C; f 155

-/«£

This book was digitized by Microsoft Corporation in
cooperation with Yale University Library, 2008. You
may not reproduce this digitized copy ofthe book for
any purpose other than for scholarship, research,
educational, or, in limited quantity, personal use. You
may not distribute or provide access to this digitized copy
(or modified or partial versions of it) for commercial purposes.

©

TWELVE MONTHS

IN

ANDERSONVILLE

ON THE MARCH— IN THE BATTLE—IN
THE REBEL PRISON PENS, AND
AT LAST IN GOD'S
COUNTRY.

By LESSEL LONG,
Private Co. F, 13th Indiana Infantry.

HUNTINGTON, IND.:
THAD AND MAEK BDTLBE, PUBLISHERS.
1886.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1886,
BY
LESSEL LONG and THAI BUTLER,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C.

ISSUED FROM THE PRESS OF
aJlotttgoiixeiTj tt Droomnn,
PRINTERS AND BINDERS,
TOLEDO. O.

\)

^ '¦

PREFACE.

This volume is presented to the public by its author with.
a thorough appreciation of its imperfections as a literary pro
duction. There has been no attempt at ostentatious display of
learning or boastful show of knowledge, but the volume is sim
ply the plain story of a private soldier who suffered a year in
the rebel prison pens of the Southern Confederacy. Originally
the sketches appeared in our village paper, the Andrews Ex
press, under the title of " Army Life." The partial judgment
of friends and neighbors has encouraged us to revise and
re-publish them in book form.
In this, the story of his personal experience, the author
has written only the truth. Horrible as was the condition of
Union prisoners — terribly as they suffered — the dreadful reality
can be but feebly portrayed on paper. The grizzled veteran
who wakens from his sleep, twenty years after, with the moans
of starving and dying comrades ringing in his ears, whose eyes
yet retain the mental picture of the utter wretchedness, hope
lessness and misery of Andersonville — he alone can realize the
horror upon horror of a year's confinement in the rebel military
prisons of the South. G-od grant that such suffering as fell
to the lot of my brave comrades who died, or living, suffered
the tortures of death in rebel prison pens, may never again be
known in our common country.
The Author.
Andrews, Ind., 1886.

CBAPTEH I.

Campaigning in Florida — The Countersign Lost — Camp
Eumors — Out at Sea — Killing an Alligator with a
Paper Wad — Joining the Army in Virginia— A Dis
gusted Eebel Sympathizer — The March to the Front.
(INURING the winters of 1863-4 the regiment to which I be-
-L' longed, the 13th Indiana Infantry, was stationed on Fol
lies Island, South Carolina. It was generally believed that there
would be an early and active campaign. Both the North and
the South were making great preparations for the final strug
gle. Late in February our command was ordered to Florida
to reinforce General Seymour, who had met the Johnnies and
got the worst of the fight. We arrived at Jacksonville about
February 26th, and when we landed there was considerable
excitement. General Seymour had been out near Ocean Pond
and met General Finigan, who gave him battle at once. By
some unknown means the rebels secured our countersign, and
during the night passed a large body of their men through our
lines, thus gaining the rear of the Union army. At daylight
the fight began greatly at Seymour's disadvantage, and in a
short time his men were on the retreat. It was a hard fought
battle for the number engaged. There were several regiments
of colored troops in the fight, and they were comparatively new
and suffered badly. So when we arrived at Jacksonville the

8 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
colored troops who were wounded were seen coming to camp.
As Seymour lacked sufficient transportation they were com
pelled to make their way back to camp as best they could. In
a short time after we landed we were marched to the eastern
part of the town, where we got our supper and were ordered
out on the picket line. It was reported that General Finigan
was advancing and we might expect a fight at any time, and to
make things worse we had no countersign. The location of
our lines being new it was somewhat perplexing. At last our
officers agreed upon a sign by which we might know our men
from the enemy. The sign was the drawing ofthe saber about
one-fourth out of the scabbard and forcing it back with such
force as to he heard at least ten paces. This done three times
in quick succession was to be our countersign for the night,
and the regiment was deployed on the picket line, two men at
a place, and each squad about ten to fifteen paces apart. Thus
we spent our first night in Florida. Next day the front of our
lines was properly explored, and the country scouted over for
several miles. Finding no enemy we established our camp and
soon fell into the ordinary routine of camp life.
At first our camp was on the edge of the city of Jackson
ville. We soon had the place so fortified that we did not fear
any danger, as we had several gun boats lying in the river
ever ready to throw a Camp Kettle over to the Johnnies, who
were always as ready to keep out of range. So things went
on very quietty, and we moved our camp outside the works
about one-half mile, where we had a nice location and pretty
good water, so much better than the water was in South Caro
lina that it seemed like a paradise to us who had been cooped
up on those islands, so long. Now we could go to town, and
everything was moving off nicely until one Sunday morning,
about the first of April, we heard a pretty brisk fire at the
north of our camp, and in a few minutes we could seethe,

Twelve Months in Audersonville. 9
orderlies flying in every direction. Soon we received orders
to strike tents and get inside of our breastworks. It was
said that Finigan was advancing with a large force. All was
bustle and hurry until all our camp equipages were inside the
works. We saw a large force going out towards where the
firing was heard, and in the course of two or three hours we
learned that it was only a scouting party which had come on
one of our picket posts and had left as fast as their horses would
carry them when their fire was returned. We were ordered
back to our camp, the boys feeling disappointed that they had
so much trouble for nothing, but as it was all for Uncle Sam
and cheap glory we were soon fixed up as nice as ever, and all
again was quiet.
About this time those of our regiment who had veteran
ized returned, and all was excitement for a few days. The
boys would relate what good times they had while at home,
and the many letters that they brought back were read and
re-read time and again, and the situation talked over. It was
apparent from the activity going on that there was to
be a general move all along the line. We heard all sorts of
reports as to where we were to go. Some said we were going
back to Follies Island, some that they knew we were to form a
party to take Savannah, Ga., others thought we would
be sent somewhere on the coast to do garrison duty, as
the regiment was very much reduced, while others insisted
that we would take the field, as we had always done. At last
the order came to strike tents and report at the landing, where
we would find transports to convey us away from Jacksonville.
This was the last of April. At last we were all on board, and
down the river we went, arriving at its mouth late in the
evening. The weather was clear and warm, when night,
closed the day ; we lay down to sleep, but when we got up in
the morning it was raining. We saw several transports

10 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
anchored out in the bay, and learned that we were at
Hilton ,Head, South Carolina, and that we were to go further
north. We soon lay alongside a nice vessel and were ordered
to go aboard. We remained at the wharf for two days and
nights to receive the baggage of our own and other regiments.
Here we learned that all the "troops that could be spared from
the coast were to go to Virginia, where they would be re-organ
ized into brigades and corps. All the stores, baggage and
equipments having been loaded, we put out to sea.
Just here, I will relate a little joke our Captain, H. A.
Johnson, played on one of the 112th N. V. regiment. That
regiment belonged to our brigade, and one day while we were at
Jacksonville, our Captain was the officer ofthe day. The Cap
tain always enjoyed a good joke and could laugh aa hearty at
one as anybody. So while he was making the rounds of the
picket line, he came to a post of the 112th. Their post was
located at a bridge that had been built to afford a crossing
place over one of many marshes or in-lets that put into the St.
John's river. The boys who were stationed at this post had
discovered a large alligator which had crawled upon a log just
at the side of the bridge, and was lying there in the hot sun
with the top of his head thrown back for the purpose of catch
ing flies. The boys asked the Captain if they might shoot the
monster. He said it would never do to fire off their guns
along the line, as it would raise the alarm. At their invitation,
however, the Captain went down on the bridge and saw the
gent apparently asleep, when it occurred to him that it would
be a good joke to have one of the boys draw the ball out Qf his
gun and shoot the fellow with a paper wad. So the Captain
gave permission to draw the ball and run down some paper
loosely — just enough to hold the powder — and go out and poke
the gun as close to his throat as possible and fire, and the effect
would be to blow him up, and at the same time the gun loaded

Twelve Months in Andersonville. H
in this manner would make no report that could be heard at
any distance. No sooner did the boys obtain permission than
they proceeded to execute it. The fellow with the gun walked
out on the bridge until he was over the alligator, then he
poked his gun down as close as he could to its mouth, and fired.
At the report of the gun, the alligator popped up like a blad
der, but the greatest surprise was when the Sentinel looked at
his gun. The muzzle was as flat as if it had been placed on an
anvil and struck with a sledge hammer. In the agonies of
death the alligator clasped his jaws together, flattening the gun
barrel as described ! The Captain had a hearty laugh at the
result. It was just as he anticipated, and he said it was worth
a month's wages to see that soldier when he looked at his gun.
The jolly Captain is dead. May his ashes rest in peace until
the great roll call on the other side.
At the end of five days on the sea, we arrived at Chesa
peake Bay. We simply touched at Fort Monroe, where we re
ceived orders to go up the York River. While attempting to
make the mouth of the York River, our pilot lost his way, and
as the wind was blowing a gale, we came, near being wrecked
on old Point Comfort. After signaling for a long time we got
a pilot, who took charge of our vessel and made the river all
right, landing at Gloucester Point, opposite Yorktown. Here
we remained close to the river for the night, and the next day
moved back from the landing about one-half mile, where we
established our camp. The troops continued to arrive from
day to day, until there was a large body of men, out of which
the Tenth and Eighteenth Corps were organized. The Tenth
was commanded by Smith, and the Eighteenth by General
Gilmore. All was bustle and hurry. Organization of different
branches of the service was made from day to day, there were
reviews and general reviews without number. We encamped
in the old works which McClellan built two years before, when

12 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
he made his advance " On to Richmond," by the way of the
Peninsula. Many were the brave boys who took part in that
campaign, who went on the march never to return. Yes, they
gave up their lives that the Republic might live and that the
glorious old stars and stripes might wave over a land of the
brave and a home ofthe free. Did they give up their lives in
vain? It looks that way sometimes when we see the same men
that were then doing all they could to destroy our free institu
tions, now, after twenty years, elevated to the law-making
power. After due time we were assigned a place in the Tenth
CorjDS, and on May 1st, we broke camp and were ordered to
go aboard of the transports. What does this mean? We
thought we were going to advance on Richmond by the way
of the White House, and to confirm our opinion of this fact,
several days previous to this there had been a small brigade of
infantry and the 11th Penn. Cavalry sent up to White House,
and it was reported that the Cavalry were scouting over the
country while the infantry were fortifying the landing so as to
protect our supplies when they should arrive. As the trans
ports took on their loads, each boat would steam up the river
for two or three miles and anchor. This proceeding was going
on all day, our regiment embarking late in the evening. When
we started after the rest ofthe fleet darkness had set in. After
discussing the probabilities of the campaign we rolled ourselves
up in our blankets for the night and slept as only soldiers can
sleep under such circumstances.
Imagine our surprise the next morning to find our fleet
out on the Chesapeake Bay. The question was now where can
we he going? Speculation as to our destination was at last
ended by the fleet passing into James River. It was apparent
that we were going to land somewhere up the James and
opposite from the south side, while Grant was on the North.

