stocks in such a manner that they
were compelled to lie upon their stomachs. A shallow tin
vessel containing water was placed under their faces to furnish
them drink. - -
They staid there a day and night, and when released, joined
the Rebel Army, entering the artillery company that manned
the guns in the fort covering the prison. I used to imagine
with what zeal they would send us over a round of shell or
grape if they could get anything like an excuse.
This gave us good riddance of our dangerous enemies, and
we had little further trouble with any of them.
* º - ! * x - . .
The depression in the temperature made me very sensible of
the deficiencies in my Wardrobe. Unshod feet, a shirt like a
fishing net, and pantaloons as well ventilated as a paling fence
might do very well for the broiling Sun at Andersonville and
Savannah, but now, with the thermometer nightly dipping a
little nearer the frost line, it became unpleasantly evident that
§ *
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 463
as garments their office was purely perfunctory; one might
say ornamental simply, if he wanted to be very sarcastic. They
were worn solely to afford convenient quarters for multitudes
of lice, and in deference to the prejudice which has existed since
the Fall of Man against our mingling with our fellow creatures
in the attire provided us by Nature. Had I read Darwin then
I should have expected that my long exposure to the weather
would start a fine suit of fur, in the effort of Nature to adapt
me to my environment. But no more indications of this
appeared than if I had been a hairless dog of Mexico, suddenly
transplanted to more northern latitudes. Providence did not
seem to be in the tempering-the-wind-to-the-shorn-lamb business,
as far as I was concerned. I still retained an almost unconquer-
able prejudice against stripping the dead to secure clothes, and so
unless exchange or death came speedily, I was in a bad fix.
One morning about day break, Andrews, who had started to
go to another part of the camp, came slipping back in a state
- - - of gleeful excite-
ment. At first I
thought he either
had found a tunnel
or had heard some
good news about
exchange. It was
#º neither. He opened
## his jacket and hand-
; ed me an infantry-
º ##### man’s blouse, which
§º ğ he had found in the
3. *::: - § & fift • § º: 2. º § £8: AºA # § § º - º: . º -
ſºãº: 㺠:㺠§ * § main street, where
# 㺠&º §§ §§ *ś it had dropped out
§ ãº. Sº ; º 2
tºº, “sº of some fellow's
;" &º - - ." 'Si!'..." is * w
* : * *
f
bundle. We did
*
tºº *
§§§§§nee. l §
z:2 - §
§§ *AW W § k
tºº M \\ º º -
º * §§
£.
- £i • ,
- . § ãº. § 3. º :
º,..., &
º *
% ºf a ſº iº Y \, ,
§º º ... ºf
*ºtº ºvºvº not make any extra
* †.º.º. exertion to find the
A LUCKY FIND. owner. Andrews
was in sore need of clothes himself, but my necessities were
so much greater that the generous fellow thought of my wants
first. We examined the garment with as much interest as ever


























464 ANDERSON VILLE.
a belle bestowed on a new dress from Worth's. It was in fair
preservation, but the owner had cut the buttons off to trade to
the guard, doubtless for a few sticks of wood, or a spoonful of
salt. We supplied the place of these with little wooden pins,
and I donned the garment as a shirt and coat–and west, too, for
that matter. The best suit I ever put on never gave me a
hundredth part the satisfaction that this did. Shortly after, I
managed to subdue my aversion so far as to take a good shoe
which a one-legged dead man had no farther use for, and a
little later a comrade gave me for the other foot a boot bottom
from which he had cut the top to make a bucket.
# 3: * * * * * º
&f The day of the Presidential election of 1864 approached.
The Rebels were naturally very much interested in the result,
as they believed that the election of McClellan meant compro-
mise and cessation of hostilities, while the re-election of Lincoln
meant prosecution of the War to the bitter end. The toady-
ing Raiders, who were perpetually hanging around the gate to
get a chance to insinuate themselves into the favor of the Rebel
officers, persuaded them that we were all so bitterly hostile to
our Government for not exchanging us that if we were allowed
to vote we would cast an overwhelming majority in favor of
McClellan. - -
The Rebels thought that this might perhaps be used to advan-
tage as political capital for their friends in the North. They
gave orders that we might, if we chose, hold an election on the
same day of the Presidential election. They sent in some
ballot boxes, and we elected Judges of the Election.
About noon of that day Captain Bowes, and a crowd of
tight-booted, broad-hatted Rebel officers, strutted in with the
peculiar “Ef-yer-don’t-b'lieve-I’m-a-butcher-jest-smell-o'-me-
butes” Swagger characteristic of the class. They had come in
to see us all voting for McClellan. Instead, they found the
polls surrounded with ticket pedlers shouting:
“Walk right up here now, and get your Unconditional-
Union-Abraham Lincoln tickets!”
“Here's your straight-haired prosecution-of-the-war ticket.”
“Vote the Lincoln ticket; vote to whip the Rebels, and
make peace with them when they’ve laid down their arms.”
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON3. 465
“Don’t vote a McClellan ticket and gratify — Rebels,
everywhere,” etc. .
The Rebel officers did not find the scene what their fancy
painted it, and turning around they strutted out.
When the votes came to be counted out there were over seven
thousand for Lincoln, and not half that many hundred for
McClellan. The latter got very few votes outside the Raider
crowd. The same day a similar election was held in Florence,
with like result. Of course this did not indicate that there was
any such a preponderance of Republicans among us. It meant
simply that the Democratic boys, little as they might have liked
Lincoln, would have voted for him a hundred times rather
than do anything to please the Rebels
I never hº that the Rebels sent the result North.
§ 3.
CELAPTER LXI.
THE REBELS FORMALLY PROPOSE TO US TO DESERT TO THEM -
CONTUMIELIOUS TREATMENT OF THE PROPOSITION — THEIR EAGE
– AN EXCITING, TIME – AN OUTBREAK THEEATENED — DIFFIOUL-
TIES ATTENDING DESERTION TO THE REBELs.
One day in November, some little time after the occurrences
narrated in the last chapter, orders came in to make out rolls
of all those who were born outside of the United States, and
whose terms of service had expired.
We held a little council among ourselves as to the meaning
of this, and concluded that some partial exchange had been
agreed on, and the Rebels were going to send back the class of
boys whom they thought would be of least value to the Govern-
ment. Acting on this conclusion the great majority of us
enrolled ourselves as foreigners, and as having served out
our terms. I made out the roll of my hundred, and managed
to give every man a foreign nativity. Those whose names
would bear it were assigned to England, Ireland, Scotland,
France and Germany, and the balance were distributed through
Canada and the West Indies. After finishing the roll and
sending it out, I did not wonder that the Rebels believed the
battles for the Union were fought by foreign mercenaries. The
other rolls were made out in the same way, and I do not sup-
pose that they showed five hundred native Americans in the
Stockade.
The next day after sending out the rolls, there came an order
that all those whose names appeared thereon should fall in.
We did so, promptly, and as nearly every man in camp was
included, we fell in as for other purposes, by hundreds and
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON8. 467
thousands. We were then marched outside, and massed around
a stump on which stood a Rebel officer, evidently waiting to
make us a speech. We awaited his remarks with the greatest
impatience, but he did not begin until the last division had
marched out and came to a parade rest close to the Stump.
It was the same old story:
“Prisoners, you can no longer have any doubt that your
Government has cruelly abandoned you; it makes no efforts to
release you, and refuses all our offers of exchange. We are
anxious to get our men back, and have made every effort to do
so, but it refuses to meet us on any reasonable grounds. Your
Secretary of War has said that the Government can get along
very well without you, and General Halleck has said that you
- - -were nothing but a set of blackberry pickers and coffee boilers,
anyhow. -
“You’ve already endured much more than it could expect of
you; you served it faithfully during the term you enlisted for,
and now, when it is through with you, it throws you aside to
starve and die. You also can have no doubt that the Southern
Confederacy is certain to succeed in securing its independence.
It will do this in a few months. It now offers you an oppor-
tunity to join its service, and if you serve it faithfully to the
end, you will receive the same rewards as the rest of its soldiers.
You will be taken out of here, be well clothed and fed, given a
good bounty, and, at the conclusion of the War receive a land
warrant for a nice farm. If you”—
But we had heard enough. The Sergeant of our division—
a man with a stentorian Voice—Sprang out and shouted:
“Attention, First Division /?”
We Sergeants of hundreds repeated the command down the
line. Shouted he :
“First Division, about”—
Said we :
“First Hundred, about—”
“Second Hundred, about—”
“Third Hundred, about—”
“Fourth Hundred, about—” etc., etc.
Said he—
“FACE | | ?”
468 ANDERSON VILLE,
Ten Sergeants repeated “Face!” one after the other, and each
man in the hundreds turned on his heel. Then our leader com-
manded— -
“First Division, forward / MARCH !” -
and we strode back into the Stockade, followed immediately by
all the other divisions, leaving the orator still standing on the
stump. - -
The Rebels were furious at this curt way of replying. We
had scarcely reached our quarters when they came in with
several companies, with loaded guns and fixed bayonets. They
drove us out of our tents and huts, into one corner, under the pre-
tense of hunting axes and spades, but in reality to steal our
blankets, and whatever else they could find that they wanted,
and to break down and injure our huts, many of which, costing
us days of patient labor, they destroyed in pure wantonness.
We were burning with the bitterest indignation. A tall,
slender man named Lloyd, a member of the Sixty-First Ohio — a
rough, uneducated fellow, but brim full of patriotism and manly
common sense, jumped up on a stump and poured out his soul
in rude but fiery eloquence: “Comrades,” he said, “do not let
the blowing of these Rebel whelps discourage you; pay no
attention to the lies they have told you to-day; you know well
that our Government is too honorable and just to desert any
one who serves it; it has not deserted us; their hell-born Con-
federacy is not going to succeed. I tell you that as sure as
there is a God who reigns and judges in Israel, before the
Spring breezes stir the tops of these blasted old pines their
Confederacy and all the lousy graybacks who support it
will be so deep in hell that nothing but a search warrant from
the throne of God Almighty can ever find it again. And the
glorious old Stars and Stripes—”
Here we began cheering tremendously. A Rebel Captain
came running up, said to the guard, who was leaning on his
gun, gazing curiously at Lloyd:
“What, in are you standing gaping there for? Why
don’t you shoot the +- Yankee son — — —?” and
snatching the gun away from him, cocked afid leveled it at
Lloyd, but the boys near jerked the speaker down from the
stump and saved his life.
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 469
We became fearfully wrought up. Some of the more excit-
able shouted out to charge on the line of guards, snatch their
guns away from them, and force our way through the gates.
The shouts were taken up by others, and, as if in obedience to
the suggestion, we instinctively formed in line-of-battle facing
the guards. A glance down the line showed me an array of
desperate, tensely drawn faces, such as one sees who looks at
men when they are summoning up all their resolution for some
deed of great peril. The Rebel officers hastily retreated behind
the line of guards, whose faces blanched, but they leveled their
muskets and prepared to receive us.
Captain Bowes, who was overlooking the prison from an eleva-
tion outside, had, however, divined the trouble at the outset, and -
was preparing to meet it. The gunners, who had shotted their
pieces and trained them upon us when we came out to listen to
the speech, had again covered us with them, and were ready to
sweep the prison with grape and canister at the instant of
command. The long roll was summoning the infantry regi-
ments back into line, and some of the cooler-headed among us
pointed these facts out and succeeded in getting the line to
dissolve again into groups of muttering, Sullen-faced men.
When this was done, the guards marched out, by a cautious,
indirect manuver, so as not to turn their backs to us.
It was believed that we had some among us who would like
to avail themselves of the offer of the Rebels, and that they would
try to inform the Rebels of their desires by going to the gate
during the night and speaking to the Officer-of-the-Guard. A
squad armed themselves with clubs and laid in wait for these.
They succeeded in catching several—Snatching some of them
backeven after they had told the guard their wishes in a tone so
loud that all near could hear distinctly. The Officer-of-the-Guard
rushed in two or three times in a vain attempt to save the would-
be deserter from the cruel hands that clutched him and bore him
away to where he had a lesson in loyalty impressed upon the
fleshiest part of his person by a long, flexible strip of pine,
wielded by very willing hands.
After this was kept up for several nights different ideas began
to prevail. It was felt that if a man wanted to join the Rebels, the
best way was to let him go and get rid of him. He was of no
470 ANDERSON VILLE.
benefit to the Government, and would be of none to the Rebels.
After this no restriction was put upon any one who desired to
go outside and take the oath. But very few did so, however,
and these were wholly confined to the Raider crowd.
CHAPTER LXII.
SERGEANT LERoy L. KEY —HIS ADVENTUREs subsequENT to ran
EXECUTION.—HE GOEs ouTSIDE AT ANDERSON VILLE ON PAROLE
—LABORS IN THE Cook-House—ATTEMPTs To EscAPE—Is RECAP-
TURED AND TAKEN TO MACON — ESCAPES FROM THERE, BUT Is
COMPELLED TO RETURN — IS FINALLY EXCEIANGED AT SAVANNAH.
Leroy L. Key, the heroic Sergeant of Company M, Sixteenth
Illinois Cavalry, who organized and led the Regulators at
Andersonville in their successful conflict with and defeat of the
Raiders, and who presided at the execution of the six con-
demned men on the 11th of July, furnishes, at the request of
the author, the following story of his, prison career subsequent
to that event:
• On the 12th day of July, 1864, the day after the hanging of
the six Raiders, by the urgent request of my many friends (of
whom you were one), I sought and obtained from Wirz a parole
for myself and the six brave men who assisted as executioners
of those desperados. It seemed that you were all fearful that
we might, after what had been done, be assassinated if we
remained in the Stockade; and that we might be overpowered,
perhaps, by the friends of the Raiders we had hanged, at a
time possibly, when you would not be on hand to give us
assistance, and thus lose our lives for rendering the help we
did in getting rid of the worst pestilence we had to contend
with.
On obtaining my parole I was very careful to have it so
arranged and mutually understood, between Wirz and myself,
that at any time that my squad (meaning the survivors of my
comrades, with whom I was originally captured) was sent away
47% ANDERSON VILLE-
from Andersonville, either to be exchanged or to go to another
prison, that I should be allowed to go with them. This was
agreed to, and so written in my parole which I carried until it
absolutely wore out. I took a position in the cook-house, and
the other boys either went to work there, or at the hospital or
ſº %
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SERGEANT I. L. KEY.
grave-yard as occasion required. I worked here, and did the
best I could for the many starving wretches inside, in the way
of preparing their food, until the eighth day of September, at
which time, if you remember, quite a train load of men were
removed, as many of us thought, for the purpose of exchange;
but, as we afterwards discovered, to be taken to another prison.
Among the crowd so removed was my squad, or, at least, a por-
tion of them, being my intimate mess-mates while in the Stock-
ade. As soon as I found this to be the case I waited on Wirz
at his office, and asked permission to go with them, which he






























A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON3. 473
refused, stating that he was compelled to have men at the cook-
house to cook for those in the Stockade until they were all gone
or exchanged. I reminded him of the condition in my parole,
but this only had the effect of making him mad, and he threat-
ened me with the stocks if I did not go back and resume work.
I then and there made up my mind to attempt my escape, con-
sidering that the parole had first been broken by the man that
granted it.
On inquiry after my return to the cook-house, I found four
other boys who were also planning an escape, and who were
- only too glad to get me to join them and
take charge of the affair. Our plans were
well laid and well executed, as the sequel
will prove, and in this particular my own
experience in the endeavor to escape from
Nº Andersonville is not entirely dissimilar from
§ yours, though it had different results. Ivery
º much regret that in the attempt I lost my
penciled memorandum, in which it was my
habit to chronicle what went on around me
| daily, a the names of m
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wR. Found oursFLVES IN THE DENSEST PINE FOREST I EvKR saw.
comrades who made the effort to escape with me. Unfortu.
nately, I cannot now recall to memory the name of one of them
or remember to what commands they belonged.
I knew that our greatest risk was run in eluding the guards.











































474 - ANDERSON VILLE.
and that in the morning we should be compelled to cheat the
blood-hounds. The first we managed to do very well, not
without many hairbreadth escapes, however; but we did suc-
ceed in getting through both lines of guards, and found our-
selves in the densest pine forest I ever saw. We traveled, as
nearly as we could judge, due north all night until daylight. From
our fatigue and bruises, and the long hours that had elapsed
since 8 o’clock, the time of our starting, we thought we had
come not less than twelve or fifteen miles. Imagine our sur-
prise and mortification, then, when we could plainly hear the
reveille, and almost the Sergeant's voice calling the roll, while
the answers of “Here!” were perfectly distinct. We could
not possibly have been more than a mile, or a mile-and-a-half
at the farthest, from the Stockade. .
Our anxiety and mortification were doubled when at the
usual hour—as we supposed — we heard the well-known and
long-familiar sound of the hunter's horn, calling his hounds to
their accustomed task of making the circuit of the Stockade, for
the purpose of ascertaining whether or not any “Yankee” had
had the audacity to attempt an escape. The hounds, anticipating,
no doubt, this usual daily work, gave forth glad barks of joy at
being thus called forth to duty. We heard them start, as was
usual, from about the railroad depot (as we imagined), but the
sounds growing fainter and fainter gave us a little hope that
our trail had been missed. Only a short time, however, were
we allowed this pleasant reflection, for ere long—it could not
have been more than an hour—we could plainly see that they
were drawing nearer and nearer. They finally appeared so close
that I advised the boys to climb a tree or sapling in order to
keep the dogs from biting them, and to be ready to surrender
when ‘the hunters came up, hoping thus to experience as little
misery as possible, and not dreaming but that we were caught.
On, on came the hounds, nearer and nearer still, till we imagined
that we could see the undergrowth in the forest shaking by
coming in contact with their bodies. Plainer and plainer came
the sound of the hunter's voice urging them forward. Our hearts
were in our throats, and in the terrible excitement we wondered if
it could be possible for Providence to so arrange it that the dogs
would pass us. This last thought, by some strange fancy, had
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 475
taken possession of me, and I here frankly acknowledge that I
believed it would happen. Why I believed it, God only knows.
My excitement was so great, indeed, that I almost lost sight of
THE DOGS CAME WITHIN NOT LESS THAN THREE HUNDRED YARDS OF Us.
our danger, and felt like shouting to the dogs myself, while I
came near losing my hold on the tree in which I was hidden.
By chance I happened to look around at my nearest neighbor
in distress. His expression was sufficient to quellany enthusiasml
might have had, and I, too, became despondent. In a very few
minutes our suspense was over. The dogs came within not less
than three hundred yards of us, and we could even see one of
them. God in Heaven can only imagine what great joy was
then brought to our aching hearts, for almost instantly upon
coming into sight, the hounds struck off on a different trail, and
passed us. Their voices became fainter and fainter, until finally
we could hear them no longer. About noon, however, they
--