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 13
It was a grand sight to see all the transports loaded with
troops, their bands playing, flags flying, and men cheering.
I do not know the number of boats. There were a great many.
Some steamers had in tow floating wharfs, while iron clad gun
boats were promiscuously scattered amongst the fleet. Near
sunset we passed City Point, i This had been the place for the
exchange of prisoners ever since the war commenced. Here
lay a huge iron clad at anchor, seeming anxious for something
to do. We passed on up the river to a place called Bermuda
Hundred. Here we landed and marched out in a field and
encamped. All night we could hear the troops on the move.
Next morning when we got up, and the mist cleared away, as
far as we could see were troops on the move or in camp.
There were several hundred acres of wheat and corn all doing
nicely until the troops went into it. After we got our break
fast an old gentleman came over to us and commenced to talk
about the war. He said : " This plantation belongs to me.
I gave uncle Jeff $50,000 in gold to help carry on the war, and
I sent fifty of my best field hands up to Richmond to work on
the fortifications. I sowed this wheat with the intention of
• giving it to him when it was threshed, but here you damned
Yankee devils have come and destroyed it as you do every
thing else." While we were talking, some one said, see those
fellows over there in the barn lot ! Looking over that way, we
saw forty or fifty soldiers after the pigs and chickens or any
thing else that could be of any use to a soldier. The old man
"looked at them for a few seconds and exclaimed : " This beats
hell," and started off for the house. The boys gave three
cheers as he went. We soon got the order to prepare to march
with two days' rations in our harversacks. Soon the bugle
sounded " fall in " and the regiment formed its ranks. Colonel
Dobbs galloped to the .head of column and gave the order
" right face, forward march ! " We know not whether we

14 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
will ever return. Many never did return, but we hope they
were permitted to extend their march to better fields beyond
the river.

CHAPTER II.

Scouting tor the Enemy — A "Non-Combatant" Doctor —
Capture op a Torpedo Battery — A Skirmish — Fright
ened Darkey — Battle or Chester Station — Charge
Upon the Enemy — Taking a Johnnie Prisoner — The
Tables Turned — "Throw Down that Gun, You Yank"
— Taken Inside the Enemy's Works — Libby Prison.

Ca)i

)FTER leaving the landing our course ran southwest. We
-i-A- did not go more tha,p One-half or three-quarters of a mile
until the boys began to throw away their blankets and extra
clothing, it being the 6th of May and the weather very hot. At
a distance of about one mile we left the main road and began
to scout through the woods and farms. We were told by the
officers that we were to thoroughly explore the country between
the landing and the turnpike to see if there were any John
nies in the woods. This operation caused the brigade to break
into regiments, each regiment taking a different road, but to
keep within supporting distances of each other. As we ad
vanced we observed at every cross-road officers with their maps
trying to gain all the knowledge of the country they could.
We came to many farms during the day where the men were
plowing corn, having no idea of our presence until we were
right on them. Some would start to run, others seemed
perfectly • amazed, having never seen a wild "Yank" before.

1,6 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
All of the white men were put under arrest. This precaution
was taken to prevent them from giving any information to the
enemy. We spent the entire day in this manner, without find
ing any armed enemy. Late in the afternoon we captured a
young darkey, who said he belonged to a prominent doctor
who lived in Richmond, and who owned the farm that we were
then on. He said his master had gone to Petersburg and
would be back soon. So part of the company went down the
road, and taking a good position, soon had the satisfaction of
capturing the doctor. He was very wrathy. He said we had
no right to detain him, as he was a peaceable citizen. One of
our officers stepping up to his horse and taking hold of his
holsters, said : " Is it customary for peaceable citizens to carry
such things as these?" The old doctor said: "That is my
private property, and you have no right to interfere with pri
vate property." Nevertheless, the revolvers were confiscated
and the horse also. Oh, how he did charge when the horse
was taken from him! The boys took the doctor to General
Foster's headquarters. From there he was sent to Butler's
headquarters. I never heard of him after. About the same
time Company D found a negro who said that right " over
there is the river, and our folks have a signal station there."
So off the boys go, across the fields and through a strip of woods.
We were so close to the station before we were discovered that
the signal officer left for the fort, leaving his uniform, signal
flags, books and everything, which our boys captured and
brought to camp. At this station we found a battery for the
purpose of blowing up our boats should they attempt to go up
the river. The river at this point was sunk full of torpedoes
and wires running from them to this battery. By the use
of this instrument the signal station officer could touch off
any of the torpedoes he desired at any time, but our boys
came upon him so suddenly that he left everything. It being

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 17
now sunset we fell back with the rest of the command, and
went into camp for the night.
Early next morning we were ordered up and told to get
ready for a march, and probably a fight. Soon we saw the ad
vance cavalry start out, and soon after we followed. The cav
alry did not go more than half a mile until we heard abrisk fire,
which lasted a minute or two, when all was still. In a short
time we saw some cavalrymen coming back guarding a lot of
prisoners whom they had taken. We were ordered forward at
once, and knew now that we had work before us. As we
passed out to the main road we saw the doctors fixing up their
tables, getting ready to attend the wounded. We learned that
the prisoners just taken were some of General Beauregard's
men, and that his army was concentrating at Petersburg. We
soon came to the woods and formed in line of battle and ad
vanced in this manner. We were under a pretty brisk fire, but
as yet the enemy were not strong enough, and every time we
moved up they would fall back and take a new position. In
this manner we followed them all day, until late in the evening,
when our bugles sounded the order to fall back. So back we
went to camp. In this day's fight we had a good many men
wounded and some killed. As'yet we had not put up any tents
but lay down on the ground with our blankets for cover.
About midnight we were ordered up and told to commence the
erection of breastworks. We were supplied with axes, shovels
and picks, and soon had a pretty good line of works. By the
time our works were finished it was daylight. This being
Sunday, May 8th, no move was made to-day. We arranged our
camp, put up our shelter tents, and fixed up for house-keeping.
In the evening the right wing of my regiment was ordered out
on the picket line. Also the right wing of every regiment
in the brigade. We did not go far, and were stationed along a
fence, two men at a place, and not more than ten paces between
2

18 Twelve- Months in Andersonville.
each squad. Thus wo passed Sunday night, Monday, and Mon
day night. Sometime on Monday morning the Eighteenth
Corps marched out on the same road (towards Petersburg)
that we had fought over on Saturday. They came on the
rebels about a quarter of a mile from our pickets, and from
thereon, as far as they were able to drive them, they had heavy
fighting, continuing all Monday night, and it was the heaviest
musket firing I ever heard. Sometime Monday night the left
wing of all the other regiments of the brigade was ordered out
to guard the rear of the Eighteenth Corps, while they were
fighting at Petersburg. Having learned from scouts that there
was a considerable force collecting at Fort Darling, who were
advancing out on the pike leading from Richmond to Peters
burg, Tuesday, May 10th, about 10 o'clock, we were relieved off
of the picket line and ordered to join the left wing, which we
proceeded to do as quick as possible. After going about three
miles we came to the turnpike, followed it for a short distance,
the woods being very thick with underbrush on both sides of
the road. Here we learned that the left wing of our regiment
was on the west side of the pike, so we tried to find them.
After going through the woods for some time, we got orders to
go back to the pike, where we were ordered to support Battery
D, Fifth U. S. Artillery, which had taken position on top of a
rise in the pike, with orders to hold. We filed across the pike
on the east side and lay down. The fight had opened on the
west side of the pike. The musket fire was pretty heavy, and
several rebel batteries were firing constantly. As yet our bat
teries had not opened. As we lay here I heard the orders
given to hurry up the rest of the Corps. All the while we lay
here the rebels were throwing solid shot and shell in all direc
tions. This was done to get our batteries to reply, so they
would know where to concentrate their fire. While laying
here we learned that the Major of the 62d Ohio was in com-

Twelve Months in Andersonville. I9
mand of our brigade, and he, with other officers, was continu
ally riding up the pike to see if they could see anything of
the rebels. All at once they came dashing back like a flock of
scared sheep. Then some ofthe officers said to the Major:
" Did you see the game, Major? " " You bet I did, and we will
smell hell here in a few minutes." Just then the Johnnies
fired a volley over us. Our Major's darkey, who had been
holding his horse, came leading him up to the Major, and said,
"Take the hoss, Majah, I'se gwine back ! " The Major looked
at the darkey and yelled out : " You d  d black rascal, are
you any better to be shot at than I ? Hold the horse until I
call for him." " All right," said the darkey. Just then there
was another heavy volley fired, which cut the twigs over our
heads. The darkey again bustled up to the Major and said :
" Majah, take the hoss now, I'se gwine back sure." The Major
said, as he took the reins, "go, you black devil," and away he
went down the pike as fast as he could run, with all the rest of
the darkeys belonging to the regiment.
The rebels had by this time crept up through the thick
brush so close that they were shooting the artillery horses,
when we were ordered to charge, which we did, and a bad old
charge it was for many of us. We soon had the Johnnies on
the run, and forced them out of the thick brush. We killed,
wounded, or took prisoners, all we could see. Many of our men
in the front, were killed or wounded in the thick brush, and
the noise of the artillery and muskets, the cheering ofthe men,
was terrific as we advanced. After firing had ceased some
what, we could not see any more Johnnies in our front, but I
discovered, about 100 yards in advance of me, a Johnny laying
behind a log. Having just fired off my gun, I rammed down a
cartridge as quick as I could and started for him. He threw
up his h*at and cried out " don't shoot me, I am a conscript
and don't want to fight." I said, " throw down that gun and

20 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
accouterments and come up to me." He did so. Just then
the firing had ceased on our side of the pike. I thought we
had made a clean victory of it. I talked with the fellow for a
few seconds and learned that he belonged to the 4th Alabama
regiment. So I went back and picked up his gun and
accouterments and then we started back. I could not see any
of the boys but thought they had got back in the the thick
brush. As I went along I picked up one of the nicest little
rifles I ever saw. So I was going along leisurely, thinking I
could make a good report when I got to my regiment with one
prisoner and two extra guns. Just then I saw Quarter Master
Gordon. He was coming towards me. I soon discovered that
he was bearing off too far to the left to come to me, when I
yelled out, to him, "what shall I do with this fellow ? " The
Quarter Master turned in his saddle and seeing who it was,
said, " throw down all of those accouterments but yours and
hurry back. They are flanking us," at the same time motioning
to me to bear off to the left and still yelling at me to hurry.
Then all the artillery opened up, and such a yelling and firing
I never heard. I bore away from the pike as directed by the
Quarter Master. The woods had taken fire and it was a fear
ful hot day. I ran as fast as I could until I came to the edge
of a field when I had to stop and rest. While we stood on the
edge of the field I said to my prisoner, " if we can gain the
woods, the other side of this field, I think we are all right."
We had to run about thirty or forty rods in the open field to
gain the woods. The bullets were falling as thick as hail. We
could see the dust rise where they struck the ground, creating
about as much dust as a drove of sheep would make running
over the ground'. But take our chance we must, and dashing
across the field we were successful in gaining the woods. On
the opposite ofthe field from where we entered the brush, the
balls were coming through the brush, which sounded to me like

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 21
heavy rain drops falling on dry leaves. We had not gone
more than three or four rods in the brush until I heard a noise
on my right. Looking in that direction I saw two of my com
pany. One was dead and the other badly wounded. The
wounded comrade was making a noise, and I was just in the
act of stepping to him when I heard some one on my left hello,
and looking in that direction, I saw a rebel sergeant and two
privates, with their guns at a ready. - The sergeant yelled out,
" throw down that gun, you Yankee s — of a b — , or I will
blow you through ! " Now, you see there was no time for par
ley. I threw my gun in the brush, when they came up to me
and the sergeant said, " I never will shoot a man until I give
him fair warning. I could haVe shot you, but I knew you did
not. see us, and I would not do that." Imagine my thoughts.
Here I am, a prisoner, and not one of my comrades in sight.
My prisoner had been ordered back to take a gun. How quick
I had changed places with him ! We did not stand here long
until several of our boys were brought up — eight of my com
pany and fifty -two of the regiment. . Seventy of the brigade all
told. One of my company Charles Weibel, was badly wounded
in the head. While we were standing here we heard great
cheering on our left. Looking in that direction we saw
several men running, who proved to be part of Company I,
Captain Beebe, of my regiment, and thirteen men. They
had tried to cross a swamp, could not do it, and
on coming back saw the rebel regiment drawn up
behind. Taking them for our own regiment they
set up a cheering to think they had got back to their own
command. They did not discover their mistake until they
were within three rods of the rebels. The rebels were clothed in
blue Kentucky jeans, which looked like our uniform when off
at a distance. They were ordered to surrender, which they
did, and we were started back to the rear, while the woods were

22 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
full of shell falling in amongst us. A good many were
wounded. After surrendering we followed an old road for
about one mile, when we came out to the turnpike. Here was
a rebel general's headquarters, and here we were halted and
questioned as to who they were fighting. When told Butler's
men it seemed to make them mad. They said they would soon
have the " beast" in the same condition that we were in. The
rebel general, Ransom, was in command of the Johnnies, and
while they were talking with us our batteries moved upon the
pike and commenced to shell them. All of their ambulances and
transportation wagons were corralled on a large farm on the
west side of the pike. Our shells fell thick and fast in that
mass of frightened beings. Ambulances overturned, white
men and negroes were running in all directions. We were
ordered to form between two lines of guards, and down the
pike we went at a run, myself and another of my company
taking charge of our comrade, who was wounded, one on either
side of him, with his arms over our shoulders. In this man
ner we were compelled to run for about a mile. All this dis
tance we could see soldiers running back, and it seemed to be
a regular panic. We came to a creek, where we were per
mitted to get water and wash the blood off of the wounded.
Then we went down the pike about one-half mile, when we
took a road leading to Fort Darling. We were soon inside of
their works, from which we were taken to the James River and
went on board of an old boat. We were told that we would go
up to Richmond. Here we remained for about two hours,
when an officer came down and told the guard to take us up on
tho hill to the old government graveyard, where there was
plenty of shade. Here we remained until late in the evening,
when we went on board of a steamer and started up the river
for Richmond. On our way up we saw the Confederate fleet,
which was lying in the river between Fort Darling and the

WW$§M'[^m

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 25
city. There were several substantial looking vessels. Just at
dark we landed at Richmond, and were ordered out between
two lines of guards, who conducted us to the famous, or rather
infamous, "Libby Prison." The following members of my
Company were with me : Charles Weibel, Greenbery Cruse,
Nathan Lowder, Martin Harden, Luther Robbins, Samuel
Weeter and William Cromer — all still living except Weibel,
who died in Andersonville.

CHAPTER III.

Life in Libby — Searching the Prisoners — A Contemptible
Officer — The Pemberton Building — Neglect of the
Wounded— A Brutal Guard Shoots a Helpless Pris
oner -How the Prisoners Got the News — Sending
Word to My Parents— Off for the "Sunny South."
WHEN we marched up to the Libby building, the doors
were opened, and we went in. Our Alabama guards
left us at the boat. Now we were under a different set of fellows.
A fellow that they called sergeant ordered us in line, single file,
that he could count us. We were in a large room, and there
were half a dozen or more clerks at work on the prison rolls.
After he got through counting us, he then said to us that we
should give our names, rank, company and regiment as we
were called, commencing on the right. The clerks would enter
the names as given on the rolls, and as fast as each prisoner
gave his name, etc., he was ordered into another room. Here
was the Provost Marshal's office, and another clerk who took
your name, rank, company, regiment, State, and the branch of
the service that you belonged to. When it came my time to go
into the room the Provost Marshal looked up at me and said :
" Have you got any money ? " I answered : " I have a little."
He then said, " I want it. If you give it up here it will be
given back to you when you are exchanged." So I took out

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 27
my money, which consisted of two ten dollar greenbacks and
one two dollar bill, with seventy-five cents in postal currency,
and handed it to him, when he threw the postal currency back
to me, and said: " Take those rags, I do not want them." I
thought, good-bye greenbacks, I will never see you any more,
but such was not the case, as we shall see after awhile. He
then said, " Have you any more ? If so, you had better give it
up here, for if any is found on your person when you are
searched in the next room it will be confiscated." I said, " that
is all I have." He then said, " Guard, take him to the next
room." 1 observed that the clerk registered my name, etc.,
and the amount of money given up, in a large ledger.
As the guard led the way to the next room and opened
the door, I saw some half dozen or more of my comrades, some
taking off their clothing and others putting their's on. In this
room were several rebel officers to see that we were properly
searched and robbed of all of our valuables, such as money,
which had not been given up to the Provost Marshal. There
were a number of soldiers searching the boys for what they
could find. I was ordered to take off my clothing, and as I did
so the fellow searched the seams of my blouse, pants, shirt,
drawers and cap, running his fingers through my hair and
beard to see what he could find. After he was satisfied, he
said, " you can put on your clothes." I did so, when he took up
my canteen and rubber blanket and threw it on a pile of such
articles in one corner of the room. Emptying out my haver
sack, he threw that on the pile, at the same time scattering its
contents on the floor and taking such articles as he wanted.
Then he said, "If there is anything there that you want, take
it." I picked up a few crackers, a cup and spoon, they being
about all there was left. This search was continued with all
the boys. When completed we were formed in line, counted,
and a little fellow they called Adjutant came strutting up to us

28 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
and said that we would now go over to the Pemberton building.
So the command was given, and off we went across the street
to the Pemberton building, where we were conducted to the
third floor and told to remain for the present.
There were about three hundred men already in this room.
It was about ten o'clock and no supper was given us. The
prisoners gathered around us and besought us as to the pros
pect of exchange, and wanted to know how our army was
making it. If we did not think that this spring's campaign
would end the war, etc. We told them all we knew of the
prospects, which we thought looked encouraging, and we
thought we would soon be back to our regiment. Imagine our
surprise when some of them told us they had been in this
building for ten months ! As we were very tired we lay down
for the night on that part of the floor that had been assigned
to us. We had no blankets, nor did they furnish us with any,
so we lay on the bare floor.
Early in the morning I got up and took a good survey of
the room and the surroundings. We were on the third floor
of what had once been a large tobacco factory and warehouse.
There were no sash or glass in the windows, they having been
broken out or taken out before we arrived. Right across the
street was the Libby building. Down the street we could see
Castle Thunder, where men and women were confined for their
loyal sentiments, and many of our boys who were held as spies.
If this building could talk, it could tell a terrible tale of horror.
Many were the poor fellows who went inside of those barred
doors that never saw the light of another day. This building
was a large brick ; the windows were all barred with iron rods.
We could see some of the inmates through the grating of the
windows. Still further on was the Rebel Capitol, with the
Southern flag floating over it at that time. On the South, and
directly in front of our building, were the James River and