476 ANDERSON VILLE.
were called back and taken to camp, but until that time not
one of us left our position in the trees.
When we were satisfied that we were safe for the present, we
descended to the ground to get what rest we could, in order to .
be prepared for the night's march, having previously agreed to
travel at night and sleep in the day time. “Our Father, who
art in Heaven,” etc., were the first words that escaped my lips,
and the first thoughts that came to my mind as I landed on
terra firma. Never before, or since, had I experienced such a
profound reverence for Almighty God, for I firmly believe that
only through some mighty invisible power were we at that
time delivered from untold tortures. Had we been found, we
might have been torn and mutilated by the dogs, or, taken
back to Andersonville, have suffered for days or perhaps weeks
in the stocks or chain gang, as the humor of Wirz might have
dictated at thc time—either of which would have been almost
certain death.
It was very fortunate for us that before our escape from
Andersonville we were detailed at the cook-house, for by this
means we were enabled to bring away enough food to live for
several days without the necessity of theft. Each one of us
had our haversacks full of such small delicacies as it was pos-
sible for us to get when we started, these consisting of corn
bread and fat bacon—nothing less, nothing more. Yet we
managed to subsist comfortably until our fourth day out, when
we happened to come upon a sweet potato patch, the potatos in
which had not been dug. In a very short space of time we
were all well supplied with this article, and lived on them raw
during that day and the next night.
Just at evening, in going through a field, we suddenly came
across three negro men, who at first sight of us showed signs of
running, thinking, as they told us afterward, that we were the
“patrols.” After explaining to them who we were and our con-
dition, they took us to a very quiet retreat in the woods, and
two of them went off, stating that they would soon be back. In
a very short time they returned laden with well cooked provis-
ions, which not only gave us a good supper, but supplied us for
the next day with all that we wanted. They then guided us
A STORY OF RIEBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 477
on our way for several miles, and left us, after having refused
compensation for what they had done.
We continued to travel in this way for nine long weary
nights, and on the morning of the tenth day, as we were going
into the woods to hide as usual, a little before daylight, we came
to a small pond at which there was a negro boy watering two
mules before hitching them to a cane mill, it then being cane
grinding time in Georgia. He saw us at the same time we did
him, and being frightened put whip to the animals and ran off.
We tried every way to stop him, but it was no use. He had
the start of us. We were very fearful of the consequences of
this mishap, but had no remedy, and being very tired, could do
nothing else but go into the woods, go to sleep and trust to
luck.
The next thing I remembered was being punched in the ribs
by my comrade nearest to me, and aroused with the remark,
“We are gone up.” On opening my eyes, I saw four men, in
citizens’ dress, each of whom had a shot gun ready for use. We
were ordered to get up. The first question asked us was:
“Who are you?”
This was spoken in so mild a tone as to lead me to believe
that we might possibly be in the hands of gentlemen, if not
indeed in those of friends. It was some time before any one
answered. The boys, by their looks and the expression of their
countenances, seemed to appeal to me for a reply to get them
out of their present dilemma, if possible. Before I had time to
collect my thoughts, we were startled by these words, coming
from the same man that had asked the original question:
“You had better not hesitate, for we have an idea who you
are, and should it prove that we are correct, it will be the worse
for you.”
“‘Who do you think we are?” I inquired.
“‘Horse thieves and moss-backs,” was the reply.
I jumped at the conclusion instantly that in order to save
our lives, we had better at once own the truth. In a very few
words I told them who we were, where we were from, how,
long we had been on the road, etc. At this they withdrew a
short distance from us for consultation, leaving us for the time
in terrible suspense as to what our fate might be. Soon, how-
478 - ANDERSON VILLE.
ever, they returned and informed us that they would be com-
pelled to take us to the County Jail, to await further orders
from the Military Commander of the District. While they
were talking together, I took a hasty inventory of what valua-
bles we had on hand. I found in the crowd four silver watches,
about three hundred dollars in Confederate money, and possibly
about one hundred dollars in greenbacks. Before their return, I
told the boys to be sure not to refuse any request I should make.
Said I: - -
“‘Gentlemen, we have here four silver watches and several
hundred dollars in Confederate money and greenbacks, all of
which we now offer you, if you will but allow us to proceed on
our journey, we taking our own chances in the future.”
This proposition, to my great surprise, was refused. Ithought
then that possibly I had been a little indiscreet in exposing our
valuables, but in this I was mistaken, for we had, indeed, fallen
into the hands of gentlemen, whose zeal for the Lost Cause was
greater than that for obtaining worldly wealth, and who not
only refused the bribe, but took us to a well-furnished and well.
supplied farm house close by, gave us an excellent breakfast,
allowing us to sit at the table in a beautiful dining-room, with
a lady at the head, filled our haversacks with good, wholesome
food, and allowed us to keep our property, with an admonition
to be careful how we showed it again. We were then put into
a wagon and taken to Hamilton, a small town, the county seat
of Hamilton County, Georgia, and placed in jail, where we
remained for two days and nights—fearing, always, that the
jail would be burned over our heads, as we heard frequent
threats of that nature, by the mob on the streets. But the
same kind Providence that had heretofore watched over us,
seemed not to have deserted us in this trouble.
One of the days we were confined at this place was Sunday,
and some kind-hearted lady or ladies (I only wish I knew their
names, as well as those of the gentlemen who had us first in
charge, so that I could chronicle them with honor here) taking
compassion upon our forlorn condition, sent us a splendid
dinner on a very large China platter. Whether it was done
intentionally or not, we never learned, but it was a fact, how-
ever, that there was not a knife, fork or spoon upon the dish,
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON8. 479
and no table to set it upon. It was placed on the floor, around
which we soon gathered, and, with grateful hearts, we “got
away” with it all, in an incredibly short space of time, while
many men and boys looked on, enjoying our ludicrous attitudes
and manners.
From here we were taken to Columbus, Ga., and again
placed in jail, and in the charge of Confederate soldiers. We
could easily see that we were gradually getting into hot water
again, and that, ere many days, we would have to resume our
old habits in prison. Our only hope now was that we would
not be returned to Andersonville, knowing well that if we got
back into the clutches of Wirz our chances for life would be
slim indeed. From Columbus we were sent by rail to Macon,
where we were placed in a prison somewhat similar to Ander--
sonville, but of nothing like its pretensions to security. I soon
learned that it was only used as a kind of reception place for
the prisoners who were captured in small squads, and when
they numbered two or three hundred, they would be
shipped to Andersonville, or some other place of greater dimen-
sions and strength. What became of the other boys who were
with me, after we got to Macon, I do not know, for I lost sight
of them there. The very next day after our arrival, there
were shipped to Andersonville from this prison between two
and three hundred men. I was called on to go with
the crowd, but having had a sufficient experience of the hos-
pitality of that hotel, I concluded to play “old soldier,” so I
became too sick to travel. In this way I escaped being sent off
four different times.
Meanwhile, quite a large number of commissioned officers
had been sent up from Charleston to be exchanged at Rough
and Ready. With them were about forty more than the cartel
called for, and they were left at Macon for ten days or two
weeks. Among these officers were several of my acquaintance,
one being Lieut. Huntly of our regiment (I am not quite sure
that I am right in the name of this officer, but I think I am),
through whose influence I was allowed to go outside with them
on parole. It was while enjoying this parole that I got more
familiarly acquainted with Captain Hurtell, or Hurtrell,
who was in command of the prison at Macon, and to his honor,
480 ANDERSON WILLE.
I here assert, that he was the only gentleman and the only
officer that had the least humane feeling in his breast, who ever
had charge of me while a prisoner of war after we were taken
out of the hands of our original captors at Jonesville, Va.
It now became very evident that the Rebels were moving the
prisoners from Andersonville and elsewhere, so as to place them
beyond the reach of Sherman and Stoneman. At my present
place of confinement the fear of our recapture had also taken
possession of the Rebel authorities, so the prisoners were sent
off in much smaller squads than formerly, frequently not more
than ten or fifteen in a gang, whereas, before, they never thought
of dispatching less than two or three hundred together.
I acknowledge that I began to get very uneasy, fearful that the
“old soldier” dodge would not be much longer successful, and I
would be forced back to my old haunts. It so happened, how-
ever, that I managed to make it serve me, by getting detailed
in the prison hospital as nurse, so that I was enabled to play
another “dodge” upon the Rebel officers. At first, when the
Sergeant would come around to find out who were able to walk,
with assistance, to the depot, I was shaking with a chill, which,
according to my representation, had not abated in the least for
several hours. My teeth were actually chattering at the time,
for I had learned how to make them do so. I was passed. The
next day the orders for removal were more stringent than had
yet been issued, stating that all who could stand it to be removed
on stretchers must go. I concluded at once that I was gone, so
as soon as I learned how matters were, I got out from under
my dirty.blanket, stood up and found I was able to walk, to my
great astonishment, of course. An officer came early in the
morning to muster us into ranks preparatory for removal. I
fell in with the rest. We were marched out and around to the
gate of the prison.
Now, it so happened that just as we neared the gate of the
prison, the prisoners were being marched from the Stockade.
The officer in charge of us — we numbering possibly about ten
—undertook to place us at the head of the column coming out,
but the guard in charge of that squad refused to let him do so.
We were then ordered to stand at one side with no guard over
us but the officer who had brought us from the IIospital.
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON 8. 481
Taking this in at a glance, I concluded that now was my chance
to make my second attempt to escape. I stepped behind the
gate office (a small frame building with only one room), which
Was not more than six feet from me, and as luck (or Provi-
dence) would have it, the negro man whose duty it was, as I
knew, to wait on and take care of this office, and who had
taken quite a liking for me, was standing at the back door. I
Winked at him and threw him my blanket and the cup, at the
same time telling him in a whisper to hide them away for me
until he heard from me again. With a grin and a nod, he
accepted the trust, and I started down along the walls of the
Stockade alone. In order to make this more plain, and to show
what a risk I was running at the time, I will state that between
the Stockade and a brick wall, fully as high as the Stockade
fence that was parallel with it, throughout its entire length on
that side, there was a space of not more than thirty feet. On
the outside of this Stockade was a platform, built for the
guards to walk on, sufficiently near the top to allow them to
look inside with ease, and on this side, on the platform, were
three guards. I had traveled about fifty feet only, from the
gate office, when I heard the command to “Halt l” I did so,
of course. &
“Where are you going, you d-d Yank?” said the guard.
“Going after my clothes, that are over there in the wash,”
pointing to a small cabin just beyond the Stockade, where I
happened to know that the officers had their washing done.
“Oh, yes,” said he; “you are one of the Yank's that’s been
on parole, are you?”
{{ Yes.”
“Well, hurry up, or you will get left.”
The other guards heard this conversation and thinking it all
right I was allowed to pass without further trouble. I went to
the cabin in question—for I saw the last guard on the line
watching me, and boldly entered. I made a clear statement to
the woman in charge of it about how I had made my escape,
and asked her to secrete me in the house until night. I was
Soon convinced, however, from what she told me, as well as
from my own knowledge of how things were managed in the
Confederacy, that it would not be right for me to stay there,
31
482
ANDERSON VILLE.
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A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON3. 483
the morning had not been groundless, for the guards had
actually searched the house for me. The woman told them
that I had got my clothes and left the house shortly after my
entrance (which was the truth except the part about the clothes).
I thanked her very kindly and begged to be allowed to stay in
the cabin till morning, when I would present myself at Cap-
tain EI.'s office and suffer the consequences. This she allowed
me to do. I shall ever feel grateful to this woman for her pro-
tection. She was white and her given name was “Sallie,” but
the other I have forgotten.
About daylight I strolled over near the office and looked
around there until I saw the Captain take his seat at his desk.
I stepped into the door as soon as I saw that he was not occu-
pied and saluted him “a la militaire.”
“Who are you?” he asked ; “you look like a Yank.”
“Yes, sir,” “said I, “I am called by that name since I was
captured in the Federal Army.”
“Well, what are you doing here, and what is your name?”
I told him.
“Why didn't you answer to your name when it was called at
the gate yesterday, sir?”
“I never heard anyone call my name.”
“Where were you?”
“I ran away down into the swamp.”
“Were you re-captured and brought back?”
“No, sir, I came back of my own accord.”
“What do you mean by this evasion?”
“I am not trying to evade, sir, or I might not have been
here now. The truth is, Captain, I have been in many prisons
since my capture, and have been treated very badly in all of
them, until I came here.”
“I then explained to him freely my escape from Andersonville,
and my subsequent re-capture, how it was that I had played
“Old Soldier” etc.
“Now,” said I, “Captain, as long as I am a prisoner of war,
I wish to stay with you, or under your command. This is my
reason for running away yesterday, when I felt confident that
if I did not do so I would be returned under Wirz's command,
and, if I had been so returned, I would have killed myself
484 ANDERSON VILLE.
rather than submit to the untold tortures which he would have
put me to, for having the audacity to attempt an escape from
him.”
The Captain’s attention was here called to some other mat-
ters in hand, and I was sent back into the Stockade with a com-
mand very pleasantly given, that I should stay there until
Ordered out, which I very gratefully promised to do, and did.
This was the last chance I ever had to talk to Captain Hurt-
rell, to my great sorrow, for I had really formed a liking for
the man, notwithstanding the fact that he was a Rebel, and a
commander of prisoners.
The next day we all had to leave Macon. Whether we were
able or not, the order was imperative. Great was my joy when
I learned that we were on the way to Savannah and not to
Andersonville. We traveled over the same road, so well
described in one of your articles on Andersonville, and arrived
in Savannah sometime in the afternoon of the 21st day of
November, 1864. Our squad was placed in some barracks and
confined there until the next day. I was sick at the time, so
sick in fact, that I could hardly hold my head up. Soon after,
we were taken to the Florida depot, as they told us, to be
shipped to some prison in those dismal swamps. I came near
fainting when this was told to us, for I was confident that I
could not survive another siege of prison life, if it was anything
to compare to what I had already suffered. When we arrived
at the depot it was raining. The officer in charge of us wanted
to know what train to put us on, for there were two, if not
three, trains waiting orders to start. He was told to march us
on to a certain flat car, nearby, but before giving the order he
demanded a receipt for us, which the train officer refused. We
were accordingly taken back to our quarters, which proved to
be a most fortunate circumstance.
On the 23d day of November, to our great relief, we were
called upon to sign a parole preparatory to being sent down the
river on the flag-boat to our exchange ships, then lying in the
harbor. When I say we, I mean those of us that had recently
come from Macon, and a few others, who had also been fortunate
in reaching Savannah in small Squads. The other poor fellows,
who had already been loaded on the trains, were taken away to
2
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 485
Florida, and many of them never lived to return. On the 24th
those of us who had been paroled were taken on board our ships,
and were once more safely housed under that great, glorious
and beautiful Star Spangled Banner. Long may she wave.
CEIAFTER LXIII.
DREARY WEATHER — THE COLD RAINS DISTRESS ALL AND KILL :[UK-
DREDS — EXCHANGE OF TEN THOUSAND SICE – CAPTAIN BOWEº
TURNS A PRETTY, BUT NOT VERY HONEST, PENNY. &
As November wore away long-continued, chill, searching rains
desolated our days and nights. The great, cold drops pelted
down slowly, dismally, and incessantly. Each seemed to beat
through our emaciated frames against the very marrow of our
bones, and to be battering its way remorselessly into the
citadel of life, like the cruel drops that fell from the basin of
the inquisitors upon the firmly-fastened head of their victim,
until his reason fled, and the death-agony cramped his heart to
stillness. \
The lagging, leaden hours were inexpressibly dreary. Com-
pared with many others, we were quite comfortable, as our
hut protected us from the actual beating of the rain upon our
bodies; but we were much more miserable than under the swel-
tering heat of Andersonville, as we lay almost naked upon
our bed of pine leaves, shivering in the raw, rasping air, and
looked out over acres of wretches lying dumbly on the sodden
sand, receiving the benumbing drench of the sullen skies with-
out a groan or a motion.
It was enough to kill healthy, vigorous men, active and reso-
lute, with bodies well-nourished and well clothed, and with
minds vivacious and hopeful, to stand these day-and-night-long
cold drenchings. No one can imagine how fatal it was to boys
whose vitality was sapped by long months in Andersonville, by
coarse, meager, changeless food, by groveling on the bare earth,
and by hopelessness as to any improvement of condition.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 487
Fever, rheumatism, throat and lung diseases and despair now
came to complete the work begun by scurvy, dysentery and
gangrene, in Andersonville.
Hundreds, weary of the long struggle, and of hoping against
hope, laid themselves down and yielded to their fate. In the
six weeks that we were at Millen, one man in every ten died.
The ghostly pines there sigh over the unnoted graves of seven
hundred boys, for whom life's morning closed in the gloomiest
shadows. As many as would form a splendid regiment—as
many as constitute the first born of a populous City — more
than three times as many as were slain outright on our side in
the bloody battle of Franklin, succumbed to this new hardship.
The country for which they died does not even have a record
of their names. They were simply blotted out of existence;
they became as though they had never been.
* * •k 3& 3& * * *
About the middle of the month the Rebels yielded to the
importunities of Our Government so far as to agree to exchange
ten thousand sick. The Rebel Surgeons took praiseworthy
care that our Government should profit as little as possible by
this, by sending every hopeless case, every man whose lease of
life was not likely to extend much beyond his reaching the
parole boat. If he once reached our receiving officers it was
all that was necessary; he counted to them as much as if he
had been a Goliah. A very large portion of those sent
through died on the way to our lines, or within a few hours
after their transports at being once more under the old Stars
and Stripes had moderated.
The sending of the sick through gave our commandant—
Captain Bowes—a fine opportunity to fill his pockets, by con-
niving at the passage of well men. There was still considera
ble money in the hands of a few prisoners. All this, and more,
too, were they willing to give for their lives. In the first batch
that went away were two of the leading sutlers at Anderson-
ville, who had accumulated perhaps one thousand dollars
each by their shrewd and successful bartering. It was generally
believed that they gave every cent to Bowes for the privilege
of leaving. I know nothing of the truth of this, but I am reas.
onably certain that they paid him very handsomely.
488 ANDERSON VILLE.
Soon we heard that one hundred and fifty dollars each had
been sufficient to buy some men out; then one hundred, seventy-
five, fifty, thirty, twenty, ten, and at last five dollars. Whether
the upright Bowes drew the line at the latter figure, and refused
to sell his honor for less than the ruling rates of a street-walk-
er's virtue, I know not. It was the lowest quotation that came
to my knowledge, but he may have gone cheaper. I have
always observed that when men or women begin to traffic in
themselves, their price falls as rapidly as that of a piece of
tainted meat in hot weather. If one could buy them at the
rate they wind up with, and sell them at their first price, there
would be room for an enormous profit.
The cheapest I ever knew a Rebel officer to be bought was
some weeks after this at Florence. The sick exchange was still
going on. I have before spoken of the Rebel passion for bright
gilt buttons. It used to be a proverbial comment upon the
small treasons that were of daily occurrence on both sides, that
you could buy the soul of a mean man in our crowd for a pint
of corn meal, and the soul of a Rebel guard for a half dozen
brass buttons. A boy of the Fifth-fourth Ohio, whose home
was at or near Lima, O., wore a blue vest, with the gilt, bright-
rimmed buttons of a staff officer. The Rebel Surgeon who was
examining the sick for exchange saw the buttons and admired .
them very much. The boy stepped back, borrowed a knife
from a comrade, cut the buttons off, and handed them to the
Doctor.
“All right, sir,” said he as his itching palm closed over the
coveted ornaments; “you can pass,” and pass he did to home
and friends.
Captain Bowes's merchandizing in the matter of exchange
was as open as the issuing of rations. His agent in conducting
the bargaining was a Raider—a New York gambler and
stool-pigeon—whom we called “Mattie.” He dealt quite fairly,
for several times when the exchange was interrupted, Bowes
sent the money back to those who had paid him, and received
it again when the exchange was renewed.
Had it been possible to buy our way out for five cents each
Andrews and I would have had to stay back, since we had not
had that much money for months, and all our friends were in
A STORY OF REBEL. MILITARY PRISON3. 489
an equally bad plight. Like almost everybody else we had
spent the few dollars we happened to have on entering prison,
in a week or so, and since then we had been entirely penniless.
There was no hope left for us but to try to pass the Surgeons
as desperately sick, and we expended our energies in simulating
this condition. Rheumatism was our forte, and Iflatter myself
we got up two cases that were apparently bad enough to serve
as illustrations for a patent medicine advertisement. But it
would not do. Bad as we made our condition appear, there
were so many more who were infinitely worse, that we stood no
show in the competitive examination. I doubt if we would
have been given an average of “50° in a report. We had to
stand back, and See about one quarter of our number march
out and away home. We could not complain at this—much
as we wanted to go ourselves, since there could be no question
that these poor fellows deserved the precedence. We did
grumble Savagely, however, at Captain Bowes's venality, in
selling out chances to moneyed men, since these were invariably
those who were best prepared to withstand the hardships of
imprisonment, as they were mostly new men, and all had good
clothes and blankets. We did not blame the men, however,
since it was not in human nature to resist an opportunity to get
away—at any cost–from that accursed place. “All that a
man hath he will give for his life,” and I think that if I had
owned the City of New York in fee simple, I would have given
it away willingly, rather than staid in prison another month.
The sutlers, to whom I have alluded above, had accumulated
sufficient to supply themselves with all the necessaries and some
of the comforts of life, during any probable term of impris-
onment, and still have a Snug amount left, but they would
rather give it all up and return to service with their regiments
in the field, than take the chances of any longer continuance in
prison.
I can only surmise how much Bowes realized out of the
prisoners by his venality, but I feel sure that it could not have
been less than three thousand dollars, and I would not be
astonished to learn that it was ten thousand dollars in green-
backs.
CHAPTER LXIV.
ANOTHER REMOVAL–SHERMAN's ADVANCE SCARES THE REBELs
INTO RUNNING US AWAY FROM MILLEN — WE ARE TAKEN TO
SAVANNAH, AND THENGE DOWN THE ATLANTIO & GULF ROAD To
BLACKS.HEAR.
One night, toward the last of November, there was a general
alarm around the prison. A gun was fired from the Fort, the
long-roll was beaten in the various camps of the guards, and
the regiments answered by getting under arms in haste, and
forming near the prison gates. -
The reason for this, which we did not learn until weeks later,
was that Sherman, who had cut loose from Atlanta, and started
on his famous March to the Sea, had taken such a course as
rendered it probable that Millen was one of his objective points.
It was, therefore, necessary that we should be hurried away
with all possible speed. As we had had no news from Sherman
since the end of the Atlânta campaign, and were ignorant of
his having begun his great raid, we were at an utter loss to
account for the commotion among our keepers.
About 3 o'clock in the morning the Rebel Sergeants, who
called the roll, came in and ordered us to turn out immediately
and get ready to move. §
The morning was one of the most cheerless I ever knew. A
cold rain poured relentlessly down upon us half-naked, shiver-
ing wretches, as we groped around in the darkness for our
pitiful little belongings of rags and cooking utensils, and hud-
dled together in groups, urged on continually by the curses and
abuse of the Rebel officers sent in to get us ready to move.
Though roused at 3 o'clock, the cars were not ready to receive
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 491
us till nearly noon. In the meantime we stood in ranks—
numb, trembling, and heart-sick. The guards around us crouched
over fires, and shielded themselves as best they could with
blankets and bits of tent cloth. We had nothing to build fires
with, and were not allowed to approach those of the guards.
Around us everywhere was the dull, cold, gray, hopeless
desolation of the approach of Winter. The hard, wiry grass
that thinly covered the once arid sand, the occasional stunted
weeds, and the sparse foliage of the gnarled and dwarfish under-
growth, all were parched brown and sere by the fiery heat of
the long Summer, and now rattled drearily under the pitiless,
cold rain, streaming from lowering clouds that seemed to
have floated down to us from the cheerless summit of some
great iceberg; the tall, naked pines moaned and shivered; dead,
sapless leaves fell wearily to the sodden earth, like withered
hopes drifting down to deepen some Slough of Despond.
Scores of our crowd found this the culmination of their misery.
They laid down upon the ground and yielded to death as a
welcome relief, and we left them lying there unburied when we
moved to the cars.
As we passed through the Rebel camp at dawn, on our way
to the cars, Andrews and I noticed a nest of four large, bright,
new tin pans—a rare thing in the Confederacy at that time.
We managed to snatch them without the guard’s attention
being attracted, and in an instant had them wrapped up in our
blanket. But the blanket was full of holes, and in spite of all
our efforts, it would slip at the most inconvenient times, so as
to show a broad glare of the bright metal, just when it seemed
it could not help attracting the attention of the guards or their
Officers. A dozen times at least we were on the imminent brink
of detection, but we finally got our treasures safely to the cars,
and sat down upon them.
The cars were open flats. The rain still beat down unrelent-
ingly. Andrews and I huddled ourselves together so as to
make our bodies afford as much heat as possible, pulled our
faithful old overcoat around us as far as it would go, and endured
the inclemency as best we could.
Our train headed back to Savannah, and again our hearts
warmed up with hopes of exchange. It seemed as if there could
492 ANDERSON WILLE.
be no other purpose of taking us out of a prison so recently
established and at such cost as Millen.
As we approached the coast the rain ceased, but a piercing
cold wind set in, that threatened to convert our soaked rags
into icicles.
Very many died on the way. When we arrived at Savannah
almost, if not quite, every car had upon it one whom hunger no
longer gnawed or disease wasted; whom cold had pinched for
the last time, and for whom the golden portals of the Beyond
had opened for an exchange that neither Davis nor his despicable
tool, Winder, could control.
We did not sentimentalize over these. We could not mourn;
the thousands that we had seen pass away made that emotion
hackneyed and wearisome; with the death of some friend and
comrade as regularly an event of each day as roll call and drawing
rations, the sentiment of grief had become nearly obsolete.
We were not hardened; we had simply come to look upon death
as commonplace and Ordinary. To have had no one dead or
dying around us would have been regarded as singular.
Besides, why should we feel any regret at the passing away
of those whose condition would probably be bettered thereby ?
It was difficult to see where we who still lived were any better
off than they who were gone before and now “forever at peace,
each in his windowless palace of rest.” If imprisonment was
to continue Only another month, we would rather be with them.
Arriving at Savannah, we were ordered off the cars. A squad
from each car carried the dead to a designated spot, and laid
them in a row, composing their limbs as well as possible, but
giving no other funeral rites, not even making a record of their
names and regiments. Negro laborers came along afterwards,
with carts, took the bodies to some vacant ground, and sunk
them out of sight in the sand.
We were given a few crackers each—the same rude imitation
of “hard tack” that had been served out to us when we arrived
at Savannah the first time, and then were marched over and
put upon a train on the Atlantic & Gulf Railroad, running
from Savannah along the sea coast towards Florida. What
this meant we had little conception, but hope, which sprang
eternal in the prisoner's breast, whispered that perhaps it was
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON3. 493
exchange; that there was some difficulty about our vessels
coming to Savannah, and we were being taken to some other
more convenient sea port; probably to Florida, to deliver us to
our folks there. We satisfied ourselves that we were running
along the sea coast by tasting the water in the streams we
crossed, whenever we could get an opportunity to dip up some.
As long as the water tasted salty we knew we were near the
sea, and hope burned brightly.
The truth was—as we afterwards learned—the Rebels were
terribly puzzled what to do with us. We were brought to
Savannah, ºut that did not solve the problem; and we were
sent down the Atlantic & Gulf road as a temporary expedient.
- The railroad was the worst of the many bad ones which it
was my fortune to ride upon in my excursions while a guest of
of the Southern Confederacy. It had run down until it had
nearly reached the worn-out condition of that Western road, of
which an employe of a rival route once said, “that all there
was left of it now was two streaks of rust and the right of
way.” As it was one of the non-essential roads to the Southern
Confederacy, it was stripped of the best of its rolling-stock and
machinery to supply the other more important lines.
I have before mentioned the scarcity of grease in the South,
and the difficulty of supplying the railroads with lubricants.
Apparently there had been no oil on the Atlantic & Gulf since
the beginning of the war, and the screeches of the dry axles
revolving in the worn-out boxes were agonizing. Some thing
would break on the cars or blow out on the engine every few
miles, necessitating a long stop for repairs. Then there was no
supply of fuel along the line. When the engine ran out of
wood it would halt, and a couple of negros riding on the
tender would assail a panel of fence or a fallen tree with their
axes, and after an hour or such matter of hard chopping, would
pile sufficient wood upon the tender to enable us to renew our
journey.
Frequently the engine stopped as if from sheer fatigue or
inanition. The Rebel officers tried to get us to assist it up the
grade by dismounting and pushing behind. We respectfully,
but firmly, declined. We were gentlemen of leisure, we said,
and decidedly averse to manual labor; we had been invited on
494 * AINDERSON VILLE-
this excursion by Mr. Jeff. Davis and his friends, who set them-
selves up as our entertainers, and it would be a gross breach of
hospitality to reflect upon our hosts by working our passage.
If this was insisted upon, we should certainly not visit them
again. Besides, it made no difference to us whether the train
got along or not. We were not losing anything by the delay;
we were not anxious to go anywhere. One part of the Southern
Confederacy was just as good as another to us. So not a finger
could they persuade any of us to raise to help along the journey.
The country we were traversing was sterile and poor—worse
even than that in the neighborhood of Andersonville. Farms
and farm-houses were scarce, and of towns there were none.
Not even a collection of houses big enough to justify a black-
Smith shop or a store appeared along the whole route. But
few fields of any kind were seen, and nowhere was there a farm
which gave evidence of a determined effort on the part of its
occupants to till the soil and to improve their condition.
When the train stopped for wood, or for repairs, or from
exhaustion, we were allowed to descend from the cars and
stretch our numbed limbs. It did us good in other ways, too. It
seemed almost happiness to be outside of those cursed Stockades,
to rest our eyes by looking away through the woods, and seeing
birds and animals that were free. They must be happy, because
to us to be free once more was the summit of earthly happi-
IleSS.
There was a chance, too, to pick up something green to eat,
and we were famishing for this. The scurvy still lingered in
our systems, and we were hungry for an antidote. A plant grew
rather plentifully along the track that looked very much as I
imagine a palm leaf fan does in its green state. The leaf
was not so large as an ordinary palm leaf fan, and came directly
out of the ground. The natives called it “bull-grass,” but any-
thing more unlike grass I never Saw, so we rejected that nomen-
clature, and dubbed them “green fans.” They were very hard
to pull up, it being usually as much as the strongest of us
could do to draw them out of the ground. When pulled up
there was found the Smallest bit of a stock—not as much as
a joint of one's little finger—that was eatable. It had no par-
ticular taste, and probably little nutriment, still it was fresh and
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 495
green, and we strained our weak muscles and enfeebled sinews
at every opportunity, endeavoring to pull up a “green fan.”
At one place where we stopped there was a makeshift of a
garden, one of those sorry “truck patches,” which do poor duty
about Southern cabins for the kitchen gardens of the Northern
farmers, and produce a few coarse cow peas, a scanty lot of
collards (a coarse kind of cabbage, with a stalk about a yard
long) and some onions to vary the usual side-meat and corn pone
diet of the Georgia “cracker.” Scanning the patch's ruins of
Vine and stalk, Andrews espied a handful of onions, which had
remained ungathered. They tempted him as the apple did Eve.
Without stopping to communicate his intention to me, he sprang
from the car, Snatched the onions from their bed, pulled up
half a dozen collard stalks and was on his way back
before the guard could make up his mind to fire upon him. The
swiftness of his motions saved his life, for had he been more
deliberate the guard would have concluded he was trying to
escape, and shot him down. As it was he was returning back
before the guard could get his gun up. The Onions he had
secured were to us more delicious than wine upon the lees. They
seemed to find their way into every fiber of our bodies, and
invigorate every organ. The collard stalks he had snatched up
in the expectation of finding in them something resembling the
nutritious “heart” that weremembered as children, seeking and
finding in the stalks of cabbage. But we were disappointed.
The stalks were as dry and rotten as the bones of Southern
society. Even hunger could find no meat in them.
After some days of this leisurely journeying toward the South,
we halted permanently about eighty-six miles from Savannah.
There was no reason why we should stop there more than any
place else where we had been or were likely to go. It seemed
as if the Rebels had simply tired of hauling us, and dumped us
off. We had another lot of dead, accumulated since we left
Savannah, and the scenes at that place were repeated.
The train returned for another load of prisoners.
CELAPTER LXV.
BLACKSHEAR AND PIERCE COUNTY — we TAKE UP NEw QUARTERs,
BUT ARE CALLED OUT FOR EXCHANGE — EXCITEMENT OVER SIGN-
ING THE PAROLE — A HAPPY JOURNEY TO 3AWANNAH — GRIEW-
OUS DISAPPOINTMENT.
We were informed that the place we were at was Blackshear,
and that it was the Court House, i.e., the County seat of Pierce
County. Where they kept the Court House, or County seat, is
beyond conjecture to me, since I could not see a half dozen
houses in the whole clearing, and not one of them was a respecta-
ble dwelling, taking even so low a standard for respectable
dwellings as that afforded by the majority of Georgia houses.
Pierce County, as I have since learned by the census report,
is one of the poorest Counties of a poor section of a very poor
State. A population of less than two thousand is thinly scat-
tered over its five hundred square miles of territory, and gain
a meager subsistence by a weak simulation of cultivating patches
of its sandy dunes and plains in “nubbin’” corn and dropsical
sweet potatos. A few “razor-back” hogs—a species so gaunt
and thin that I heard a man once declare that he had stopped a
lot belonging to a neighbor from crawling through the cracks
of a tight board fence by simply tying a knot in their tails—
roam the woods, and supply all the meat used.
Andrews used to insist that some of the hogs which we saw
were so thin that the connection between their fore and hind-
quarters was only a single thickness of skin, with hair on both
sides — but then Andrews sometimes seemed to me to have a
tendency to exaggerate.
The swine certainly did have proportions that strongly
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 497
resembled those of the animals which children cut out of card-
board. They were like the geometrical definition of a super-,
fice—all length and breadth, and no thickness. A ham from
them would look like a palm-leaf fan.
I never ceased to marvel at the delicate adjustment of the
development of animal life to the soil in these lean sections of
Georgia. The poor land would not maintain anything but
lank, lazy men, with few wants, and none but lank, lazy men,
With few wants, sought a maintenance from it. I may have
tangled up cause and effect, in this proposition, but if so, the
reader can disentangle them at his leisure.
I was not astonished to learn that it took five hundred square
–miles of Pierce County land to maintain two thousand “crackers,”
even as poorly as they lived. I should want fully that much
of it to support one fair-sized Northern family as it should be.
After leaving the cars we were marched off into the pine
woods, by the side of a considerable stream, and told that this
was to be our camp. A heavy guard was placed around us,
and a number of pieces of artillery mounted where they would
command the camp.
We started in to make ourselves comfortable, as at Millen,
by building shanties. The prisoners we left behind followed
us, and we soon had our old crowd of five or six thousand, who
had been our companions at Savannah and Millen, again with
us. The place looked very favorable for escape. We knew
we were still near the sea coast—really not more than forty
miles away—and we felt that if we could once get there we
should be safe. Andrews and I meditated plans of escape, and
toiled away at our cabin.
About a week after our arrival we were startled by an order
for the one thousand of us who had first arrived to get ready
to move out. In a few minutes we were taken outside the
guard line, massed close together, and informed in a few words
by a Rebel officer that we were about to be taken back to
Savannah for exchange.
The announcement took away our breath. For an instant
the rush of emotion made us speechless, and when utterance
returned, the first use we made of it was to join in one simul-
taneous outburst of acclamation. Those inside the guard line,
32
498 ANDERSON WILLE.
understanding what our cheer meant, answered us with a loud
shout of congratulation—the first real, genuine, hearty cheer-
ing that had been done since receiving the announcement of
the exchange at Andersonville, three months before.
As soon as the excitement had subsided somewhat, the Rebel
proceeded to explain that we would all be required to sign a
parole. This set us to thinking. After our scornful rejection
of the proposition to enlist in the Rebel army, the Rebels had
felt around among us considerably as to how we were disposed
toward taking what was called the “Non-Combatant's Oath; ”
that is, the swearing not to take up arms against the
Southern Confederacy again during the war. To the most of
us this seemed only a little less dishonorable than joining the
Rebel army. We held that our oaths to our own Government
placed us at its disposal until it chose to discharge us, and we
could not make any engagements with its enemies that might
come in contravention of that duty. In short, it looked very
much like desertion, and this we did not feel at liberty to con-
sider.
There were still many among us, who, feeling certain that
they could not survive imprisonment much longer, were disposed
to lookfavorably upon the Non-Combatant's Oath, thinking that
the circumstances of the case would justify their apparent dere-
liction from duty. Whetherit would or not Imust leave to more
skilled casuists than myself to decide. It was a matter I
believed every man must settle with his own conscience. The
opinion that I then held and expressed was, that if a boy felt
that he was hopelessly sick, and that he could not live if he
remained in prison, he was justified in taking the Oath. In the
absence of our own Surgeons he would have to decide for him-
self whether he was sick enough to be warranted in resorting to
this means of saving his life. If he was in as good health as the
majority of us were, with a reasonable prospect of surviving
some weeks longer, there was no excuse for taking the Oath, for
in that few weeks we might be exchanged, be recaptured, or
make our escape. I think this was the general opinion of the
prisoners.
While the Rebel was talking about our signing the parole,
there flashed upon all of us at the same moment, a suspicion that
A §TORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON }. 499
this was a trap to delude us into signing the Non-Combatant's
Oath. Instantly there went up a general shout :
“Read the parole to us.”
The Rebel was handed a blank parole by a companion, and
he read over the printed condition at the top, which was that
those signing agreed not to bear arms against the Confederacy
in the field, or in garrison, not to man any works, assist in any
expedition, do any sort of guard duty, serve in any military
constabulary, or perform any kind of military service until
properly eachanged.
For a minute this was satisfactory; then their ingrained dis-
trust of any thing a Rebel said or did returned, and they
shouted: -
“No, no; let some of us read it; let ‘Illinoy’ read it.”
The Rebel looked around in a puzzled manner.
“Who the h–l is ‘Illinoy #' Where is he?” said he.
I saluted and said:
“That's a nickname they give me.”
“Very well,” said he, “get up on this stump and read this
parole to these d–d fools that won’t believe me.”
I mounted the stump, took the blank from his hand and read
it over slowly, giving as much emphasis as possible to the all-
important clause at the end—“until properly eachanged.” I
then said:
“Boys, this seems all right to me,” and they answered, with
almost One voice:
“Yes, that's all right. We'll sign that.”
I was never so proud of the American soldier-boy as at that
moment. They all felt that signing that paper was to give
them freedom and life. They knew too well from sad experi-
ence what the alternative was. Many felt that unless released
another week would see them in their graves. All knew that
every day’s stay in Rebel hands greatly lessened their chances
of life. Yet in all that thousand there was not one voice
in favor of yielding a tittle of honor to save life. They would
secure their freedom honorably, or die faithfully. Remember
that this was a miscellaneous crowd of boys, gathered from all
sections of the country, and from many of whom no exalted
conceptions of duty and honor were expected. I wish some one
500 ANDERSON VILLE.
would point out to me, on the brightest pages of knightly
record, some deed of lealty and truth that equals the simple
fidelity of these unknown heros. I do not think that one of
them felt that he was doing anything especially meritorious.
He only obeyed the natural promptings of his loyal heart.
The business of signing the paroles was then begun in earnest.
We were separated into squads according to the first letters of
our names, all those whose name began with A being placed in
One squad, those beginning with B, in another, and so on.
Blank paroles for each letter were spread out on boxes and
planks at different places, and the signing went on under the
superintendence of a Rebel Sergeant and one of the prisoners.
The squad of M's selected me to superintend the signing for us,
and I stood by to direct the boys, and sign for the very few
who could not write. After this was done we fell into ranks
again, called the roll of the signers, and carefully compared
the number of men with the number of signatures so that
nobody should pass unparoled. The oath was then administered
to us, and two day’s rations of corn meal and fresh beef were
issued.
This formality removed the last lingering doubt that we had
of the exchange being a reality, and we gave way to the
happiest emotions. We cheered ourselves hoarse, and the
fellows still inside followed our example, as they expected that
they would share our good fortune in a day or two.
Our next performance was to set to work, cook our two days'
rations at once and eat them. This was not very difficult, as
the whole supply for two days would hardly make one square
meal. That done, many of the boys went to the guard
line and threw their blankets, clothing, cooking utensils, etc.,
to their comrades who were still inside. No one thought they
would have any further use for such things.
“To-morrow, at this time, thank Heaven,” said a boy near
me, as he tossed his blanket and overcoat back to some one
inside, “we’ll be in God’s country, and then I wouldn’t touch
them d-d lousy old rags with a ten-foot pole.”
One of the boys in the M squad was a Maine infantryman,
who had been with me in the Pemberton building, in Rich-
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 501
mond, and had fashioned himself a little square pan out of a tin
plate of a tobacco press, such as I have described in an earlier
chapter. He had carried it with him ever since, and it was his
sole vessel for all purposes—for cooking, carrying Water,
drawing rations, etc. He had cherished it as if it were a farm
or a good situation. But now, as he
# turned away from signing his name to
# the parole, he looked at his faithful ser.
# want for a minute in undisguised con-
tempt ; on the eve of restoration to
happier, better things, it was a reminder
of all the petty, inglorious contemptible
trials and sorrows he had endured; he
actually loathed it for its remembrances,
and flinging it upon the ground he crushed
* rºw rººts, it out of all shape and usefulness with
ETC., TO THOSE INSIDE. º * g
his feet, trampling upon it as he would
like to trample upon everything connected with his prison life.
Months afterward, I had to lend this man my little can to
cook his rations in.
Andrews and I flung the bright new tin pans we had stolen
at Millen inside the line, to be scrambled for. It was hard to
tell who were the most surprised at their appearance—the
Rebels or our own boys—for few had any idea that there were
such things in the whole Confederacy, and certainly none
looked for them in the possession of two such poverty-stricken







502 \ ANDERSON WILLE,
specimens as we were. We thought it best to retain possession
of our little can, spoon, chess-board, blanket, and overcoat.
As we marched down and boarded the train, the Rebels con-
firmed their previous action by taking all the guards from
around us. Only some eight or ten were sent to the train, and
these quartered themselves in the caboose, and paid us no fur-
ther attention.
The train rolled away amid cheering by ourselves and those
we left behind. One thousand happier boys than we never
started on a journey. We were going home. That was enough
to Wreathe the skies with
|
º, º
| !
warmth, the landscape lost
some of its repulsiveness, the
dreary palmettos had less of
that hideousness which made
us regard them as very fit-
ting emblems of treason.
We even began to feel a
little good-humored con-
tempt for our hateful little
Brats of guards, and to re-
flect how much vicious edu-
cation and surroundings
º ſº were to be held responsible
Hi - º ||| #" glory, and fill the world
İl º | | # with sweetness and light.
º # º | | | |a| The wintry sun had some-
| | º thing of geniality an
|*||
º
º
|
º
§
§§§§: |
§ºxS
% §§ §§§ * § §
n % º $. Tylºº
i\!, §º gº ; §
3 * § P
#24 ºf: § *};
§l § -Yº % tº” j §§
sh *T*323% º ji , ºft\!}} { º &
S$!!!º º, * * f. sº
iſ É. §§ | º tº % § º º
Ży !ſº 2} { | º: º bº º sº º ſº
º }% ºº: º i; ſº
& º C
*
* º º º!| for their misdeeds.
#. iº § We laughed and sang as
§ Wº 2, ...?ty Yºº Pºº- *|| we rolled along toward Sa-
Vannah—going back much
HE CRUSHED IT OUT OF ALL SHAPE. faster than we came. We
re-told old stories, and re-
peated old jokes, that had become wearisome months and
months ago, but were now freshened up and given their olden
pith by the joyousness of the occasion. We revived and talked
over old schemes gotten up in the earlier days of prison life, of










A 8TORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 503
what “we would do when we got out,” but almost forgotten
since, in the general uncertainty of ever getting out. We
exchanged addresses, and promised faithfully to write to each
other and tell how we found everything at home.
So the afternoon and night passed. We were too excited to
sleep, and passed the hours watching the scenery, recalling the
objects we had passed on the way to Blackshear, and guessing
how near we were to Savannah.
Though we were running along within fifteen or twenty miles
of the coast, with all our guards asleep in the caboose, no one
thought of escape. We could step off the cars and walk over
to the seashore as easily as a man steps out of his door and walks
to a neighboring town, but why should we ? Were we not
going directly to our vessels in the harbor of Savannah, and
was it not better to do this, than to take the chances of escaping,
and encounter the difficulties of reaching our blockaders ? We
thought so, and we staid on the cars.
A cold, gray Winter morning was just breaking as we reached
Savannah. Our train ran down in the City, and then whistled
sharply and ran back a mile or so; it repeated thus manuver
two or three times, the evident design being to keep us on the
cars until the people were ready to receive us. Finally our
engine ran with all the speed she was capable of, and as the
train dashed into the street we found ourselves between two
heavy lines of guards with bayonets fixed.
The whole sickening reality was made apparent by one glance
at the guard line. Our parole was a mockery, its only object
being to get us to Savannah as easily as possible, and to pre-
went benefit from our recapture to any of Sherman’s Raiders,
who might make a dash for the railroad while we were in
transit. There had been no intention of exchanging us. There
was no exchange going on at Savannah.
After all, I do not think we felt the disappointment as keenly
as the first time we were brought to Savannah. Imprisonment
had stupefied us; we were duller and more hopeless.
Ordered down out of the cars, We were formed in line in the
street.
Said a Rebel officer:
504 ANDERSON VILLE.
“Now, any of you fellahs that ah too sick to go to Chahls.
ton, step fohwahd one pace.”
We looked at each other an instant, and then the whole line
stepped forward. We all felt too sick to go to Charleston, or
to do anything else in the World. \
CHAPTER LXVI.
A SPECIMIEN CONVER8ATION WITH AN AVERAGE NATIVE GEORGIAN —
WE LEARN THAT SHERMAN IS HEADING FOR SAVANNABI — THE
RESERVES GET A LITTLE SETTLING DOWN.
As the train left the northern suburbs of Savannah we came
upon a scene of busy activity, strongly contrasting with the
somnolent lethargy that seemed to be the normal condition of
the City and its inhabitants. Long lines of earthworks were
being constructed, gangs of negros were felling trees, building
forts and batteries, making abatis, and toiling with numbers of
huge guns which were being moved out and placed in position.
As we had had no new prisoners nor any papers for some weeks
—the papers being doubtless designedly kept away from us — we
were at a loss to know what this meant. We could not under-
stand this erection of fortifications on that side, because, knowing
as we did how well the flanks of the City were protected by the
Savannah and Ogeeche Rivers, we could not see how a force
from the coast— whence we supposed an attack must come,
could hope to reach the City’s rear, especially as we had just
come up on the right flank of the City, and saw no sign of our
folks in that direction.
Our train stopped for a few minutes at the edge of this line
of works, and an old citizen who had been surveying the scene
with senile interest, tottered over to Our car to take a look at
us. He was a type of the old man of the South of the scanty
middle class, the Small farmer. Long white hair and beard,
spectacles with great round, staring glasses, a broad-brimmed
hat of ante-Revolutionary pattern, clothes that had apparently
descended to him from some ancestor who had come over with
506 A NDERSON VILLE.
Oglethorpe, and a two-handed staff with a head of buckhorn,
upon which he leaned as old peasants do in plays, formed such
an image as recalled to me the picture of the old man in the
illustrations in “The Dairyman's Daughter.” He was as gar-
F-ºs- rulous as a magpie, and as opin-
ionated as a Southern white
-- always is.
ºr Halting in front of our car,
he steadied himself by planting
his staff, clasping it with both
lean and skinny hands, and
leaning forward upon it, his
jaws then addressed themselves
to motion thus:
“Boys, who mout these be
that ye got?” -
One of the Guards—“O, these
is some Yanks that we’ve bin
hivin’ down at Camp Sumter.”
“Yes?” (with an upward
inflection of the voice, followed
&\{{}}}}#}\}. łº-Sº - by a close scrutiny of us through
-º-º- ~. =l the goggle-eyed glasses,) “Wall,
*HO BIOUT THESE BE 7 they’re a powerful ornary look-
in’ lot, I’ll declah.”
It will be seen that the old gentleman's perceptive powers
were much more highly developed than his politeness.
“Well, they ain’t what ye mout call purty, that's a fack,”
said the guard.
“So yer Yanks, air ye?” said the venerable Goober-Grabber,
(the nick-name in the South for Georgians), directing his con-
versation to me. “Wall, I’m powerful glad to see ye, an’
'specially whar ye can’t do no harm; I’ve wanted to see some
Yankees ever sence the beginnin’ of the wah, but hev never had
no chance. Whah did ye cum from ?” -
I seemed called upon to answer, and said: “I came from
Illinois; most of the boys in this car are from Illinois, Ohio,
* Indiana, Michigan and Iowa.”
“’Deed I All Westerners, air ye? Wall, do ye know I alluz
A

A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 507
liked the Westerners a heap sight better than them blue-bellied
New England Yankees.”
No discussion with a Rebel ever proceeded very far without
his making an assertion like this. It was a favorite declaration
of their’s, but its absurdity was comical, when one remembered
that the majority of them could not for their lives tell the
names of the New England States, and could no more distinguish
a Downeaster from an Illinoisan than they could tell a Saxon
from a Bavarian. One day, while I was holding a conversation
similar to the above with an old man on guard, another guard,
who had been stationed near a squad made up of Germans, that
talked altogether in the language of the Fatherland, broke in
—With ~,
“Out there by post numbah foahteen, where I wuz yester-
day, there's a lot of Yanks who jest jabbered away all the hull
time, and I hope I may never see the back of my neck ef I
could understand ary word they said, Are them the regular
blue-belly kind?”
The old gentleman entered upon the next stage of the invari-
able routine of discussion with a Rebel:
“Wall, what air you 'uns down heah, a-fightin’ we’uns foh’’’
As I had answered this question several hundred times, I had
found the most extinguishing reply to be to ask in return :
“What are you’uns coming up into our country to fight
We’uns for 7 °
Disdaining to notice this return in kind, the old man passed
on to the next stage:
“What are you’uns takin’ Ouah niggahs away from us foh’’’
Now, if negros had been as cheap as Oreoide watches, it is
doubtful whether the speaker had ever had money enough in his
possession at one time to buy one, and yet he talked of taking
away “ouah niggahs,” as if they were as plenty about his place
as hills of corn. As a rule, the more abjectly poor a Southerner
was, the more readily he worked himself into a rage over the
idea of “takin’ away Ouah niggahs.”
I replied in burlesque of his assumption of ownership:
“What are you coming up North to burn my rolling mills,
and rob my comrade here's bank, and plunder my brother's
store, and burn down my uncle's factories '''
508 ANDERSON VILLE.
No reply to this counter thrust. The old man passed to the
third inevitable proposition:
“What air you'uns puttin’ ouah niggahs in the field to fight
We’uns foh 3 ° *
Then the whole car-load shouted back at him at once:
“What are you'uns putting blood-hounds on our trails to
hunt us down, for?” ->
Old Man—(savagely), “Waal, ye don’t think ye kin ever lick
us; leastways sich fellers as ye air 8”
Myself—“Well, we warmed it to you pretty lively until you
caught us. There were none of us but what were doing about
as good work as any stock you fellows could turn out. No
Rebels in our neighborhood had much to brag on. We are
not a drop in the bucket, either. There's millions more better
men than we are where we came from, and they are all
determined to stamp out your miserable Confederacy. You've
got to come to it, sooner or later; you must knock under, sure
as white blossoms make little apples. You’d better make up
your mind to it.”
Old Man—“No, sah, newah. Ye newah kin conquer us!
We're the bravest people and the best fighters on airth. Ye
nevah kin whip any people that’s a fightin’ fur their liberty,
an’ their right; an’ ye newah can whip the South, sah, any way.
We'll fight ye until all the men air killed, and then the wim-
men’ll fight ye, sah.”
Myself—“Well, you may think so, or you may not. From
the way our boys are snatching the Confederacy's real estate
away, it begins to look as if you’d not have enough to fight
anybody on pretty soon. What's the meaning of all this forti.
fying?”
Old Man—“Why, don’t you know? Our folks arefixin' up
a place foh Bill Sherman to butt his brains out agin'.”
“Bill Sherman l’’ we all shouted in surprise: “Why he ain’t
within two hundred miles of this place, is he 3’
Old Man—“Yes, but he is, tho.” He thinks he's played a
sharp Yankee trick on Hood. He found out he couldn’t lick
him in a squar’ fight, nohow ; he’d tried that on too often; so
he just sneaked 'round behind him, and made a break for the
center of the State, where he thought there was lots of good
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 509
stealin' to be done. But we'll show him. We’ll soon hev him
just whar we want him, an' we'll learn him how to go traipesin'
'round the country, stealin’ niggahs, burnin’ cotton, an’ runnin'
off folkses beef critters. He sees now the scrape he's got into,
A ROADSIDE VIEW.
an' he's tryin’ to get to the coast, whar the gunb-oats’ll help
'im out. But he'll nevah git thar, sah; no sah, newah. He's
mouty nigh the end of his rope, sah, and we'll purty soon hev
him jist whar you fellows air, sah.”
Myself—“Well, if you fellows intended stopping him, why
didn’t you do it up about Atlanta ? What did you let him
come clear through the State, burning and stealing, as you say?
It was money in your pockets to head him off as soon as
possible.”
Old Man—“Oh, we didn't set nothing afore him up thar

510 ANDERSON VILLE.
except Joe Brown's Pets, these sorry little Reserves; they’re
powerful little account; no stand-up to 'em at all; they’d break
their necks runnin’ away efye so much as bust a cap near to 'em.”
Our guards, who belonged to these Reserves, instantly felt
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THE CHARLESTON & SAVANNAH RAILROAD.
(From a photograph in Harper's Weekly.)
that the conversation had progressed farther than was profitable
and One of them spoke up roughly :
“See heah, old man, you must go off; I can’t hew ye talkin'
to these prisoners; hits agin my awdahs. Go 'way now !”
The old fellow moved off, but as he did he flung this Parthian
3.TI’OW :
“When Sherman gits down heah, he'll find somethin’ different
from the little snots of Reserves he ran over up about Milledge-
ville; he’ll find he's got to fight real soldiers.”
We could not help enjoying the rage of the guards, over the
low estimate placed upon the fighting ability of themselves and
comrades, and as they raved around about what they would do
if they were only given an opportunity to go into a line of
battle against Sherman, we added fuel to the flames of their
anger by confiding to each other that we always “knew that

A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS.
511
little Brats whose highest ambition was to murder a defense-
less prisoner, could be nothing else than cowards and skulkers
in the field.”
“Yaas—Sonnies,” said Charlie Burroughs, of the Third
Michigan, in that nasal Yankee drawl, that he always assumed,
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A RICE PLANTATION NIEGRO.
when he wanted to say anything very cutting; “you — trundle
— bed— soldiers — who’ve — never—seen —a — real —
ild
—Yankee — don’t — know — how — different — they—are —
from — the – kind — that — are — starved — down—to —
tameness. They’re —jest—as — different—as—a –lion—in
—a - menagerie — is — from — his — brother—in — the –
woods—who—has – a – nigger — every — day—for-din-
You—fellows—will— go —into – a – circus—tent—
and—throw—tobacco — quids — in —the –face— of —the
IlêT.

512 ANDERSON VILLE.
—lion—in—the – cage—when —you — haven’t — spunk–
enough—to —look—a — woodchuck—in — the—eye—if –
you — met — him — alone. It’s — lots — o' — fun — to — you
—to —shoot—down—a — sick—and —starving—man — in
—the –Stockade, – but—when — you — see —a — Yank—
With—a —gun — In — his — hand — your — livers—get — so
—white—that — chalk — would — make — a -black—mark
— on—’em.”
A little later, a paper, which some one had gotten hold of,
in some mysterious manner, was secretly passed to me. I read
it as I could find opportunity, and communicated its contents
to the rest of the boys. The most important of these was a
flaming proclamation by Governor Joe Brown, setting forth
that General Sherman was now traversing the State, commit-
ting all sorts of depredations; that he had prepared the way for
his own destruction, and the Governor called upon all good
citizens to rise en masse, and assist in crushing the audacious
invader. Bridges must be burned before and behind him, roads
obstructed, and every inch of soil resolutely disputed.
We enjoyed this. It showed that the Rebels were terribly
alarmed, and we began to feel some of that confidence that
“Sherman will come out all right,” which so marvelously
animated all under his command.
CHAPTER LXVII.
Oºº TO CHARLESTON – PASSING THROUGH THE RICE SWAMPS — TWO
EXTREMES OF SOCIETY — ENTRY INTO CHARLESTON – LEISURELY
TWARFARE- SHELLING-TEIE-CITY-AT REGULAR INTERVALS - Wº
CAMP DN A. MASS OF RUINS – DEPARTURE FOR FLORENCE.
The train started in a few minutes after the close of the con-
versation with the old Georgian, and we soon came to and
crossed the Savannah River into South Carolina. The river
was wide and apparently deep ; the tide was setting back in a
swift, muddy current; the crazy old bridge creaked and shook,
and the grinding axles shrieked in the dry journals, as we
pulled across. It looked very much at times as if we were to
all crash down into the turbid flood—and we did not care very
much if we did, if we were not going to be exchanged.
The road lay through the tide swamp region of South Caro-
lina, a peculiar and interesting country. Though swamps and
fens stretched in all directions as far as the eye could reach, the
landscape was more grateful to the eye than the famine-stricken,
pine-barrens of Georgia, which had become wearisome to
the sight. The soil where it appeared, was rich, vegetation
was luxuriant; great clumps of laurel showed glossy richness
in the greenness of its verdure, that reminded us of the fresh
color of the vegetation of Our Northern homes, so different
from the parched and impoverished look of Georgian foliage.
Immense flocks of wild fowl fluttered around us; the Georgian
woods were almost destitute of living creatures; the evergreen
live-oak, with its queer festoons of Spanish moss, and the ugly
and useless palmettos gave novelty and interest to the view.
The rice swamps through which we were passing were the
33
514 ANDERSON VILLA.
princely possessions of the few nabobs who before the war stood
at the head of South Carolina aristocracy—they were South
Carolina, in fact, as absolutely as Louis XIV. was France. In
their hands—but a few score in number—was concentrated
about all there was of South Carolina education, wealth, cul-
ture, and breeding. They represented a pinchbeck imitation of
that regime in France which was happily swept out of existence
by the Revolution, and the destruction
of which more than compensated for
every drop of blood shed in those terrible
days. Like the provincial grandes
seigneurs of Louis XVI.'s reign, they
were gay, dissipated and turbulent;
“accomplished” in the superficial ac-
quirements that made the “gentle-
man” one hundred years ago, but are
grotesquely out of place in this sensi-
ble, Solid age, which demands that a
man shall be of use, and not merely
for show. They ran horses and fought
cocks, dawdled through society when
young, and intrigued in politics the rest
of their lives, with frequent spice-work
of duels. Esteeming personal courage
as a Supreme human virtue, and never
wearying of prating their devotion to
- the highest standard of intrepidity,
JA RICE FIELD GIRI, they never produced a General who
was even mediocre; nor did any one ever hear of a South
Carolina regiment gaining distinction. Regarding politics and
the art of government as, equally with arms, their natural
vocations, they have never given the Nation a statesman, and
their greatest politicians achieved eminence by advocating ideas
which only attracted attention by their balefulness.
Still further resembling the French grandes seigneurs of the
eighteenth century, they rolled in wealth wrung from the
| laborer by reducing the rewards of his toil to the last fraction
that would support his life and strength. The rice culture was
immensely profitable, because they had found the secret for

A. STORY OF RIEBEL MII,ITARY PRISONS. 515
raising it more cheaply than even the pauper laborer of the old
world could. Their lands had cost them nothing originally,
the improvements of dikes and ditches were comparatively
inexpensive, the taxes were nominal, and their slaves were not
so expensive to keep as good horses in the North.
Thousands of the acres along the road belonged to the Rhetts,
A RICE SWAJMP
thousands to the Heywards, thousands to the Manigaults,
the Lowndes, the Middletons, the Hugers, the Barnwells, and
the Elliots—all names too well known in the history of our
country’s sorrows. Occasionally one of their stately mansions
could be seen on some distant elevation, surrounded by noble
old trees, and Superb grounds. Here they lived during the
healthy part of the year, but fled thence to summer resorts
in the highlands as the miasmatic season approached.
The people we saw at the stations along our route were mel-
ancholy illustrations of the evils of the rule of such an oligarchy.
There was no middle class visible anywhere—nothing but the
two extremes. A man was either a “gentleman,” and wore a
white shirt and city-made clothes, or he was a loutish hind, clad
in mere apologies for garments. We thought we had found in
the Georgia “cracker” the lowest substratum of human society,

516 - - ANDERSON VILLE,
but he was bright intelligence compared to the South Carolina
“clayeater” and “sand-hiller.” The “cracker” always gave
hopes to one that if he had the advantage of common schools,
and could be made to understand that laziness was dishonora.
ble, he might develop into something. There was little foun-
dation for such hope in the average low South Carolinian. His
mind was a shaking quagmire, which did not admit of the erec-
tion of any superstructure of education upon it. The South
Carolina guards about us did not know the name of the next
town, though they had been raised in that section. They did
not know how far it was there, or to any place else, and they
did not care to learn. They had no conception of what the
war was being waged for, and did not want to find out ; they
did not know where their regiment was going, and did not
remember where it had been; they could not tell how long
they had been in service, nor the time they had enlisted for.
They only remembered that sometimes they had had “sorter
good times,” and sometimes “they had been powerful bad,”
and they hoped there would be plenty to eat wherever, they
went, and not too much hard marching. Then they wondered
“whar a feller'd be likely to make a raise of a canteen of good
whisky 8° w
Bad as the whites were, the rice plantation negros were even
worse, if that were possible. Brought to the country centuries
ago, as brutal Savages from Africa, they had learned nothing of
Christian civilization, except that it meant endless toil, in mala-
rious swamps, under the lash of the task-master. They wore,
possibly, a little more clothing than their Senegambian ances-
tors did ; they ate corn meal, yams and rice, instead of bananas,
yams and rice, as their forefathers did, and they had learned a
bastard, almost unintelligible, English. These were the sole
blessings acquired by a transfer from a life of freedom in the
jungles of the Gold Coast, to one of slavery in the swamps of
the Combahee.
I could not then, nor can I now, regret the downfall of a
system of society which bore such fruits. . . . . .
Towards night a distressingly cold breeze, laden with a pene-
trating mist, set in from the sea, and put an end to future
observations by making us too uncomfortable to care for scenery
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON8. 517
or social conditions. We wanted most to devise a way to keep
warm. Andrews and I pulled our overcoat and blanket closely
about us, Snuggled together so as to make each one's meager
body afford the other as much heat as possible—and endured.
We became fearfully hungry. It will be recollected that we
ate the whole of the two days’ rations issued to us at Black-
shear at once, and we had received nothing since. We reached
the Sullen, fainting stage of great hunger, and for hours nothing
was said by any one, except an occasional bitter execration on
Rebels and Rebel practices.
It was late at night when we reached Charleston. The lights
of the City, and the apparent warmth and comfort there
cheered us up somewhat with the hopes that we might have
some share in them. Leaving the train, we were marched
some distance through well-lighted streets, in which were
plenty of people walking to and fro. There were many
stores, apparently stocked with goods, and the citizens seemed
to be going about their business very much as was the custom
up North.
At length our fiead of column made a “right turn,” and we
marched away from the lighted portion of the City, to a part
which I could see through the shadows was filled with ruins.
An almost insupportable odor of gas, escaping I suppose from
the ruptured pipes, mingled with the cold, rasping air from the
sea, to make every breath intensely disagreeable.
As I saw the ruins, it flashed upon me that this was the
burnt district of the city, and they were putting us under the
fire of our own guns. At first I felt much alarmed. Little
relish as I had on general principles, for being shot I had much
less for being killed by our own men. Then I reflected that if
they put me there—and kept me—a guard would have to be
placed around us, who would necessarily be in as much danger”
as we were, and I knew I could stand any fire that a Tebel
could.
We were halted in a vacant lot, and sat down, only to jump
up the next instant, as some one shouted:
“There comes one of 'em I ?”
It was a great shell from the Swamp Angel Battery. Start-
ing from a point miles away, where, seemingly, the sky came
518 ANDERSON VILLE.
down to the sea, was a narrow ribbon of fire, which slowly
unrolled itself against the star-lit vault over our heads. On, on
it came, and was apparently following the sky down to the
A scenB IN THE “BURNT DISTRICTs.”
(From a Photograph in Harper's Weekly, taken immediately after the surrender of the City.)
horizon behind us. As it reached the zenith, there came to our
ears a prolonged, but not sharp,
“Whish—ish—ish—ish—ish l’”
We watched it breathlessly, and it seemed to be long minutes
in running its course; then a thump upon the ground, and a
vibration, told that it had struck. For a moment there was a
dead silence. Then came a loud roar, and the crash of break-
ing timber and crushing walls. The shell had bursted.
Ten minutes later another shell followed, with like results.
For awhile we forgot all about hunger in the excitement of
watching the messengers from “God’s country.” What happi-
ness to be where those shells came from. Soon a Tebel battery
of heavy guns somewhere near and in front of us, waked up,
and began answering with dull, slow thumps that made the
ground shudder. This continued about an hour, when it quieted
down again, but our shells kept coming over at regular intervals

A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON S. 519
with the same slow deliberation, the same prolonged warning,
and the same dreadful crash when they struck. They had
already gone on this way for over a year, and were to keep it
up months longer until the City was captured.
The routine was the same from day to day, month in, and
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THE PART WHERE WE LAY WAS A. MASS OF RUCNS.
month out, from early in August, 1863, to the middle of April,
1865. Every few minutes during the day our folks would hurl
a great shell into the beleaguered City, and twice a day, for
perhaps an hour each time, the Rebel batteries would talk back.
It must have been a lesson to the Charlestonians of the persistent,
methodical spirit of the North. They prided themselves on the
length of the time they were holding out against the enemy,
and the papers each day had a column headed
“390th DAY OF THE SIEGE,”
or 391st, 393d, etc., as the number might be since our people
opened fire upon the City. The part where we lay was a mass
of ruins. Many large buildings had been knocked down; very
many more were riddled with shot holes and tottering to their
fall. One night a shell passed through a large building
about a quarter of a mile from us. It had already been struck
several times, and was shaky. The shell went through with
a deafening crash. All Was still for an instant; then it

520 ANDERSON VILLE.
exploded with a dull roar, followed by more crashing of
timber and walls. The sound died away and was succeeded by
a moment of silence. Finally the great building fell, a shapeless
heap of ruins, with a noise like that of a dozen field pieces.
We wanted to cheer but restrained ourselves. This was the
nearest to us that any shell came.
There was only one section of the City in reach of our guns
and this was nearly destroyed. Fires had come to complete
the work begun by the shells. Outside of the boundaries of
this region, the people felt themselves as safe as in one of our
northern Cities to-day. They had an abiding faith that they
were clear out of reach of any artillery that we could mount.
I learned afterwards from some of the prisoners, who went into
Charleston ahead of us, and were camped on the race course
outside of the City, that one day our fellows threw a shell
clear over the City to this race course. There was an imme-
diate and terrible panic among the citizens. They thought we
had mounted some new guns of increased range, and now the
whole city must go. But the next shell fell inside the estab-
lished limits, and those following were equally well behaved, so
that the panic abated. I have never heard any explanation of
the matter. It may have been some freak of the gun-squad,
trying the effect of an extra charge of powder. Had our
people known of its signal effect, they could have depopulated
the place in a few hours.
The whole matter impressed me queerly. The only artillery
I had ever seen in action were field pieces. They made an ear-
splitting crash when they were discharged, and there was likely
to be oceans of trouble for everybody in that neighborhood
about that time. I reasoned from this that bigger guns made
a proportionally greater amount of noise, and bred an infinitely
larger quantity of trouble. Now I was hearing the giants of
the world’s ordnance, and they were not so impressive as a
lively battery of three-inch rifles. Their reports did not threaten
to shatter everything, but had a dull resonance, something like
that produced by striking an empty barrel with a wooden maul.
Their shells did not come at One in that wildly, ferocious way,
with which a missile from a six-pounder convinces every fellow
in a long line of battle that he is the identical one it is meant
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 521
for, but they meandered over in a lazy, leisurely manner, as if
time was no object and no person would feel put out at having
to wait for them. Then, the idea of firing every quarter of an
hour for a year—fixing up a job for a life-time, as Andrews
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expressed it, and of being fired back at for an hour at 9 o'clock
every morning and evening; of fifty thousand people going on
buying and selling, eating, drinking and sleeping, having dances,
drives and balls, marrying and giving in marriage, all within a
few hundred yards of where the shells were falling—struck
me as a most singular method of conducting warfare.
We received no rations until the day after our arrival, and
then they were scanty, though fair in quality. We were by
this time so hungry and faint that we could hardly move. We
did nothing for hours but lie around on the ground and try to
forget how famished we were. At the announcement of rations,
many acted as if crazy, and it was all that the Sergeants could
do to restrain the impatient mob from tearing the food away
and devouring it, when they were trying to divide it out. Very

522 & ANDERSON VILLE.
many—perhaps thirty — died during the night and morning.
No blame for this is attached to the Charlestonians. They
distinguished themselves from the citizens of every other place
in the Southern Confederacy where we had been, by making
efforts to relieve our condition. They sent quite a quantity of
food to us, and the Sisters of Charity came among us, seeking
and ministering to the sick. I believe our experience was the
usual one. The prisoners who passed through Charleston
before us all spoke very highly of the kindness shown them by
the citizens there. r
We remained in Charleston but a few days. One night we
were marched down to a rickety depot, and put aboard a still
more rickety train. When morning came we found ourselves
running northward through a pine barren country that resem-
bled somewhat that in Georgia, except that the pine was short-
leaved, there was more Oak and other hard woods, and the
vegetation generally assumed a more Northern look. We had
been put into close box cars, with guards at the doors and on
top. During the night quite a number of the boys, who had
fabricated little saws out of case knives and fragments of hoop
iron, cut holes through the bottoms of the cars, through which
they dropped to the ground and escaped, but were mostly
recaptured after several days. There was no hole cut in our
car, and so Andrews and I staid in.
Just at dusk we came to the insignificant village of Florence,
the junction of the road leading from Charleston to Cheraw
with that running from Wilmington to Kingsville. It was
about one hundred and twenty miles from Charleston, and the
same distance from Wilmington. As our train ran through a
cut near the junction a darky stood by the track gazing at us
curiously. When the train had nearly passed him he started
to run up the bank. In the imperfect light the guards mistook
him for one of us who had jumped from the train. They all
fired, and the unlucky negro fell, pierced by a score of bullets.
That night we camped in the open field. When morning
came we saw, a few hundred yards from us, a Stockade of
rough logs, with guards stationed around it. It was another
prison pen. They were just bringing the dead out, and two
men were tossing the bodies up into the four-horse wagon
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONB, 523
which hauled them away for burial. The men were going
about their business as coolly as if loading slaughtered hogs.
One of them would catch the body by the feet, and the other
by the arms. They would give it a swing—“One, two, three,”
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THE UNLUCKY NEGRO FELL, PIERCED BY A SCORE OF BULLETs.
and up it would go into the wagon. This filled heaping full
with corpses, a negro mounted the wheel horse, grasped the
lines, and shouted to his animals:
“Now, walk off on your tails, boys.”
The horses strained, the wagon moved, and its load of what
were once gallant, devoted soldiers, was carted off to nameless
graves. This was a part of the daily morning routine.
As we stood looking at the sickeningly familiar architecture
of the prison pen, a Seventh Indianian near me said, in tones
of wearisome disgust:
“Well, this Southern Confederacy is the d–dest country to
stand logs on end on God Almighty’s footstool.” -
















CHAPTER LXVIII.
riEST DAYS AT FLORENCE—INTRODUCTION To LIEUTENANT BAR
RETT, THE RED-HEADED KEEPER – A BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF OUR
NEw QUARTERs—WINDER’s MALIGN INFLUENCE MANIFEST.
It did not require a very acute comprehension to understand
that the Stockade at which we were gazing was likely to be our
abiding place for some indefinite period in the future.
As usual, this discovery was the death-warrant of many whose
lives had only been prolonged by the hoping against hope that
the movement would terminate inside our lines. When the
portentous palisades showed to a fatal certainty that the word
of promise had been broken to their hearts, they gave up the
struggle wearily, lay back on the frozen ground, and died.
Andrews and I were not in the humor for dying just then.
The long imprisonment, the privations of hunger, the scourging
by the elements, the death of four out of every five of our
number had indeed dulled and stupefied us—bred an indiffer-
ence to our own suffering and a seeming callosity to that of
others, but there still burned in our hearts, and in the hearts of
every one about us, a dull, sullen, smoldering fire of hate and
defiance toward everything Rebel, and a lust for revenge upon
those who had showered woes upon our heads. There was
little fear of death; even the King of Terrors loses most of his
awful character upon tolerably close acquaintance, and we had
been on very intimate terms with him for a year now. He
was a constant visitor, who dropped in upon us at all hours of
the day and night, and would not be denied to any one.
Since my entry into prison fully fifteen thousand boys had
died around me, and in no one of them had I seen the least
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. º 525
dread or reluctance to go. I believe this is generally true of
death by disease, everywhere. Our ever kindly mother, Nature,
only makes us dread death when she desires us to preserve life.
When she summons us hence she tenderly provides that We
shall willingly obey the call. º
More than for anything else, we wanted to live now to
triumph over the Rebels. To simply die would be of little
importance, but to die unrevenged would be fearful. If we,
the despised, the contemned, the insulted, the starved and mal-
treated, could live to come back to our oppressors as the armed
ministers of retribution, terrible in the remembrance of the
wrongs of ourselves and comrades, irresistible as the agents Of
—heavenly justice, and mete out to them that Biblical return of
seven-fold of what they had measured out to us, then we would
be content to go to death—afterwards. Had the thrice-
accursed Confederacy and our malignant gaolers millions of
lives, our great revenge would have stomach for them all.
* * * * * * * 3&
The December morning was gray and leaden; dull, Somber,
snow-laden clouds swept across the sky before the soughing
wind.
The ground, frozen hard and stiff, cut and hurt our bare feet
at every step ; an icy breeze drove in through the holes in our
rags, and Smote our bodies like blows from sticks. The trees
and shrubbery around were as naked and forlorn as in the North
in the days of early Winter before the snow comes.
Over and around us hung like a cold miasma the sickening
odor peculiar to Southern forests in Winter time.
Out of thenaked, repelling, unlovely earth rose the Stockade,
in hideous ugliness. At the gate the two men continued at their
monotonous labor of tossing the dead of the previous day into
the Wagon—heaving into that rude hearse the inanimate
remains that had once templed gallant, manly hearts, glowing
with patriotism and devotion to country—piling up listlessly
and wearily, in a mass of nameless, emaciated corpses, fluttering
with rags, and swarming with vermin, the pride, the joy of a
hundred fair Northern homes, whose light had now gone out
forever. -
Around the prison walls shambled the guards, blanketed like
526 - ANDERSON VILLE.
Indians, and with faces and hearts of wolves. Other Rebels—
also clad in dingy butternut—slouched around lazily, crouched
over diminutive fires, and talked idle gossip in the broadest of
“nigger” dialect. Officers swelled and strutted hither and
thither, and negro servants loitered around, striving to spread
the least amount of work over the greatest amount of time.
* * * 3& * * * *
While I stood gazing in gloomy silence at the depressing sur-
roundings Andrews, less speculative and more practical, saw a
good-sized pine stump near by, which had so much of the earth
Washed away from it that it looked as if it could be readily
pulled up. We had had bitter experience in other prisons as to
the value of wood, and Andrews reasoned that as we would be
likely to have a repetition of this in the Stockade we were
about to enter, we should make an effort to secure the stump.
We both attacked it, and after a great deal of hard work, suc-
ceeded in uprooting it. It was very lucky that we did, since it
was the greatest help in preserving our lives through the three
long months that we remained at Florence.
While we were arranging our stump so as to carry it to the
best advantage, a vulgar-faced man, with fiery red hair, and
wearing on his collar the yellow bars of a Lieutenant, approached.
This was Lieutenant Barrett, commandant of the interior of
the prison, and a more inhuman wretch even than Captain
Wirz, because he had a little more brains than the commandant
at Andersonville, and this extra intellect was wholly devoted
to cruelty. As he came near he commanded, in loud, brutal
tones: s
“Attention, Prisoners l’”
We all stood up and fell in in two ranks. Said he:
“By companies, right wheel, march /* -
This was simply preposterous. As every soldier knows,
wheeling by companies is one of the most difficult of manuvers,
and requires some preparation of a battalion before attempting to
execute it. Our thousand was made up of infantry, cavalry and
artillery, representing, perhaps, one hundred different regiments.
We had not been divided off into companies, and were encumb-
ered with blankets, tents, cooking utensils, wood, etc., which
prevented our moving with such freedom as to make a company
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON 8. 527
wheel, even had we been divided up into companies and drilled for
the manuver. The attempt to obey the command was, of course,
a ludicrous failure. The Rebel officers standing near Barrett
laughed openly at his stupidity in giving such an Order, but he
was furious. He hurled at us a torrent of the vilest abuse the
corrupt imagination of man can conceive, and swore until he
was fairly black in the face. He fired his revolver off over our
heads, and shrieked and shouted until he had to stop from sheer
exhaustion. Another officer took command then, and marched
us into prison.
We found this a small copy of Andersonville. There was a
stream running north and south, on either side of which was a
swamp. A Stockade of rough logs, with the bark still on,
inclosed several acres. The front of the prison was toward the
West. A piece of artillery stood before the gate, and a
platform at each corner bore a gun, elevated high enough to
rake the whole inside of the prison. A man stood behind each
of these guns continually, so as to open with them at any
moment. The earth was thrown up against the outside of the
palisades in a high embankment, along the top of which the
guards on duty walked, it being high enough to elevate their
head, shoulders and breasts above the tops of the logs. Inside
the inevitable dead-line was traced by running a furrow around
the prison—twenty feet from the Stockade—with a plow.
In one respect it was an improvement on Andersonville:
regular streets were laid off, so that motion about the camp
was possible, and cleanliness was promoted. Also, the crowd
inside was not so dense as at Camp Sumter.
The prisoners were divided into hundreds and thousands,
with Sergeants at the heads of the divisions. A very good
police force—organized and officered by the prisoners—main-
tained order and prevented crime. Thefts and other offenses
were punished, as at Andersonville, by the Chief of Police sen-
tencing the offenders to be spanked or tied up. te
We found very many of Our Andersonville acquaintances
inside, and for several days comparisons of experience were in
order. They had left Andersonville a few days after us, but
were taken to Charleston instead of Savannah. The same
story of exchange was dinned into their ears until they arrived
528 ANDERSON VILLE-
at Charleston, when the truth was told them, that no exchange
was contemplated, and that they had been deceived for the
purpose of getting them safely out of reach of Sherman.
Still they were treated well in Charleston—better than they
had been anywhere else. Intelligent physicians had visited the
sick, prescribed for them, furnished them with proper medicines,
and admitted the worst cases to the hospital, where they were
given something of the care that one would expect in such an
institution. Wheat bread, molasses and rice were issued to
them, and also a few spoonfuls of vinegar, daily, which
were very grateful to them in their scorbutic condition. The
citizens sent in clothing, food and vegetables. The Sisters of
Charity were indefatigable in ministering to the sick and dying.
Altogether, their recollections of the place were quite pleasant.
Despite the disagreeable prominence which the City had in
the Secession movement, there was a very strong Union element
there, and many men found opportunity to do favors to the
prisoners and reveal to them how much they abhorred Secession.
After they had been in Charleston a fortnight or more, the
yellow fever broke out in the City, and soon extended its
ravages to the prisoners, quite a number dying from it.
Early in October they had been sent away from the City to
their present location, which was then a piece of forest land.
There was no stockade or other enclosure about them, and one
night they forced the guard-line, about fifteen hundred escap-
ing, under a pretty sharp fire from the guards. After getting
out they scattered, each group taking a different route, some
seeking Beaufort, and other places along the seaboard, and the
rest trying to gain the mountains. The whole State was thrown
into the greatest perturbation by the occurrence. The papers
magnified the proportion of the outbreak, and lauded fulsomely
the gallantry of the guards in endeavoring to withstand the
desperate assaults of the frenzied Yankees. The people were
wrought up into the highest alarm as to outrages and excesses
that these flying desperados might be expected to commit.
One would think that another Grecian horse, introduced into
the heart of the Confederate Troy, had let out its fatal band of
armed men. All good citizens were enjoined to turn out and
assist in arresting the runaways. The vigilance of all patrolling
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 529
was redoubled, and such was the effectiveness of the measures
taken that before a month nearly every one of the fugitives
had been retaken and sent back to Florence. Few of these
complained of any special illtreatment by their captors, while
many reported frequent acts of kindness, especially when
their captors belonged to the middle and upper classes. The
low-down class—the clay-eaters—on the other hand, almost
always abused their prisoners, and sometimes, it is pretty cer-
tain, murdered them in cold blood.
About this time Winder came on from Andersonville, and
then everything changed immediately to the complexion of that
place. He began the erection of the Stockade, and made it
very strong. The Dead Line was established, but instead of --
being a strip of plank upon the top of low posts, as at Ander-
sonville, it was simply a shallow trench, which was sometimes
plainly visible, and sometimes not. The guards always resolved
matters of doubt against the prisoners, and fired on them when
they supposed them too near where the Dead Line ought to be.
Fifteen acres of ground were enclosed by the palisades, of which
five were taken up by the creek and swamp, and three or four
more by the Dead Line, main streets, etc., leaving about Seven.
or eight for the actual use of the prisoners, whose number
swelled to fifteen thousand by the arrivals from Andersonville.
This made the crowding together nearly as bad as at the latter
place, and for awhile the same fatal results followed. The
mortality, and the sending away of several thousand on the sick
exchange, reduced the aggregate number at the time of our
arrival to about eleven thousand, which gave more room to all,
but was still not one-twentieth of the space which that number
of men should have had. .
No shelter, nor material for constructing any, was furnished.
The ground was rather thickly wooded, and covered with
undergrowth, when the Stockade was built, and certainly no
bit of soil was ever so thoroughly cleared as this was. The
trees and brush were cut down and worked up into hut build-
ing materials by the same slow and laborious process that I
have described as employed in building our huts at Millen.
Then the stumps were attacked for fuel, and with such
persistent thoroughness that after some weeks there was cer-
34
530 - ANDERSON VILLIE.
tainly not enough woody material left in that whole fifteen
acres of ground to kindle a small kitchen fire. The men would
begin work on the stump of a good sized tree, and chip and
split it off painfully and slowly until they had followed it
to the extremity of the tap root ten or fifteen feet below
the surface. The lateral roots would be followed with equal
determination, and trenches thirty feet long, and two or three
feet deep were dug with case-knives and half-canteens, to get a
root as thick as one’s wrist. The roots of shrubs and vines
were followed up and gathered with similar industry. The
cold weather and the scanty issues of wood forced men to do
this.
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RECAPTURE OF THE RUNAWAYS.
The huts constructed were as various as the materials and the
tastes of the builders. Those who were fortunate enough to
get plenty of timber built such cabins as I have described at
Millen. Those who had less eked out their materials in various
ways. Most frequently all that a squad of three or four could
get would be a few slender poles and some brush. They would


































A STORY OF REREL MILITARY PRISON8. 531
dig a hole in the ground two feet deep and large enough for
them all to lie in. Then putting up a stick at each end and
laying a ridge pole across, they would adjust the rest of their
material so as to form sloping sides capable of supporting earth
enough to make a water-tight roof. The great majority were
not so well off as these, and had absolutely nothing of which to
build. They had recourse to the clay, of the swamp, from
which they fashioned rude sun-dried bricks, and made adobe
houses, shaped like a bee hive, which lasted very well until a
hard rain came, when they dissolved into red mire about the
bodies of their miserable inmates.
Remember that all these makeshifts were practiced within a
half-a-mile of an almost boundless forest, from which in a day’s
time the camp could have been supplied with material enough
to give every man a comfortable hut.
CHAPTER LXIX.
BARRETT's INSANE CRUELTY —How HE PUNISHED THosk. ALLEGED To
BE ENGAGED IN TUNNELING —THE MISERY IN THE STOCKADR-
MEN’s LIMBS ROTTING OFF witH DRY GANGRENE. 1.
Winder had found in Barrett even a better tool for his cruel
purposes than Wirz. The two resembled each other in many
respects. Both were absolutely destitute of any talent for com-
manding men, and could no more handle even one thousand
men properly than a cabin boy could navigate a great ocean
steamer. Both were given to the same senseless fits of insane
rage, coming and going without apparent cause, during which
they fired revolvers and guns or threw clubs into crowds of
prisoners, or knocked down such as were within reach of their
fists. These exhibitions were such as an overgrown child might
be expected to make. They did not secure any result, except to
increase the prisoners' wonder that such ill-tempered fools could
be given any position of responsibility.
A short time previous to our entry Barrett thought he had
reason to suspect a tunnel. He immediately announced that no
more rations should be issued until its whereabouts was
revealed and the ringleaders in the attempt to escape
delivered up to him. The rations at that time were very
scanty, so that the first day they were cut off the sufferings
were fearful. The boys thought he would surely relent the
next day, but they did not know their man. He was not
suffering any, why should he relax his severity? He strolled
leisurely out from his dinner table, picking his teeth with his
penknife in the comfortable, self-satisfied way of a coarse man
who has just filled his stomach to his entire content—an atti.
A STORY OF REBEL MOILITARY PRISON8. 533
tude and an air that was simply maddening to the famishing
wretches, of whom he inquired tantalizingly:
“Air ye're hungry enough to give up them G–d d-d s—s
of b–s yet?”
That night thirteen thousand men, crazy, fainting with hun-
ger, walked hither and thither, until exhaustion forced them to
become quiet, sat on the ground and pressed their bowels in by
leaning against sticks of wood laid across their thighs; trooped
gºš to the Creek and drank water until their
gorges rose and they could swallow no
more—did everything in fact that imagina-
tion could suggest—to assuage the pangs
of the deadly gnawing that was consuming
their vitals. All the cruelties of the terrible
Spanish Inquisition, if heaped together,
would not sum up a greater aggregate of
anguish than was endured by them. The
third day came, and still no signs of yielding
by Barrett. TheSergeantscounseled together.
Something must be done. The fellow would
------ starve the whole camp to death with as
corporal. J. H. narrºws, little compunction as one drowns blind pup-
Co. F, Fourth Pennsylvania, pies. It was necessary to get up a tunnel to
(from a Photo taken after show Barrett, and to get boys who would
his arrival at Annapoliº) confess to being leaders in the work. A
number of gallant fellows volunteered to brave his wrath, and
save the rest of their comrades. It required high courage to do
this, as there was no question but that the punishment meted out
would be as fearful as the cruel mind of the fellow could con-
ceive. The Sergeants decided that four would be sufficient to
answer the purpose; they selected these by lot, marched them
to the gate and delivered them over to Barrett, who thereupon
ordered the rations to be sent in. He was considerate enough,
too, to feed the men he was going to torture.
The starving men in the Stockade could not wait after the
rations were issued to cook them, but in many instances mixed
the meal up with water, and swallowed it raw. Frequently
their stomachs, irritated by the long fast, rejected the mess;
any very many had reached the stage when they loathed food;
º
º

534 ANDERSON VILLE-
a burning fever was consuming them, and seething their brains
with delirium. Hundreds died within a few days, and hundreds
more were so debilitated by the terrible strain that they did not
linger long afterward.
The boys who had offered themselves as a sacrifice for the
rest were put into a guard house, and kept over night that Bar-
rett might make a day of the amusement of torturing them.
After he had laid in a hearty breakfast, and doubtless fortified
himself with some of the villaingus sorgum whisky, which the
Rebels were now reduced to drinking, he set about his enter-
tainment.
The devoted four were brought out—one by one—and their
hands tied together behind their backs. Then a noose of a slen-
der, strong hemp rope was slipped over the first one's thumbs
and drawn tight, after which the rope was thrown over a log
projecting from the roof of the guard house, and two or three
Rebels hauled upon it until the miserable Yankee was lifted
from the ground, and hung suspended by the thumbs, while his
weight seemed tearing his limbs from his shoulder blades.
The other three were treated in the same manner.
The agony was simply excruciating. The boys were brave,
and had resolved to stand their punishment without a groan,
but this was too much for human endurance. Their will was
strong, but Nature could not be denied, and they shrieked aloud
so pitifully that a young Reserve standing near fainted. Each
one screamed: … - - -
“For God's sake, kill me! kill me! Shoot me if you want
to, but let me down from here !”
The only effect of this upon Barrett was to light up his brutal
face with a leer of fiendish satisfaction. He said to the guards
with a gleeful wink: *
“By God, I’ll learn these Yanks to be more afeard of me
than of the old devil himself. They’ll soon understand that
I’m not the man to fool with. I’m old pizen, I am, when I git
started. Jest hear 'em Squeal, won’t yer?”
Then walking from one prisoner to another, he said:
“D—n yer skins, ye’ll dig tunnels, will ye? Ye'll try to git
out, and run through the country stealin’ and carryin' off
niggers, and makin' more trouble than yer d-d necks are
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON 8. 535
worth. I’ll learn ye all about that. If I ketch ye at this sort
of work again, d-def I don’t kill ye eZ soon eZ I ketch ye.”
And so on, ad infinitum. How long the boys were kept up
there undergoing this torture can not be said. Perhaps it was
an hour or more. To the looker-on it seemed long hours,
to the poor fellows themselves it was ages. When they were
let down at last, all fainted, and were carried away to the hos-
pital, where they were weeks in recovering from the effects.
Some of them were crippled for life.
When we came into the prison there were about eleven
thousand there. More uniformly wretched creatures I had never
before seen. Up to the time of our departure from Andersonville
—the constant influx of new prisoners had prevented the misery
and wasting away of life from becoming fully realized. Though
thousands were continually dying, thousands more of healthy,
clean, well-clothed men were as continually coming in from the
front, so that a large portion of those inside looked in fairly
good condition. But now no new prisoners had come in for
months; the money which made such a show about the sutler
shops of Andersonville had been spent ; and there was in every
face the same look of ghastly emaciation, the same shrunken
muscles and feeble limbs, the same lack-luster eyes and hopeless
countenances.
One of the commonest of sights was to see men whose hands
and feet were simply rotting off. The nights were frequently so
cold that ice a quarter of an inch thick formed on the water.
The naked frames of starving men were poorly calculated to
withstand this frosty rigor, and thousands had their extremities
so badly frozen as to destroy the life in those parts, and induce
a rotting of the tissues by a dry gangrene. The rotted flesh
frequently remained in its place for a long time—a loathsome
but painless mass, that gradually sloughed off, leaving the sin-
ews that passed through it to stand out like shining, white
cords.
While this was in some respects less terrible than the hospital
gangrene at Andersonville, it was more generally diffused, and
dreadful to the last degree. The Rebel Surgeons at Florence
did not follow the habit of those at Andersonville, and try to
check the disease by wholesale amputation, but simply let it run
536 . ANDERSON VILLE.
its course, and thousands finally carried, their putrefied limbs
through our lines, when the Confederacy broke up in the Spring,
to be treated by our Surgeons.
I had been in prison but a little while when a voice called
out from a hole in the ground, as I was passing:
“S-a-y, Sergeantl Won’t you please take these shears and
cut my toes off?” -
“What?” said I, in amazement, stopping in front of the dug-
out.
“Just take these shears, won’t you, and cut my toes off?”
answered the inmate, an Indiana infantryman— holding up a
pair of dull shears in
his hand, and eleva-
ting a foot for me to
look at. .*
I examined the lat-
ter carefully. All the
flesh of the toes, ex-
cept little pads at the
ends, had rotted off,
- z: º º
fº 㺠sº leaving the bones as
| śl clean as if scraped.
º The little tendons still
TAKE THESE SITEARS AND CUT MY TOES OFF. remained, and held
the bones to their
places, but this seemed to hurt the rest of the feet and annoy
the man. -
“You’d better let one of the Rebel doctors see this,” I said,
after finishing my survey, “before you conclude to have them
off. May be they can be saved.” . -
“No ; d-d if I’m going to have any of them Rebel butche
fooling around me. I’d die first, and then I wouldn’t,” was
the reply. “You can do it better than they can. It's just a
little snip. Just try it.” • -, * s
“I don’t like to,” I replied. “I might lame you for life, and
make you lots of trouble.”
“O, bother what business is that of yours? They’re my
toes, and I want ’em off. They hurt me so I can’t sleep.
Come, now, take the shears and cut 'em off.”