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 29
Canal ; on the opposite side ofthe river was a large tract of land,
now entirely destitute of fence or trees. This I was told
belonged to General Scott, and was once a very fine farm, but
was now used by the rebels to try their guns which the large
factory was turning out. The Tridegar Gun Works, of Rich
mond, was the largest of any in the Confederacy, and at this
time was run to its full capacity, day and night. We could see
the smoke from its tall stacks, and could also see away down
the river to Fort Darling, where Butler was contending against
the rebels. After viewing our situation I made some inquiries in
regard to the rules of the prison, and was told if I put my
head out of the window I might get shot, as all prisoners are
forbidden to sit in the window or put their heads out. There
was a line of guards around the building, placed about fifty
feet apart, with instructions to shoot any prisoner who should
violate any of the prison rules. The guards were old men, too
old to go in the field, or too young for active service. They
had no more judgment than a mule, and seemed to try and see
how mean they could act. After- having learned all I could
from the old prisoners, I took a seat on the floor to await de
velopments. About half-past eight o'clock up came a little
fellow whom they called Adjutant. He was followed by a ser-
-\ geant and a big burly Irishman, who carried an old musket
barrel for a cane, and always marched close to the sergeant.
The Adjutant ordered us in line and proceeded to tell us how
mean we looked and how ignorant we were. Said he could
comp^are us to nothing but East Tennesseeans, as they were the
most ignorant people in the Confederate States. The sergeant
called the roll and then counted. Then the Adjutant gave us
another lecture and went below. I made inquiry who this fel
low was, and was told it was Adjutant Ross. I will tell you
what became of him after awhile. He was the most contemp-

30 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
tible little devil I ever saw, and I think he is receiving his just
reward before this time.
All was quiet until about ten o'clock when the same burly
Irishman came up to the head ofthe stairs and sang out, "four
teen men and bread boxes." At this every old prisoner
jumped up and wanted to be one ofthe fourteen to handle the
bread boxes. The sergeant of the floor gave orders who
could go, and in a short time they returned with one day's
rations, which consisted of corn bread, bean soup, and bacon.
Each man got a piece of corn bread about one-half as big as a
brick, and one pint of bean soup, with a few beans in it, and
three ounces of bacon. This we learned was for our day's
rations. We could eat it all at once or save a part until
evening and have it for supper. I thought I would make two
meals of mine. I would eat the soup and a part of the bread
and save the balance for supper. I tried this for several days
until 1 got so hungry that I ate all at one meal, and I never
tried to make two meals off one day's rations after that, in all
of my confinement, which was twelve months. After we had
finished our meal every one seemed more cheerful. We
marched up and down the room for exercise and sung patriotic
songs, such as "Rally Round The Flag," and "Old John
Brown's Body," everybody joining in the chorus. After we
had got tired of this, orders were received from our own ser
geant to wash the floor. This done, then the boys would
gather in groups while some one would relate his experience
as a soldier. I was looking after the welfare of our wounded
comrade whom I spoke of in my last chapter. I had an old
knife which we sharpened on a brick and I proceeded to shave
the hair from the wound and wash it in cold water. This I
did every day for three weeks, when the wound healed up, and
did not give him much trouble. The rebels never offered to do
anything for him, although it was a bad wound. When night

Twelve Months tn Andersonville. 31
came, we lay down to sleep. This was my first day in Rich
mond. Little did I think I would have more than 300 days
within the Confederacy. Almost every day we could see
squads of prisoners marched up to the Libby and go
through the same ordeal that we had gone through. After
three or four days, a large lot of prisoners from Butler's army
came in, and a few of them were from our brigade. I sought
them out and learned all I could about my own regiment. All
I could learn was that the regiment had lost heavily in the
fight on the 10th.
One night there were ' some cavalrymen put in our room.
Next morning one of them sat down in the window with his
face resting on his hands, when one of the guards fired at him
without giving any warning. Three buckshot took effect in
his shoulder blade and ranged up. The man fell forward
almost over me. He never spoke. The rebel sergeant of this
floor came up and ordered him taken to the hospital. The
man that did the shooting was quite an old man, from fifty to
sixty years of age. He was wearing glasses. There was
nothing but pure cussedness that caused him to shoot, for the
soldier was at least thirty feet from the ground and not aware
that he was violating any rule. Our first day's experience was
a fair sample of all the rest of our stay in Richmond.
About the 15th of May we discovered a terrible excite
ment in the streets. Soon saw the rebels moving freight cars
from the Petersburg to the Danville road. We inferred from
this that Butler had taken Petersburg, and to confirni our
opinion, we saw in a Richmond paper that there had been very
hard fighting going on at Ft. Darling and Petersburg. The
paper called on all citizens to open their houses to receive the
wounded and for every able-bodied marTto arm himself and
form companies for the defense of the Capital. As General
Custer, with a large cavalry force was threatening Richmond,

32 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
while Grant was holding Lee, and Butler was holding Beaure
gard, the excitement was intense. About this time there was
a large lot of prisoners came in. A portion of them were
crowded in our room. Amongst them were some ofthe Eighth
Connecticut regiment, with whom I was acquainted, and from
them I learned that a few days before that Butler had made an
assault on Fort Darling and had been repulsed with heavy loss,
being compelled to fall back to his works, the rebels following
them. The Connecticut boys said, "we were put in your old
works which you built, the second night after we landed. You
know how thick the little pine trees were in front of your
works. Well, they were all cut down and fell in such a man
ner as to form a great impediment to a charge on our works-
The Johnnies came up in the thick timber and massed their
men, and charged through this tangled. mass of logs. We lay
behind our works, and you know we were armed with repeat
ing rifles. We just gave them h — 1. They fell back, but in a
few minutes they came again. They made five different
charges before they drove us out ofthe works, and they would
not then have succeeded but the 62nd Ohio, on our right, ran
out of ammunition, and before we knew it, they were driven
out. So we had to run to keep from being flanked. You see
we were too busily engaged in our front, and did not hear the
order to fall back until it was too late. When we started to run
they had cut us off from the rest of the troops, so we had to
give up. I tell you that was the worst fight I ever saw. It
looked like foul murder to shoot those poor fellows that were
trying to get through that abatis in front of our breast works."
I said, "how do you think Butler is making it." "I hardly
know. It seems as though they had kinder bottled him up."
We now noticed that our Alabama guards were doing duty as
prison guards. I afterwards had a talk with one of them. He
said : " We thought it was a pretty hard fight the day we cap-

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 33
tured you, but I tell you it was not like the fighting on the 13th.
Our regiment was so reduced then that we have been sent here
to do guard duty until it can be filled up with new recruits or
consolidated." I said to him, " when do you think the war will
end ? " "I don't know," he said, " it looks like they will never
quit until all the men are killed or wounded." He said, "I
am very tired of the war and wish it was over. Do you not
think there will be a compromise?" I said I did not, I
thought all the compromise that could be expected was for the
rebels to lay down their arms and return to their allegiance to
the government of the United States. He said, " I don't care
how they settle it so they stop the war."
The weather was getting warmer all the time, and our
room was so crowded we thought we could hardly endure it.
We said, surely they will exchange us; we can't live this way
very long. There were no seats in the room. When we sat down
it was on tho floor, and the room had become so crowded at
this time that it was almost impossible to sit down, and when
we lay down for the night we were so crowded that you
could not turn over unless the whole squad turned. When you
got so tired laying on one side that you could not stand it any
longer in that position, you would call out : " Sergeant, give
the order to right or left turn," (as the case might be), when
he would give the order: "Squad No. 8, right turn," when
the whole squad would flop over on their right, sides, but not
without some one giving vent to his wrath for being disturbed
so often. About this time Adjutant Ross came up to our room and
said : " If any of you fellows want to write to your friends
North you can do so, provided you say nothing about tho con
dition of the army, or anything that will give any information
as regards military operations, the same to be inspected before
being sealed." So I thought I would write a few lines home,
3

34 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
although 1 did not have the least idea that it would reach its
destination. I will give the letter verbatim, as I recollect it at
this time : Richmond, Va., May 17, 1864.
Dear Father — I am a prisoner of war here in Richmond.
Eight of my company are with me. All well. Lessel Long,
Co. F, 13th Ind. Inf.
When I handed it to Ross he looked at it, and looking up
tome, said: "That is all right — it will go." Then the old
prisoners laughed and said, "yes, it will go — to the flames."
But for once Ross told the truth. In about a month or six
weeks my father received the note.
Every day some one would start the report that there had
been a general exchange agreed upon and we would soon be
exchanged. This would revive the drooping comrades for
awhile. Our rations grew smaller in quantity almost every
day, and before it was received we would be so hungry that
it would almost drive us mad. Everybody would be ill, and
you could get up a quarrel or fight at any time. So things went
on from day to day. At last one day Ross came up and ordered
us in line, counted us, and then took our names, rank, regiment,
etc., and said we should be ready to leave at any time when
called on. Every one thought this meant exchange. The old
prisoners said that is the way they always do when they send
a lot to be exchanged. Now our hopes were high, and we felt
sure we would soon be with our friends.
On the following evening, a little before sunset, Ross came
up and said : " Fall in and go down stairs, and you will spend
the night in the east room with those that are to go with you."
So down we went, and up to the east room, where we met a lot
of fellows like ourselves, buoyed up with false hopes of being
exchanged. The room was badly crowded. Ross told us to be