A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 537
I yielded, and taking the shears, snipped one tendon after
another, close to the feet, and in a few seconds had the whole
ten toes lying in a heap at the bottom of the dug-out. I picked
them up and handed them to their owner, who gazed at them
complacently, and remarked :
“Well, I’m durned glad they’re off. I won’t be bothered
with corns any more, I flatter myself.”
CHAPTER LXX.
HOUSE AND CLOTHE8 — EFFORTS TO ERECT A SUITABLE RESIDENCE –
DIFFICULTIES ATTENDING THIS — VARIETIES OF FLORENTINE ARCE [º.
Tecruits—warring For DEAD MEN's clothes—oraving FO$
TOBACCO.
We were put into the old squads to fill the places of those
who had recently died, being assigned to these vacancies
according to the initials of our surnames, the same rolls being
used that we had signed as paroles. This separated Andrews
and me, for the “A’s” were taken to fill up the first hundreds of
the First Thousand, while the “M’s,” to which I belonged, went
into the next Thousand. **
I was put into the Second Hundred of the Second Thousand,
and its Sergeant dying shortly after, I was given his place, and
commanded the Hundred, drew its rations, made out its rolls,
and looked out for its sick during the rest of our stay there.
Andrews and I got together again, and began fixing up what
little we could to protect ourselves against the weather. Cold
as this was we decided that it was safer to endure it and risk
frost-biting every night than to build one of the mud-walled
and mud-covered holes that so many lived in. These were much
warmer than lying out on the frozen ground, but we believed
that they were very unhealthy, and that no one lived long who
inhabited them.
* So we set about repairing our faithful old blanket—now full
of great holes. We watched the dead men to get pieces of
cloth from their garments to make patches, which we sewed on
with yarn raveled from other fragments of woolen cloth. Some
of our company, whom we found in the prison, donated us the
A 8TORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON3, §§§
three sticks necessary to make tent-poles—wonderful generosity
‘when the preciousness of firewood is remembered. We hoisted
our blanket upon these; built a wall of mud bricks at one end,
and in it a little fireplace to economize our scanty fuel to the
last degree, and were once more at home, and much better off
than most of our neighbors.
One of these, the proprietor of a hole in the ground covered
with an arch of adobe bricks, had absolutely no bedclothes—
except a couple of short pieces of board—and very little other
clothing. He dug a trench in the bottom of what was by cour-
tesy called his tent, sufficiently large to contain his body below
his neck. At nightfall he would crawl into this, put his two
bits of board so that they joined over his breast, and then say:-
“Now, boys, cover me over;” whereupon his friends would
cover him up with dry sand from the sides of his domicile, in
which he would slumber quietly till morning, when he would
rise, shake the sand from his garments, and declare that he felt
as well refreshed as if he had slept on a spring mattress.
There has been much talk of earth baths of late years in sci-
entific and medical circles. I have been sorry that our Flor-
ence comrade—if he still lives—did not contribute the results
of his experience.
The pinching cold cured me of my repugnance to wearing
dead men’s clothes, or rather it made my nakedness so painful
that I was glad to cover it as best I could, and I began forag-
ing among the corpses for garments. For awhile my efforts to
set myself up in the mortuary second-hand clothing business
were not all successful. I found that dying men with good
clothes were as carefully watched over by sets of fellows who
constituted themselves their residuary legatees as if they were
men of fortune dying in the midst of a circle of expectant
nephews and nieces. Before one was fairly cold his clothes
would be appropriated and divided, and I have seen many
sharp fights between contesting claimants.
I soon perceived that my best chance was to get up very
early in the morning, and do my hunting. The nights were so
cold that many could not sleep, and they would walk up and
down the streets, trying to keep warm by exercise. Towards
morning, becoming exhausted, they would lie down on the
§40 ANDERSON WIC.L.E.
ground almost anywhere, and die. I have frequently seen as
many as fifty of these. My first “find” of any importance
was a young Pennsylvania Zouave, who was lying dead near
the bridge that crossed the Creek. His clothes were all badly
worn, except his baggy, dark trousers, which were nearly new.
I removed these, scraped out from each of the dozens of great
folds in the legs about a half pint of lice, and drew the gar-
ments over my own half-frozen limbs, the first real covering
those members had had for four or five months. The panta-
loons only came down about half-way between my knees and
feet, but still they were wonderfully comfortable to what I had
been — or rather not been — wearing. I had picked up a pair of
boot bottoms, which answered me for shoes, and now I began
a hunt for socks. This took several morning expeditions, but
on one of them I was rewarded with finding a corpse with a good
brown one—army make—and a few days later I got another,
a good, thick genuine one, knit at home, of blue yarn, by some
patient, careful housewife. Almost the next morning I had the
good fortune to find a dead man with a warm, whole, infantry
dress-coat, a most serviceable garment. As I still had for a
shirt the blouse Andrews had given me at Millen, I now con-
sidered my wardrobe complete, and left the rest of the clothes
to those who were more needy than I.
Those who used tobacco seemed to suffer more from a depriva-
tion of the weed than from lack of food. There were no
sacrifices they would not make to obtain it, and it was no uncom-
mon thing for boys to trade off half their rations for a chew of
“navy plug.” As long as one had anything—especially
buttons—to trade, tobacco could be procured from the guards,
who were plentifully supplied with it. When means of barter
were gone, chewers frequently became so desperate as to beg
the guards to throw them a bit of the precious nicotine. Shortly
after our arrival at Florence, a prisoner on the East Side
approached one of the Reserves with the request:
“Say, Guard, can’t you give a fellow a chew of tobacco?”
To which the guard replied:
“Yes; come right across the line there and I’ll drop you
down a bit.”
A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 541
The unsuspecting prisoner stepped across the Dead Line, and
the guard—a boy of sixteen—raised his gun and killed him.
At the North Side of the prison, the path down to the Creek
lay right along side of the Dead Line, which was a mere furrow
in the ground. At night the guards, in their zeal to kill some-
body, were very likely to imagine that any one going along the
path for water was across the Dead Line, and fire upon him.
It was as bad as going upon the skirmish line to go for water
after nightfall. Yet every night a group of boys would be
found standing at the head of the path crying out:
“Fill your buckets for a chew of tobacco.”
That is, they were willing to take all the risk of running that
gauntlet for this moderate compensation.-
CHAPTER LXXI.
DECEMBER – RATIONS OF WOOD AND FOOD GROW LESS DATLY — UK.
CERTAINTY AS TO THE MORTALITY AT FLORENCE — FVEN THE GOV-
ERNMENT'S STATISTICS ARE VERY DEFICIENT—CARE FOR THE
SICK.
The rations of wood grew smaller as the weather grew
colder, until at last they settled down to a piece about the size
of a kitchen rolling-pin per day for each man. This had to
serve for all purposes—cooking, as well as warming. We split
the rations up into slips about the size of a carpenter's lead
pencil, and used them parsimoniously, never building a fire so
big that it could not be covered with a half-peck measure. We
hovered closely over this—covering it, in fact, with our hands
and bodies, so that not a particle of heat was lost. Temem-
bering the Indian’s sage remark, “That the white man built a
big fire and sat away off from it; the Indian made a little fire
and got up close to it,” we let nothing in the way of caloric be
wasted by distance. The pitch-pine produced great quantities
of soot, which, in cold and rainy days, when we hung over the
fires all the time, blackened our faces until we were beyond the
recognition of intimate friends.
There was the same economy of fuel in cooking. Less than
half as much as is contained in a penny bunch of kindling was
made to suffice in preparing our daily meal. If we cooked
mush we elevated our little can an inch from the ground upon
a chunk of clay, and piled the little sticks around it so carefully
that none should burn without yielding all its heat to the
vessel, and not one more was burned than absolutely necessary.
If we baked bread we spread the dough upon our chess-board,
A STORY OF REBEL, AHILITARY PRISON 8. 543
and propped it up before the little fire-place, and used every
particle of heat evolved. We had to pinch and starve ourselves
thus, while within five minutes' walk from the prison-gate
stood enough timber to build a great city.
The stump Andrews and I had the foresight to secure now
did us excellent service. It was pitch pine, very fat with resin,
and a little piece split off each day added much to our fires and
Our comfort,
One morning, upon examining the pockets of an infantryman
of my hundred who had just died, I had the wonderful luck to
find a silver quarter. I hurried off to tell Andrews of our
unexpected good fortune. By an effort he succeeded in calm-
ing himself to the point of receiving the news with philosophic
coolness, and we went into Committee of the Whole Upon
the State of Our Stomachs, to consider how the money could be
spent to the best advantage. At the south side of the Stockade
on the outside of the timbers, was a sutler shop, kept by a
Rebel, and communicating with the prison by a hole two or
three feet square, cut through the logs. The Dead Line was
broken at this point, so as to permit prisoners to come up to
the hole to trade. The articles for sale were corn meal and
bread, flour and wheat bread, meat, beans, molasses, honey,
sweet potatos, etc. I went downto the place, carefully inspected
the stock, priced everything there, and studied the relative food
value of each. I came back, reported my observations and
conclusions to Andrews, and then staid at the tent while he
went on a similar errand. The consideration of the matter was
continued during the day and night, and the next morning
we determined upon investing our twenty-five cents in sweet
potatos, as we could get nearly a half-bushel of them, which
was “more fillin' at the price,” to use the words of Dickens's
Fat Boy, than anything else offered us. We bought the pota-
tos, carried them home in our blanket, buried them in the
bottom of our tent, to keep them from being stolen, and
restricted ourselves to two per day until we had eaten them all.
The Rebels did something more towards properly caring for
the sick than at Andersonville. A hospital was established in
the northwestern corner of the Stockade, and separated from
the rest of the camp by a line of police, composed of our own
$44 AEIDERSON VILLE.
men. In this space several large sheds were erected, of that:
rude architecture common to the coarser sort of buildings in
the South. There was not a nail or a bolt used in their entire
construction. Forked posts at the ends and sides supported
poles upon which were laid the long “shakes,” or split shingles,
forming the roofs, and which were held in place by other poles
laid upon them. The sides and ends were enclosed by similar
“shakes,” and altogether they formed quite a fair protection
against the weather. Beds of pine leaves were provided for
the sick, and some coverlets, which our Sanitary Commission
had been allowed to send through. But nothing was done to
bathe or cleanse them, or to exchange their lice-infested gar-
ments for others less full of torture. The long tangled hair
and whiskers were not cut, nor indeed were any of the com-
monest suggestions for the improvement of the condition of
the sick put into execution. Men who had laid in their mud
hovels until they had become helpless and hopeless, were
admitted to the hospital, usually only to die.
The diseases were different in character from those which
swept off the prisoners at Andersonville. There they were
mostly of the digestive organs; here of the respiratory. The
filthy, putrid, speedily fatal gangrene of Andersonville became
here a dry, slow wasting away of the parts, which continued
for weeks, even months, without being necessarily fatal. Men’s
feet and legs, and less frequently their hands and arms,
decayed and sloughed off. The parts became so dead that a
knife could be run through them without causing a particle of
pain. The dead flesh hung on to the bones and tendons long
after the nerves and veins had ceased to perform their functions,
and sometimes startled one by dropping off in a lump, without
causing pain or hemorrhage.
The appearance of these was, of course, frightful, or would
have been, had we not become accustomed to them. The spec-
tacle of men with their feet and legs a mass of dry ulceration,
which had reduced the flesh to putrescent deadness, and left the
tendons standing out like cords, was too common to excite
remark or even attention. Unless the victim was a comrade,
no one specially heeded his condition. Lung diseases and low
fevers ravaged the camp, existing all the time in a more or less
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISöNS, 545
virulent condition, according to the changes of the weather,
and occasionally raging in destructive epidemics. I am unable
to speak with any degree of definiteness as to the death rate,
since I had ceased to interest myself about the number dying
º §
sº
| º |
a prisoner a
º year, and had
| º º become so tor-
|
pid and stupe-
fied, mentally
and physically,
that I cared
comparatively
little for any-
thing save the
rations of food
a n d of fuel.
S
º
ɺ§|
º*
º:.
sº*}r.
º
º
CORPORAL JOHN w. JANUARY, The difference
Co. B, Fourteenth Illinois Cavalry. of a few spoon-
(From a photograph taken after his arrival at Annapolis.) fuls Of meal, Or
a large splin-
ter of wood in the daily issues to me, were of more actual
importance than the increase or decrease of the death rate by a
half a score or more. At Andersonville I frequently took the
trouble to count the number of dead and living, but all curi-
osity of this kind had now died out. *
Nor can I find that anybody else is in possession of much
more than my own information on the subject. Inquiry at the
War Department has elicited the following letters:
I.
The prison records of Florence, S. C., have never come to
light, and therefore the number of prisoners confined there could
not be ascertained from the records on file in this office; nor
do I think that any statement purporting to show that number
has ever been made.
In the report to Congress of March 1, 1869, it was shown from
records as follows:




















35
546 - ANDERSON VILLE.
Escaped, fifty-eight; paroled, one; died, two thousand seven
hundred and ninety-three. Total, two thousand eight hundred
and fifty-two. -
Since date of said report there have been added to the records
as follows: -
Died, two hundred and twelve; enlisted in Rebel army, three
hundred and twenty-six. Total, five hundred and thirty-eight.
Making a total disposed of from there, as shown by records
on file, of three thousand three hundred and ninety.
This, no doubt, is a small proportion of the number actually
confined there. -
The Hospital register on file contains that part only of the
alphabet subsequent to, and including part of the letter S, but
from this register, it is shown that the prisoners were arranged
in hundreds and thousands, and the hundred and thousand to
which he belonged is recorded, opposite each man’s name on
said register. Thus:
“John Jones, 11th thousand, 10th hundred.”
Eleven thousand being the highest number thus recorded, it
is fair to presume that not less than that number were confined
there on a certain date, and that more than that number were
confined there during the time it was continued as a prison.
II.
Statement showing the whole number of Federals and Con-
federates captured, (less the number paroled on the field), the
number who died while prisoners, and the percentage of deaths,
1861–1865 :
FEDERAL8. -
Captured * * 187,318
Died, (as shown by prison and hospital records on file) 30,674
Percentage of deaths - * 16.375
- CONFEDERATES.
Captured - 227,570
TYied * * * * * * * * * 26,774
‘Percentage of deaths - - - - - 11.768
In the detailed statement prepared for Congress dated March
1, 1869, the whole number of deaths given as shown by Pris-
oner of War records was twenty-six thousand three hundred
and twenty-eight, but since that date evidence of three thousand
six hundred and twenty-eight additional deaths has been
obtained from the captured Confederate records, making a total
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 547
of twenty-nine thousand nine hundred and fifty-six as above
shown. This is believed to be many thousands less than the
actual number of Federal prisoners who died in Confederate
prisons, as we have no records from those at Montgomery,
Ala., Mobile, Ala., Millen, Ga., Marietta, Ga., Atlanta, Ga.,
Charleston, S. C., and others. The records of Florence, S. C.,
and Salisbury, N.C., are very incomplete. It also appears from
Confederate inspection reports of Confederate prisons that a
large percentage of the deaths occurred in prison quarters,
without the care or knowledge of the Surgeon. For the month
of December, 1864 alone, the Confederate “burial report” at
Salisbury, N. C., show that out of eleven hundred and fifteen
deaths, two hundred and twenty-three, or twenty per cent, died
in prison quarters and are not accounted for in the report of the
Surgeon, and therefore not taken into consideration in the above
report, as the only records of said prisons on file (with one
exception) are the Hospital records. Calculating the percentage
of deaths on this basis would give the number of deaths at
thirty-seven thousand four hundred and forty-five and percent-
age of deaths at 20.023.
[End of the Letters from the War Department.]
If we assume that the Government's records of Florence are
correct, it will be apparent that one man in every three died
there, since, while there might have been as high as fifteen
thousand at one time in the prison, during the last three months
of its existence I am quite sure that the number did not exceed
seven thousand. This would make the mortality much greater
than at Andersonville, which it undoubtedly was, since the
physical condition of the prisoners confined there had been
greatly depressed by their long confinement, while the bulk of
the prisoners at Andersonville were those who had been brought
thither directly from the field. I think also that all who
experienced confinement in the two places are united in pro-
nouncing Florence to be, on the whole, much the worse place,
and more fatal to life.
The medicines furnished the sick were quite simple in nature,
and mainly composed of indigenous substances. For diarrhea,
red pepper and decoctions of blackberry root and of pine leaves
were given. For coughs and lung diseases, a decoction of wild
548 . A.N 19 ERSON VILL E.
cherry bark was administered. Chills and fever were treated
with decoctions of dogwood bark, and fever patients who
craved something sour, were given a weak acid drink, made by
fermenting a small quantity of meal in a barrel of water. All
these remedies were quite good in their way, and would have
benefited the patients had they been accompanied by proper
shelter, food and clothing. But it was idle to attempt to arrest
with blackberry root the diarrhea, or with wild cherry bark
the consumption of a man lying in a cold, damp, mud hovel,
devoured by vermin, and struggling to maintain life upon less
than a pint of unsalted corn meal per diem. -
Finding that the doctors issued red pepper for diarrhea, and
an imitation of sweet oil made from peanuts, for the gangrenous
sores above described, I reported to them an imaginary comrade
- in my tent, whose symptoms
indicated those remedies, and
succeeded in drawing a small
quantity of each, two or three
times a week. The red pepper
I used to warm up our bread
and mush, and give some differ-
ent taste to the corn meal, which
# had now become so loathsome
to us. The peanut oil served to
give a hint of the animal food
we hungered for. It was greasy,
and as we did not have any
meat for three months, even this
flimsy substitute was inexpress-
ibly grateful to palate and stom-
ach. But one morning the Hos-
pital Steward made a mistake,
and gave me castor oil instead,
CORPORAT, CALVIN BATE8. and the consequences were un-
Company E, Twentieth Maine. pleasant.
ter hi e
"**ś“*** A more agreeable remem-
brance is that of two small apples,
about the size of walnuts, given me by a boy named Henry
Clay Montague Porter, of the Sixteenth Connecticut. He had

A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 549
relatives living in North Carolina, who sent him a small package
of eatables, out of which, in the fulness of his generous heart,
he gave me this share—enough to make me always remember
him with kindness.
Speaking of eatables reminds me of an incident. Joe Dar-
ling, of the First Maine, our Chief of Police, had a sister living
at Augusta, Ga., who occasionally came to Florence with a
basket of food and other necessaries for her brother. On one
of these journeys, while sitting in Colonel Iverson’s tent, wait-
ing for her brother to be brought out of prison, she picked out
of her basket a nicely browned doughnut and handed it to the
guard pacing in front of the tent, with:
- “Here, guard, wouldn’t you like a genuine Yankee dough-
Raút $’”
The guard—a lank, loose-jointed Georgia cracker—who had
in all his life seen very little more inviting food than the hog,
hominy and molasses, upon which he had been raised, took the
cake, turned it over and inspected it curiously for some time,
without apparently getting the least idea of what it was or was
for, and then handed it back to the donor, saying:
“Really, mum, I don’t believe I’ve got any use for it.”
f
CHAPTER LXXII.
DULL WINTER DAYS — TOO WEAK AND TOO STUPID TO AMUSE: OUR-
SELVES — ATTEMPTS OF THE REBELS TO BECRUIT US INTO THEIR
ARMY — THE CLASS OF MEN THEY OBTADNED — VENGEANOK; CŞ.
“THE GALVANIZED'-A SINGULAR EXPERIENCE—RARE GLIMPSEs
OF FIUN — DNABILITY OF THE REBELS TO COUNT.
The Rebels continued their efforts to induce prisoners to
enlist in their army, and with much better success than at any
previous time. Many men had become so desperate that they
were reckless as to what they did. Home, relatives, friends,
happiness—all they had remembered or looked forward to, all
that had nerved them up to endure the present and brave the
future—now seemed separated from them forever by a yawn-
ing and impassable chasm. For many weeks no new prisoners
had come in to rouse their drooping courage with news of the
progress of our arms towards final victory, or refresh their
remembrances of home, and the gladsomeness of “God’s Coun-
try.” Before them they saw nothing but weeks of slow and
painful progress towards bitter death. The other alternative
was enlistment in the Rebel army.
Another class went out and joined, with no other intention
than to escape at the first opportunity. They justified their
bad faith to the Rebels by recalling the numberless instances of
the Rebels' bad faith to us, and usually closed their arguments
in defense of their course with : &
“No oath administered by a Rebel can have any binding
obligation. These men are outlaws who have not only broken
their oaths to the Government, but who have deserted from its
service, and turned its arms against it. They are perjurers and
A. STORY OF REBEL. MiTLITARY PRISON 8, 551
traitors, and in addition, the oath they administer to us is
under compulsion and for that reason is of no account.”
Still another class, mostly made up from the old Raider
crowd, enlisted from natural depravity. They went out more
than for anything else because their hearts were prone to evil,
and they did that which was wrong in preference to what was
right. By far the largest portion of those the Rebels obtained
were of this class, and a more worthless crowd of soldiers has
not been seen since Falstaff mustered his famous recruits.
After all, however, the number who deserted their flag was
astonishingly small, considering all the circumstances. The
official report says three hundred and twenty-six, but I imagine
this is under the truth, since quite a number were turned
back in after their utter uselessness had been demonstrated. I
suppose that five hundred “galvanized,” as we termed it, but
this was very few when the hopelessness of exchange, the despair
of life, and the wretchedness of the condition of the eleven or
twelve thousand inside the Stockade is remembered.
The motives actuating men to desert were not closely.
analyzed by us, but we held all who did so as despicable scoun-
drels, too vile to be adequately described in words. It was not
safe for a man to announce his intention of “galvanizing,” for
he incurred much danger of being beaten until he was physi-
cally unable to reach the gate. Those who went over to the
enemy had to use great discretion in letting the Rebel officers
know so much of their wishes as would secure their being taken
outside. Men were frequently knocked down and dragged
away while telling the officers they wanted to go out.
On one occasion one hundred or more of the Raider crowd,
who had galvanized, were stopped for a few hours in some little
Town, on their way to the front. They lost no time in steal-
ing everything they could lay their hands upon, and the
disgusted Rebel commander ordered them to be returned to
the Stockade. They came in in the evening, all well rigged out
in Rebel uniforms, and carrying blankets. We chose to con-
sider their good clothes and equipments an aggravation of their
offense and an insult to ourselves. We had at that time quite a
squad of negro soldiers inside with us. Among them was a gigan-
tic fellow with a fist like a wooden beetle. Some of the white
$52 ANT) FRSON VILLE.
boys resolved to use these to wreak the camp's displeasure on
the Galvanized. The plan was carried out capitally. The big
darky, followed by a crowd of smaller and nimbler “shades,”
would approach one of the leaders among them with
“Is you a Galvanized ?”
The surly reply would be,
“Yes, you black
of yours?”
At that instant the bony fist of the darky, descending like a
pile-driver, would catch the recreant under the ear, and lift him
about a rod. As he fell, the smaller darkies would pounce upon
him, and in an instant despoil him of his blanket and perhaps
the larger portion of his warm clothing. The operation was
repeated with a dozen or more. The whole camp enjoyed it as
rare fun, and it was the only time that I saw nearly every body
at Florence laugh.
A few prisoners were brought in in December, who had been
taken in Foster's attempt to cut the Charleston & Savannah
Railroad at Pocataligo. Among them we were astonished to
find Charley Hirsch, a member of Company K of our battalion.
He had had a strange experience. He was originally a mem-
ber of a Texas regiment and was captured at Arkansas Post.
He then took the oath of allegiance and enlisted with us.
While we were at Savannah he approached a guard one day to
trade for tobacco. The moment he spoke to the man he recog-
nized him as a former comrade in the Texas regiment. The
latter knew him also, and sang out,
“I know you; you’re Charley Hirsch, that used to be in my
company.”
Charley backed into the crowd as quickly as possible, to elude
the fellow’s eyes, but the latter called for the Corporal of the
Guard, had himself relieved, and in a few minutes came in with
an officer in search of the deserter. IIe found him with little
difficulty, and took him out. The luckless Charley was tried
by court martial, found guilty, sentenced to be shot, and while
waiting execution was confined in the jail. Before the sentence
could be carried into effect Sherman came so close to the City
that it was thought best to remove the prisoners. In the con-
fusion Charley managed to make his escape, and at the moment
What the – business is that
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON3. ** 553
the battle of Pocataligo opened, was lying concealed between
the two lines of battle, without knowing, of course, that he was
in such a dangerous locality. After the firing opened, he
thought it better to lie still than run the risk from the fire of
both sides, especially as he momentarily expected our folks to
advance and drive the Rebels away. But the reverse hap-
pened; the Johnnies drove our fellows, and, finding Charley
in his place of concealment, took him for one of Foster’s men,
and sent him to Florence, where he staid until we went through
to our lines.
Our days went by as stupidly and eventless as can be con-
ceived. We had grown too spiritless and lethargic to dig tun-
nels or plan escapes. We had nothing to read, nothing to
make or destroy, nothing to work with, nothing to play with,
and even no desire to contrive anything for amusement. All
the cards in the prison were worn out long ago. Some of the
boys had made dominos from bones, and Andrews and I still
had our chessmen, but we were too listless to play. The mind,
enfeebled by the long disuse of it except in a few limited cham-
nels, was unfitted for even so much effort as was involved in a
game for pastime.
Nor were there any physical exercises, such as that crowd of
young men would have delighted in under other circumstances.
There was no running, boxing, jumping, wrestling, leaping, etc.
All were too weak and hungry to make any exertion beyond
that absolutely necessary. On cold days everybody seemed
totally benumbed. The camp would be silent and still. Little
groups everywhere hovered for hours, moody, and sullen, over
diminutive, flickering fires, made with one poor handful of
splinters. When the sun shone, more activity was visible.
Boys wandered around, hunted up their friends, and saw
what gaps death—always busiest during the cold spells—had
made in the ranks of their acquaintances. During the
warmest part of the day everybody disrobed, and spent an
hour or more killing the lice that had waxed and mul-
tiplied to grievous proportions during the few days of compara-
tive immunity.
Besides the whipping of the Galvanized by the darkies, I
remember but two other bits of amusement we had while at
554 ANDERSON VILLE.
Florence. One of these was in hearing the colored soldiers
sing patriotic songs, which they did with great gusto when the
weather became mild. The other was the antics of a circus
clown — a member, I believe, of a Connecticut or a New York
regiment, who, on the rare occasions when we were feeling not
exactly well so much as simply better than we had been, would
give us an hour or two of recitations of the drolleries with
which he was wont to set the crowded canvas in a roar. One
of his happiest efforts, I remember, was a stilted paraphrase of
“Old Uncle Ned,” a song very popular a quarter of a century
ago, and which ran something like this:
There was an old darky, an' his name was Uncle Ned,
But he died long ago, long ago ;
He had no wool on de top of his head,
The place whar de wool ought to grow.
CHOR US :
IXen lay down de shubbel an’ de hoe,
Den hang up de fiddle an' de bow ;
For dere's no more hard work for poor Uncle Ned ;
He’s gone whar de good niggahs go.
WIis fingers war long, like de cane in de brake,
And his eyes war too dim for to see :
He had no teeth to eat de corn cake,
So he had to let de corn cake be.
CHORU 3.
His legs were so bowed dat he couldn't lie still,
An' he had no nails on his toes;
His neck was so crooked dat he couldn’t take a pill,
So he had to take a pill through his nose.
CHORUs,
* . One cold frosty morning old Uncle Ned died,
An' de tears ran down massa's cheek like rain,
For he knew when Uncle Ned was laid in de groun',
He would never see poor Uncle Ned again.
CTIOBU'ſ,
In the hands of this artist the song became—
There was an aged and indigent African whose cognomen was Uncle Edward,
But he is deceased since a remote period, a very remote period ;
He possessed no capillary substance on the summit of his cranium,
The place designated by kind Nature for the capillary substance to vegetate.
CHORUS.
Then let the agricultural implements rest recumbent upon the ground;
And suspend the musical instruments in peace upon the wall, r
For there's no more physical energy to be displayed by our indigent Uncle Edwards
He has departed to that place set apart by a beneficent Providence for the reception
of the better class of Africans.
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 555
And so on. These rare flashes of fun only served to throw the
underlying misery out in greater relief. It was like lightning
playing across the surface of a dreary morass.
I have before alluded several times to the general inability of
Rebels to count accurately, even in low numbers. One con-
tinually met phases of this that seemed simply incomprehensible
to us, who had taken in the multiplication table almost with
our mother’s milk, and knew the Rule of Three as well as a
Presbyterian boy does the Shorter Catechism. A cadet—an
undergraduate of the South Carolina Military Institute—called
our roll at Florence, and though an inborn young aristocrat,
who believed himself-made of finer clay than most mortals, he
was not a bad fellow at all. He thought South Carolina aris-
tocracy the finest gentry, and the South Carolina Military
Institute the greatest institution of learning in the world; but
that is common with all South Carolinians.
One day he came in so full of some matter of rare importance
that we became somewhat excited as to its nature. Dismissing
our hundred after roll-call, he unburdened his mind:
“Now you fellers are all so d—d peart on mathematics, and
such things, that you want to Snap me up on every opportunity,
but I guess I’ve got something this time that’ll settle you. Its
something that a fellow gave out yesterday, and Colonel Iver-
son, and all the officers out there have been figuring on it ever
since, and none have got the right answer, and I’m powerful
sure that none of you, Smart as you think you are, can do it.”
“Heavens, and earth, let’s hear this wonderful problem,”said
we all. :
“Well,” said he, “what is the length of a pole standing in a
river, one-fifth of which is in the mud, two-thirds in the water,
and one-eighth above the water, while one foot and three inches
of the top is broken off?”
In a minute a dozen answered,
“One hundred and fifty feet.”
The cadet could only look his amazement at the possession of
such an amount of learning by a crowd of mudsills, and one of
our fellows said contemptuously:
“Why, if you South Carolina Institutefellows couldn't answer
556 ANDERSON WILLE.
such questions as that they wouldn’t allow you in the infant
class up North.”
Lieutenant Barrett, our red-headed tormentor, could not, for
the life of him, count those inside in hundreds and thousands in
such a manner as to be reasonably certain of correctness. As
it would have cankered his soul to feel that he was being beaten
out of a half-dozen rations by the superior cunning of the
Yankees, he adopted a plan which he must have learned at
some period of his life when he was a hog or sheep drover.
Every Sunday morning all in the camp were driven across the
Creek to the East Side, and then made to file slowly back—
one at a time—between two guards stationed on the little
bridge that spanned the Creek. By this means, if he was able
to count up to one hundred, he could get our number correctly.
The first time this was done after our arrival he gave us a
display of his wanton malevolence. We were nearly all assem-
bled on the East Side, and were standing in ranks, at the edge
of the swamp, facing the west. Barrett was walking along the
opposite edge of the Swamp, and, coming to a little gully,
jumped it. He was very awkward, and came near falling into
the mud. We all yelled derisively. He turned toward us in
a fury, shook his fist, and shouted curses and imprecations. We
yelled still louder. He snatched out his revolver, and began
firing at our line. The distance was considerable—say four or
five hundred feet—and the bullets struck in the mud in advance
of the line. We still yelled. Then he jerked a gun from a
guard and fired, but his aim was still bad, and the bullet sang
over our heads, striking in the bank above us. He posted off
to get another gun, but his fit subsided before he obtained it.
CELAPTER LXXIII.
ÖHRISTMAS — AND THE WAY IT WAS PASSED — THE DAILY ROUTINE ºf
Christmas, with its swelling flood of happy memories, mem-
ories now bitter because they marked the high tide whence our
fortunes had receded to this despicable state—came, but brought
no change to mark its coming. It is true that we had expected no
change; we had not looked forward to the day, and hardly
knew when it arrived, so indifferent were we to the lapse of
time.
When reminded that the day was one that in all Christendom
was sacred to good cheer and joyful meetings; that wherever
the upraised cross proclaimed followers of Him who preached
“Peace on Earth and good will to men,” parents and children,
brothers and sisters, long-time friends, and all congenial spirits
were gathering around hospitable boards to delight in each
other's society, and strengthen the bonds of unity between
them, we listened as to a tale told of some foreign land from
which we had parted forever more.
It seemed years since we had known anything of the kind
The experience we had had of it belonged to the dim and irre.
vocable past. It could not come to us again, nor we go to it.
Squalor, hunger, cold and wasting disease had become the
ordinary conditions of existence, from which there was little
hope that we would ever be exempt.
Perhaps it was well, to a certain degree, that we felt so. It
softened the poignancy of our reflections over the difference in
the condition of ourselves and our happier comrades Who were
elsewhere.
558 ANDERSON VILLE.
The weather was in harmony with our feelings. The dull,
gray, leaden sky was as sharp a contrast with the crisp, bracing
sharpness of a Northern Christmas morning, as our beggarly
little ration of saltless corn meal was to the sumptuous cheer that
loaded the dinner-tables of our Northern homes.
We turned out languidly in the morning to roll-call, endured
silently the raving abuse of the cowardly brute Barrett, hung
stupidly over the flickering little fires, until the gates opened to
admit the rations. For an hourthere was bustle and animation.
All stood around and counted each sack of meal, to get an idea
of the rations we were likely to receive.
This was a daily custom. The number intended for the day's
issue were all brought in and piled up in the street. Then there
was a division of the sacks to the thousands, the Sergeant of
each being called up in turn, and allowed to pick out and carry
away one, until all were taken. When we entered the
prison each thousand received, on an average, ten or eleven
sacks a day. Every week saw a reduction in the number, until
by Midwinter the daily issue to a thousand averaged four sacks.
Let us say that one of these sacks held two bushels, or the
four, eight bushels. As there are thirty-two quarts in a bushel,
one thousand men received two hundred and fifty-six quarts, or
less than a half pint each.
We thought we had sounded the depths of misery at Ander-
sonville, but Florence showed us a much lower depth. Bad as
was parching under the burning sun whose fiery rays bred
miasma and putrefaction, it was still not so bad as having one's
life chilled out by exposure in nakedness upon the frozen ground
to biting winds and freezing sleet. Wretched as the rusty.
bacon and coarse, maggot-filled bread of Andersonville was, it
would still go much farther towards supporting life than the
handful of saltless meal at Florence. -
While I believe it possible for any young man, with the forces
of life strong within him, and healthy in every way, to survive,
by taking due precautions, such treatment as we received in
Andersonville, I cannot understand how anybody could live
through a month of Florence. That many did live is only an
astonishing illustration of the tenacity of life in somè indi.
viduals.
A. STORY OF FEB}\,L, MILI'ſ A tº Y PHRHS ( ) N. S. 559
Let the reauer imagine — anywhere he likes — a fifteen-acre
field, with a stream running through the center. Let him
imagine this inclosed by a Stockade eighteen feet high, made by
standing logs on end. Let him conceive of ten thousand feeble
men, debilitated by months of imprisonment, turned inside this
inclosure, without a yard of covering given them, and told to
make their homes there. One quarter of them — two thousand
five hundred — pick up brush, pieces of rail, splits from logs,
etc., sufficient to make huts that will turn the rain tolerably.
The huts are in no case as good shelter as an ordinarily careful
farmer provides for his swine. Half of the prisoners—five
thousand—who cannot do so well, work the mud-up into rude
bricks, with which they build shelters that wash down at every
hard rain. The remaining two thousand five hundred do not
do even this, but lie around on the ground, on old blankets and
overcoats, and in day-time prop these up on sticks, as shelter
from the rain and wind. Let them be given not to exceed a
pint of corn meal a day, and a piece of wood about the size of
an ordinary stickfor a cooking stove to cook it with. Then let
such weather prevail as we ordinarily have in the North in
November—freezing cold rains, with frequent days and nights
when the ice forms as thick as a pane of glass. How long does
he think men could live through that ? He will probably say
that a week, or at most a fortnight, would see the last and
strongest of these ten thousand lying dead in the frozen mire
where he wallowed. He will be astonished to learn that
probably not more than four or five thousand of those who
underwent this in Florence died there. How many died after
release—in Washington, on the vessels coming to Annapolis,
in hospital and camp at Annapolis, or after they reached home,
none but the Recording Angel can tell. All that I know is we
left a trail of dead behind us, wherever we moved, so long as I
was with the doleful caravan.
Looking back, after these lapse of years, the most salient
characteristic seems to be the ease with which men died. There
was little of the violence of dissolution so common at Ander-
sonville. The machinery of life in all of us was running
slowly and feebly; it would simply grow still slower and
feebler in some, and then stop without a jar, without a sensa-
560 ANDERSON VILLE.
tion to manifest it. Nightly one of two or three comrades
sleeping together would die. The survivors would not know it
until they tried to get him to “spoon” over, when they would
find him rigid and motionless. As they could not spare even
so little heat as was still contained in his body, they would not
remove this, but lie up the closer to it until morning. Such a
thing as a boy making an outcry when he discovered his com-
rade dead, or manifesting any desire to get away from the
corpse, was unknown.
I remember one who, as Charles II. said of himself, was
“an unconscionable long time in dying.” His name was Bick-
ford; he belonged to the Twenty-First Ohio Volunteer Infantry,
lived, I think, near Findlay, O., and was in my hundred. His
partner and he were both in a very bad condition, and I was
not surprised, on making my rounds, one morning, to find them
apparently quite dead. I called help, and took his partner
away to the gate. When we picked up Bickford we found he
still lived, and had strength enough to gasp out:
“You fellers had better let me alone.” We laid him back to
die, as we supposed, in an hour or so.
When the Rebel Surgeon came in on his rounds, I showed
him Bickford, lying there with his eyes closed, and limbs
motionless. The Surgeon said:
“O, that man’s dead; why don’t you have him taken out?”
I replied: “No, he isn’t. Just see.” Stooping, I shook the
boy sharply, and said:
“Bickford l Bickford 11 How do you feel?”
The eyes did not unclose, but the lips opened slowly and said
with a painful effort:
“F-i-r-s-t l{-a-t-e l’”
This scene was repeated every morning for over a week.
Every day the Rebel Surgeon would insist that the man should
be taken out, and every morning Bickford would gasp out with
troublesome exertion that he felt
“F-i-r-s-t T-a-t-e l’
It ended one morning by his inability to make his usual
answer, and then he was carried out to join the two score
Cthers being loaded into the wagon.
CHAPTER LXXIV.
- NEW YEAR’s DAY —DEATH OF JOHN H. WINDER—HE DIES ON HIS
WAY TO A DINNER— SOMETHING AS TO CHARACTER AND CAREER—
ONE OF THE WORST MEN THAT EVER LIVED.
On New Year's Day we were startled by the information
that our old-time enemy — General John H. Winder—was
dead. It seemed that the Rebel Sutler of the Post had prepared
in his tent a grand New Year's dinner to which all the officers
were invited. Just as Winder bent his head to enter the tent
he fell, and expired shortly after. The boys said it was a clear
case of Death by Visitation of the Devil, and it was always
insisted that his last words were :
“My faith is in Christ; I expect to be saved. Be sure and
cut down the prisoners’ rations.”
Thus passed away the chief evil genius of the Prisoners-of-
War. American history has no other character approaching
his in vileness. I doubt if the history of the world can show
another man, so insignificant in abilities and position, at whose
door can be laid such a terrible load of human misery. There
have been many great conquerors and warriors who have
Waded through slaughter to a throne,
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,
but they were great men, with great objects, with grand plans
to carry out, whose benefits they thought would be more than
an equivalent for the suffering they caused. The misery they
inflicted was not the motive of their schemes, but an unpleasant
incident, and usually the Sufferers were men of other races and
religions, for whom sympathy had been dulled by long
antagonism.
36
562 - ANDERSON VILLE.
But Winder was an obscure, dull old man —the commonplace
descendant of a pseudo-aristocrat whose cowardly incompetence
had once cost us the loss of Our National Capital. More pru-
dent than his runaway father, he held himself aloof, from the
field; his father had lost reputation and almost his commission,
by coming into contact with the enemy; he would take no such
foolish risks, and he did not. When false expectations of the
ultimate triumph of Secession led him to cast his lot with the
Southern Confederacy, he did not solicit a command in the field,
but took up his quarters in Richmond, to become a sort of
Informer-General, High-Inquisitor and Chief Eavesdropper for
his intimate friend, Jefferson Davis. He pried and spied around
into every man’s bedroom and family circle, to discover traces
of Union sentiment. The wildest tales malice and windic-
tiveness could concoct found welcome reception in his ears.
He was only too willing to believe, that he might find excuse
for harrying and persecuting. He arrested, insulted, impris-
oned, banished, and shot people, until the patience even of the
citizens of Richmond gave Way, and pressure was brought upon
Jefferson Davis to secure the suppression of his satellite. For
a long while Davis resisted, but at last yielded, and transferred
Winder to the office of Commissary General of Prisoners.
The delight of the Richmond people was great. One of the
papers expressed it in an article, the key note of which was
“Thank God that Richmond is at last rid of old Winder.
God have mercy upon those to whom he has been sent.”
Remorseless and cruel as his conduct of the office of Provost
Marshal General was, it gave little hint of the extent to
which he would go in that of Commissary General of
Prisoners. Before, he was restrained somewhat by public
opinion and the laws of the land. These no longer deterred
him. From the time he assumed command of all the Prisons
east of the Mississippi—some time in the Fall of 1863 — until
death removed him, January 1, 1865 — certainly not less than
twenty-five thousand incarcerated men died in the most
horrible manner that the mind can conceive. He cannot be
accused of exaggeration, When, Surveying the thousands of new
graves at Andersonville, he could say with a quiet chuckle that
he was “doing more to kill off the Yankees than twenty regi-
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONº. 563
ments at the front.” No twenty regiments in the Rebel Army
ever succeeded in slaying anything like thirteen thousand
Yankees in six months, or any other time. His cold blooded
cruelty was such as to disgust even the Rebel officers. Colonel
D. T. Chandler, of the Rebel War Department, sent on a tour
of inspection to Andersonville, reported back, under date of
August 5, 1864:
“My duty requires me respectfully to recommend a change
in the officer in command of the post, Brigadier General John
H. Winder, and the substitution in his place of some one who
unites both energy and good judgment with some feelings of
humanity and consideration for the welfare and comfort, as far
as is consistent with their safe keeping, of the vast number of
unfortunates placed under his control; some one who, at least,
will not advocate deliberately, and in cold blood, the propriety
of leaving them in their present condition until their number
is sufficiently reduced by death to make the present arrange-
ments suffice for their accommodation, and who will not con-
sider it a matter of self-laudation and boasting that he has never
been inside of the Stockade—a place the horrors of which it is
difficult to describe, and which is a disgrace to civilization —
the condition of which he might, by the exercise of a little
energy and judgment, even with the limited means at his com-
mand, have considerably improved.”
In his examination touching this report, Colonel Chandler
Says:
“I noticed that General Winder seemed very indifferent to
the welfare of the prisoners, indisposed to do anything, or to do
as much as I thought he ought to do, to alleviate their suf-
ferings. I remonstrated with him as well as I could, and he
used that language which I reported to the Department with
reference to it—the language stated in the report. When I
spoke of the great mortality existing among the prisoners, and
pointed out to him that the sickly season was coming on, and
that it must necessarily increase unless something was done for
their relief—the swamp, for instance, drained, proper food fur-
nished, and in better quantity, and other Sanitary suggestions
which I made to him— he replied to me that he thought it was
better to see half of them die than to take care of the men.”
564 ANDERSON VILLE.
It was he who could issue such an order as this, when it was
supposed that General Stoneman was approaching Ander-
sonville:
HEADQUARTERS MILITARY PRISON, }
ANDERSON VILLE, Ga., July 27, 1864.
The officers on duty and in charge of the Battery of Florida Artillery at
the time will, upon receiving notice that the enemy has approached within
feven miles of this post, open upon the Stockade with grapeshot, withou?
reference to the situation beyond these lines of defense.
JoBN H. WINDER,
Brigadier General Commanding.
This man was not only unpunished, but the Government is
to-day supporting his children in luxury by the rent it pays for
the use of his property—the well-known Winder building,
which is occupied by one of the Departments at Washington.
Iconfessthat all my attemps to satisfactorily analyze Winder's
character and discover a sufficient motive for his monstrous
conduct have been futile. Even if we imagine him inspired by
a hatred of the people of the North that rose to fiendishness,
we can not understand him. It seems impossible for the mind
of any man to cherish so deep and insatiable an enmity against
his fellow-creatures that it could not be quenched and turned to
pity by the sight of even one day’s misery at Andersonville or
Florence. No one man could possess such a grievous sense of
private or national wrongs as to be proof against the daily spec-
tacle of thousands of his own fellow citizens, inhabitants of the
same country, associates in the same institutions, educated in the
same principles, speaking the same language—thousands of his
brethren in race, creed, and all that unite men into great com-
munities, starving, rotting and freezing to death.
There is many a man who has a hatred so intense that noth-
ing but the death of the detested one will satisfy it. A still
fewer number thirst for a more comprehensive retribution:
they would slay perhaps a half-dozen persons; and there may
be such gluttons of revenge as would not be satisfied with the
sacrifice of less than a score or two, but such would be mom-
sters of whom there have been very few, even in fiction. How
must they all bow their diminished heads before a man who fed
his animosity fat with tens of thousands of lives.
But, what also militates greatly against the presumption that
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 565
either revenge or an abnormal predisposition to cruelty could
have animated Winder, is that the possession of any two such
mental traits so strongly marked would presuppose a corre-
sponding activity of other intellectual faculties, which was not
true of him, as from all I can learn of him his mind was in no
respect extraordinary.
It does not seem possible that he had either the brain to
conceive, or the firmness of purpose to carry out so gigantic
and long-enduring a career of cruelty, because that would imply
superhuman qualities in a man who had previously held his own
very poorly in the competition with other men.
The probability is that neither Winder nor his direct super-
iors—Howell Cobb and Jefferson Davis — conceived in all its
proportions the gigantic engine of torture and death they were
organizing; nor did they comprehend the enormity of the crime
they were committing. But they were willing to do much
wrong to gain their end; and the Smaller crimes of to-day pre-
pared them for greater ones to-morrow, and still greater ones
the day following. Killing ten men a day on Belle Isle in Jan-
uary, by starvation and hardship, led very easily to killing one
handred men a day in Andersonville, in July, August and
September. Probably at the beginning of the war they would
have felt uneasy at slaying One man per day by Such means,
but as retribution came not, and as their appetite for slaughter
grew with feeding, and as their sympathy with human misery
atrophied from long suppression, they ventured upon ever
widening ranges of destructiveness. Had the war lasted an-
other year, and they lived, five hundred deaths a day would
doubtless have been insufficient to disturb them.
Winder doubtless went about his part of the task of slaugh-
ter coolly, leisurely, almost perfunctorily. His training in the
Regular Army was against the likelihood of his displaying zeal
in anything. He instituted certain measures, and let things
take their course. That course was a rapid transition from bad
to worse, but it was still in the direction of his wishes, and
what little of his own energy was infused into it was in the
direction of impetus, not of controlling or improving the
course. To have done things better would have involved some
personal discomfort. He was not likely to incur personal dis.
566 ANDERSON WILLE. .
comfort to mitigate evils that were only afflicting some one
else. By an effort of one hour a day for two weeks he could
have had every man in Andersonville and Florence given good
shelter through his own exertions. He was not only too indif.
ferent and too lazy to do this, but he was too malignant; and
this neglect to allow—simply allow, remember—the prisoners
to protect their lives by providing their own shelter, gives the
key to his whole disposition, and would stamp his memory with
infamy, even if there were no other charges against him.
CHAPTER LXXV.
oRE INSTANCE OF A SUCCESSFUL ESCAPE—THE ADVENTUREs or
SERGEANT walTER HARTsough, of company K, sixTEENTH
ILLINOIS CAVALRY — HE GETS AWAY FROM THE REBELS AT
THOMASVILLE, AND AFTER A TOILSOME AND DANGEROUS JOURNEY
OF SEVERAL HUNDRED MILES, REACHES OUR LINES IN FLORIDA.
While I was at Savannah I got hold of a primary geography
in possession of one of the prisoners, and securing a fragment
of a lead pencil from one comrade, and a sheet of note paper
from another, I made a copy of the South Carolina and Georgia
sea coast, for the use of Andrews and myself in attempting to
escape. The reader remembers the ill success of all our efforts
in that direction. When we were at Blackshear we still had
the map, and intended to make another effort “as soon as the
sign got right.” One day while we were waiting for this,
Walter Hartsough, a Sergeant of Company K, of our battalion,
came to me and said:
“Mc., I wish you’d lend me your map a little while. I want
to make a copy.”
I handed it over to him, and never saw him more, as almost
immediately after we were taken out “on parole” and sent to
Florence. I heard from other comrades of the battalion that
he had succeeded in getting past the guard line and into the
woods, which was the last they ever heard of him. Whether
starved to death in some swamp, whether torn to pieces by dogs,
or killed by the rifles of his pursuers, they knew not. The
reader can judge of my astonishment as well as pleasure, at
receiving among the dozens of letters which came to me
every day while this account was appearing in the BLADE, one
568 ANDERSON VILLE.
signed “Walter Hartsough, late of Co. K, Sixteenth Illinois
Cavalry.” It was like one returned from the grave, and the
next mail took a letter to him, inquiring eagerly of his adven-
tures after we separated. I take pleasure in presenting the
reader with his reply, which was only intended as a private
communication to myself. The first part of the letter I omit,
as it contains only gossip about our old comrades, which, how-
ever interesting to myself, would hardly be so to the general
reader.
GENOA, WAYNE COUNTY, LA., }
May 27, 1879.
Dear Com/rade Mc. :
* * 3& * 3& 3% + *
I have been living in this town for ten years, running a gen-
eral store, under the firm name of Hartsough & Martin, and
have been more successful than I anticipated.
* * º: * * * * *
I made my escape from Thomasville, Ga., Dec. 7, 1864, by
running the guards, in company with Frank IIommat, of Com-
pany M, and a man by the name of Clipson, of the Twenty-
First Illinois Infantry. I had heard the officers in charge of us
say that they intended to march us across to the other road,
and take us back to Andersonville. We concluded we would
take a heavy risk on our lives rather than return there. By
stinting ourselves we had got a little meal ahead, which we
thought we would bake up for the journey, but our appetites
got the better of us, and we ate it all up before starting. We
were camped in the woods then, with no Stockade—only a line
of guards around us. We thought that by a little strategy and
boldness we could pass these. We determined to try. Clipson
was Jo go to the right, Hommat in the center, and myself to
the left. We all slipped through, without a shot. Our rem-
dezvous was to be the center of a small swamp, through which
flowed a small stream that supplied the prisoners with water.
Hommat and I got together soon after passing the guard lines,
and we began signaling for Clipson. We laid down by a large
log that lay across the stream, and submerged our limbs and
part of our bodies in the water, the better to screen ourselves
from observation. Pretty soon a Johnny came along with a
bunch of turnip tops, that he was taking up to the camp to
i
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONs. 569
trade to the prisoners. As he passed over the log I could have
caught him by the leg, which I intended to do if he saw us, but
he passed along, heedless of those concealed under his very feet,
which saved him a ducking at least, for we were resolved to
drown him if he discovered us. Waiting here a little longer
we left our lurking place and made a circuit of the edge of the
Swamp, still signaling for Clipson. But we could find nothing
of him, and at last had to give him up.
We were now between Thomasville and the camp, and as
Thomasville was the end of the railroad, the woods were full
of Rebels waiting transportation, and we approached the road.
carefully, supposing that it was guarded to keep their own men
from going to town. We crawled up to the road, but seeing
no one, started across it. At that moment a guard about
thirty yards to Our left, who evidently supposed that we were
Rebels, sang out :
“Whar ye gwine to thar, boys 82°
I answered:
“Jest a-gwine out here a little ways.”
Frank whispered me to run, but I said, “No ; wait till he
halts us, and then run.” He walked up to where we had
crossed his beat—looked after us a few minutes, and then, to
Our great relief, walked back to his post. After much trouble
we succeeded in getting through all the troops, and started
fairly on our way. We tried to shape our course toward
Florida. The country was very swampy, the night rainy and
dark, no stars were out to guide us, and we made such poor
progress that when daylight came we were only eight miles
from our starting place, and close to a road leading from
Thomasville to Monticello. Finding a large turnip patch, we
filled our pockets, and then hunted a place to lie concealed in
during the day. We selected a thicket in the center of a
large pasture. We crawled into this and laid down. Some
negros passed close to us, going to their work in an adjoining
field. They had a bucket of victuals with them for dinner,
which they hung on the fence in such a way that we could
have easily stolen it without detection. The temptation to
hungry men was very great, but we concluded that it was best
and safest to let it alone.
570 ANDERSON VILLE.
As the negros returned from work in the evening they sepa-
rated, one old man passing on the opposite side of the thicket
from the rest. We halted him and told him that we were
Rebs, who had taken a French leave of Thomasville; that
we were tired of guarding Yanks, and were going home; and
further, that we were hungry, and wanted something to eat.
He told us that he was the boss on the plantation. His master
lived in Thomasville. He, himself, did not have much to eat,
but he would show us where to stay, and when the folks went
to bed he would bring us some food. Passing up close to the
negro quarters we got over the fence and lay down behind it,
to wait for our supper.
We had been there but a short time when a young negro
came out, and passing close by us, went into a fence corner a few
panels distant and, kneeling down, began praying aloud, and
very earnestly, and stranger still, the burden of his supplication
was for the success of our armies. I thought it the best prayer
I ever listened to. Finishing his devotions he returned to the
house, and shortly after the old man came with a good supper
of corn bread, molasses and milk. He said that he had no meat,
and that he had done the best he could for us. After we had
eaten, he said that as the young people had gone to bed, we had
better come into his cabin and rest awhile, which we did.
Hommat had a full suit of Rebel clothes, and I had stolen
sacks enough at Andersonville, when they were issuing rations,
to make me a shirt and pantaloons, which a sailor, fabricated
for me. I wore these over what was left of my blue clothes.
The old negro lady treated us very coolly. In a few minutes
a young negro came in, whom the old gentleman introduced as
his son, and whom I immediately recognized as our friend of
the prayerful proclivities. He said that he had been a body
servant to his young master, who was an officer in the Rebel
army. -
“Golly!” says he, “if you’uns had stood a little longer at
Stone River, our men would have run.”
I turned to him sharply with the question of what he meant
by calling us “You 'uns,” and asked him if he believed we
were Yankees. He surveyed us carefully for a few seconds,
and then said:
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 57.1
“Yes; I bleav you is Yankees.”
He paused a second, and added:
“Yes, I know you is.”
I asked him how he knew it, and he said that we neither
looked nor talked like their men. I then acknowledged that
We were Yankee prisoners, trying to make our escape to our
lines. This announcement put new life into the old lady, and,
after satisfying herself that we were really Yankees, she got
up from her seat, shook hands with us, and declared we
must have a better supper than we had had. She set immedi-
ately about preparing it for us. Taking up a plank in the
floor, she pulled out a nice flitch of bacon, from which she cut
as much as we could eat, and gave us some to carry with us.
She got up a real substantial supper, to which we did full jus-
tice, in spite of the meal we had already eaten.
They gave us a quantity of victuals to take with us, and
instructed us as well as possible as to our road. They
warned us to keep away from the young negros, but trust the
old ones implicitly. Thanking them over and over for their
exceeding kindness, we bade them good-by, and started again
on our journey. Our supplies lasted two days, during which
time we made good progress, keeping away from the roads, and
flanking the towns, which were few and insignificant. We
occasionally came across negros, of whom we cautiously inquired
as to the route and towns, and by the assistance of our map and
the stars, got along very well indeed, until we came to the
Suwanee River. We had intended to cross this at Columbus or
Alligator. When within six miles of the river we stopped at
some negro huts to get some food. The lady who owned the
negros was a widow, who was born and raised in Massachusetts.
Her husband had died before the war began. An old negro
woman told her mistress that we were at the quarters, and she
sent for us to come to the house. She was a very nice-looking
lady, about thirty-five years of age, and treated us with great
kindness. Hommat being barefooted, she pulled off her own
shoes and stockings and gave them to him, saying that she
would go to Town the next day and get herself another pair.
She told us not to try to cross the river near Columbus, as
their troops had been deserting in great numbers, and the
572 ANDERSON VILLE.
river was closely picketed to catch the runaways. She gave
us directions how to go so as to cross the river about fifty
miles below Columbus. We struck the river again the next
night, and I wanted to swim it, but Hommat was afraid of
alligators, and I could not induce him to venture into the water.
We traveled down the river until we came to Moseley’s
Ferry, where we stole an old boat about a third full of water,
and paddled across. There was quite a little town at that
place, but we walked right down the main street without
meeting any one. Six miles from the river we saw an old
negro woman roasting sweet potatos in the back yard of a
house. We were very hungry, and thought we would risk
something to get food. Hommat went around near her, and
asked her for something to eat. She told him to go and ask
the white folks. This was the answer she made to every
question. He wound up by asking her how far it was to Mose.
ley’s Ferry, saying that he wanted to go there, and get some-
thing to eat. She at last ran into the house, and we ran away
as fast as we could. We had gone but a short distance when
we heard a horn, and soon the cursed hounds began bellowing.
We did our best running, but the hounds circled around the
house a few times and then took our trail. For a little while
it seemed all up with us, as the Sound of the baying came
closer and closer. But Our inquiry about the distance to Mose-
ley’s Ferry seems to have saved us. They soon called the
hounds in, and started them. On the track we had come, instead
of that upon which we were going. The baying shortly died
away in the distance. We did not waste any time congratu-
lating ourselves over our marvelous escape, but paced on as fast
as we could for about eight miles farther. On the way we
passed over the battle ground of Oolustee, or Ocean Pond.
Coming near to Lake City we fell in with some negros who
had been brought from Maryland. We stopped over one day
with them, to rest, and two of them concluded to go with us.
We were furnished with a lot of cooked provisions, and starting
one night, made forty-two miles before morning. We kept the
negros in advance. Itold Hommat that it was a poor command
that could not afford an advance guard. After traveling two
nights with the negros, we came near Baldwin. Here I was
A §TORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 573
very much afraid of recapture, and I did not want the negros
with us, if we were, lest we should be shot for slave-stealing.
About daylight of the second morning we gave them the slip.
We had to skirt Baldwin closely, to head the St. Mary's
River, or cross it where that was easiest. After crossing the
river we came to a very large swamp, in the edge of which we
lay all day. Before nightfall we started to go through it, as
there was no fear of detection in these swamps. We got
through before it was very dark, and as we emerged from it
We discovered a dense cloud of smoke to our right and quite
close. We decided this was a camp, and while we were talking
the band began to play. This made us think that probably our
forces had come out from Fernandina, and taken the place. I
proposed to Hommat that we go forward and reconnoiter. He
refused, and leaving him alone, I started forward: I had gone
but a short distance when a soldier came out from the camp
With a bucket. Iſe began singing, and the Song he sang con-
Vinced me that he was a Rebel. Rejoining Hommat, we held a
consultation and decided to stay where we were until it became
darker, before trying to get out. It was the night of the 22d
of December, and very cold for that country. The camp
guard had small fires built, which we could see quite plainly.
After starting we saw that the pickets also had fires, and that
we were between the two lines. This discovery saved us from
capture, and keeping about an equal distance between the two,
we undertook to work our way out.
We first crossed a line of breastworks, then in succession the
Fernandina Railroad, the Jacksonville Railroad, and pike, mov-
ing all the time nearly parallel with the picket line. Here we
had to halt. Hommat was suffering greatly with his feet. The
shoes that had been given him by the widow lady were worn
out, and his feet were much torn and cut by the terribly rough
road we had traveled through swamps, etc. We sat down on
a log, and I, pulling off the remains of my army shirt, tore it
into pieces, and Hommat wrapped his feet up in them. A part
I reserved and tore into strips, to tie up the rents in our panta-
loons. Going through the swamps and briers had torn them
into tatters, from waistband to hem, leaving our skins bare to be
served in the same way.
A
§74 ANDERSON VILLE-
We started again, moving slowly and bearing towards the
picket fires, which we could see for a distance on our left.
After traveling some little time the lights on our left ended,
which puzzled us for a while, until we came to a fearful big
swamp, that explained it all, as this, considered impassable, pro-
tected the right of the camp. We had an awful time in getting
through. In many places we had to lie down and crawl long
distances through the paths made in the brakes by hogs and
other animals. As we at length came out, Hommat turned to
me and whispered that in the morning we would have some
Lincoln coffee. He seemed to think this must certainly end our
troubles.
We were now between the Jacksonville Railroad and the St.
John’s River. We kept about four miles from the railroad, for
fear of running into the Rebel outposts. We had traveled but
a few miles when Hommat said he could go no farther, as his
feet and legs were so swelled and numb that he could not tell
when he set them upon the ground. I had some matches that
a negro had given me, and gathering together a few pine knots
we made a fire — the first that we had lighted on the trip —
and laid down with it between us. We had slept but a few
minutes when I awoke and found Hommat's clothes on fire.
Rousing him we put out the flames before he was badly burned,
but the thing had excited him so as to give him new life, and
he proposed to start on again.
By Sunrise we were within eight miles of our lines, and con-
cluding that it would be safe to travel in the daytime, we went
ahead, walking along the railroad. The excitement being over,
Hommat began to move very slowly again. His feet and legs
were So swollen that he could scarcely walk, and it took us a
long while to pass over those eight miles.
At last we came in sight of our pickets. They were negros.
They halted us, and Hommat went forward to speak to them.
They called for the Officer of the Guard, who came, passed us
inside, and shook hands cordially with us. His first inquiry
was if we knew Charley Marseilles, whom you remember ran
\hat little bakery at Andersonville.
We were treated very kindly at Jacksonville. General
Scammon was in command of the post, and had only been
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 578,
released but a short time from prison, so he knew how it was
himself. I never expect to enjoy as happy a moment on earth
as I did when I again got under the protection of the old flag.
Hommat went to the hospital a few days, and was then sent
around to New York by sea.
Oh, it was a fearful trip through those Florida swamps. We
would very often have to try a swamp in three or four different
places before we could get through. Some nights we could not
travel on account of its being cloudy and raining. There is not
money enough in the United States to induce me to undertake
the trip again under the same circumstances. Our friend Clip-
son, that made his escape when we did, got very nearly through
to our lines, but was taken sick, and had to give himself up.
He was taken back to Andersonville and kept until the next
Spring, when he came through all right. There were sixty-
one of Company K captured at Jonesville, and I think there
was only seventeen lived through those horrible prisons.
You have given the best description of prison life that I have
ever seen written. The Only trouble is that it cannot be por-
trayed so that persons can realize the suffering and abuse that
our soldiers endured in those prison hells. Your statements
are all correct in regard to the treatment that we received, and
all those scenes you have depicted are as vivid in my mind
to-day as if they had only occurred yesterday. Please let me
hear from you again. Wishing you success in all your under-
takings, I remain your friend,
WALTER HARTSOUGH,
Mate of K Conpang, Sæteenth Illina’s Volunteer Infantry.
CHAPTER LXXVI.
THE PECULLAR TYPE of INSANITY PREVALENT AT FLORENCE—BAR-
RETT's WANTONNESS OF CRUELTY —WE LEARN OF SHERMAN's
ADVANCE INTO SOUTH CAROLINA —THE REBELS BEGIN MOVING THE
PRISONERS AWAY — ANDREWS AND I CHANGE OUR TACTICS, AND
STAY BEHIND — ARRIVAL OF FIVE PRISONERS FROM SHERMAN’s
COMMAND — THEIR UNEOUNDED CONFIDENCE IN SHERMAN’s SUC-
CESS, AND ITS BENEFICIAL EFFECT UPON US.
One terrible phase of existence at Florence was the vast
increase of insanity. We had many insane men at Anderson-
ville, but the type of the derangement was different, partaking
more of what the doctors term melancholia. Prisoners coming
in from the front were struck aghast by the horrors they saw
everywhere. Men dying of painful and repulsive diseases
lined every step of whatever path they trod; the rations given
them were repugnant to taste and stomach; shelter from the
fiery sun there was none, and scarcely room enough for them
to lie down upon. Under these discouraging circumstances,
home-loving, kindly-hearted men, especially those who had
passed out of the first flush of youth, and had left wife and
children behind when they entered the service, were speedily
overcome with despair of surviving until released; their hope-
lessness fed on the same germs which gave it birth, until it
became senseless, vacant-eyed, unreasoning, incurable melan-
choly, when the victim would lie for hours, without speaking a
word, except to babble of home, or would wander aimlessly
about the camp — frequently stark naked—until he died or
was shot for coming too near the Dead Line. Soldiers must
not suppose that this was the same class of weaklings who
A STORY OF REBEL MILI'ſ ARY PRISONS. 577
usually pine themselves into the Hospital within three months
after their regiment enters the field. They were as a rule,
made up of seasoned soldiery, who had become inured to the
dangers and hardships of active service, and were not likely to
sink down under any ordinary trials.
The insane of Florence were of a different class; they were the
boys who had laughed at such a yielding to adversity in Anderson-
ville, and felt a lofty pity for the misfortunes of those who suc-
cumbed so. But now the long strain of hardship, privation and
exposure had done for them what discouragement had done for
those of less fortitude in Andersonville. The faculties shrank
under disuse and misfortune, until they forgot their regiments,
companies, places and date of capture, and finally, even their
names. I should think that by the middle of January, at least
one in every ten had sunk to this imbecile condition. It was
not insanity so much as mental atrophy — not so much aberra-
tion of the mind, as a paralysis of mental action. The sufferers
became apathetic idiots, with no desire or wish to do or be any-
thing. If they walked around at all they had to be watched
closely, to prevent their straying over the Dead Line, and giving
the young brats of guards the coveted opportunity of killing
them. Very many of such were killed, and one of my Mid-
winter memories of Florence was that of seeing one of these
unfortunate imbeciles wandering witlessly up to the Dead Line
from the Swamp, while the guard—a boy of seventeen —stood
with gun in hand, in the attitude of a man expecting a covey
to be flushed, waiting for the poor devil to come so near the
Dead Line as to afford an excuse for killing him. Two Sane
prisoners, comprehending the situation, rushed up to the lunatic,
at the risk of their own lives, caught him by the arms, and drew
him back to Safety.
The brutal Barrett seemed to delight in maltreating these
demented unfortunates. He either could not be made to under-
stand their condition, or willfully disregarded it, for it was one
of the commonest sights to see him knock down, beat, kick or
otherwise abuse them for not instantly obeying Orders which
their dazed senses could not comprehend, or their feeble limbs
execute, even if comprehended.
In my life I have seen many wantonly cruel men. I have
37
578 ANDERSON VILLE.
known numbers of mates of Mississippi river steamers—a
class which seems carefully selected from ruffians most profi-
cient in profanity, obscenity and swift-handed violence; I have
seen negro-drivers in the slave marts of St. Louis, Memphis and
New Orleans, and overseers on the plantations of Mississippi
and Louisiana; as a police reporter in one of the largest cities
in America, I have come in contact with thousands of the
brutalized scoundrels—the thugs of the brothel, bar-room and
alley—who form the dangerous classes of a metropolis. I
knew Captain Wirz. But in all this exceptionally extensive
and varied experience, I never met a man who seemed to love
cruelty for its own sake as well as Lieutenant Barrett. He
took such pleasure in inflicting pain as those Indians who slice
off their prisoners’ eyelids, ears, noses and hands, before burning
them at the stake.
That a thing hurt some one else was always ample reason for
his doing it. The starving, freezing prisoners used to collect in
considerable numbers before the gate, and stand there for hours
gazing vacantly at it. There was no special object in doing
this, only that it was a central point, the rations came in there,
and occasionally an officer would enter, and it was the only
place where anything was likely to occur to vary the dreary
monotony of the day, and the boys went there because there was
nothing else to offer any Occupation to their minds. It became
a favorite practical joke of Barrett's to slip up to the gate with
an armful of clubs, and suddenly opening the wicket, fling them
one after another, into the crowd, with all the force he possessed.
Many were knocked down, and many. received hurts which
resulted in fatal gangrene. If he had left the clubs lying where
thrown, there would have been some compensation for his mean-
ness, but he always came in and carefully gathered up such as
he could get, as ammunition for another time.
I have heard men speak of receiving justice—even favors—
from Wirz. I never heard any one saying that much of Bar-
rett. Like Winder, if he had a redeeming quality it was care-
fully obscured from the view of all that I ever met who knew
him. *
Where the fellow came from, what State was entitled to the
discredit of producing and raising him, what he was before the
A. STORY OF FEBEL MILITA R Y PRISONS. 579
War, what became of him after he left us, are matters of which
I never heard even a rumor, except a very vague One that he
had been killed by our cavalry, some returned prisoner having
recognized and shot him.
Colonel Iverson, of the Fifth Georgia, was the Post Com-
mander. He was a man of some education, but had a violent,
ungovernable temper, during fits of which he did very brutal
things. At other times he would show a disposition towards
fairness and justice. The worst point in my indictment against
him is that he suffered Barrett to do as he did.
Let the reader understand that I have no personal reasons
for my opinion of these men. They never did anything to me,
save what they did to all of my companions. I held myself aloof
from them, and shunned intercourse so effectually that during
my whole imprisonment I did not speak as many words to
Rebel officers as are in this and the above paragraphs, and most
of those were spoken to the Surgeon who visited my hundred.
I do not usually seek conversation with people I do not like,
and certainly did not with persons for whom I had so little
love as I had for Turner, Ross, Winder, Wirz, Davis, Iverson,
Barrett, et al. Possibly they felt badly over my distance and
reserve, but I must confess that they never showed it very
palpably.
As January dragged slowly away into February rumors of
the astonishing success of Sherman began to be so definite and
well authenticated as to induce belief. We knew that the
Western Chieftain had marched almost unresisted through
Georgia, and captured Savannah with comparatively little diffi-
culty. We did not understand it, nor did the Rebels around
us, for neither of us comprehended the Confederacy’s near
approach to dissolution, and we could not explain why a des-
perate attempt was not made somewhere to arrest the onward
sweep of the conquering armies of the West. It seemed that
if there was any vitality left in Rebeldom it would deal a blow
that would at least cause the presumptuous invader to pause.
As we knew nothing of the battles of Franklin and Nashville,
we were ignorant of the destruction of Hood's army, and were
at a loss to account for its failure to contest Sherman's progress.
The last we had heard of Hood, he had been flanked out of
580 ANDERSON VILLE.
Atlanta, but we did not understand that the strength or morale
of his force had been seriously reduced in consequence.
Soon it drifted in to us that Sherman had cut loose from
Savannah, as from Atlanta, and entered South Carolina, to
repeat there the march through her sister State. Our sources
of information now were confined to the gossip which our men
— working outside on parole,_could overhear from the Rebels,
and communicate to us as occasion served. These occasions
were not frequent, as the men outside were not allowed to come
in except rarely, or stay long then. Still we managed to know
reasonably soon that Sherman was sweeping resistlessly across
the State, with Hardee, Dick Taylor, Beauregard, and others,
vainly trying to make head against him. It seemed impossible
to us that they should not stop him soon, for if each of all these
leaders had any command worthy the name the aggregate must
make an army that, standing on the defensive, would give
Sherman a great deal of trouble. That he would be able to
penetrate into the State as far as we were never entered into
our minds.
By and by we were astonished at the number of the trains
that we could hear passing north on the Charleston & Cheraw
Railroad. Day and night for two weeks there did not seem to
be more than half an hour's interval at any time between the
rumble and whistles of the trains as they passed Florence
Junction, and sped away towards Cheraw, thirty-five miles
north of us. We at length discovered that Sherman had
reached Branchville, and was swinging around toward Colum-
bia, and other important points to the north; that Charleston
was being evacuated, and its garrison, munitions and stores
were being removed to Cheraw, which the Rebel Generals
intended to make their new base. As this news was so well
confirmed as to leave no doubt of it, it began to wake up and
encourage all the more hopeful of us. We thought we could
see some premonitions of the glorious end, and that we were
getting vicarious satisfaction at the hands of our friends under
the command of Uncle Billy.
One morning orders came for one thousand men to get ready
to move. Andrews and I held a council of war on the situa-
tion, the question before the house being whether we would go
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 581
with that crowd, or stay behind. The conclusion we came to
was thus stated by Andrews:
“Now, Mc., we've flanked ahead every time, and see how
we’ve come out. We flanked into the first squad that left
Richmond, and we were consequently in the first that got into
Andersonville. May be if we’d staid back we’d got into that
squad that was exchanged. We were in the first squad that
left Andersonville. We were the first to leave Savannah and
enter Millen. May be if we’d staid back, we'd got exchanged
with the ten thousand sick. We were the first to leave Millen,
and the first to reach Blackshear. We were again the first to
leave Blackshear. --Perhaps those fellows we left behind there
are exchanged. Now, as we’ve played ahead every time, with
such infernal luck, let's play backward this time, and try what
that brings us.”
“But, Lale,” (Andrews's nickname—his proper name being
Bezaleel), said I, “we made something by going ahead every
time—that is, if we were not going to be exchanged. By
getting into those places first we picked out the best spots to
stay, and got tent-building stuff that those who came after us
could not. And certainly we can never again get into as bad a
place as this is. The chances are that if this does not mean
exchange, it means transfer to a better prison.”
But we concluded, as I said above, to reverse our usual order
of procedure and flank back, in hopes that something would
favor our escape to Sherman. Accordingly, we let the first squad
go off without us, and the next, and the next, and so on, till
there were only eleven hundred—mostly those sick in the
Hospital—remaining behind. Those who went away—we
afterwards learned, were run down on the cars to Wilmington,
and afterwards up to Goldsboro, N. C.
For a week or more we eleven hundred tenanted the Stockade,
and by burning up the tents of those who had gone had the
only decent, comfortable fires we had while in Florence. In
hunting around through the tents for fuel we found many
bodies of those who had died as their comrades were leaving.
As the larger portion of us could barely walk, the Rebels par-
oled us to remain inside of the Stockade or within a few hun-
dred yards of the front of it, and took the guards off. While
582 ANDERSON VILLE-
these were marching down, a dozen or more of us, exulting in
even so much freedom as we had obtained, climbed on the Hos-
pital shed to see what the outlook was, and perched ourselves
On the ridgepole. Lieutenant Barrett came along, at a distance
of two hundred yards, with a squad of guards. Observing us,
he halted his men, faced them toward us, and they leveled
their guns as if to fire. He expected to see us tumble down in
ludicrous alarm, to avoid the bullets. But we hated him and
them so bad, that we could not give them the poor satisfaction
of scaring us. Only one of our party attempted to slide down,
but the moment we swore at him, he came back and took his
seat with folded arms alongside of us. Barrett gave the order
to fire, and the bullets shrieked over our heads, fortunately not
hitting anybody. We responded with yells of derision, and
the worst abuse we could think of.
Coming down after awhile, I walked to the now open gate,
and looked through it over the barren fields to the dense woods
a mile away, and a wild desire to run off took possession of me.
It seemed as if I could not resist it. The woods appeared full
of enticing shapes, beckoning me to come to them, and the
winds whispered in my ears
“Run Run Run l’”
But the words of my parole were still fresh in my mind, and I
stilled my frenzy to escape by turning back into the Stockade
and looking away.from the tempting view.
Once five new prisoners, the first we had seen in a long time,
were brought in from Sherman’s army. They were plump,
well-conditioned, well-dressed, healthy, devil-may-care young
fellows, whose confidence in themselves and in Sherman was
simply limitless, and their contempt for all Rebels, and espec-
ially those who terrorized over us, enormous.
“Come up here to headquarters,” said one of the Rebel offi-
cers to them as they stood talking to us; “and we’ll parole
you.”
“O go to h with your parole,” said the spokesman of
the crowd, with nonchalant contempt; “we don’t wal.G none of
your paroles. Old Billy’ll parole us before Saturday.”
To us they said:
“Now, you boys want to cheer right up; keep a stiff upper
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PEISONE!e 583
lip. This thing's workin’ all right. Their — old Con-
federacy’s, goin’ to pieces like a house afire. Sherman’s promen-
adin’ through it just as it suits him, and he’s liable to pay us
a visit at any hour. We’re expectin’ him all the time, because
it was generally understood all through the Army that we
were to take the prison pen here in on our way.”
I mentioned my distrust of the concentration of Rebels at
Cheraw, and their faces took on a look of Supreme disdain.
“Now, don’t let that worry you a minute,” said the confident
spokesman. “All the Rebels between here and Lee's Army
can’t prevent Sherman from going just where he pleases.
Why, we've quit fightin' 'em except with the Bummers in
advance. We haven’t had to go into regular line of battle
against them for I don’t know how long. Sherman wouldn’t
like anything better than to have 'em make a stand somewhere
so that he could get a good fair whack at 'em.”
No one can imagine the effect of all this upon us. It was
better than a car-load of medicines and a train load of provisions
would have been. From the depths of despondency we sprang
at Once to tip-toe on the mountain-tops of expectation. We did
little day and night but listen for the sound of Sherman’s guns,
and discuss what we would do when he came. We planned
schemes of terrible vengeance on Barrett and Iverson, but those
worthies had mysteriously disappeared—whither no one knew.
There was hardly an hour of any night passed without some
one of us fancying that he heard the welcome sound of distant
firing. As everybody knows, by listening intently at night, one
can hear just exactly what he is intent upon hearing, and so it
was with us. In the middle of the night boys listening awhile
with strained ears, would say:
“Now, if ever I heard musketry firing in my life, that's a
heavy skirmish line at work, and sharply too, and not more
than three miles away, neither.”
Then another would say:
“I don’t want to ever get out of here if that don’t sound just
as the skirmishing at Chancellorsville did the first day to us.
We were lying down about four miles off, when it began pat-
tering just as that is doing now.”
And so on.
584 ANDERSON VILLE.
One night about nine or ten, there came two short, sharp
peals of thunder, that sounded precisely like the reports of rifled
field pieces. We sprang up in a frenzy of excitement, and
shouted as if our throats would split. But the next peal went
off in the usual rumble, and our excitement had to subside.
CHAPTER LXXVII.
FRUITLESS WAITING FOR SHERMAN — we LEAVE FLORENCE — INTEL-
LIGENCE OF THE FAILL OF WILMINGTON COMMUNICATED TO US BY
A SLAVE — THE TURPENTINE REGION OF NORTH CAROLINA — WE
COME UPON A REBEL LINE OF BATTLE — YANKEES AT BOTBI
ENDS OF THE ROAD.
Things had gone on in the way described in the previous
chaptér until past the middle of February. For more than a
week every waking hour was spent in anxious expectancy of
Sherman—listening for the far-off rattle of his guns—straining
our ears to catch the sullen boom of his artillery—scanning
the distant woods to see the Rebels falling back in hopeless con-
fusion before the pursuit of his dashing advance. Though we
became as impatient as those ancient sentinels who for ten long
years stood upon the Grecian hills to catch the first glimpse of
the flames of burning Troy, Sherman came not. We after-
wards learned that two expeditions were sent down towards us
from Cheraw, but they met with unexpected resistance, and
were turned back.
It was now plain to us that the Confederacy was tottering to
its fall, and we were only troubled by occasional misgivings that
we might in some way be caught and crushed under the top-
pling ruins. It did not seem possible that with the cruel tenac-
ity with which the Rebels had clung to us they would be will-
ing to let us go free at last, but would be tempted in the rage
of their final defeat to commit some unparalleled atrocity
upon us. tº
One day all of us who were able to walk were made to fall
in and march over to the railroad, where we were loaded into
586 ANDERSON VILLE.
box cars. The sick—except those who were manifestly dying
—were loaded into wagons and hauled over. The dying were
left to their fate, without any companions or nurses.
The train started off in a northeasterly direction, and as we
went through Florence the skies were crimson with great fires,
burning in all directions. We were told these were cotton and
military stores being destroyed in anticipation of a visit from a
part of Sherman’s forces.
When morning came we were still running in the same direc-
tion that we started. In the confusion of loading us upon the
cars the previous evening, I had been allowed to approach too
near a Rebel officer's stock of rations, and the result was his
being the loser and myself the gainer of a canteen filled with
fairly good molasses. Andrews and I had some corn bread,
and we breakfasted sumptuously upon it and the molasses,
which was certainly none-the-less sweet from having bee
stolen. . :
Our meal over, we began reconnoitering, as much for employ-
ment as anything else. We were in the front end of a box car.
With a saw made on the back of a case-knife we cut a hole
through the boards big enough to permit us to pass out, and
perhaps escape. We found that we were on the foremost box
car of the train—the next vehicle to us being a passenger
coach, in which were the Rebel officers. On the rear platform
of this car was seated one of their servants—a trusty old
slave, well dressed, for a negro, and as respectful as his class
asually was. Said I to him;
“Well, uncle, where are they taking us?”
He replied:
“Well, sah, I couldn’t rightly say.”
“But you could guess, if you tried, couldn’t you?”
“Yes Sah.”
He gave a quick look around to see if the door behind him
was so securely shut that he could not be overheard by the
Rebels inside the car, his dull, stolid face lighted up as a negro's
always does in the excitement of doing something cunning, and
he said in a loud whisper:
“Dey's a-gwine to take you to Wilmington—ef dey kin git
you dar /*
ea. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 587
“Can get us there !” said I in astonishment. “Is there any.
thing to prevent them taking us there?”
The dark face filled with inexpressible meaning. I asked:
“It isn’t possible that there are any Yankees down there to
interfere, is it?”
The great eyes flamed up with intelligence to tell me that I
guessed aright ; again he glanced nervously around to assure
himself that no one was eavesdropping, and then he said in a
whisper, just loud enough to be heard above the noise of the
moving train :
“JDe Yankees took Wilmington yesterday mawning.”
The news startled me, but it was true, our troops having
driven out the Rebel troops, and entered Wilmington, on the
preceding day—the 22d of February, 1865, as I learned after-
wards. How this negro came to know more of what was going
on than his masters puzzled me much. That he did know more
was beyond question, since if the Rebels in whose charge we
were had known of Wilmington’s fall, they would not have gone
to the trouble of loading us upon the cars and hauling us one
hundred miles in the direction of a City which had come into
the hands of our men.
It has been asserted by many writers that the negros had
some occult means of diffusing important news among the
mass of their people, probably by relays of swift runners who
traveled at night, going twenty-five or thirty miles and back
before morning. Very astonishing stories are told of things
communicated in this way across the length or breadth of the
Confederacy. It is said that our officers in the blockading
fleet in the Gulf heard from the negros in advance of the pub-
lication in the Rebel papers of the issuance of the Proclamation
of Emancipation, and of several of our most important vic-
tories. The incident given above prepares me to believe all
that has been told of the perfection to which the negros had
brought their “grapevine telegraph,” as it was jocularly
termed.
The Rebels believed something of it, too. In spite of their
rigorous patrol, an institution dating long before the war, and
the severe punishments visited upon negros found off their
588 ANDERSON VILLE.
master's premises without a pass, none of them entertained a
doubt that the young negro men were in the habit of making
long, mysterious journeys at night, which had other motives
than love-making or chicken-stealing. Occasionally a young
man would get caught fifty or seventy-five miles from his
“quarters,” while on some errand of his own, the nature of
which no punishment could make him divulge. Iſis master
would be satisfied that he did not intend running away, because
he was likely going in the wrong direction, but beyond this
nothing could be ascertained. It was a common belief among
overseers, when they saw an active, healthy young “buck”
sleepy and languid about his work, that he had spent the night
On One of these excursions.
The country we were running through—if such straining,
toilsome progress as our engine was making could be called
running—was a rich turpentine district. We passed by for-
ests where all the trees were marked with long scores through
the bark, and extended up to a hight of twenty feet or more.
Into these, the turpentine and rosin, running down, were caught,
and conveyed by negros to stills nearby, where it was prepared
for market. The stills were as rude as the mills we had seen in
Eastern Tennessee and Kentucky, and were as liable to fiery
destruction as a powder-house. Every few miles a wide space
of ground, burned clean of trees and underbrush, and yet
marked by a portion of the stones which had formed the fur-
nace, showed where a turpentine still, managed by careless and
ignorant blacks, had been licked up by the breath of flame.
They never seemed to re-build on these spots—whether from
superstition or other reasons, I know not.
Occasionally we came to great piles of barrels of turpentine,
rosin and tar, some of which had laid there since the blockade
had cut off communication with the outer world. Many of
the barrels of rosin had burst, and their contents melted in the
heat of the sun, had run over the ground like streams of lava,
covering it to a depth of many inches. At the enormous price
rosin, tar and turpentine were commanding in the markets of
the world, each of these piles represented a superb fortune.
Any one of them, if lying upon the docks of New York, would
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON8. 589
have yielded enough to make every one of us upon the train
comfortable for life. But a few months later the blockade was
raised, and they sank to one-thirtieth of their present value.
These terebinthine stores were the property of the plantation
lords of the lowlands of North Carolina, who correspond to
the pinchbeck barons of the rice districts of South Carolina.
As there, the whites and negros we saw were of the lowest,
most squalid type of humanity. The people of the middle and
upland districts of North Carolina are a much superior race
to the same class in South Carolina. They are mostly of
Scotch-Irish descent, with a strong infusion of English-Quaker
blood, and resemble much the best of the Virginians. They
make an effort to diffuse education, and have many of the virtues
of a simple, non-progressive, tolerably industrious middle class.
It was here that the strong Union sentiment of North Carolina
numbered most of its adherents. The people of the lowlands
were as different as if belonging to another race. The enor-
mous mass of ignorance—the three hundred and fifty thousand
men and women who could not read or write— were mostly
black and white serfs of the great landholders, whose planta-
tions lie within one hundred miles of the Atlantic coast.
As we approached the coast the country became swampier,
and our old acquaintances, the cypress, with their malformed
“knees,” became more and more numerous.
About the middle of the afternoon our train suddenly stopped.
Looking out to ascertain the cause, we were electrified to see a
Rebel line of battle stretched across the track, about a half mile
ahead of the engine, and with its rear toward us. It was as
real a line as was ever seen on any field. The double ranks of
“Butternuts,” with arms gleaming in the afternoon Sun,
stretched away out through the open pine woods, farther than
we could see. Close behind the motionless line stood the com-
pany officers, leaning on their drawn swords. Behind these
still, were the regimental officers on their horses. On a slight
rise of the ground, a group of horsemen, to whom other horse-
men momentarily dashed up to or sped away from, showed the
station of the General in command. On another knoll, at a
little distance, were several field pieces, standing “in battery,”
the cannoneers at the guns, the postillions dismounted and hold-
590 ANDERSON VILLYū.
ing their horses by the bits, the caisson men standing in readi-
ness to serve out ammunition. Our men were evidently close
at hand in strong force, and the engagement was likely to open
at any instant.
For a minute we were speechless with astonishment. Then
came a surge of excitement. What should we do? What
could we do? Obviously nothing. Eleven hundred, sick,
enfeebled prisoners could not even overpower their guards, let
alone make such a diversion in the rear of a line-of-battle as
would assist our folks to gain a victory. But while we debated
the engine whistled sharply—a frightened shriek it sounded
to us—and began pushing our train rapidly backward Over the
rough and wretched track. Back, back we went, as fast as
rosin and pine knots could force the engine to move us. The
cars swayed continually back and forth, momentarily threaten-
ing to fly the crazy roadway, and roll over the embankment or
into one of the adjacent swamps. We would have hailed such
a catastrophe, as it would have probably killed more of the
guards than of us, and the confusion would have given many
of the survivors opportunity to escape. But no such accident
happened, and towards midnight we reached the bridge across
the Great Pedee River, where our train was stopped by a
squad of Rebel cavalrymen, who brought the intelligence that
as Kilpatrick was expected into Florence every hour, it would
not do to take us there.
We were ordered off the cars, and laid down on the banks of
the Great Pedee, our guards and the cavalry forming a line
around us, and taking precautions to defend the bridge against
Rilpatrick, should he find out our whereabouts and come
after us. -
“Well, Mc,” said Andrews, as we adjusted our old overcoat
and blanket on the ground for a bed; “I guess we needn’t care
whether school keeps or not. Our fellows have evidently got
both ends of the road, and are coming towards us from each
way. There's no road —not even a wagon road—for the
Johnnies to run us off On, and I guess all we’ve got to do is to
stand still and see the salvation of the Lord. Bad as these
hounds are, I don’t believe they will shoot us down rather than
let our folks retake us. At least they won’t since old Winder's
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON 8. 593
dead. If he was alive, he'd order our throats cut—one by
one—with the guards' pocket knives, rather than give us up.
I’m only afraid we’ll be allowed to starve before our folks
reach us.”
I concurred in this view.
CHAPTER LXXVIII.
RETURN TO FIORENCE AND A SHORT SOJOURN THERE – OFF TOWARºš
wiLMINGTON AGAIN — CRIBBING A REBEL OFFICER's LUNOH-
SIGNS OF APPROACHING OUR LINES — TERROR OF OUR RA30AM, (, Y
GUARDs — ENTRANCE INTO GOD’s COUNTRY AT LAST.
But Kilpatrick, like Sherman, came not. Perhaps he knew
that all the prisoners had been removed from the Stockade;
perhaps he had other business of more importance on hand;
probably his movement was only a feint. At all events it was
definitely known the next day that he had withdrawn so far as
to render it wholly unlikely that he intended attacking Flor-
rence, so we were brought back and returned to our old quarters.
For a week or more we loitered about the now nearly-abandoned
prison; skulked and crawled around the dismal mud-tents like
the ghostly denizens of some Potter's Field, who, for some
reason had been allowed to return to earth, and for awhile
creep painfully around the little hillocks beneath which they
had been entombed.
A few score, whose vital powers were strained to the last
degree of tension, gave up the ghost, and sank to dreamless
rest. It mattered now little to these when Sherman came, or
when Kilpatrick's guidons should flutter through the forest of
sighing pines, heralds of life, happiness, and home —
After life's fitful fever they slept well—
Treason had done its worst. Nor steel nor poison :
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing
Could touch them further.
One day another order came for us to be loaded on the cars,
and over to the railroad we went again in the same fashion ag
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITA it Y PRISON S. 593
before. The comparatively few of us who were still able to
walk at all well, loaded ourselves down with the bundles and
blankets of our less fortunate companions, who hobbled and
limped—many even crawling on their hands and knees—
over the hard, frozen ground, by our sides.
Those not able to crawl even, were taken in wagons, for the
orders were imperative not to leave a living prisoner behind.
At the railroad we found two trains awaiting us. On the
front of each engine were two rude white flags, made by fasten-
ing the halves of meal sacks to short sticks. The sight of
these gave us some hope, but our belief that Rebels were con-
stitutional liars and deceivers was so firm and fixed, that we
persuaded ourselves that the flags meant nothing more than
some wilful delusion for us.
Again we started off in the direction of Wilmington, and
traversed the same country described in the previous chapter.
Again Andrews and I found ourselves in the next box car to
the passenger coach containing the Rebel officers. Again we
cut a hole through the end, with our saw, and again found a
darky servant sitting on the rear platform. Andrews went
out and sat down alongside of him, and found that he was
seated upon a large gunnybag sack containing the cooked
rations of the Rebel officers.
The intelligence that there was something there worth tak-
ing Andrews communicated to me by an expressive signal, of
which soldiers campaigning together as long as he and I had,
always have an extensive and well understood code.
I took a seat in the hole we had made in the end of the car,
in reach of Andrews. Andrews called the attention of the
negro to some feature of the country near by, and asked him a
question in regard to it. As he looked in the direction indi-
cated, Andrews slipped his hand into the mouth of the bag,
and pulled out a small sack of wheat biscuits, which he passed
to me and I concealed. The darky turned and told Andrews
all about the matter in regard to which the interrogation had
been made. Andrews became so much interested in what was
being told him, that he sat up closer and closer to the darky,
who in turn moved farther away from the sack.
Next we ran through a turpentine plantation, and as the
594 ANDERSON WILL R.
darky was pointing out where the still, the master's place, the
“quarters,” etc., were, Andrews managed to fish out of the bag
and pass to me three roasted chickens. Then a great swamp
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ANDREWS MANAGED TO FISH OUT OF THE BAG AND PASS
TO ME THEREE ROASTED CHICKENS.
called for description, and before we were through with it, I
had about a peck of boiled sweet potatos.
Andrews emptied the bag as the darky was showing him a
great peanut plantation, taking from it a small frying-pan, a
canteen of molasses, and a half-gallon tin bucket, which had
been used to make coffee in. We divided up our wealth of
eatables with the rest of the boys in the car, not forgetting to
keep enough to give ourselves a magnificent meal.
As we ran along we searched carefully for the place where
we had seen the line-of-battle, expecting that it would now be
marked with signs of a terrible conflict, but we could sce