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 35
ready to leave early the next morning. There was not much
sleeping done that night. In that room some one would
lead out in singing some patriotic song, when all would
join in the chorus. When they had sung until they were
exhausted, then they would talk of what good times they
would have when they got back to " God's country." The ma
jority that were in the room were old prisoners taken at Chick -
amauga. At last morning came, and a little after sunrise the
order was given to fall in and go down stairs single file, where
we would receive our rations for the day. We moved down
the steps, and when we came out on the street we saw two
lines of guards drawn up, extending down the street toward
Castle Thunder. The line of guards extended from the foot
of the stairs to the center of the street, where it turned to the
right. At the foot of the stairs were large boxes filled with
corn bread and bacon — bread on one side and bacon on the
other. As we passed we were handed a piece of bread and a
piece of meat. The piece of bread would weigh about three-
quarters of a pound and the meat about six ounces. This was
for one day. We were not allowed to stop, but as soon as we
filed to the right, were ordered to form two abreast, and move
down the street towards the rebel capital. As we passed Cas
tle Thunder, we could see men and women crowding up to the
grated windows trying to see what was going on below. We
moved through the city for a good ways, when we filed to the
left and crossed the long bridge that spans the James River.
At this place we did not go far until we came to the cars which
had been provided for us. We were now guarded by the
Fourth Alabama, and I asked quite an old man why they did
not take us down the river on the boats. "Where do you
think you are going," he asked. "To City Point, for ex
change," I said. He shook his head. The thought flashed'
through my mind that we had been deceived, and were not

36 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
going to bo exchanged but moved to some other prison. I said,
" where do you think they are going to take us?" "I do not
know," was his answer, "we are ordered to go to Danvillo with
you," but, said he, " I think you are are going to Anderson
ville, Ga." I had never heard of that place before so I plyed
him with questions about its location until I learned that it
was a place that had been built expressly for the safe keeping
of prisoners, and he said it was a large piece of ground which
had been enclosed for the purposes of a prison, with plenty of
shade and a nice stream of water running throught it. He said,
"that is what I have heard." We got aboard ofthe cars while
Grant's artillery was thundering away at Frazier's Farm,
north of the city, and were soon en route to the "sunny
South," It was the 31st of May, 1864.

CHAPTER IV.

The Journey to Andersonville — Trading a Pen Holder
for a Blanket — Comparative Value of United States
and Confederate Money — A Convincing Argument —
Removing dead men from the Cars — Twenty Dollars
for a Twenty-five cent Ring — Assigned to Divisions
and Hundreds and Marched into the Stockade.
WHEN at last, we got aboard of the cars, there were
found seventy-five to eighty men in a car. The cars
were freight cars, no seats, no straw to sit upon, but crowded in
like so many hogs or cattle. Many of the cars were just as
they had been left when used in hauling cattle and hogs, and as
filthy as they well could be. The signal being given, our train
began to move. We were guarded by the Fourth Alabama,
and I soon became acquainted with one of the guards who was
stationed at the door. He was very talkative, and from him
I learned that we were on the Danville Road, and their orders
were to go as far as that city, when we would be handed over
to some other parties. We did not go far before we could see
what war does for a country. . Kilpatrick's cavalry had a short
time before made a raid on this road and destroyed bridges,
depots, water-tanks and many miles of track. My Alabama
friend said this was the reason that we had been detained at
Richmond so long. They had to repair the road before they

38 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
could move us. He said all of the prisoners would leave Rich
mond as fast as transportation could be had. All along the
road for twenty miles or more, were large bodies of men
building breastworks and forts to guard this road. They
seemed very much excited, as Butler was on the South, and
Grant's army was only nine miles on the North, and his guns
were thundering away as we left the city and could be dis
tinctly heard for many miles. This road runs through a pretty
fair part of the country. It looked, more like our Northern
farms than any part of the South I had yet seen. Our train
made very slow time. We had to side track for all incoming
trains, and when we had the track I do not think we made
over eighteen or twenty miles an hour. The day was very
hot, and owing to the crowded condition of the cars, it was
very unpleasant and tiresome. Many of the men were sick
with the diarrhea. We suffered badly for water, having
nothing to carry any in. All tho way we could get a drink
was when the train stopped by some branch or pond and we
were allowed to get off the cars to get water. Then we would
go many miles without getting any more.
Along in the afternoon, my friend said to me, "you have
no blanket." I said I did not. He said, " have you anything
to trade me for mine? " I said, I did not think I had, for they
took everything when they searched us. He said, "if you
have, I will trade it to you, for you will need it." 1 felt in my
pockets, and finally found a silver extension pen-holder which
had been broken some but could be used. I said, " how will
this do?" " All right, just what I want, and I have another
blanket back at Richmond." " Then we will call it a trade,"
I remarked. "Yes," was his answer. I handed him the
holder. He said, " keep it until we leave the car, then I will
hand the blanket to you and you can hand the pen to me." I
thought that is another rebel lie, he will never give me the
blanket.

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 39
It was a very long day to us but nothing to compare with
the night. As soon as darkness set in they shut one door and
fastened it, closing the other all but about a space of two feet,
and two guards stood in that. The heat was terrible. We
could not sit down or lay down, but simply had to stand or
" squat." Many of the men were too weak to stand, and to add
misery to misery men had to be helped to the door continually,
so they could attend to the calls of nature. Now just imagine
yourself in this position for twenty hours. It is impossible for
any one who never experienced these horrors to realize the
misery. At last just as the sun began to show itself in the
East, the whistle sounded, and the guards said we were at
Danville. Our train stopped at the foot of a street where two
lines of guards were drawn up to receive us, the same as at
Richmond. I remained in the car until nearly all were out*
when I stepped to the door. My friend hung the blanket on
my shoulder. As he did so I passed him the pen-holder. As
I struck the ground he said, in an under tone, " good-bye, I
am sorry to see you go." We were formed between the guards
that were drawn up in line, single file, and ordered to move.
Soon we came to some large boxes filled with corn bread and
bacon, and as we passed, a man on our right handed us a piece
of bread and another on Our left a piece of bacon, about the same
quality and quantity that was given us as we left Richmond.
We were kept moving until we came to the Charlotte & Dan
ville Road, where a train of freight cars, with engine attached,
was waiting for us. We were hurried aboard, while a large
crowd of citizens gathered along the train all anxious to see us.
While we were waiting I fell into conversation with quite a
nice looking man. He said he lived in North Carolina. While
we were talking a fellow came along peddling corn cakes
which he was selling for one dollar in Confederate money. I
said to him, " I have no Confederate money, but I have a piece

40 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
of silver I will give you for one of those cakes. " He said,
" how much is it ? " I said, "a sixpence." He said, "let me
see it." I handed it to him, when his eyes glistened, and he
said, "all right— here is your cake," handing it to me at the
same time. I took it and remarked to the gentlemen from
North Carolina, " it looks as though you did not have much
confidence in your money." "Well, you see that fellow don't
know what hurts him." I said, "I think there ai'e a good
many more in the same fix, for I have heard the old prisoners
say that for the last ten months you could get from five to ten
dollars for one at Richmond, and while we were there we could
get $20 for one." Adjutant Ross made a regular business of
buying all he could get hold of at from five to twenty for one.
The whistle again sounded and we moved South. The
!road over which we now passed was very rough, having just
been finished and ballasted. It seemed as though the cars
would leave the track at every turn of the wheels. We now
had a new set of guards — the Virginia Home Guards — com
posed of young men from twelve to twenty years of age. They
were right in for argument, and when one of our boys talked
to them and got the best of the argument, they would
straighten up and say, "shut your d — d Yankee mouth, or I
will run this bayonet through you." Of course, the boys
would have to shut up or the whelp would have put his threat
into execution. They were the most contemptible set of curses
I ever saw. Take them as you would, you could find nothing
good about them. They were ignorant, overbearing, self con
ceited, and very cruel to the men under them. Would push
and knock the sick men as though they were brutes, and much
worse than any drover does his hogs or cattle. This day we
arrived at Greensboro, North Carolina. Here we got off the
cars about sun set, and were allowed to go to a small grove
about ten rods from the road. There were several dead men

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 41
taken from the cars who had died since we left Danville in the
morning, and a good many who were so sick that they could
not walk. They were laid 'under tho shade trees on the grass
with those who had died on the cars. I wish to call the atten
tion ofthe young men to this one point. No doubt but some
one will read this narrative whose father or brother was left
there. It is a fact that they were " some ono's " brother or
father — some mother's darling — who had given up his young
life, away from home, with no one to pity or console them, or
even give them one drink of water. Left to die alone and in a
strange land. May the Supreme Ruler be merciful to their
ashes. We left Greensboro about ten o'clock at night, and were
ordered on the cars and did not stop until about ten or eleven
o'clock the next day when we arrived at Charlotte, N. C.
Here we again changed cars. We were marched to a little
grove south ofthe town, and a guard line established around
us. We were told that we would draw rations here, as we had
had nothing since we left Danville the morning before. We
received our rations, and being very hungry, soon dispatched
them, when we felt in a better humor. I was setting by a tree
when one of our boys came up to me and said that there was a
rebel officer out there that wanted to buy a finger ring. I had
a cheap one, worth about twenty-five cents. It was very large
and had a glass set in it. So we went over to see him. When
I approached him he said, " are you the Yank that's got the
ring? " I said, " I have a ring." He said, "I want to buy one."
I said, " I will sell this one." He looked at it and said, " what
do you want for it ? " I said, " one dollar in greenbacks, or
twenty in Confederate money." He said, "I have no green
backs but will give you twenty in Confederate money." Ho
took out his money and counted it over, saying, " I have only
sixteen dollars and sixty cents here, I will go and get the