A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON &. 595
nothing. We could not even fix the locality where the line
stood.
As it became apparent that we were going directly toward
Wilmington, as fast as our engines could pull us, the excitement
rose. We had many misgivings as to whether our folks still
retained possession of Wilmington, and whether, if they did,
the Rebels could not stop at a point outside of our lines, and
transfer us to some other road.
For hours we had seen nobody in the country through which
we were passing. What few houses were visible were appar-
ently deserted, and there were no Towns or stations anywhere.
We were very anxious to see some one, in hopes of getting a
hint of what the state of affairs was in the direction we were
going. At length we saw a young man — apparently a scout—
on horseback, but his clothes were equally divided between the
blue and the butternut, as to give no clue to which side he
belonged.
An hour later we saw two infantrymen, who were evidently
out foraging. They had sacks of something on their backs, and
wore blue clothes. This was a very hopeful sign of a near
approach to our lines, but bitter experience in the past warned
us against being too sanguine. -
About 4 o’clock P. M., the trains stopped and whistled long
and loud. Looking out I could see—perhaps half-a-mile away
—a line of rifle pits running at right angles with the track.
Guards, whose guns flashed as they turned, were pacing up and
down, but they were too far away for me to distinguish their
uniforms.
The suspense became fearful.
But I received much encouragement from the singular con-
duct of our guards. First I noticed a Captain, who had been
especially mean to us while at Florence.
He was walking on the ground by the train. His face was
pale, his teeth set, and his eyes shone with excitement. He
called out in a strange, forced voice to his men and boys on the
roof of the cars:
“Here, you fellers: git down offen thar an’ form a line.”
The fellows did so, in a slow, constrained, frightened way,
and huddled together, in the most unsoldierly manner.
596 - A NIDERSON VILLE,
The whole thing reminded me of a scene I once saw in our
lines, where a weak-kneed Captain was ordered to take a party
of rather chicken-hearted recruits out on the skirmish-line.
We immediately divined what was the matter. The lines in
front of us were really those of our people, and the idiots of
guards, not knowing of their entire safety when protected by a
flag of truce, were scared half out of their small wits at
approaching so near to armed Yankees.
We showered taunts and jeers upon them. An Irishman in
my car yelled out:
“Och, ye dirty spalpeens; it's not shootin’ prisoners ye are
now; it's comin’ where the Yankee bºys hev the gun; and the
minnit ye say thim yer white livers show themselves in yer
pale faces. Bad luck to the blatherin’ bastards that yez are,
and to the mothers that bore ye.”
At length our train moved up so near to the line that I could
see it was the grand, old loyal blue that clothed the forms
of the men who were pacing up and down.
And certainly the world does not hold as superb looking men
as these appeared to me. Finely formed, stalwart, full-fed and
well clothed, they formed the most delightful contrast with the
scrawny, shambling, villain-visaged little clay-eaters and white
trash who had looked down upon us from the sentry boxes for
many long months.
I sprang out of the cars and began washing my face and
hands in the ditch at the side of the road. The Rebel Captain,
noticing me, said, in the old, hateful, brutal, imperious tone:
“Git back in dat cah, dah.”
An hour before I would have scrambled back as quickly as
possible, knowing that an instant's hesitation would be followed
by a bullet. Now, I looked him in the face, and said as irritat-
ingly as possible:
“O, you go to
, you Rebel. I’m going into
Uncle Sam's lines with as little Rebel filth on me as possible.”.
He passed me without replying.
His day of shooting was past.
Descending from the cars, we passed through the guards into
our lines, a Rebel and a Union clerk checking us off as we passed.
By the time it was dark we were all under our flag again.
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 597
The place where we came through was several miles west of
"Wilmington, where the railroad crossed a branch of the Cape
Fear River. The point was held by a brigade of Schofield's
army—the Twenty-Third Army Corps.
The boys lavished unstinted kindness upon us. All of the
brigade off duty crowded around, offering us blankets, shirts,
shoes, pantaloons and other articles of clothing and similar
things that we were obviously in the greatest need of. The
sick were carried, by hundreds of willing hands, to a sheltered
spot, and laid upon good, comfortable beds improvised with
leaves and blankets. A great line of huge, generous fires was
built, that every one of us could have plenty of place around
them.
By and by a line of wagons came over from Wilmington
laden with rations, and they were dispensed to us with what
seemed reckless prodigality. The lid of a box of hard tack
would be knocked off, and the contents handed to us as we filed
past, with absolute disregard as to quantity. If a prisoner
looked wistful after receiving one handful of crackers, another
was handed to him; if his long-famished eyes still lingered as
if enchained by the rare display of food, the men who were
issuing said:
“Here, old fellow, there's plenty of it: take just as much as
you can carry in your arms.”
So it was also with the pickled pork, the coffee, the sugar,
etc. We had been stinted and starved so long that we could
not comprehend that there was anywhere actually enough of
anything. * sk
The kind-hearted boys who were acting as our hosts began
preparing food for the sick, but the Surgeons, who had arrived
in the meanwhile, were compelled to repress them, as it was
plain that while it was a dangerous experiment to give any
of us all we could or would eat, it would never do to give the
sick such a temptation to kill themselves, and only a limited
amount of food was allowed to be given those who were unable
to walk.
Andrews and I hungered for coffee, the delightful fumes of
which filled the air and intoxicated our senses. We procured
enough to make our half-gallon bucket full and very strong.
598 ANDERSON VILLE.
We drank so much of this that Andrews became positively
drunk, and fell helplessly into some brush. I pulled him out *
and dragged him away to a place where we had made our rude
bed. -
I was dazed. I could not comprehend that the long-looked
for, often-despaired-of event had actually happened. I feared
that it was one of those tantalizing dreams that had so often
haunted my sleep, only to be followed by a wretched awaken-
ing. Then I became seized with a sudden fear lest the Rebels
attempt to retake me. The line of guards around us seemed
very slight. It might be forced in the night, and all of us
recaptured. Shivering at this thought, absurd though it was,
I arose from our bed, and taking Andrews with me, crawled
two or three hundred yards into a dense undergrowth, where
in the event of our lines being forced, we would be overlooked.
CHAPTER LXXIX.
GETTING USED TO FREEDOM — DELIGHTS OF A LAND WHERE THERE I:
ENOUGH OF EVERYTHING — FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE OLD FLAG –
will.IINGTON AND ITs HISTORY –LIEUTENANT CUSHING—FIRST
ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE COLORED TROOPS — LEAVING FOR HOME
—DESTRUCTION OF THE “THORN ?” BY A TORPEDO-THE MOOK
MONITOR’s ACHIEVEMENT.
After a sound sleep, Andrews and I awoke to the enjoyment
of our first day of freedom and existence in God’s country.
The Sun had already risen, bright and warm, consonant with
the happiness of the new life now opening up for us.
But to nearly a score of our party his beams brought no
awakening gladness. They fell upon stony, staring eyes, from
out of which the light of life had now faded, as the light of
hope had done long ago. The dead lay there upon the rude
beds of fallen leaves, scraped together by thoughtful comrades
the night before, their clenched teeth showing through parted
lips, faces fleshless and pinched, long, unkempt and ragged hair
and whiskers just stirred by the lazy breeze, the rotting feet
and limbs drawn up, and skinny hands clenched in the last
agonies.
Their fate seemed harder than that of any who had died
before them. It was doubtful if many of them knew that they
were at last inside of our own lines.
Again the kind-hearted boys of the brigade crowded around
us with proffers of service. Of an Ohio boy who directed his
kind tenders to Andrews and me, we procured a chunk of coarse
rosin soap about as big as a pack of cards, and a towel. Never
was there as great a quantity of Solid comfort got out of that
600 ANDERSON VILLE.
much soap as we obtained. It was the first that we had since
that which I stole in Wirz's headquarters, in June—nine
months before. We felt that the dirt which had accumulated
upon us since then would subject us to assessment as real estate
if we were in the North.
Hurrying off to a little creek we began our ablutions, and it
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was not long until Andrews declared that there was a percepti-
ble sand-bar forming in the stream, from what we washed off.
Dirt deposits of the pliocene era rolled off feet and legs.
Eocene incrustations let loose reluctantly from neck and ears;
the hair was a mass of tangled locks matted with nine months’
accumulation of pitch pine tar, rosin Soot, and South Carolina
sand, that we did not think we had better start in upon it until
we either had the shock cut off, or had a whole Ocean and a vat
of soap to wash it out with.
After scrubbing until we were exhausted we got off the first

A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON S. 601
few outer layers—the post tertiary formation, a geologist would
term it—and the Smell of many breakfasts cooking, coming
down over the hill, set our stomachs in a mutiny against any
longer fasting.
We went back, rosy, panting, glowing, but happy, to get our-
selves some breakfast.
Should Providence, for some inscrutable reason, vouchsafe
me the years of Methusaleh, one of the pleasantest recollec-
tions that will abide with me to the close of the nine hundredth
and sixty-ninth year, will be of that delightful odor of cooking
food which regaled our senses as we came back. From the
boiling coffee and the meat frying in the pan rose an incense
sweeter to the senses a thousand times than all the perfumes of
far Arabia. It differed from the loathsome odor of cooking
corn meal as much as it did from the effluvia of a sewer.
Our noses were the first of our senses to bear testimony that
We had passed from the land of starvation to that of plenty.
Andrews and I hastened off to get our own breakfast, and soon
had a half-gallon of strong coffee, and a frying-pan full of
meat cooking over the fire—not one of the beggarly skimped
little fires we had crouched over during our months of impris-
onment, but a royal, generous fire, fed with logs instead of
shavings and splinters, and giving out heat enough to warm a
regiment.
Having eaten positively all that we could swallow, those of
us who could walk were ordered to fall in and march over to
Wilmington. We crossed the branch of the river on a pontoon
bridge, and took the road that led across the narrow sandy
island between the two branches, Wilmington being situated
on the opposite bank of the farther one. -
When about half way a shout from some one in advance
caused us to look up, and then we saw, flying from a tall stee-
ple in Wilmington, the glorious old Stars and Stripes, resplend-
ent in the morning sun, and more beautiful than the most gor-
geous web from Tyrian looms. We stopped with one accord,
and shouted and cheered and cried—until every throat was
sore and every eye red and blood-shot. It seemed as if our
cup of happiness would certainly run overif any more additions
were made to it. -
692 ANDERSON VILLE.
When we arrived at the bank of the river opposite Wilming-
ton, a whole world of new and interesting sights opened up
before us. Wilmington, during the last year-and-a-half of the
war, was, next to Richmond, the most important place in the
Southern Confederacy. It was the only port to which blockade
running was at all safe enough to be lucrative. The Rebels held
the strong forts of Caswell and Fisher, at the mouth of Cape
Fear River, and outside, the Frying Pan Shoals, which extended
along the coast forty or fifty miles, kept our blockading fleet so
far off, and made the line so weak and scattered, that there was
comparatively little risk to the small, swift-sailing vessels em-
ployed by the blockade runners in running through it. The
only way that blockade running could be stopped was by the
reduction of Forts Caswell and Fisher, and it was not stopped
until this was done.
Before the war Wilmington was a dull, sleepy North Caro-
lina Town, with as little animation of any kind as a Breton
Willage. The only business was the handling of the tar, tur
pentine, rosin, and peanuts produced in the surrounding
country, a business never lively enough to excite more than a
lazy ripple in the sluggish lagoons of trade. But very new
wine was put into this old bottle when blockade running began
to develop in importance. Then this Sleepy Hollow of a place
took on the appearance of San Francisco in the hight of the
gold fever. The English houses engaged in blockade running
established branches there conducted by young men who lived
like princes. All the best houses in the City were leased by
them and fitted up in the most gorgeous style. They literally
clothed themselves in purple and fine linen and fared sumptu-
ously every day, with their fine wines and imported delicacies
and retinue of servants to wait upon them. Fast young Rebel
officers, eager for a season of dissipation, could imagine nothing
better than a leave of absence to go to Wilmington. Money
flowed like water. The common sailors—the scum of all
foreign ports—who manned the blockade runners, received as
high as one hundred dollars in gold per month, and a bounty
of fifty dollars for every successful trip, which from Nassau
could be easily made in seven days. Other people were paid
in proportion, and as the old proverb says, “What comes over
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A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON $. 605.
the Devil's back is spent under his breast,” the money so
obtained was squandered recklessly, and all sorts of debauchery
ran riot.
On the ground where we were standing had been erected
several large steam cotton presses, built to compress cotton for
the blockade runners. Around them were stored immense
quantities of cotton, and near by were nearly as great stores of
turpentine, rosin and tar. A little farther down the river was
navy yard with docks, etc., for the accommodation, building and
repair of blockade runners. At the time our folks took Fort
Fisher and advanced on Wilmington the docks were filled with
vessels. The retreating Rebels set fire to everything—cotton,
cotton presses, turpentine, rosin, tar, navy yard, naval stores,
timber, docks, and vessels, and the fire made clean work. Our
people arrived too late to save anything, and when we came in
the smoke from the burned cotton, turpentine, etc., still filled
the woods. It was a signal illustration of the ravages of war.
Here had been destroyed, in a few hours, more property than
a half-million industrious men would accumulate in their lives.
Almost as gratifying as the sight of the old flag flying in
triumph, was the exhibition of our naval power in the river
before us. The larger part of the great North Atlantic squadron,
which had done such excellent service in the reduction of the
defenses of Wilmington, was lying at anchor, with their hund-
reds of huge guns yawning as if ardent for more great forts to
beat down, more vessels to sink, more heavy artillery to crush,
more Rebels to conquer. It seemed as if there were cannon
enough there to blow the whole Confederacy into kingdom-
come. All was life and animation around the fleet. On the
decks the officers were pacing up and down. One on each
vessel carried a long telescope, with which he almost constantly
swept the horizon. Numberless small boats, each rowed by
neatly-uniformed men, and carrying a flag in the stern, darted
hither and thither, carrying officers on errands of duty or
pleasure. It was such a scene as enabled me to realize in a
measure, the descriptions I had read of the pomp and circum-
stance of naval warfare.
While we were standing, contemplating all the interesting
sights within view, a small steamer, about the size of a canal
606 AN DERSO N V [L.L.E.
boat, and carrying several bright brass guns,"ran swiftly and
noiselessly up to the dock near by, and a young, pale-faced
officer, slender in build and nervous in manner, stepped ashore.
Some of the blue jackets who were talking to us looked at him
and the vessel with the greatest expression of interest, and said:
“Hello l there's the ‘Monticello” and Lieutenant Cushing.”
This, then, was the naval boy hero, with whose exploits the
whole country was ringing. Our sailor friends proceeded to tell
us of his achievements, of which they were justly proud. They
told us of his perilous scouts and his hairbreadth escapes, of his
wonderful audacity and still more wonderful success—of his
capture of Towns with a handful of sailors, and the destruction
of valuable stores, etc. I felt very sorry that the man was not
a cavalry commander. There he would have had full scope for
his peculiar genius. He had come prominently into notice in
the preceding Autumn, when he had, by one of the most daring
performances narrated in naval history, destroyed the formid-
able ram “Albermarle.” This vessel had been constructed by
the Rebels on the Roanoke River, and had done them very good
service, first by assisting to reduce the forts and capture the
garrison at Plymouth, N. C., and afterward in some minor
engagements. In October, 1864, she was lying at Plymouth.
Around her was a boom of logs to prevent sudden approaches
of boats or vessels from our fleet. Cushing, who was then
barely twenty-one, resolved to attempt her destruction. He
fitted up a steam launch with a long spar to which he attached
a torpedo. On the night of October 27th, with thirteen com-
panions, he ran quietly up the Sound and was not discovered
until his boat struck the boom, when a terrific fire was opened
upon him. Backing a short distance, he ran at the boom with
such velocity that his boat leaped across it into the water be-
yond. In an instant more his torpedo struck the side of the
“Albemarle” and exploded, tearing a great hole in her hull,
which sank her in a few minutes. . At the moment the torpedo
went off the “Albermarle” fired one of her great guns directly
into the launch, tearing it completely to pieces. Lieutenant
Cushing and one comrade rose to the surface of the seething
water and, swimming ashore, escaped. What became of the
rest is not known, but their fate can hardly be a matter of
doubt.
A STORY OF Bºrg.B.E.L. Kiil ITARY PRISONS. 60'ſ
We were ferried across the river into Wilmington, and
marched up the streets to some vacant ground near the railroad
depot, where we found most of our old Florence comrades already
assembled. When they left us in the middle of February they
were taken to Wilmington, and thence to Goldsboro’, N. C.,
where they were kept until the rapid closing in of our Armies
made it impracticable to hold them any longer, when they
were sent back to Wilmington and given up to our forces as
we had been.
It was now nearly noon, and we were ordered to fall in and
draw rations, a bewildering order to us, who had been so long
in the habit of drawing food but once a day. We fell in in -
single rank, and marched up, one at a time, past where a group
of employes of the Commissary Department dealt out the
food. One handed each prisoner as he passed a large slice of
meat; another gave him a handful of ground coffee; a third a
handful of Sugar; a fourth gave him a pickle, while a fifth and
sixth handed him an onion and a loaf of fresh bread. This
filled the horn of our plenty full. To have all these in one
day—meat, coffee, sugar, Onions and soft bread—was simply
to riot in undreamed-of luxury. Many of the boys—poor
fellows—could not yet realize that there was enough for all,
or they could not give up their old “flanking” tricks, and they
stole around, and falling into the rear, came up again for
another share. We laughed at them, as did the Commissary
men, who, nevertheless, duplicated the rations already received,
and sent them away happy and content.
What a glorious dinner Andrews and I had, with our half
gallon of strong coffee, our soft bread, and a pan full of fried
pork and onions ! Such an enjoyable feast will never be
eaten again by us.
Here we saw negro troops under arms for the first time—
the most of the organization of colored soldiers having been
done since our capture. It was startling at first to see a
stalwart, coal-black negro stalking along with a Sergeant's
chevrons on his arm, or to gaze on a regimental line of dusky
faces on dress parade, but we soon got used to it. The first
strong peculiarity of the negro soldier that impressed itself
upon us was his literal obedience of orders. A white soldier
608 ANDERSON VILLE.
usually allows himself considerable discretion in obeying orders
—he aims more at the spirit, while the negro adheres to the
strict letter of the command.
For instance, the second day after our arrival a line of
guards were placed around us, with orders not to allow any
of us to go up town without a pass. The reason of this was
that many weak—even dying—men would persist in wan.
dering about, and would be found exhausted, frequently dead,
in various parts of the City. Andrews and I concluded to
go up town. Approaching a negro sentinel he warned us
back with,
“Stand back, dah; don’t come any furder; it's agin de
awdahs; you can’t pass.”
He would not allow us to argue the case, but brought his gun
to such a threatening position that we fell back. Going down
the line a little farther, we came to a white sentinel, to whom I
said:
“Comrade, what are your orders ?”
He replied:
“My orders are not to let any of you fellows pass, but my
beat only eastends to that out-house there.”
Acting on this plain hint, we walked around the house and
went up-town. The guard simply construed his orders in a
liberal spirit. He reasoned that they hardly applied to us,
since we were evidently able to take care of ourselves.
Later we had another illustration of this dog-like fidelity of
the colored sentinel. A number of us were quartered in a large
and empty warehouse. On the same floor, and close to us,
were a couple of very fine horses belonging to some officer.
We had not been in the warehouse very long until we concluded
that the straw with which the horses were bedded would be
better used in making couches for Ourselves, and this suggestion
was instantly acted upon, and so thoroughly that there was not
a straw left between the animals and the bare boards. Presently
the owner of the horses came in, and he was greatly incensed
at what had been done. He relieved his mind of a few sul-
phurous oaths, and going out, came back soon with a man with
more straw, and a colored soldier whom he stationed by the
horses, saying:
A STORY OF REBEL MILFTARY PRISONS. 609
“Now, look here. You musn’t let anybody take anything
away from these stalls; d'you understand me?—not a thing.”
He then went out. Andrews and I had just finished
cooking dinner, and were sitting down to eat it. Wishing to
lend our frying-pan to another mess, I looked around for
something to lay our meat upon. Near the horses I saw a
book cover, which would answer the purpose admirably.
Springing up, I skipped across to where it was, Snatched it up,
and ran back to my place. As I reached it a yell from the
boys made me look around. The darky was coming at me
“full tilt,” with his gun at a “charge bayonets l’” As I
turned he said:
“Put dat right back dah!”
I said:
“Why, this don’t amount to anything, this is only an old
book cover. It hasn’t anything in the world to do with the
horses.”
He only replied:
“Put dat right back dah!”
I tried another appeal:
“Now, you woolly-headed son of thunder, haven’t you got
sense enough to know that the officer who posted you didn’t
mean such a thing as this? He only meant that we should not
be allowed to take any of the horses’ bedding or equipments;
don’t you see?”
I might as well have reasoned with a cigar store Indian. He
set his teeth, his eyes showed a dangerous amount of white, and
foreshortening his musket for a lunge, he hissed out again:
“Put dat, right back dah, I tell you!”
I looked at the bayonet; it was very long, very bright, and
very sharp. It gleamed cold and chilly like, as if it had not
run through a man for a long time, and yearned for another
opportunity. Nothing but the whites of the darky's eyes
could now be seen. I did not want to perish there in the fresh
bloom of my youth and loveliness; it seemed to me as if it was
my duty to reserve myself for fields of future usefulness, so I
walked back and laid the book cover precisely on the spot
whence I had obtained it, while the thousand boys in the house
set up a yell of sarcastic laughter.
39
6:10 ANDERSON VILLE.
We staid in Wilmington a few days, days of almost purely
animal enjoyment—the joy of having just as much to eat as
we could possibly swallow, and no one to molest or make us
afraid in any way. How we did eat—and fill up. The
wrinkles in our skin smoothed out under the stretching, and we
began to feel as if we were returning to our old plumpness,
though so far the plumpness was wholly abdominal.
One morning we were told that the transports would begin
going back with us that afternoon, the first that left taking
the sick. Andrews and I, true to our old prison practices, resolved
to be among those on the first boat. We slipped through the
guards and going up town, went straight to Major General
Schofield's headquarters and solicited a pass to go on the first
boat — the steamer “Thorn.” General Schofield treated us very
kindly, but declined to let anybody but the helplessly sick go
on the “Thorn.” Defeated here we went down to where the
vessel was lying at the dock, and tried to Smuggle ourselves
aboard, but the guard was too strong and too vigilant, and we
were driven away. Going along the dock, angry and discour-
aged by our failure, we saw a Surgeon, at a little distance, who
was examining and sending the sick who could walk aboard
another vessel — the “General Lyon.” We took our cue, and
a little shamming secured from him tickets which permitted us
to take our passage in her. The larger portion of those on
board were in the hold, and a few were on deck. Andrews and
I found a snug place under the forecastle, by the anchor chains.
Both vessels speedily received their complement, and leaving
their docks, started down the river. The “Thorn” steamed
ahead of us, and disappeared. Shortly after we got under way,
the Colonel who was put in command of the boat — himself a
released prisoner — came around on a tour of inspection. He
found about one thousand of us aboard, and singling me out
made me the non-commissioned officer in command. I was
put in charge of issuing the rations and of a barrel of milk
punch which the Sanitary Commission had sent down to be
dealt out on the voyage to such as needed it. I went to work
and arranged the boys in the best way I could, and returned to
the deck to view the Scenery. -
Wilmington is thirty-four miles from the sea, and the river
A §TORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON8. 6II
for that distance is a calm, broad estuary. At this time the
resources of Rebel engineering were exhausted in defense
against its passage by a hostile fleet, and undoubtedly the best
work of the kind in the Southern Confederacy was done upon
it. At its mouth were Forts Fisher and Caswell, the strongest
sea coast forts in the Confederacy. Fort Caswell was an old
United States fort, much enlarged and strengthened. Fort
Fisher was a new work, begun immediately after the begin-
ning of the war, and labored at incessantly until captured.
Behind these every one of the thirty-four miles to Wilmington
was covered with the fire of the best guns the English arsenals
could produce, mounted on forts built at every advantageous
spot. Lines of piles running out into the water, forced incom-
ing vessels to wind back and forth across the stream under the
point-blank range of massive Armstrong rifles. As if this were
not sufficient, the channel was thickly studded with torpedoes
that would explode at the touch of the keel of a passing vessel.
These abundant precautions, and the telegram from General
Lee, found in Fort Fisher, stating that unless that stronghold
and Fort Caswell were held he could not hold Richmond, give
some idea of the importance of the place to the Rebels.
We passed groups of hundreds of sailors fishing for torpedos,
and saw many of these dangerous monsters, which they had
hauled up out of the water. We caught up with the “Thorn,”
when about half way to the sea, passed her, to our great delight,
and soon left a gap between us of nearly half-a-mile. We ran
through an opening in the piling, holding up close to the left
side, and she apparently followed our course exactly. Suddenly
there was a dull roar; a column of water, bearing with it frag-
ments of timbers, planking and human bodies, rose up through
one side of the vessel, and, as it fell, she lurched forward and
sank. She had struck a torpedo. I never learned the number
lost, but it must have been very great.
Some little time after this happened we approached Fort
Anderson, the most powerful of the works between Wilming-
ton and the forts at the mouth of the Sea. It was built on the
ruins of the little Town of Brunswick, destroyed by Corn-
wallis during the Revolutionary War. We saw a monitor
(312 - ANDERSON WILLlº.
lying near it, and sought good positions to view this specimen
of the redoubtable ironclads of which we had heard and read
so much. It looked precisely as it did in pictures, as black, as
grim, and as uncompromising as the impregnable floating
fortress which had brought the “Merrimac” to terms.
But as we approached closely we noticed a limpness about
the smoke stack that seemed very inconsistent with the cus-
tomary rigidity of cylindrical iron. Then the escape pipe
- seemed scarcely able to
maintain itself upright. A
few minutes later we dis-
covered that our terrible
ºs- Cyclops of the sea was a
flimsy humbug, a theatrical
º imitation, made by stretch-
###### ing blackened canvas over
TELE BioCK MONITOF, a wooden frame.
One of the officers on board told us its story. After the fall
of Fort Fisher the Rebels retired to Fort Anderson, and
offered a desperate resistance to our army and fleet. Owing
to the shallowness of the water the latter could not come into
close enough range to do effective work. Then the happy idea
of this sham monitor suggested itself to some one. It was
prepared, and one morning before daybreak it was sent floating
in on the tide. The other monitors opened up a heavy fire
from their position. The Rebels manned their guns and replied
vigorously, by concentrating a terrible cannonade on the sham
monitor, which sailed grandly on, undisturbed by the heavy
rifled bolts tearing through her canvas turret. Almost frantic
with apprehension of the result if she could not be checked,
every gun that would bear was turned upon her, and torpedos
were exploded in her pathway by electricity. All these she
treated with the silent contempt they merited from so invulner-
able a monster. At length, as she reached a good easy range
of the fort, her bow struck something, and she swung around as
if to open fire. That was enough for the Rebels. With Scho-
field’s army reaching out to cut off their retreat, and this dread-
ful thing about to tear the insides out of their fort with four

A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON 8. 618
hundred-pound shot at quarter-mile range, there was nothing
for them to do but consult their own safety, which they did
with such haste that they did not spike a gun, or destroy a
pound of stores.
GEIAPTER LXXX.
VISIT To FoET FISHER, AND INSPECTION OF THAT STRONGHold —THz
WAY IT WAS CAPTURED — OUT ON THE OCEAN SAILING — TERRIBLY
SEA-SICK — RAPID RECOVERY-ARRIVAL AT ANNAPOLIS – WASHED,
CLOTHED AND FED — UNBOUNDED LUXURY, AND DAYS OF UNADUL-
TERATED HAPPINESS.
When we reached the mouth of Cape Fear River the wind
was blowing so hard that our Captain did not think it best to
venture out, so he cast anchor. The cabin of the vessel was
filled with offigers who had been released from prison about the
Tismounted
TORT FISHER Thismounted
Disabled
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same time we were. I was also given a berth in the cabin, in
consideration of my being the non-commissioned officer in charge
of the men, and I found the associations quite pleasant. A







A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 615
party was made up, which included me, to visit Fort Fisher, and
we spent the larger part of a day very agreeably in wandering
over that great stronghold. We found it wonderful in its
strength, and were prepared to accept the statement of those
who had seen foreign defensive works, that it was much more
powerful than the famous Malakoff, which so long defied the
besiegers of Sebastopol.
The situation of the fort was on a narrow and low spit of
ground between Cape Fear River and the ocean. On this the
Rebels had erected, with prodigious labor, an embankment over
a mile in length, twenty-five feet thick and twenty feet high.
About two-thirds of this bank faced the sea; the other third
ran across the spit of land to protect the fort against an attack
from the land side. Still stronger than the bank forming the
#ss front of the fort
š were the traverses,
which prevented
an enfilading fire.
These were regular
hills, twenty-five to
forty feet high, and
broad and long in
º *2] proportion. There
sº were fifteen or
% twenty of them
along the face of
the fort. Inside of
them were capac-
ious bomb proofs,
sufficiently largeto
shelter the whole
- garrison. It seemed
THE ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY Pound ARMSTRONG. as if a whole Town-
(FROM A PHOTOGRAPH. ) ship had been dug
up, carted down there and set on edge. In front of the works
was a strong palisade. Between each pair of traverses were one
or two enormous guns, none less than one-hundred-and-fifty-
pounders. Among these we saw a great Armstrong gun, which
had been presented to the Southern Confederacy by its manu-
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618 ANDERSON VILL }t.
facturer, Sir William Armstrong, who, like the majority of the
English nobility, was a warm admirer of the Jeff. Davis crowd.
It was the finest piece of ordnance ever seen in this country.
The carriage was rosewood, and the mountings gilt brass. The
breech of the gun had five reinforcements.
To attack this place our Government assembled the most
powerful fleet ever sent on such an expedition. Over seventy-
five men-of-war, including six monitors, and carrying six
hundred guns, assailed it with a storm of shot and shell that
averaged four projectiles per second for several hours; the
parapet was battered, and the large guns crushed as one
smashes a bottle with a stone. The garrison fled into the
bomb-proofs for protection. The troops, who had landed above
the fort, moved up to assail the land face, while a brigade of
failors and marines attacked the sea face. -
As the fleet had to cease firing to allow the charge, the
Rebels ran out of their casemates and, manning the parapet,
opened such a fire of musketry that the brigade from the fleet
was driven back, but the soldiers made a lodgment on the land
face. Then began some beautiful co-operative tactics between
the Army and Navy, communication being kept up with signal
flags. Our men were on one side of the parapets and the
Rebels on the other, with the fighting almost hand-to-hand.
The vessels ranged out to where their guns would rake the
Rebel line, and as their shot tore down its length, the Rebels
gave way, and falling back to the next traverse, renewed the
conflict there. Guided by the signals our vessels changed their
positions, so as to rake this line also, and so the fight went on
until twelve traverses had been carried, one after the other,
when the Rebels surrendered. -
The next day the Rebels abandoned Fort Caswell and other
fortifications in the immediate neighborhood, surrendered two
gunboats, and fell back to the lines at Fort Anderson. After
Fort Fisher fell, several blockade-runners were lured inside and
captured.
Never before had there been such a demonstration of the
power of heavy artillery. Huge cannon were pounded into frag-
ments, hills of Sand ripped open, deep crevasses blown in the
ground by exploding shells, wooden buildings reduced to kind.
A. STORY OF R. E.E; EL MILITARY PRISON3. 617
ling-wood, etc. The ground was literally paved with fragments
of shot and shell, which, now red with rust from the corroding
Salt air, made the interior of the fort resemble what one of our
party likened it to—“an old brickyard.” -
Whichever way we looked along the shores we saw abundant
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THE INFANTRY ASSAULT ON FORT FISHER.
evidence of the greatness of the business which gave the place
its importance. In all directions, as far as the eye could reach,
the beach was dotted with the bleaching skeletons of blockade-
runners—some run ashore by their mistaking the channel,
more beached to escape the hot pursuit of our blockaders.
Directly in front of the sea face of the fort, and not four
hundred yards from the Savage mouths of the huge guns, the
blackened timbers of a burned blockade-runner showed above
the water at low tide. Coming in from Nassau with a cargo
of priceless value to the gasping Confederacy, she was observed
and chased by one of our vessels, a swifter sailer, even, than
herself. The war ship closed rapidly upon her. She sought
the protection of the guns of Fort Fisher, which opened venom-
ously on the chaser. They did not stop her, though they were
less than half a mile away. In another minute she would have
sent the Rebel vessel to the bottom of the sea, by a broadside
from her heavy guns, but the Captain of the latter turned her











































618 - ANDERSON V L. i. ii.
suddenly, and ran her high up on the beach, wrecking his ves-
sel, but saving the much more valuable cargo. Our vessel then
hauled off, and as night fell, quiet was restored. At midnight
two boat-loads of determined men, rowing with muffled oars
moved silently out from the blockader towards the beached
vessel In their boats they had some cans of turpentine,
and several large shells. When they reached the blockade-
runner they found all her crew gone ashore, save one watchman,
whom they overpowered before he could give the alarm.
They cautiously felt their way around, with the aid of a dark
lantern, secured the ship's chronometer, her papers and some
other desired objects. They then saturated with the turpentine
piles of combustible material, placed about the vessel to the
best advantage, and finished by depositing the shells where their
explosion would ruin the machinery. All this was done so near
to the fort that the sentinels on the parapets could be heard
with the greatest distinctness as they repeated their half-hourly
cry of “All's well.” Their preparations completed, the daring
fellows touched matches to the doomed vessel in a dozen places
at once, and sprang into their boats. The flames instantly
enveloped the ship, and showed the gunners the incendiaries
rowing rapidly away. A hail of shot beat the water into a
foam around the boats, but their good fortune still attended
them, and they got back without losing a man.
The wind at length calmed sufficiently to encourage our
Captain to venture out, and we were soon battling with the
rolling waves, far out of sight of land. For awhile the novelty
of the scene fascinated me. I was at last on the ocean, of
which I had heard, read and imagined so much. The creaking
cordage, the straining engine, the plunging ship, the wild waste
of tumbling billows, everyone apparently racing to where our
tossing bark was struggling to maintain herself, all had an
entrancing interest for me, and I tried to recall Byron's sublime
apostrophe to the Ocean—
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempest : in all time,
Calm or convulsed—in breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime
Dark-heaving — boundless, endless, and sublime—
The image of eternity — the throne
Of the invisible ; even from out thy slime
The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone
obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone,
A 8TORY OF REPEL MILITARY PRISON.S. 619
Just then, my reverie was broken by the strong hand of the
gruff Captain of the vessel descending upon my shoulder, and
he said:
“See, here, youngster | Ain't you the fellow that was put in
command of these men?”
I acknowledged such to be the case.
“Well,” said the Captain ; “I want you to 'tend to your
business and straighten them around, so that we can clean off
the decks.”
I turned from the bulwark over which I had been contem-
plating the vasty deep, and saw the Sorriest, most woe-begone
lot that the imagination can conceive. Every mother's son
was wretchedly sea-sick. They were paying the penalty of
their overfeeding in Wilmington; and every face looked as if
its owner was discovering for the first time what the real lower
depths of human misery was. They all seemed afraid they
would not die; as if they were praying for death, but feeling
certain that he was going back on them in a most shameful
way.
We straightened them around a little, washed them and the
decks off with a hose, and then I started down in the hold to
see how matters were with the six hundred down there. The
boys there were much sicker than those on deck. As I lifted
the hatch there rose an odor which appeared strong enough to
raise the plank itself. Every Onion that had been issued to us
in Wilmington seemed to lie down there in the last stages of
decomposition. All of the seventy distinct smells which Cole-
ridge counted at Cologne might have been counted in any given
cubic foot of atmosphere, while the next foot would have an
entirely different and equally demonstrative “bouquet.”
I recoiled, and leaned against the bulwark, but soon sum-
moned up courage enough to go half-way down the ladder, and
shout out in as stern a tone as I could command:
“Here, now ! I want you fellows to straighten around there,
right off, and help clean up !”
They were as angry and cross as they were sick. They
wanted nothing in the World so much as the opportunity I had
given them to swear at and abuse somebody. Every one of
them raised on his elbow, and shaking his fist at me yelled out:
620 ANDERSON WILLE.
“O, you go to , you . Just come down
another step, and I’ll knock the whole head off’en you.”
I did not go down any farther.
Coming back on the deck my stomach began to feel qualmish.
Some wretched idiot, whose grandfather's grave I hope the
jackasses have defiled, as the Turks would say, told me that the
best preventive of sea-sickness was to drink as much of the milk
punch as I could swallow.
Like another idiot, I did so.
I went again to the side of the vessel, but now the fascina-
tion of the scene had all faded out. The restless billows were
dreary, savage, hungry and dizzying; they seemed to claw at,
and tear, and wrench the struggling ship as a group of huge
lions would tease and worry a captive dog. They distressed
her and all on board by dealing a blow which would send her
reeling in one direction, but before she had swung the full
length that impulse would have sent her, catching her on the
opposite side with a stunning shock that sent her another way,
only to meet another rude buffet from still another side.
I thought we could all have stood it if the motion had been
like that of a swing—backward and forward—or even if the
to and fro motion had been complicated with a sidewise
swing, but to be put through every possible bewildering motion
in the briefest space of time was more than heads of iron and
stomachs of brass could stand.
Mine were not made of such perdurable stuff.
They commenced mutinous demonstrations in regard to the
milk punch.
I began wondering whether the milk was not the horrible
beer swill, stumptail kind of which I had heard so much.
And the whisky in it; to use a vigorous Westernism, descrip-
tive of mean whisky, it seemed to me that I could smell the
boy's feet who plowed the corn from which it was distilled.
Then the onions I had eaten in Wilmington began to rebel,
and incite the bread, meat and coffee to gastric insurrection,
and I became so utterly Wretched that life had no farther
attractions.
While I was leaning over the bulwark, musing on the com-
A SiOi Y QF I&EBHL Mll LITA. I.Y. P.&ISON3. 621
plete hollowness of all earthly things, the Captain of the vessel
caught hold of me roughly, and said:
“Look here, you’re just playin' the very devil a-commandin’
these here men. Why in — don’t you stiffen up, and hump
yourself around, and make these men mind, or else belt them
over the head with a capstan bar 8 Now I want you to 'tend
to your business. D'you understand me?”
I turned a pair of weary and hopeless eyes upon him, and
started to say that a man who would talk to one in my forlorn
condition of “stiffening up,” and “belting other fellows over
the head with a capstan bar,” would insult a woman dying with
consumption, but I suddenly became too full for utterance.
The milk punch, the onions, the bread, and meat and coffee;
tired of fighting it out in the narrow quarters where I had
stowed them, had started upwards tumultuously.
I turned my head again to the sea, and looking down into its
Smaragdine depths, let go of the victualistic store which I had
been industriously accumulating ever since I had come through
the lines.
I vomited until I felt as empty and hollow as a stove pipe,
There was a vacuum that extended clear to my toe-nails. I
feared that every retching struggle would dent me in, all over,
as one sees tin preserving cans crushed in by outside pressure,
and I apprehended that if I kept on much longer my shoe-soles
would come up after the rest.
I will mention, parenthetically, that to this day I abhor milk
punch, and also onions.
Unutterably miserable as I was I could not refrain from a
ghost of a smile, when a poor country boy near me sang out in
an interval between vomiting spells:
“O, Captain, for God’s sake, stop the boat and lem’me go
ashore, and I swear I’ll walk every step of the way home.”
He was like old Gonzalo in the Tempest:
Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground; long heath;
brown furze; anything. The Wills above be done! but I would fain die a dry death.
After this misery had lasted about two days we got past Cape
Hatteras, and out of reach of its malign influence, and recovered
as rapidly as we had been prostrated.
629 ANDERSON VILLE.
We regained spirits and appetites with amazing swiftness;
the sun came out warm and cheerful, we cleaned up our quar-
ters and ourselves as best we could, and during the remainder
of the voyage were as blithe and cheerful as so many crickets.
The fun in the cabin was rollicking. The officers had been
as sick as the men, but were wonderfully vivacious when the
mal du mer passed off. In the party was a fine glee club,
which had been organized at “Camp Sorgum,” the officers'
prison at Columbia. Its leader was a Major of the Fifth Iowa
Cavalry, who possessed a marvelously sweet tenor voice, and
well developed musical powers. While we were at Wilmington
he sang “When Sherman Marched Down to the Sea,” to an
audience of soldiers that packed the Opera House densely.
The enthusiasm he aroused was simply indescribable; men
shouted, and the tears ran down their faces. He was recalled
time and again, each time with an increase in the furore. The
audience would have staid there all night to listen to him sing
that one song. Poor fellow, he only went home to die. An
attack of pneumonia carried him off within a fortnight after
we separated at Annapolis.
The Glee Club had several songs which they rendered in
regular negro minstrel style, and in a way that was irresistibly
Iudicrous. One of their favorites was “Billy Patterson.” Alk
standing up in a ring, the tenors would lead off: -
“I saw an old man go riding by,”
and the baritones, flinging themselves around with the loose-
ness of Christy's Minstrels, in a “break down,” would reply:
Don’t tel; me ! IDon’t tell mé !”
Then the tenors would resume:
“Says I, ‘Cºle man, your horse'll die.’”
Then the baritones, with an air of exaggerated interest:
“A-h-a-a-a, Billy Patterson 1 °
Tenors:
* For, if he dies, I'll tan his skin ;
An° if he lives I’ll ride him agin.”
A. STORY OF REBEL MP3, FTARY PAH8ON 8. 633
All together, with a furious “break down" at the close;
“Then I'll lay five dollars down,
And count them one by one ;
Then I'll lay five dollars down,
If anybody will show me the man
That struck Billy Patterson.”
And so on. It used to upset my gravity entirely to see a crowd
of grave and dignified Captains, Majors and Colonels going
through this nonsensical drollery with all the abandon of pro-
fessional burnt-cork artists.
As we were nearing the entrance to Chesapeake Bay we
passed a great monitor, who was exercising her crew at the
guns. She fired directly across Our course, the huge four hun-
dred pound balls skipping along the water, about a mile ahead
of us, as we boys used to make the flat stones skip in the play
of “Ducks and Drakes.” One or two of the shots came so
close that I feared she might be mistaking us for a Rebel ship
intent on some raid up the Bay, and I looked up anxiously to
See that the flag should float out so conspicuously that she could
not help seeing it.
The next day our vessel ran alongside of the dock at the
Naval Academy at Annapolis, that institution now being used
as a hospital for paroled prisoners. The musicians of the Post
band came down with stretchers to carry the sick to the Hos-
pital, while those of us who were able to walk were ordered to
fall in and march up. The distance was but a few hundred
yards. On reaching the building we marched up on a little
balcony, and as we did so each one of us was seized by a hos-
pital attendant, who, with the quick dexterity attained by long
practice, Snatched every one of our filthy, lousy rags off in the
twinkling of an eye, and flung them over the railing to the
ground, where a man loaded them into a wagon with a pitch-
fork.
With them went our faithful little black can, our hoop-iron
spoon, and our chessboard and men.
Thus entirely denuded, each boy was given a shove which
sent him into a little room, where a barber pressed him down
upon a stool, and almost before he understood what was being
done, had his hair and beard cut off as close as shears would do
624 ANDERSON VILLE.
it. Another tap on the back sent the shorn lamb into a room
furnished with great tubs of water and with about six inches of
soap suds on the zinc-covered floor.
In another minute two men with sponges had removed every
trace of prison grime from his body, and passed him on to two
more men, who wiped him dry, and moved him on to where a
man handed him a
aß, new shirt, a pair
º of drawers, pair of
socks, pair of pant-
aloons, pair of slip-
pers, and a hospi-
,2: *. tal gown, and mo-
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* * Ø2 \} º º on into the large
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Not a word was
THEY REMOVED EVERY TRACE OF PRISON GRIME. spoken by any-
- º - body, not a mo-
ment's time lost, and it seemed to me that it was not ten minutes
after I marched up on the balcony, covered with dirt, rags, ver-
min, and a matted shock of hair, until I marched out of the
room, clean and well clothed. Now I began to feel as if I was
really a man again. -
The next thing done was to register our names, rank, regi-
ment, when and where captured, when and where released, etc.
After this we were shown to our rooms. And such rooms as
they were. All the old maids in the country could not have
improved their spick-span neatness. The floors were as white
as pine plank could be scoured; the sheets and bedding as clean
ascotton andlinen and woolen could be washed. Nothing in any
home in the land was any more daintily, wholesomely, unquali-



























A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY FRISONS. 625
fiedly clean than were these little chambers, each containing
two beds, one for each man assigned to their occupancy.
Andrews doubted if we could stand all this radical change in
our habits. He feared that it was rushing things too fast. We
might have had our hair cut one week, and taken a bath all
over a week later, and so progress down to sleeping between
white sheets in the course of six months, but to do it all in one
day seemed like tempting fate.
Every turn showed us some new feature of the marvelous
order of this wonderful institution. Shortly after we were sent
to Our rooms, a Surgeon entered with a Clerk. After answering
the usual questions as to name, rank, company and regiment,
the Surgeon examined our tongues, eyes, limbs and general
appearance, and communicated his conclusions to the Clerk,
who filled out a blank card something like this:
This card was stuck into a little

No. 101. tin holder at the head of my bed.
MC , Andrews's card was the same, except
Co. L, 16TH ILLS. CAY., the name. The Surgeon was fol-
esse------ , 1865. lowed by a Sergeant, who was
Chief of the Dining-Room, and his
Clerk, who made a minute of the
diet ordered for us, and moved off.
Andrews and I immediately be-
came very solicitous to know what species of diet No. 1 was.
After the seasickness left us our appetites became as ray-
enous as a buzz-saw, and unless Diet No. 1 was more than
No. 1 in name, it would not fill the bill. We had not long to
remain in suspense, for soon another non-commissioned officer
passed through at the head of a train of attendants, bearing
trays. Consulting the list in his hand, he said to one of his
followers, “Two No. 1's,” and that satellite set down two large
plates, upon each of which were a cup of coffee, a shred of meat,
two boiled eggs and a couple of rolls. *
“Well,” said Andrews, as the procession moved away, “I
want to know where this thing's going to stop. I am trying
hard to get used to wearing a shirt without any lice in it, and
to sitting down on a chair, and to sleeping in a clean bed, but
when it comes to having my meals sent to my room, I’m afraid
ENTERED MARCH
DLAGNOSTs — GENERAL DEBILITY.
PROGNOSIs — FAVORABLE.
DIET – No. 1.
40
626 ANDERSON VILLE.
I’ll degenerate into a pampered child of luxury. They are
really piling it on too strong. Let us see, Mc.; how long's it
been since we were sitting on the sand there in Florence, boiling
our pint of meal in that old can 2° -
“kº seems many years, Lale,” I said; “but for heaven's sake
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“I wanT TO KNow where. THIS THING’s GoING TO STOP.”
let us try to forget it as soon as possible. We will always
remember too much of it.”
And we did try hard to make the miserable recollections fade
out of our minds. When we were stripped on the balcony we
threw away every visible token that could remind us of the
hateful experience we had passed through. We did not retain a
scrap of paper or a relic to recall the unhappy past. We
loathed everything connected with it. -
"Whe days that followed were very happy ones. The Pay-


























A. STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISON3. 627
master came around and paid us each two months’ pay and
twenty-five cents a day “ration money” for every day we had
been in prison. This gave Andrews and I about one hundred
and sixty-five dollars apiece—an abundance of spending money.
Uncle Sam was very kind and considerate to his soldier nephews,
and the Hospital authorities neglected nothing that would add
to our comfort. The superbly-kept grounds of the Naval
Academy were renewing the freshness of their loveliness under
the tender wooing of the advancing Spring, and every step one
Sauntered through them was a new delight. A magnificent
band gave us sweet music morning and evening. Every dispatch
from the South told of the victorious progress of our arms, and
the rapid approach of the close of the struggle. All we had to
do was to enjoy the goods the gods were showering upon us,
and we did so with appreciative, thankful hearts. After awhile
all able to travel were given furloughs of thirty days to visit
their homes, with instructions to report at the expiration of
their leaves of absence to the camps of rendezvous nearest their
homes, and we separated, nearly every man going in a different
direction.
CHAPTER LXXXI.
RELIGIOUS IIFE AND WORK IN ANDERSON VILLE — HOW CAPTURED -
IMPEESSIONS ON REACHING THE PRISON — HOW TREATED — LOOK-
ING FOR RELIGIOUS COMPANIONS — NOTES FROM DAY TO DAY -
CoADJUTORS IN ORGANIZING PRAYER MEETINGS — BRUTAL TREAT-
MENT OF THE SICK BY REBEL8 — MEAGER RATIONS, RTC.
By Rev. T. J. Sheppard, of Granville, O.
Never can I forget the mingled emotions of surprise, mortifi-
cation and horror which I experienced when, in the confusion
of a night attack, I found myself hopelessly in the hands of the
ºš. enemy. I thought I had
s considered every other
chance of a soldier's fate
when in the passion of patriot-
ism I enlisted “for three
years or the war.”
Bewildered by the unex-
pectedness of the calamity,
it was only after repeated
and impatient orders that I
relinquished my gun and
cartridge box. Yet dazed as
I was in this regard, with
respect to many surrounding
circumstances, I never had more vivid impressions; as witness
the following:
“That's my gun,” cried one of the Rebels; “that's my cart.
ridge box,” said another; “I take that haversack,” cried a
BOSTON CORBETT,

A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 629
third, while the fourth dropped at my feet his old gray cap,
whose external color suspiciously hinted of its internal furni-
ture, seized my good hat and coolly remarked, “this will do for
me.”
Such was my first intimate acquaintance with the Southern
Chivalry. A few hours later I was much more kindly treated
by a “Confederate Brigadier,” and a fine soldierly looking fel-
low from Texas hoped that my fears of long imprisonment and
starvation might prove unfounded. But, on the whole, my
experience was that the rays of human kindness which fell
athwart the black horrors of the prison pens of the South, were
indeed, “like angels' visits, few and far between.”
About 2 P. M., June 23, 1864, I, in company with about two
hundred unfortunates, was turned like a wild beast into the
“pen” at Andersonville, Ga. There were given to us no shel-
ter, no cooking utensils, no soap, no kettles for washing our
clothing, no system of police to prevent crime or secure cleanli-
ness, nothing save what we carried in on our backs. They pro-
vided a twenty-foot Stockade and blood-hounds to prevent our
escape, guards to shoot us if we crossed the Dead Line, rations,
such as they were, usually once in twenty-four hours, and—
graves.
As we entered that horrid place filled with ragged, dirty,
diseased humanity, the sight was almost Overpowering; but,
having been at the time of my capture much impressed by the
words of the heathen king to Daniel, “thy God whom thou
servest continually, he will deliver thee,” I tried to lean upon
the Lord and seek “a heart for any fate.” Corporal W. S.
Moss, Seventh New York Heavy Artillery, having proposed to
join with mine what shelter he had brought in, we became
companions in suffering and partners in the possession of a rude
tent.
I spent much time in search of religious company, but without
success till the night of July 8th, when, attracted by the singing
of hymns, I found a large and attentive congregation gathered
in a prayer and conference meeting. I was deeply impressed by
the sight, as the faint light of the feeble fires fell on their ema-
ciated forms clothed in rags, begrimed with dirt and disfigured
by disease, their faces pinched with hunger, but radiant with
630 ANDERSON VILLE.
the presence of God. What words of Christian cheer they
uttered in the very jaws of death ! What songs of triumphant
faith floated out upon the air! What words of holy trust rose
in prayer to God! Never have I attended religious meetings
where song and speech and prayer more fervently and fittingly
expressed the riches of Christian experience. There was no
cold formality which freezes devotion, and no luxurious ease
which saps the vigor of piety. There no one need attend unless
he wished to, and no one need stay away on account of personal
appearance or social distinctions.
My first sight of anything religious in that dismal place was
while searching for religious companions, I found men engaged
together in reading their Testaments.
Upon becoming acquainted with Sergeant B. N. Waddell,
One Hundred and Twenty-Sixth Ohio Volunteer Infantry, Ken-
ton, O., he informed me that he and some others started a
prayer-meeting on the 29th of May, 1864. It was this begin-
ning which had grown into the large assembly whose songs of
devotion guided me to their place of meeting. Sergeant M. H.
Miller, Twenty-Second Michigan Cavalry, McComb, Mich., has
since informed me that he and others organized a prayer-meeting
in March, 1864. This must have been not more than one
month after the arrival of the first prisoners at Andersonville.
How seldom, even under the most favorable circumstances, has
any company of wanderers to a new clime established the
public worship of God more promptly than did these unfortu-
nate men herded in a loathsome prison. - -
The “local habitation ” of our public religious services was
never fixed for any great length of time. We used to assemble
On some vacant spot, and as the prison filled up move to
another. A little before dark those who took a leading part,
especially in singing, would repair to the place and “ring the
bell,” as we used to say, i.e., start some familiar hymn. Upon
this the prisoners would gather often to the number of three or
four hundred. We had the most beautiful singing, led by a
trio of fine voices and joined by all present. The singing
leaders in most of the meetings which I attended during the
Summer and Fall of 1864 were Sergeant B. N. Waddell, of the
One Hundred and Twenty-Sixth Ohio Volunteer Infantry; J. C.
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 631
Turner, of Townline, Lucerne County, Pa., and David Atherton,
Company D, Sixty-Fifth New York. I cannot find the regiment
and company of Brother Turner in any memoranda. I have. It
Seems to me now that their’s were the sweetest voices I ever
heard. One of them, Brother Waddell, has long since joined the
choir which sings the eternal song of redeeming love amid the
unfading glories of Heaven. He survived the cruelties of
Andersonville and Florence only long enough to die beneath
the starry folds of the flag for which he suffered so much.
They used not only to lead our devotions, but also sometimes
sung patriotic songs to intensely appreciative audiences of their
fellow-prisoners until warned to desist by apprehension of
danger from the guards.
Having no facilities for singing except our memories and our
voices, we used only the most familiar pieces. Such hymns as,
“Come, thou fount of every blessing,” “All hail the power of
Jesus's name !” “Jesus, lover of my soul,” and, “A charge to
keep I have,” were most frequently used. Two others, which
seemed especially appropriate to our situation, were sung again
and again, always with the greatest feeling and truest comfort.
They were:
When I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,
I'll bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.
How many a pious soul feebly and uncertainly lingering within
a starving body, poured forth its hopes of a better and more
enduring life in the words of that old familiar hymn. Another,
which expressed the hope of eternal joys beyond the grave, and,
at the same time, in the chorus, furnished a vehicle for all the
tenderness of feeling and intensity of longing, awakened by
every thought of home, seemed never to wear out. It was the
one sung by so many at the Reunion of Prisoners, at Toledo,
commencing : - -
My heavenly home is bright and fair,
No pain nor woe can enter there ;
It’s glittering towers the sun outshine —
That heavenly mansion shall be mine.
I'm going home to die, no more ;
To die no more ; to die no more ;
I’m going home to die no more. sº
If it be true that the human mind loves contrasts, how much
more amid dirt, disease and death, far from friends and native
632 ANDERSON VILLE.
land, surrounded by bitter foes and daily expecting the most
horrid of all deaths, must pious hearts have poured forth in
that hymn their quenchless hope of a “better country;” that is
a heavenly one, and their abiding conviction of the mighty con-
trast between Earth’s most dreadful spot and Heaven’s incom-
parable glory.
We usually had prayer meeting and preaching services on
alternate nights. At the conclusion of all our meetings we
invited within a ring, formed of the regular workers, all who
desired their conversion to God, or their restoration to the joys
of salvation. I find notices of this all along in my notes of
the meetings: “Monday night, July 11; a memorable day in
prison annals, six came out for prayers; the next night eight,
and on the 13th, ten—some inquirers and some backsliders.”
I find the following recorded Sunday, July 17: “Four en-
quirers came out, one professed a change of heart and one was
a backslider. To-day I received the names of six who have
been converted since our meetings began.” -
Sunday night, July 24, I find this record: “How blessed
that, even in this abode of misery, Jesus meets his people and
inclines the hearts of many sinners to listen with serious atten-
tion to His word. Seldom do any leave until the close of the
meeting. Four gave their names as being converted during our
meetings.”
IFrom such notes occurring so often and from the number of
names given to me, I have always supposed that, perhaps, one
hundred conversions resulted from the meetings with which I
was acquainted. As other meetings were held in other parts of
the Stockade, the direct spiritual results must have been con-
siderable.
It will be interesting to note some of the places, at least,
where meetings were held. I preached for the first time,
Sunday, July 10, 1864, on the North Side, about half-way from
east to west. The text was “Create in me a clean heart, O
God; and renew a right spirit within me,” Psalm li:10. On
the South Side were two pine trees, the only ones, I think, in
the Stockade. Possibly there was a small tree of some sort,
not far from the South Gate. I preached several times at the
two pines. I there became acquainted with Sergeant J. G.
Miller, Company B, Ninetieth Ohio Volunteer Infantry; Cor-
A STORY OF REBEL, MILITARY PRISONS. 633
poral Rose, and Private McCollum. These and other brethren
carried on a prayer meeting at that point. I spoke there
Thursday night, July 28, from Romans, xiv:12: “So then every
one of us shall give account of himself to God.” On that day
a man was shot by a guard while he was dipping up water
from the brook.
On the South Side, not very far from the brook, was a long
house made with tent-poles and covered with pine boughs or
possibly with blankets. This the Sixteenth Connecticut occu-
pied. Robert H. Kellogg, Sergeant Major of that regiment,
was one of our religious men. I remember preaching in front
of that tent once from the words, “Their rock is not as our
rock, our enemies themselves being judges,” Deuteronomy, xxi.
:32. In his book, “Life and Death in Rebel Prisons,” Sergeant
Kellogg speaks of a sermon which I preached Sunday night,
July 17, from I. Timothy, vi:21: “Fight the good fight of
faith.” That meeting was attended by an unusually large
audience and was deeply interesting. It was on the South Side,
but a little way from the Dead Line, near a very large house or
shanty which I think was called the “Masonic Tent.” Sergeant
Thomas A. Cord, of the Nineteenth United States Infantry,
tented there. He was one of the brethren whose acquaintance
I formed on first finding my way to the meetings. One more
extract from my diary will, I think, express the feelings of
many others as well as myself. “I have now four preaching
places. How blessed in this horrid place to be laboring for
souls. How good such employment in prison and in distress.”
* While blest with a sense of His love
A palace a toy Would appear,
And prisons would palaces prove
If Jesus would dwell with me there.”
So occupied was I at times with my interest in religious work
as to shut out almost every other thought. I do not doubt
that our work was a life-preserver even in the low sense of an
occupation which prevented brooding over the horrors of the
situation. The work had also a blessed effect On others. Acts'
xxvi;25, properly translated reads: “Paul and Silas were prais-
ing God and the prisoners were listening to them.” This Bible
experience of prison life was repeated in Andersonville. Says
t
634 ANDERSON VILLE.
S. E. Shurty, Company F, Sixty-Fifth Ohio Volunteer Infantry:
“I lived on the South Hill, when you preached on the North
Side we, on the South Side, could hear you plainly.” A. A.
Spencer, Company E, Fifteenth Illinois Veteran Infantry, writes,
“I have often thought of you during the last fourteen years. I
have often told my friends of the religious meetings held in
prison.” “O. B. Campbell, Thirteenth Wisconsin, in a long
and interesting letter, says that they had preaching in the
prison at Cahawba, Ala., and also at Macon, Ga. O. B. Ches-
ter, Company H, Tenth Wisconsin Infantry, speaks of the ser-
mon from “Fight the good fight,” etc, and says that he attended
a prayer meeting at Andersonville May 19, 1864. He heard
preaching there for the last time March 19, 1865. This
brother, as well as the writer of this sketch, returned to Ander-
sonville in the Winter of 1864. The meetings were resumed in
February, and closed with our final departure. I think it likely
he heard the first and last sermon of the second series. Ser-
geant J. G. Miller writes: “I well remember the many
precious meetings we had there, and how they strengthened
and cheered us. I have good reason to believe that many were
truly converted in that place of wretchedness. We had but
few public prayer meetings after leaving Andersonville, but we
had a little hut or cave at Florence in which we had daily
prayer.”
One of our Union Generals writes that at Libby religious
services were kept up for some time by Chaplains. After they
were released the meetings were continued with unabated inter-
est by other officers, especially Captain D. C. Caldwell, One
Hundred and Twenty-Third Ohio Volunteer Infantry. General
Neal Dow was a frequent leader in their prayer meetings.
They usually had prayer meeting and a short sermon on
Wednesday night and two sermons on Sunday. My informant
was confined there for nearly a year.
Resides this work of maintaining religious services, much else
could be mentioned of a religious and philanthropic character.
Many of us met there each Sunday morning at sunrise to study
the Word of God in a Bible class. So we may lay at least
some claim to having had an Andersonville Sunday-School. The
hour was not inconvenient in that place, as ºur couches possessed
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 635
no attractions especially preventive of early rising. We also
visited the sick and dying. Brethren Waddell and Turner did
much in that line. Frank W. Smith, now of the Toledo Railroad
Bethel, was a frequent visitor to the sick and dying, as well as
an active worker in our meetings. This work was constantly
carried on by many. In numerous cases the sick were cared
for by their mates as tenderly as was possible in such a place.
I remember a boy I visited while sick and after his death, who
was kept by his companions almost as clean and comfortable as
if at home.
One instance in my own experience illustrates how even these
men were sometimes most thoughtfully alive to the dictates of
humanity. My tent mate at that time was Joseph Quesnall, a
mere boy, a French Canadian. A member of the same COm-
pany and regiment with Corporal Moss, he had upon his death
come in as a sort of heir of his personal effects. Joe was the
Soul of faithfulness and unselfishness. The illustration of these
traits on his part, which I am about to relate, was no doubt
but one of hundreds known to Him who sees all hearts.
During January, 1865, we were without even the imperfect
shelter we had been accustomed to have. I took a cold,
coughed much, and must have looked very badly. During the
weary weeks no word of discouragement fell from his lips.
With warmer suns and better shelter I recovered my usual
prison health. Then he said one day: “Sergeant, I was afraid
for awhile that you would not stay with us much longer.”
An organization was formed to clear the way for the sick
and carry cool water to them. By the clumsy barbarity of
Rebel arrangement, all the sick unable to walk had to be
dragged through heat and dust to the South Gate. My blood
never boiled hotter than when I saw daily the long line of
cripples crawling along, or the still more helpless borne on the
backs of comrades or on blankets, while every movement was
agony, and many died upon the way. Yet this daily torment
was the price of a Rebel prescription. Frequently, from some
cause, no doctors would be at the gate. In that case I never
knew any notice to be given to prevent the pilgrimage of pain,
but the sick would come and lie around in the hot sun for
636 ANDERSON WILLE.
hours, only at length to go groaning back to their miserable
huts. To such a cup of cool water was a boon indeed.
I was often called upon to hold burial services. After the
first two or three deaths in my ninety, I resolved that each
should have that mark of respect as long as I had the strength
to give it. One of the saddest deaths I saw there was that of
Edward Shoulder, Company H, Second Delaware. He was a
man I think about middle age, a quiet, unobtrusive Christian.
With him starvation brought on delirium. He would start up,
grasp my hand and then fall back with incoherent words or an
empty laugh. One of the most quiet deaths I saw was that of
Corporal W. S. Moss, my tent mate. He was, apparently,
religious and always inclined to be thankful that things were no
worse. His last words were: “What a cool breeze.” Lyman
Gregory, also of the Seventh New York Heavy Artillery, and
a tent mate, told me, a little before his death, that he had been
trying to live a Christian life. The happiest death I witnessed
was that of Andrew Smith, Seventh Pennsylvania. His death
was one of triumphant joy. He seemed fully prepared to go.
I attended his funeral on the same day as that of Sergeant
LaVerne, mentioned by Sergeant Kellogg in his book. Others
I did not see die, but know of their spiritual state. The first was
John Lanson, of Taylorsville, O. He told me, perhaps a week
before his death, that he “had a building, not made with hands,
eternal in the heavens.” It was his—
1ſt * * “a happier lot to own
A heavenly mansion near the throne l’”
I knew Brother Achison, Ninth Minnesota, a Local Methodist
Preacher, who died there. Brother Gardiner, One Hundred
and Thirty-Fifth Ohio, was a man of noble spirit. A member
of his church was drafted. He had a family and could not bear
to leave them. So Brother Gardiner went in the place of this
friend, and died at Florence, S. C. If not the original of
Beecher's story, “He Died for Me,” he might well have been.
I know of no test of real piety more severe than that applied
by life in Andersonville and other prisons. We know how
many men were demoralized by army life. In the almost
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISON3. 637
entire absence of moral restraint and constant exposure to vicious
Companions, their morals gave way, and their want of real
goodness was manifested. All that army life was for evil, that
and tenfold more was the life in the prison pen. There was
in the prison even less moral restraint. The stern, all-present
necessity of preserving his own life, constantly tended to foster
utter indifference as to others’ good, and quench every noble
impulse of humanity. The intense suffering, the horrifying sights,
and the seeming hopelessness of relief, save in death, constantly
tempted us to conclude that there was in all the Universe no
“power that makes for righteousness.” For myself I can say that
I Only followed the dictates of a heart that longed for Christian
fellowship, and the teachings of a Gospel which impelled me,
in at least a feeble way, to imitate Him who “came not to be
ministered to, but to minister, and to give His life as a ransom
for many.” But as I look back upon it now, I am amazed that
any considerable body of men should there have kept up
Christian faith, hope and zeal. And that they not only did not
give up in despair, “curse God and die,” but lived and labored,
and when death did come, even in most horrid form,
Crossed the River of Jordan,
Triumphant in the Lord,
I believe to be one of the grandest testimonies that the
religion of Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God,
that it can sustain men amid the darkest woes of earth and fit
them for the brightest glories of heaven.
In closing this imperfect sketch of Religious Life and Work
in Andersonville, I regret that I did not preserve more names
of pious friends. I can only give such as I now have. This list
does not include those already mentioned, nor those professing
conversion there. I met there in meetings Thomas B. Bourne,
Company H, Fifty-Eighth Massachusetts; Corporal L. H. Cum-
mings, Webster, Massachusetts; John W. Kerr, One Hundredth
Pennsylvania; Daniel Curlan, Maryland Cavalry; Sergeant
Henry Knipp, Company G, Ninth Maryland; George W.
Pomeroy, Company A, Ninth Minnesota; George A. Hovey,
Seventeenth Iowa; Wm. M. Sweezy, Ft. Madison, Iowa; R.
N. Kidder, Wilkesbarre, Pa.; M. M. Young, Mt. Hope, Holmes
638 ANDERSON VILLE.
County, O.; John B. Sutton, Company B, Fifty-Fourth Ohio.
Z. F. Wood, Company I, Seventeenth Iowa, I was frequently
with in religious work. He was a minister, I think, of the
Methodist denomination. Boston Corbett I also knew, as a
participator in our meetings. *
Now, while all loyal hearts must ever abhor the diabolism of
the Slavery rebellion, by which so many brave men found
untimely graves amid the sands of the South, who can fail to
rejoice at the earnest Christian labors of prisoners at Anderson-
ville and other Southern pens, and may we not believe that
when Jesus comes in all the glory of his final advent to gather
his jewels, it may be said of many precious souls thus born to
heavenly joys amid the deepest woes of earth, “These are they
who have come up through great tribulation and washed their
robes white in the blood of the Lamb : * •
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As placed in order by the party under charge of Miss Clara Barton.