42 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
rest." I said, " hand that to me, or the ring, until you come
back with the rest." He handed me the Confederate money
and started off, saying he would get the other three dollars
and forty cents which he owed me. As yet, I never got the
three dollars and forty cents, and should the fellow see these
lines, and write to me, I will forgive the debt and send him a
receipt in full of account.
About the middle of the afternoon we started again.
Reached Columbia, South Carolina, that night. Traveled all
night and all the next day, reaching Augusta about one hour
before sunset. Here we crossed the Savannah River and got
off the cars. It was Saturday, and we were put in to some
cotton warehouses to remain over night, and also over Sunday
and Sunday night. Here we received the best treatment
accorded us on our trip. Our Virginia guards left us, and the
guards here were old soldiers and treated us pretty fairly. A
son of ex-Governor Hicks, of Maryland, was Provost Marshal
of Augusta, and showed us considerable attention. It was my
fortune to get hold of a paper here, and I learned that Sherman
was pressing Johnson very hard, up at Marietta, and Governor
Brown was talking of surrendering the state to Sherman, in
order to save their property. It would have been the wisest
thing he ever did, had he done so, but Davis was too
much for him. Hence the destruction of life and property
which followed. Monday morning we took the cars for Ander
sonville, there remaining no longer any doubt of our destina
tion. We arrived at Macon a little after daylight Tuesday
morning. Here all the commissioned officers were taken from
the train and left at a prison established for officers only.
Captain Bebee, of my regiment, was left here, and about fifty
other officers, among them a Brigadier General, whose name I
have forgotten. The guards had been telling us what a nice

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 43
place Andersonville was. They said it was a large tract of
ground, surrounded by a board fence, having plenty of shade
and tents, with a nice stream of water running through it.
We began to think after all this is not so bad. About eleven
o'clock we arrived at the station, were ordered off the cars,
and formed in line in order to march to the stockade. When
we arrived at the outer gate we were met by a Dutch Captain,
who began to curse and swear at us, and said he would soon
tame us. It was June 7th and very hot. We remained in line
until we could be assigned to Hundreds and Divisions. While
we were waiting, I was within a few feet of a tall pine tree.
I thought I would step around it and get in the shade. When
I got on the north side of the tree I could stand with my back
against the tree, and set my foot in the sunshine. The tree
did not cast a shadow at noon more than two feet, the sun
being almost directly oyer us. You could stand with your face
to the North and look up and see the sun at noon almost as
well as you could with your face to the South. ¦
After we had been assigned to divisions and hundreds, we
were taken inside of the stockade, it being about 1 o'clock.
The stockade was crowded to its utmost capacity, there being
over 20,000 men confined in a space of less than seventeen
acres. We were perfectly amazed at the horrible sight that
met our eyes. At every step we saw men prostrated by
disease, men dying from neglect, men almost naked, men
blackened by smoke, men begrimed by dirt. All the horrible
sights of suffering humanity could here be seen in a few
minutes time. After much crowding to make our way through
this crowd, we finally found the hundred that we had been
assigned to. After the rebel sergeant informed the sergeant
of the hundred that we had been assigned to his hundred,
he gave him our names, and proceeded to say to us that
we could go anywhere in the stockade, but must be at

44 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
this place at roll call, and at the time of issuing rations.
There wore no rations given us this day, having arrived too
late, so we were doomed to go very hungry the rest of the day.
There being eight of my company, we were divided and four
of us put in the 28th hundred and the other four in the 30th
hundred. It was now necessary that we should look out a location
where we could lay down when night came. We traveled
until almost dark before we could find a place that we could
pre-empt. At last, when almost ready to give up, a young man
from Maine said to us, " you had better stop here by my place.
This ground is used only when they haul in rations, and then
you can put your traps up against my tent until they get
through." We accepted the offer and pitched our tent. There
was where my blanket came in good play. Four men and one
blanket, one tin cup, one-half canteen, two spoons, one fork
and one old jack-knife was our entire outfit. This piece of
ground we held until the last of June, when the addition to the
stockade was finished and we removed to new quarters.

CHAPTER V.

The Horrors of Andersonville as Shown by the Official
Records of the War Department — Heroism and Loy
alty of the Prisoners — Organization of the Regula
tors — Fight with the Raiders — An Execution in Prison.
/ I \HAT my readers may form an idea of the deliberate
J- cruelty of the Confederate Government in selecting
this particular location for the stockade, I here add the testi
mony which I have copied from the official records on file at
the War Department at Washington. This information was
gained from a native of Georgia, a citizen ofthe vicinity at the
time, and was brought out in tho trial of Captain Wirz, after
the war: "Andersonville is situated on a railroad running North and
South between Macon and Americus, Ga. Four or five strag
gling rough board structures, resting drowsily on the yellow
sand west of the road, twenty or thirty people as vapid ahd
rickety as the buildings. Such was Andersonville before the
Confederacy made it synonymous with all that is cruel and
brutal. West of the railroad and but a -few dozen yards
removed from it, are two marshes in which spewings of toads
and reptiles and swamp ooze, decaying wood, weeds and rank
grass are distilled into poison. The marshes are fifteen hun
dred feet apart — one above and one below the town. From

46 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
the marshes the poison runs off in two leafy brown, sluggish
currents, across the railroad track, and unite fourteen hundred
feet east of it. From this confluence of poison the stream in
lethargic floes, runs nearly due east between hills rising with
gradual swell on either side until it is lost in the Little Sweet
water, less than a mile below. Five hundred yards from the
confluence ofthe two little streams that ooze out ofthe marshes
there is another marsh. Around this the Andersonville prison
pen was constructed. As finally completed, the pen is an
oblong, 780x1620 feet. The stream creeps through its narrow
est part about one hundred feet south ofthe center.
" General Winder superintended the building of "the pen."
When he began, in December, 1863, the marsh and the hills
that rise on either side of it were clothed with heavy timber.
The people ofthe surrounding country came to look on. The
whole population of Americus, a little town a few miles below,
were on tiptoe of excitement. " Got so many Yank's, don't
know what to do with they'uns all. Gwin ter build a prison
at Anderson," so the people said. Among those who went to
see was Ambrose Spencer, a resident of Americus. When he
arrived negroes were digging a long trench, other negroes
were felling trees, others again were hewing their sides.
"What are these for?" said Spencer. Winder looked at him
and said: "What, the trees hewed on two sides?" "Yes,"
said Spencer. Winder said, " we put one end in the ground
ih that trench, the hewed sides close together, then pack dirt
about them. The result will be a close pen with walls twenty
feet high." Spencer said, " Are you going to erect barracks or
shelter of any kind ? " "No, the dratted Yank's who will be
put here will have no need for them." " Why, then, are you
cutting down the trees. They will prove a shelter to the pris
oners from the heat of the sun at least." " That is just why I
am cutting them down. I am going to build a pen here that

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 47
will kill more Yank's than can be destroyed in the front.
That marsh in the center ofthe pen will help kill them mighty
fast." "But why," said Spencer, "don't you put the pen
below or above the marsh?" "I don't want to," said Winder.
" There is the Little Sweetwater five feet deep and twenty feet
wide, not five hundred feet from where you are putting the
pen, and not a marsh on it. Why don't you put the prison
there ? " " This is better." " You could go below the marsh
and take in both creeks, Little Sweetwater and this Double
Branch run." "Yes, we could." "Then they would have an
abundance of water for cooking, bathing, every purpose, and
good healthy ground." "Yes." " Why in the world don't you
put the pen there?" "This suits us better." "It looks like
you wanted to kill them." "Yes, kill the miserable Yank's.
Better that than have them in the front shooting our boys."
Spencer went away, the construction progressed, the pen was
completed, tho marsh lay a festering sore in its center. Then
came the captives, 800 first from New Hampshire, Connecticut
and Michigan, weary, worn and hungry, from prolonged travel
cooped up like beasts in freight cars. Down from the depot
they marched wearily on through the shifting sands amid the
jeers and taunts of a gaping crowd. The gate opened. The
stockade swallowed them. Then they saw walls of pine, a
slimy brown creek six feet wide and five inches deep, strug
gling through the soft mud, and a waste of yellow sand dotted
with huge stumps. And there were no buildings, no sheds, no
tents, no shelter, no concealment from pelting storms; no
screen from the blazing sun. That was the 15th day of Feb
ruary, 1864. "A desert," cried one. Wait — a desert is mercy
to this. The volume of captives swelled ; the heroic plucked
from the front of battle ; the daring tricked by guerrillas ; the
devoted who sacrificed liberty to save a brigade or a division
of an army. They rolled into the pen, a continuous stream of

48 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
captive humanity. The deadly dews drenched them. The
lightnings flashed in their unscreened faces. Hungry, emaci
ated and torn with pain, shelterless, tattered and naked, the
pitiless storms beat down upon them and they froze. The fierce
rays of the tropical sun followed the storm, and they consumed.
Human ingenuity exhausted itself; they made storm covers of
blankets and of coats. They burrowed in the ground. The
storm pursued them, searched them out, penetrated them.
The eight hundred became more than thirty thousand. The
Confederate guards camped on the stream that flowed through
tho stockade. The water flowed from their camp to that of
the prisoners. It was morbific at first. The Confederates
camped on it and it became virulently sceptic. The soil was
saturated with their garbage, their offal, and their filth. The
storm is a scavenger and a creek is a sewer. The scavenger
swept the excrement, the washings of rottenness of carrion, of
compost, down through the stockade. It was bilge water
nastified. Hideous spume. The creek was a serpent, breath
ing death, its mouth full of corrosive poison. The earth and
the air — boundless creation — was full of life giving water, and
thirty thousand Union prisoners were condemned to drink of
Double Branch. Double Branch was a Confederate execu
tioner: Then came the morass. A morass is an infinity
of craters, ejecting pestilent vapors. Slime and green scum
were already upon the morass in the stockade. The scaven
ger — the storm — carried down upon it the sewage of the pen.
It permeated it, became a mass of putrifaction. Out of
putridity came a loathsome life — maggots. And the hot sun
was upon it all. The earth abhors nastiness. It flings it off
in effluvium. The subtile, noisome exhalation loaded the air.
Then came scurvy, that is born out of storm and exposure and
want of proper food. Faces puffed. Syncope from slight exer
tion followed, with weak vision, blindness and inability to