CELAPTER LXXXII.
CAPTAIN WIRZ THE ONLY ONE OF THE PRISON-KEEPERS PUNISHED —
HIS ARREST, TRIAL AND EXECUTION.
Of all those more or less concerned in the barbarities prac-
ticed upon our prisoners, but one—Captain Henry Wirz–was
punished. The Turners, at Richmond; Lieutenant Boisseux, of
Belle Isle; Major Gee, of Salisbury; Colonel Iverson and
Lieutenant Barrett, of Florence; and the many brutal miscreants
about Andersonville, escaped scot free. What became of them
no one knows; they were never heard of after the close of the
war. They had sense enough to retire into obscurity, and stay
there, and this saved their lives, for each one of them had made
deadly enemies among those whom they had maltreated, who,
had they known where they were, would have walked every
step of the way thither to kill them.
When the Confederacy went to pieces in April, 1865, Wirz
was still at Andersonville. General Wilson, commanding our
cavalry forces, and who had established his headquarters at
Macon, Ga., learned of this, and sent one of his staff—Captain
H. E. Noyes, of the Fourth Regular Cavalry — with a squad
of men, to arrest him. This was done on the 7th of May.
Wirz protested against his arrest, claiming that he was pro-
tected by the terms of Johnson’s surrender, and addressed the
following letter to General Wilson:
fº
ANDERSON VILLE, GA., May 7, 1865.
GENERAL :—It is with great reluctance that I address you these lines, being
fully aware how little time is left you to attend to such matters as I now have
the honor to lay before you, and if I could see any other way to accomplish
640 g ANDERSON WILLE.
my object I would not intrude upon you. I am a native of Switzerland, and
was before the war a citizen of Louisiana, and by profession a physician.
Like hundreds and thousands of others, I was carried away by the maelstrom
of excitement and joined the Southern army. I was very severely wounded
at the battle of “Seven Pines,” near Richmond, Va., and have nearly lost the
use of my right arm. Unfit for field duty, I was ordered to report to Brevet
Major General John H. Winder, in charge of the Federal prisoners of war,
who ordered me to take charge of a prison in Tuscaloosa, Ala. My health
failing me, I applied for a furlough and went to Europe, from whence 1
returned in February, 1864. I was then ordered to report to the commandant
of the military prison at Andersonville, Ga., who assigned me to the com-
mand of the interior of the prison. The duties I had to perform were ardu-
ous and unpleasant, and I am satisfied that no man can or will justly blame
me for things that happened here, and which were beyond my power to con-
trol. I do not think that I ought to be held responsible for the shortness of
rations, for the overcrowded state of the prison, (which was of itself a pro-
lific source of fearful mortality), for the inadequate supply of clothing, want
of shelter, etc., etc. Still I now bear the odium, and men who were prisoners
have seemed disposed to wreak their vengeance upon me for what they have
suffered—I, who was only the medium, or, I may better say, the tool in the
hands of my superiors. This is my condition. I am a man with a family.
I lost all my property when the Federal army besieged Vicksburg. I have
no money at present to go to any place, and, even if I had, I know of no
place where I can go. My life is in danger, and I most respectfully
ask of you help and relief. If you will be so generous as to give me
some sort of a safe conduct, or, what I should greatly prefer, a guard to
protect myself and family against violence, I should be thankful to you : and
you may rest assured that your protection will not be given to one who is
unworthy of it. My intention is to return with my family to Europe, as
soon as I can make the arrangements. In the meantime I have the honor,
General, to remain, very respectfully, your obedient servant,
HY. WIRz, Captain C. S. A.
Major General J. H. WILSON, g
Commanding, Macon, Ga.
He was kept at Macon, under guard, until May 20, when
Captain Noyes was ordered to take him, and the hospital
records of Andersonville, to Washington. Between Macon
and Cincinnati the journey was a perfect gauntlet.
Our men were stationed all along the road, and among them
everywhere were ex-prisoners, who recognized Wirz, and made
such determined efforts to kill him that it was all that Captain
Noyes, backed by a strong guard, could do to frustrate them.
At Chattanooga and Nashville the struggle between his guards
and his would-be slayers, was quite sharp.
At Louisville, Noyes had Wirz clean-shaved, and dressed in a
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 641
complete suit of black, with a beaver hat, which so altered his
appearance that no one recognized him after that, and the rest
of the journey was made unmolested.
The authorities at Washington ordered that he be tried
immediately, by a court martial composed of Generals Lewis
Wallace, Mott, Geary, L. Thomas, Fessenden, Bragg and Bal-
ler, Colonel Allcock, and Lieutenant-Colonel Stibbs. Colonel
Chipman was Judge Advocate, and the trial began August 23.
The prisoner was arraigned on a formidable list of charges
and specifications, which accused him of “combining, confeder-
ating, and conspiring together with John H. Winder, Richard
B. Winder, Isaiah H. White, W. S. Winder, R. R. Stevenson
and others unknown, to injure the health and destroy the lives
of soldiers in the military service of the United States, there
held, and being prisoners of war within the lines of the so-called
Confederate States, and in the military prisons thereof, to the
end that the armies of the United States might be weakened
and impaired, in violation of the laws and customs of war.” The
main facts of the dense over-crowding, the lack of sufficient
shelter, the hideous mortality were cited, and to these added a
long list of specific acts of brutality, such as hunting men down
with hounds, tearing them with dogs, robbing them, confining
them in the stocks, cruelly beating and murdering them, of
which Wirz was personally guilty.
When the defendant was called upon to plead he claimed
that his case was covered by the terms of Johnston’s surrender,
and furthermore, that the country now being at peace, he could
not be lawfully tried by a court-martial. These objections
being overruled, he entered a plea of not guilty to all the
charges and specifications. He had two lawyers for counsel.
The prosecution called Captain Noyes first, who detailed the
circumstances of Wirz's arrest, and denied that he had given
any promises of protection.
The next witness was Colonel George C. Gibbs, who com-
manded the troops of the post at Andersonville. He testified
that Wirz was the commandant of the prison, and had sole
authority under Winder over all the prisoners; that there was
a Dead Line there, and Orders to shoot any one who crossed it;
that dogs were kept to hunt down escaping prisoners; the dogs
were the ordinary plantation dogs, mixture of hound and cur.
41
642 - ANDERSON VILLE.
Dr. J. C. Bates, who was a Surgeon of the Prison Hospital,
(a Rebel), testified that the condition of things in his division
was horrible. Nearly naked men, covered with lice, were dying
On all sides. Many were lying in the filthy sand and mud.
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TRIAL OF CAPTAIN WIRZ.
From a Sketch in Harper's Weekly, made at the time.
He went on and described the terrible condition of men—dying
from scurvy, diarrhea, gangrenous sores, and lice He wanted
to carry in fresh vegetables for the sick, but did not dare, the
orders being very strict against such things. He thought the
prison authorities might easily have sent in enough green corn
to have stopped the scurvy ; the miasmatic effluvia from the
prison was exceedingly offensive and poisonous, so much so that
when the Surgeons received a slight Scratch on their persons,
they carefully covered it up with court plaster, before venturing
near the prison.
A number of other Rebel Surgeons testified to substantially
the same facts. Several residents of that section of the State
testified to the plentifulness of the crops there in 1864.
In addition to these, about one hundred and fifty Union pris-









A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 643
oners were examined, who testified to all manner of barbarities
which had come under their personal observation. They had
all seen Wirz shoot men, had seen him knock sick and crippled
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EXECUTION OF WIRZ — LOWERING THE BODY.
(From a sketch in Harper's Weekly made on the spot.)
men down and stamp upon them, had been run down by him
with hounds, etc. Their testimony occupies about two thousand
pages of manuscript, and is, without doubt, the most terrible
record of crime ever laid to the account of any man.
The taking of this testimony occupied until October 18,
when the Government decided to close the case, as any further
evidence would be simply cumulative.
The prisoner presented a statement in which he denied that
there had been an accomplice in a conspiracy of John H. Winder
and others, to destroy the lives of United States soldiers; he
also denied that there had been such a conspiracy, but made the
pertinent inquiry why he alone, of all those who were charged
With the conspiracy, was brought to trial. He said that
“Winder has gone to the great judgment seat, to answer for
all his thoughts, words and deeds, and surely I am not to be
held culpable for them. General Howell Cobb has received
*








644 ANDERSON VILLE-
the pardon of the President of the United States.” He further
claimed that there was no principle of law which would sanction
the holding of him—a mere subordinate—guilty, for simply
obeying, as literally as possible, the Orders of his superiors.
He denied all the specific acts of cruelty alleged against him,
such as maltreating and killing prisoners with his own hands.
The prisoners killed for crossing the Dead Line, he claimed,
should not be charged against him, since they were simply
punished for the violation of a known order which formed part
of the discipline, he believed, of all military prisons. The state-
ment that soldiers were given a furlough for killing a Yankee
prisoner, was declared to be “a mere idle, absurd camp rumor.”
As to the lack of shelter, room and rations for so many prison-
ers, he claimed that the sole responsibility rested upon the Con-
federate Government. There never were but two prisoners
whipped by his order, and these were for sufficient cause. He
asked the Court to consider favorably two important items in
his defense: first, that he had of his own accord taken the
drummer boys from the Stockade, and placed them where they
could get purer air and better food. Second, that no property
taken from prisoners was retained by him, but was turned over
to the Prison Quartermaster. *
The Court, after due deliberation, declared the prisoner
guilty on all the charges and specifications save two unimpor-
tant ones, and sentenced him to be hanged by the neck until
dead, at such time and place as the President of the United
States should direct. . -
November 3 President Johnson approved of the sentence,
and ordered Major General C. C. Augur to carry the same into
effect on Friday, November 10, which was done. The prisoner
made frantic appeals against the sentence; he wrote imploring
letters to President Johnson, and lying ones to the New York
News, a Rebel paper. It is said that his wife attempted to con-
vey poison to him, that he might commit suicide and avoid the
ignomy of being hanged. When all hope was gone he nerved
himself up to meet his fate, and died, as thousands of other
scoundrels have, with calmness. His body was buried in the
grounds of the Old Capitol Prison, alongside of that of Azterodt,
one of the accomplices in the assassination of President
Tincoln.
CHAPTER LXXXIII.
THE RESPONSIBILITY — WHO WAS TO BLAME FOR ALL THE MISERY —
AN EXAMINATION OF THE FLIMSY EXCUSES MADE FOR THE REBELs —
ONE DOCUMENT THAT CON VICTS THEM — WHAT IS DESIRED.
I have endeavored to tell the foregoing story as calmly, as
dispassionately, as free from vituperation and prejudice as possi-
ble. How well I have succeeded the reader must judge. How
difficult this moderation has been at times only those know
who, like myself, have seen, from day to day, the treason-sharp-
ened fangs of Starvation and Disease gnaw nearer and nearer
to the hearts of well-beloved friends and comrades. Of the
sixty-three of my company comrades who entered prison with
me, but eleven, or at most thirteen, emerged alive, and several
of these have since died from the effects of what they suffered.
The mortality in the other companies of our battalion was
equally great, as it was also with the prisoners generally. Not
less than twenty-five thousand gallant, noble-hearted boys died
around me between the dates of my capture and release. Nobler
men than they never died for any cause. For the most part
they were simple-minded, honest-hearted boys; the sterling pro-
ducts of our Northern home-life, and Northern Common
Schools, and that grand stalwart Northern blood, the yeoman
blood of sturdy middle class freemen—the blood of the race
which has conquered on every field since the Roman Empire
went down under its sinewy blows. They prated little of honor,
and knew nothing of “chivalry” except in its repulsive travesty
in the South. As citizens at home, no honest labor had been
regarded by them as too humble to be followed with manly
pride in its success; as soldiers in the field, they did their duty
with a calm defiance of danger and death, that the world has
646 ANDERSON VILLE.
not seen equaled in the six thousand years that men have
followed the trade of war. In the prison, their conduct was
marked by the same unostentatious but unflinching heroism.
Death stared them in the face constantly. They could read their
own fate in that of the loathsome, unburied dead all around
them. Insolent enemies mocked their sufferings, and sneered
at their devotion to a Government which they asserted had aban-
doned them, but the simple faith, the ingrained honesty of
these plain-mannered, plain-spoken boys rose superior to every
trial. Brutus, the noblest Roman of them all, says in his
grandest flight: -
- Set honor in one eye and death in the other,
And I will look on both indifferently.
They did not say this: they did it. They never questioned
their duty; no repinings, no murmurings against their Govern-
ment escaped their lips, they took the dread fortunes brought
to them as calmly, as unshrinkingly as they had those in the
field; they quailed not, nor wavered in their faith before the
worst the Rebels could do. The finest epitaph ever inscribed
above a soldier's grave was that graven on the stone which
marked the resting-place of the deathless three hundred who
fell at Thermopylae—
Go, stranger, to Lacedaemon —
And tell Sparta that we lie here in obedience to her laws.
They who lie in the shallow graves of Andersonville, Belle
Isle, Florence and Salisbury, lie there in obedience to the pre-
cepts and maxims inculcated into their minds in the churches
and Common Schools of the North; precepts which impressed
upon them the duty of manliness and honor in all the relations
and exigencies of life; not the “chivalric” prate of their
enemies, but the calm steadfastness which endureth to the end.
The highest tribute that can be paid them is to say they did
full credit to their teachings, and they died as every American
should when duty bids him. No richer heritage was ever
bequeathed to posterity.
It was in the year 1864, and the first three months of 1865
that these twenty-five thousand youths were cruelly and need-
lessly done to death. In these fatal fifteen months more young
men than to-day form the pride, the hope, and the vigor of any
one of our leading Cities, more than at the beginning of the
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 647
war were found in either of several States in the Nation, were
sent to their graves, “unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown,” Vic-
tims of the most barbarous and unnecessary cruelty recorded
since the Dark Ages. Barbarous, because the wit of man has
not yet devised a more savage method of destroying fellow-
beings than by exposure and starvation; unnecessary, because
the destruction of these had not, and could not have the slight-
est effect upon the result of the struggle. The Rebel leaders
have acknowledged that they knew the fate of the Confederacy
was sealed when the campaign of 1864 opened with the North
displaying an unflinching determination to prosecute the war to
a successful conclusion. All that they could hope for after that -
was some fortuitous accident, or unexpected foreign recognition
that would give them peace with victory. The prisoners were
non-important factors in the military problem. Had they all
been turned loose as soon as captured, their efforts would not
have hastened the Confederacy’s fate a single day.
As to the responsibility for this monstrous cataclyism of hu-
man misery and death : That the great mass of the Southern
people approved of these outrages, or even knew of them, I do
not, for an instant, believe. They are as little capable of coun-
tenancing such a thing as any people in the world. But the
crowning blemish of Southern society has ever been the dumb
acquiescence of the many respectable, well-disposed, right-
thinking people in the acts of the turbulent and unscrupulous
few. From this direful spring has flowed an Iliad of unnum-
bered woes, not only to that section but to our common country.
It was this that kept the South vibrating between patriotism
and treason during the Revolution, so that it cost more lives
and treasure to maintain the struggle there than in all the rest
of the country. It was this that threatened the dismemberment
of the Union in 1832. It was this that aggravated and enven-
omed every wrong growing out of Slavery ; that outraged
liberty, debauched citizenship, plundered the mails, gagged the
press, stifled speech, made opinion a crime, polluted the free
soil of God with the unwilling step of the bondman, and at
last crowned three-quarters of a century of this unparalleled
iniquity by dragging eleven millions of people into a war
from which their souls revolted, and against which they had
declared by overwhelming majorities in every State except
648 ANDERSON VILLE-
South Carolina, where the people had no voice. It may puzzle
some to understand how a relatively small band of political
desperados in each State could accomplish such a momentous
wrong; that they did do it, no one conversant with our history
will deny, and that they — insignificant as they were in num-
bers, in abilities, in character, in everything save capacity and
indomitable energy in mischief—could achieve such gigantic
wrongs in direct opposition to the better sense of their commu-
nities is a fearful demonstration of the defects of the constitu-
tion of Southern society.
Men capable of doing all that the Secession leaders were
guilty of—both before and during the war—were quite
capable of revengefully destroying twenty-five thousand of
their enemies by the most hideous means at their command.
That they did so set about destroying their enemies, wilfully,
maliciously, and with malice prepense and aforethought, is
susceptible of proof as conclusive as that which in a criminal
court sends murderers to the gallows. - -
Let us examine some of these proofs:
1. The terrible mortality at Andersonville and elsewhere was
a matter of as much notoriety throughout the Southern Con-
federacy as the military operations of Lee and Johnson. No
intelligent man—much less the Rebel leaders—was ignorant
of it nor of its calamitous proportions.
2. Had the Rebel leaders within a reasonable time after this
matter became notorious made some show of inquiring into
and alleviating the deadly misery, there might be some excuse
for them on the ground of lack of information, and the plea
that they did as well as they could would have some validity.
But this state of affairs was allowed to continue over a year—
in fact until the downfall of the Confederacy — without a hand
being raised to mitigate the horrors of those places—without
even an inquiry being made as to whether they were mitigable
or not. Still worse: every month saw the horrors thicken, and
the condition of the prisoners become more Wretched.
The suffering in May, 1864, was more terrible than in April;
June showed a frightful increase over May, while words fail to
paint the horrors of July and August, and so the wretchedness
waxed until the end, in April, 1865. -
3. The main causes of suffering and death were so obviously
A §TORY OF REBEL. Aſ ILITARY PRISON 8. 649
preventible that the Rebel leaders could not have been ignorant
of the ease with which a remedy could be applied. These main
causes were three in number:
a. Improper and insufficient food.
b. Unheard-of crowding together.
c. Utter lack of shelter.
It is difficult to say which of these three was the most deadly.
Let us admit, for the sake of argument, that it was impossible
for the Rebels to supply sufficient and proper food. This
admission, I know, will not stand for an instant in the face of
the revelations made by Sherman’s March to the Sea, and
through the Carolinas, but let that pass, that we may consider
more easily demonstrable facts connected with the next two
propositions, the first of which is as to the crowding together.
Was land so scarce in the Southern Confederacy that no more
than sixteen acres could be spared for the use of thirty-five
thousand prisoners? The State of Georgia has a population of
less than one-sixth that of New York, scattered over a territory
one-quarter greater than that State's, and yet a pitiful little
tract—less than the corn-patch “clearing ” of the laziest
“cracker” in the State — was all that could be allotted to the
use of three-and-a-half times ten thousand young men l The
average population of the State does not exceed sixteen to the
square mile, yet. Andersonville was peopled at the rate of one
million four hundred thousand to the Square mile. With millions
of acres of unsettled, useless, worthless pine barrens all around
them, the prisoners were wedged together so closely that there
was scarcely room to lie down at night, and a few had space
enough to have served as a grave. This, too, in a country
where the land was of so little Worth that much of it had never
been entered from the Government.
Then, as to shelter and fire: Each of the prisons was situated
in the heart of a primeval forest, from which the first trees that
had ever been cut were those used in building the pens. Within
a gun-shot of the perishing men was an abundance of lumber
and wood to have built every man in prison a warm, comforta-
ble hut, and enough fuel to supply all his wants. Supposing
even, that the Rebels did not have the labor at hand to convert
these forests into building material and fuel, the prisoners them-
650 ANDERSON VILLE.
selves would have gladly undertaken the work, as a means of
promoting their own comfort, and for occupation and exercise.
No tools would have been too poor and clumsy for them to
work with. When logs were occasionally found or brought
into prison, men tore them to pieces almost with their naked
fingers. Every prisoner will bear me out in the assertion that
there was probably not a root as large as a bit of clothes-line
in all the ground covered by the prisons, that eluded the faith-
fully eager search of freezing men for fuel. What else than
deliberate design can account for this systematic withholding
from the prisoners of that which was so essential to their exist-
ence, and which it was so easy to give them?
This much for the circumstantial evidence connecting the
Rebel authorities with the premeditated plan for destroying the
prisoners. Let us examine the direct evidence:
The first feature is the assignment to the command of the
prisons of “General” John H. Winder, the confidential friend
of Mr. Jefferson Davis, and a man so unscrupulous, cruel and
bloody-thirsty that at the time of his appointment he was the
most hated and feared man in the Southern Confederacy. His
odious administration of the odious office of Provost Marshal
General showed him to be fittest of tools for their purpose.
Their selection—considering the end in view, was eminently
wise. Baron Haynau was made eternally infamous by a frac-
tion of the wanton cruelties which load the memory of Winder.
But it can be said in extenuation of Haynau’s offenses that he
was a brave, skilful and energetic soldier, who overthrew on
the field the enemies he maltreated. If Winder, at any time
during the war, was nearer the front than Richmond, history
does not mention it. Haynau was the bastard Son of a Ger-
man Elector and of the daughter of a village druggist. Winder
was the son of a sham aristocrat, whose cowardice and incom-
petence in the war of 1812 gave Washington into the hands of
the British ravagers.
It is sufficient indication of this man’s character that he
could look unmoved upon the terrible suffering that prevailed
in Andersonville in June, July, and August ; that he could see
three thousand men die each month in the most horrible man-
ner, without lifting a finger in any way to assist them; that he
A. STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 651
could call attention in a self-boastful way to the fact that “I
am killing off more Yankees than twenty regiments in Lee's
Army,” and that he could respond to the suggestions of the
horror-struck visiting Inspector that the prisoners be given at
least more room, with the assertion that he intended to leave
matters just as they were — the operations of death would soon
thin, out the crowd so that the survivors would have sufficient
I’OOOOl.
It was Winder who issued this order to the Commander of
the Artillery;
HEADQUARTERs MILITARY PRISON, }
ANDERSoMVILLE, Ga., July 27, 1864.
ORDER No. 13. -
The officers on duty and in charge of the Battery of Florida Artillery at
the time will, upon receiving notice that the enemy has approached within
Seven miles of this post, open upon the Stockade with grapeshot, without
reference to the situation beyond these lines of defense.
Jon N H. WINDER,
* Brigadier General Commanding.
Diabolical is the only word that will come at all near fitly
characterizing such an infamous order. What must have been
the nature of a man who would calmly order twenty-five guns
to be opened with grape and canister at two hundred yards
range, upon a mass of thirty thousand prisoners, mostly sick
and dying ! All this, rather than suffer them to be rescued by
their friends. Can there be any terms of reprobation suffi-
ciently strong to properly denounce so malignant a monster?
History has no parallel to him, save among the blood-reveling
kings of Dahomey, or those sanguinary Asiatic chieftains who
built pyramids of human skulls, and paved roads with men's
bones. How a man bred an American came to display such a
Timour-like thirst for human life, such an Oriental contempt
for the sufferings of others, is one of the mysteries that per-
plexes me the more I study it.
If the Rebel leaders who appointed this man, to whom he
reported direct, without intervention of superior officers, and
who were fully informed of all his acts through other sources
than himself, were not responsible for him, who in Heaven’s
name was ? How can there be a possibility that they were not
cognizant and approving of his acts?
...”
652 ANDERSON VILLE.
The Rebels have attempted but one defense to the terrible
charges against them, and that is, that our Government per-
sistently refused to exchange, preferring to let its men rot in
prison to yielding up the Rebels it held. This is so utterly
false as to be absurd. Our Government made overture after
overture for exchange to the Rebels, and offered to yield many
of the points of difference. But it could not, with the least
consideration for its own honor, yield up the negro soldiers and
their officers to the unrestrained brutality of the Rebel authori-
ties, nor could it, consistent with military prudence, parole the
One hundred thousand well-fed, well-clothed, able-bodied Rebels
held by it as prisoners, and let them appear inside of a week.
in front of Grant or Sherman. Until it would agree to do this
the Rebels would not agree to exchange, and the only motive
—save revenge—which could have inspired the Rebel mal-
treatment of the prisoners, was the expectation of raising such
a clamor in the North as would force the Government to con-
sent to a disadvantageous exchange, and to give back to the
Confederacy, at its most critical period one hundred thousand
fresh, able-bodied soldiers. It was for this purpose, probably,
that our Government and the Sanitary Commission were
refused all permission to send us food and clothing. For my
part, and I know I echo the feelings of ninety-nine out of
every hundred of my comrades, I would rather have staid in
prison till I rotted, than that our Government should have
yielded to the degrading demands of insolent Rebels.
There is one document in the possession of the Government
which seems to me to be unanswerable proof, both of the settled
policy of the Richmond Government towards the Union prison-
ers, and of the relative merits of Northern and Southern treat-
ment of captives. The document is a letter reading as follows:
CITY PoinT, Va., March 17, 1863.
SIR : A flag-of-truce boat has arrived with three hundred and fifty political
prisoners, General Barow and several other prominent men among them.
I wish you to send me on four o'clock Wednesday morning, all the military
prisoners (eacept officers), and all the political prisoners you have. If any of
the political prisoners have on hand proof enough to convict them of being
spies, or of having committed other offenses which should subject them to
punishment, so state opposite their names. Also, state whether you think,
under all the circumstances, they should be released. The arrangement I have
A STORY OF REBEL MILITARY PRISONS. 653
made works largely in our favor. WE GET RID of A SET of MISERABLs
witHTCHES, AND RECEIVE SOME OF THE BEST MATERIAL I EveR SAw.
Tell Captain Turner to put down on the list of political prisoners the names
of Edward P. Eggling, and Eugenia Hammermister. The President is anxious
that they should get off. They are here now. This, of course, is between
ourselves. If you have any political prisoners whom you can send off safely
to keep her company, I would like you to send her.
Two hundred and odd more political prisoners are on their way.
I would be more full in my communication if I had time. Yours truly,
RobºBT OULD, Commissioner of Eacchange.
To Brigadier General John H. Winder.
But, supposing that our Government, for good military
reasons, or for no reason at all, declined to exchange prisoners,
what possible excuse is that for slaughtering them by exquisite
tortures? Every Government has an unquestioned right to
decline exchanging when its military policy suggests such a
course; and such declination conveys no right whatever to the
enemy to slay those prisoners, either outright with the edge of
the sword, or more slowly by inhuman treatment. The Rebels'
attempts to justify their conduct by the claim that our Govern-
ment refused to accede to their wishes in a certain respect, is
too preposterous to be made or listened to by intelligent men.
The whole affair is simply inexcusable, and stands out a foul
blot on the memory of every Rebel in high place in the Con-
federate Government.
“Wengeance is mine,” saith the Lord, and by Him must this
great crime be avenged, if it ever is avenged. It certainly
transcends all human power. I have seen little indication of
any Divine interposition to mete out, at least on this earth,
adequate punishment to those who were the principal agents in
that iniquity. Howell Cobb died as peacefully in his bed as
any Christian in the land, and with as few apparent twinges of
remorse as if he had spent his life in good deeds and prayer.
The arch-fiend Winder died in equal tranquility, murmuring
some cheerful hope as to his soul’s future. Not one of the
ghosts of his hunger-slain hovered around to embitter his dying
moments, as he had theirs. Jefferson Davis “still lives, a
prosperous gentleman,” the idol of a large circle of adherents,
the recipient of real estate favors from elderly females of morbid
sympathies, and a man whose mouth is full of plaints of his
654 ANDERSON VILL.E.
wrongs, and misappreciation. The rest of the leading conspi-
rators have either departed this life in the odor of sanctity,
surrounded by sorrowing friends, or are gliding serenely down
the mellow autumnal vale of a benign old age. º:
Only Wirz–small, insignificant, miserable Wirz, the under-
ling, the tool, the servile, brainless, little fetcher-and-carrier of
these men, was punished — was hanged, and upon the narrow
shoulders of this pitiful scapegoat was packed the entire sin of
Jefferson Davis and his crew. What a farcel
A petty little Captain made to expiate the crimes of Gen-
erals, Cabinet Officers, and a President. How absurd tº -
But I do not ask for vengeance. I do not ask for retribution
for one of those thousands of dead comrades, the glitter of
whose sightless eyes will follow me through life. I do not
desire even justice on the still living authors and accomplices
in the deep damnation of their taking off. I simply ask that
the great sacrifices of my dead comrades shall not be suffered
to pass unregarded to irrevocable oblivion; that the example of
their heroic self-abnegation shall not be lost, but the lesson it
teaches be preserved and inculcated into the minds of their
fellow-countrymen, that future generations may profit by it,
and others be as ready to die for right and honor and good
government as they were. And it seems to me that if we are
to appreciate their virtues, we must loathe and hold up to
opprobrium those evil men whose malignity made all their
sacrifices necessary. I cannot understand what good self-sacri-
fice and heroic example are to serve in this world, if they are to
be followed by such a maudlin confusion of ideas as now
threatens to obliterate all distinction between the men who
fought and died for the Right and those who resisted them for
the Wrong. -
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Thank God for rest, where none molest,
And none can make afraid,
For Peace that sits as Plenty’s guest
Beneath the homestead shade 1
Bring pike and gun, the syord's red scourge,
The negro's broken chains,
And beat them at the blacksmith's forge
To plowshares for our plains.
Alike henceforth our hills of Snow,
And vales where cotton flowers ;
All streams that flow, all winds that blow,
Are Freedom's motive-powerS.
Henceforth to Labor's chivalry
Be knightly honors paid : .
For nobler than the sword’s shall be
The sickle's accolade. -
—WHITTIEE.

JUN 1 * 1955
IV. OF MICl.
LIBRARY
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