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 49
sleep ; then dysentery. Old sores opened. Broken bones that
had united came apart and grated together within the body.
Horrible music ! Mouths and throats and bodies ulcerated.
Teeth loosened and fell out. Gums, nostrils, bronchial tubes,
and intestines poured out streams of offensive blood. Limbs
rotted off. Worms devoured living bodies. The fetid breath
of disease aggravated the noisome exhalation from the creek
and the morass. Poisoned by the earth, poisoned by the air,
poisoned by the water, tormented with vermin, irritated by
gnats, mosquitoes and winged ants, devoured by maggots,
blackened with smoke, befouled by mud, with matted hair,
shelterless in the midst of mills and lumber piles, thirsting
for water, with limpid streams but a few yards away, perish
ing for fuel, while boundless forests nodded to them from the
surrounding hills, rotting for vegetables, while potatoes blos
somed and corn tasseled before their eyes, goaded to madness
by brutality, writhing in helpless impotence under taunts and
jeers and murderings, perishing by hundreds, by thousands,
with death marching by their side- — a putrid horror living and
dying — these martyrs stood firm and to the end. The shat
tered fragment ofthe wreck never faltered in their devotion to
the American Union."
We had been in the stockade but a few days until the
Regulators were organized. From our location on the north
side of the branch we had a pretty good view ofthe prison on
the south side, the banks on the north being steeper and
higher, which gave us a good opportunity to see what was
going on. We could see the south gate where the prisoners
were brought in and where the dead were taken out, and we
could also see the teams hauling the dead away from the dead
house, from this place. The Regulators were organized to
keep order inside ofthe stockade, to enforce certain rules, and
to prevent murder and robbery. There were a lot of men from

50 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
the large cities who had made a profession of bounty jumping,
and had either deserted or were taken prisoners. These
fellows had formed themselves into a kind of organization and
made a regular business of robbing other prisoners of their
blankets, or anything they had. They became so bold that
they were a regular terror to the other prisoners, and no one
seemed secure who had a blanket or anything of value. They
were always trying to gain favor with the rebel officers, and
would report any plot that was made to escape. Would report
all tunnels that the boys were digging. By so doing they could
secure some favors from the rebels. The better class of pris
oners saw that something must be done to stop this, hence the
Regulators. The Regulators were organized in companies and
officers appointed over them. Every man mustered into these
companies promised to obey the officers selected. The officers
were mostly western men, and the Regulators were armed
with a club about 14 inches long, with one end larger than the
other. To this club was attached a string at the small end,
and this string was fastened around the man's wrist. When
all was ready, the chief, whose name was Leroy L. Key, of the
16th Illinois cavalry, sought an interview with Captain Wirz,
and obtained permission to arrest the Raiders, (that was the
name they went by), and Wirz said he would furnish a guard
to guard the men that were arrested. All being ready, the
order was given to commence operations. The Regulators went
for the big tent where the headquarters of the Raiders were.
About one hundred ofthe Raiders were in line and ready for
the boys. The Regulators moved up in good order, and when
they were close up to them the Raiders wanted to know what
they wanted. They said, " Sergeant Key wants you to go out
side." Then the Raiders said, "do you think we will go?"
The answer came from a hundred throats, " yes." " Well we
are not going, and you can't take us." "Well," said a little

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 5i
Irishman, " we will be after trying about as hard as any set of
fellows in these parts." By this time the two lines were within
a few feet of each other, when a big fellow made a dive for one
of the Regulators. This was the signal to commence and as
nice a little battle as one could wish to see resulted. The Reg
ulators beat the Raiders with their clubs for a few minutes, and
it was hard to tell who would come out best. Thousandsof
men were watching the fight. At last the Raiders gave way,
and tried to escape, but would be set upon by a lot of Regula
tors, and would have to give up. There were many broken
heads in this melee. As fast as one of the Raiders was arrested
he was taken outside of the stockade, where Wirz had a guard
ready, and put in an old house and strictly guarded. There
was a great deal of fighting for the next three or four days
until all the leaders of the Raiders were captured and taken
out. Then Sergeant Key organized a court and tried them.
They had a fair trial and six of them were condemned to
death. The proceedings and findings of the court were sent to
General Winder who approved of the findings and sentence,
which were carried out on the 11th of July. The lawyer who
acted as prosecuting" attorney was sergeant Higgins, of my
hundred. He was from Illinois, and a very fine young man,
and for the manner in which he conducted the trial he was
sent to our lines. Well do I remember when he came in and
bade us a last farewell. I saw the tears roll down his cheeks
as he said, " I hate to leave you here, but I can do you no good
by staying." He had been a prisoner over twelve months and
his health was poor. Said he, " I can not live much longer in
here and I will go and do all I can to get an exchange."
It was several days after the trial before it was known
what the sentences of the Raiders were, and it was rumored
one day that they would be put back in the stockade. This
caused a great deal of uneasiness, as it was expected things

52 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
would be worse than before. About 2 o'clock, one day, the
word was received that all the Raiders would be turned back
into the stockade, but six of the leaders, who had been con
demned to be hung. The Regulators were called out and
formed in two parallel lines from the gate up the street and
about eight feet apart. This was done to punish the Raiders
who had not been condemned to be hung. They were let into
the stockade one at a time and told that they had to run the
gauntlet. So they would» start to run, and as they did the
Regulators rained blows on their heads, backs, arms, and many
of them were badly hurt and some killed. By this time it was
apparent that the Regulators were much the strongest and
were well organized, and it was getting unhealthy to be caught
stealing, and things began to be more quiet in the prison. On
July 11th the gate opened and some timber was brought in on
the south side of the stockade and some carpenters went to
work to erect a gallows to hang the six raiders. This was
soon noised over the prison and created much excitement.
The friends of the Raiders said they never should be hung.
It was generally expected that there would be a general row
when they were brought in. A company of the Regulators
were ordered on duty and were placed around the carpenters.
By noon they had the gallows finished. Everybody was
anxious to know what the result would be. At last the gates
opened and in they came. Wirz rode a white horse; behind
him walked the faithful old priest reading the Service for the
condemned. The six doomed men followed, walking between
double ranks of rebel guards. All came inside of the hollow
square and halted. Wirz then said, "Briziners, I return to
you dese men, so goot as I got dem. You haf tried dem your
selves and found dem guilty. I haf had notting to do wit it.
I vash my hands of eferyting connected wit dem. Do wit
dem as you Hke and may Gott haf mercy on you and on dem.
Garts, about face. Vorwarts, march." After Wirz left the

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 53
stockade, Key and his assistants went about the preparation as
fast as they could. One of the condemned said, " You do not
intend to hang us do you." " That is about the size of it," said
Key. They were soon ordered to mount the scaffold, which
they did, when the ropes were adjusted about their necks, when
Key said, " Two minutes to talk." This time was improved by
them in giving instructions to their friends as to what disposi
tion to make of certain property which they had stolen. Key
said, " time up." At this there were meal sacks drawn over
their faces and the men jumped to the ground. Then Key
raised his hand and said, "all right." At this signal, the props
were pulled out from under the scaffold, and five of them were
left swinging. The rope broke with the sixth man and he fell.
Some of the Regulators went to him and discovered that he
was not dead. The sack was pulled from his head and water
thrown in his face, which soon restored him to consciousness.
" Limber Jim " went about fixing up the platform. When all
was ready, and a stouter rope had been secured, Limber Jim
picked him up and placed him on the scaffold. He begged to
be saved. Limber Jim was in no mood for that, for this same
fellow had killed Limber Jim's brother some time before. He
was soon swung off, and they were left hanging until life was
extinct, when they were cut down and the sacks removed from
their faces. The Regulators formed in two .lines, and all the pris
oners who wanted to, marched past and viewed their remains.
The names they gave were as follows : John Sarsfield, 144th
N. Y. ; William Collins, alias Mosby; Co. D., 88th Pennsyl
vania; Charles Curtis, Co. A., 5th Rhode Island Artillery;
Patrick Delaney, Co. E., 83rd Pennsylvania; A. Muir, United
States Navy ; Terrence Sullivan, 72nd N. Y. It was generally
believed, however, that these names were fictitious, as they
were understood to be "bounty -jumpers," enlisting for large
sums of money, and remaining with no regiment after a chance
was given them to desert.

CHAPTER VI.

Organization of a Prison Police — Shooting Down Prisoners
— Short Rations and Scarcity of Water — Condition of
Prisoners when Turned into the Stockade — Our Na
tional Holiday in Prison — Modes of Punishment — The
Miraculous Spring.

(a>

) FTER the hanging of the six men, it was apparent to all
-a- A. that it was necessary to have a regular police to preserve
order, so a regular system was organized. Key was made
Chief of Police, but owing to the active part he had taken in
the hanging of the six raiders, it was thought best that he
should take a parole and go out on detail duty, as the Raiders
were determined to avenge the death of their leader. Key
sought and obtained a parole outside. Sergeant A. R. Hill, of
the 100th Ohio, was made Chief in his place. Hill first came to
notice on Belle Island, where he had an altercation with one
Jack Oliver, of the 19th Indiana. Jack was a powerful man
and thought it was his duty to thrash everybody on the Island.
He got into a fuss with one of Hill's mess, and, as usual, pro
ceeded to give him a thrashing, when Hill interfered and
knocked Jack down, giving him a tremendous thrashing.
Ever after this Hill was considered one of the best men in the
prison. He was not quarrelsome but was very firm in his
judgment, and was considered very fair in all his decisions.

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 55
Jack Oliver died a few months after he went to Andersonville.
As I said, we were on the north side of the branch and
close to the north gate. The path that led from the north side
to the south side was close to the dead line, and where it
crossed the branch was where we got the water we drank. At
this place many of the boys were killed. This was about the
way it was brought about. The stream was so small that it
was very easy riled up, and in order to get a little pure water
the next fellow would reach up the stream a little farther, and
so on, until they would reach beyond the dead line, when the
guard would fire at them without any notice, and it as often
happened that some one else was hit as the one that was get
ting water, owing to the crowded condition of the pen. Just on
the north side of this little stream was a " guard's perch," and
it was said, and was never denied by the rebels, that every
guard that shot a prisoner was allowed a furlough for thirty
days. Hence they were very watchful, and this being a favor
able post, owing to the men coming here for water, many were
shot down at this point. I have stood on the bank and
watched the guard at this post for hours, to see how eager he
would be to get a shot at some poor, unfortunate prisoner.
They would cock their guns, raise them to their faces ready to
fire at the very slightest pretence ofthe prisoners getting over
the dead line. The little board had got broken off the stakes
at this place so you could not tell exactly where the line was.
Many new prisoners coming in were killed here, not knowing
that they were violating any rule whatever. It was terribly
interesting to see how the eyes of the guard would flash when
he thought he would get a good shot. There was no excuse for
this. It was nothing but cold-blooded murder, premeditated
from day to day, by these curses who were too low down
in the scale to be classed with the human family.
Our rations consisted at first of mush, made of corn meal

56 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
ground, not bolted, no salt, and of this we got for one day's
rations about one quart, and a small piece of meat. Often this
mush had soured before it was given to us. Occasionally we
would get about one-half pint of peas. Every pea had from
one to one-half dozen bugs in it. This was our rations for
several days after we went in the pen. Then they gave us
corn bread, which was much better than the mush, and occa
sionally we would get a little molasses. The weather was des
perately hot. Many of the men fell sick in a few days and
could not eat such food. To make matters worse, they had
made the cook house over the stream just outside of the
stockade and when they had cooked the meat they would let
the water out in the branch and it would be covered with
grease. This was all the chance we had for water for several
weeks. The mortality was fearful, as high as one hundred
and twenty-five would die in twenty-four hours. Go where
you would, you could see men dying. Hundreds and thous
ands were turned in this pen without blankets, tent, cup or
anything in the line of cooking utensils. Many came in here
bareheaded, barefooted and almost naked, having been robbed
of their clothing by their captors. The rebels never seemed to
think that we needed anything of the kind. The boys of my
regiment were put in different hundreds, yet we managed to
see each other every day, or nearly so. Of my company, four
of us remained together until September.' We got four little
sticks upon which we would spread our blanket during the
day. This offered us a little shade, and at night we would take
it down and spread it over us, having nothing to lay upon but
the bare ground. During the month of June and up to the
10th of July, it rained almost every day. Then the sun would
come out and the heat would be fearful. The skin on the
men's bare backs would raise up in great blisters and make
running sores. These sores would be covered with great big

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 57
green flies. Soon you could see those sores full of maggots,
then the gangrene would set in, and death soon followed. In
this manner hundreds died. Many soon got the scurvy, and
then it soon run to the dropsy. I have seen hundreds of men
with their ankles swelled to three or four times their natural
size. Their legs would puff up until they seemed transparent.
To make things worse there was no arrangement made for the
men to attend the calls of nature. They would crowd up to the
little stream as near as they could, but it soon became so filthy
that you could not sit within three or four rods of the stream.
Reader, let your imagination take in the situation. Thirty
thousand men, all of them having the diarrhoea, and all must
go to attend the calls of nature, and that on as limited a space
as one acre of ground. What condition do you think it would
be in in the course of two or three months ? Do you think
you would like to be compelled to breathe this kind of an
atmosphere? This is not all. Hundreds who were too sick to
go to this place would dig out little holes in the ground and
use them until almost full when they would fill them with dirt.
Thousands of such holes were inside the pen; then there
would come a rain. The hot sun, the thermometer ranging up
to as high as one hundred and twenty and even forty. Now
how would you like to lay down in this place and take a sleep ?
How would you like to take your breakfast in this pleasant
parlor where you could lOok in any direction from you and see
dead men and men dying? Don't you think this would be a
pleasant place to have a picnic or the Fourth of July celebra
tion? Well, I celebrated the Fourth of July in this pen in
1864, and the surroundings were much worse than I have
described them, as language fails me, and no man will ever be
able to write it as it should be written. Many stout men
would come in here and, after looking at the horrible condition
of things, would sicken and die inside of ten or twelve days.

58 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
As for myself, I was very stout, and I determined if it was
possible that I would live through it. I did not want to give
the curses the satisfaction of seeing me carried out dead. I
took all the exercise and precaution I could that I might beat
them in the end, and thanks to the Supreme Ruler, I got out
of this living hell. But when I think of the many brave boys
who perished there, I feel very sad, as there was no just cause
for this inhuman treatment.
No, our misery was not due to the inability of the rebels
to provide for us comfortably. It was deliberately planned by
that arch traitor, Jeff. Davis, and his subordinates. May God
have more mercy on their souls than they showed to the poor,
helpless and starved Union prisoners who surrendered their
lives — the victims of their damnable cruelty — in this horrible
place of confinement.
In this chapter I will tell the rebel mode of punishing the
prisoners. I have often been asked why more of the prisoners
did not try to make their escape. Every 400 men made a
division. Over this division there was a sergeant appointed to
take charge of the men, and he was held responsible for his
division. Over every hundred was a sergeant appointed,
whose business it was to see that all his men answered to roll
call, draw rations, make details to look after the sick, carry out
the dead, bring in wood, etc. He was held personally respon
sible for his hundred. For instance. A man was detailed to
go after wood, and while outside of the stockade made his
escape. The . sergeant of his hundred would be punished for
his offence. This way of dealing kept many a prisoner from
trying to get away. Sometimes the rebels would punish the
entire hundred by cutting off their rations for a day. No
prisoner wanted a man put in the stocks, or one hundred men
to go without anything to eat for twenty-four hours, on ac
count of his offence. You can see at once that the rebels hit

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 59
upon a pretty good plan to keep the men from trying to
escape. During this month, I think it was in January, while I
belonged to the tenth hundred, the sergeant was one of those
good-natured fellows, and I think, strictly honest. While a
detail of his hundred was out after wood, one cold, raw, damp
day, a prisoner tried to make his escape. As soon as it was
found out, the rebels sent in for the sergeant, who was taken
out and put in the stocks. He was kept in the stocks four
days, until the fellow who had tried to escape was returned.
I saw him while he was in the stocks. He said to me, " this is
getting worse than death, but I will try and stand it." He was
lying flat on his back, or rather on his shoulders, his feet
about two feet high, with his ankles securely fastened in the
stocks, on the cold, damp ground. He was compelled to .lie in
this position for four days. At night they would release him
and bring him into the stockade as soon as roll-call was over.
In the morning he would be taken out and fastened as de
scribed. Remember he was not the only one that was put in
the stocks. There were hundreds who were punished in this
way. The sergeant of my hundred did not live long after he
was released. Having taken a severe cold, he soon sickened
and died: You see there are not many men who would try to
escape, knowing that the innocent would have to suffer on
their account. Some one might say, " how could the rebels tell
when one tried to escape." Usually ten men went out of
a hundred. After they got through the stockade on the outside
they formed in line, the number of the hundred given, and the
men counted by a rebel officer stationed at the gate for that pur
pose. After all were counted, about six or eight guards would
accompany the squad after the wood. When they returned, all
were halted at the gate and re-counted. If a man was missing,
the officers were notified at once. There was no chance of get-

60 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
ting away while out on detail duty without some one getting
punished. Towards the last of June the prison was crowded terribly.
The rebels seeing the stockade was not large enough to hold
the prisoners, had been at work on an addition, which was
finished about the first of July. This addition gave us plenty
of room for a time. As soon as it was open and the order
given to go inside of it, my squad did not lose any time in get
ting there. We made our way to nearly the center of the new
addition, where the most of my regiment took up quarters.
We got a pretty good place and secured some brush and wood
enough to last us for several days. We now suffered the most
for water. While we were near the branch, we used to
scoop out little holes near the edge of the marsh and
by watching close we could get a little water, although
every night the holes would fill with from one dozen to
five times that many maggots in them, as the earth near the
branch was covered with maggots. But we soon got used to
them, and would scoop them out, and in an hour or two there
would be enough water to give us a drink. Being removed
from those places we could not watch them, so we were com
pelled to use the water from the branch. Close to where we
lay in the new stockade were some marines who had been
captured and were allowed to bring in some of their traps.
They had a small rope which they thought they would use to
assist them to haul the dirt out of a well which they proposed
to dig. They commenced to dig their well and continued it
over forty feet deep with no signs of water. There were sev
eral wells dug at different places without any better success.
The marines, about this time, camped near the brow of the hill
on the north side of the branch. Suddenly the ground began
to get damp and soon became so damp that the men staging
there had to remove their quarters. In a few days, water

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 6i
began to trickle down the side of the hill. There was a young
fellow who had been outside and had picked up a piece of
bark, which he rolled up and formed into a trough or spout.
This he placed where the water seemed to come out the
strongest, raising the lower end until you could set a cup
or hold a canteen under it. A small stream of water began
running all the time. This stream grew stronger from day to
day, until it got to be a large spring and afforded plenty of
water for the entire prison. Many prisoners will remember
how we used to form a line and take our turn to get water,
and how they would cry out, " look out for flankers." This
was while the stream was small and required several minutes
to fill a canteen. The rule was, if any one fell out of line and
ran ahead to get a chance, he was compelled to go to the rear
of the line. This gave all an equal opportunity to get water.
I often stood in the line for one hour to get a chance at the
spring. After the spring was an assured fact, the rebels
caused boxes to be made about fourteen inches wide and about
the same depth, and fourteen feet long, which they placed at
the spring, commencing at the branch, placing the first one
with just sufficient fall to carry off the water. The end of
the second one was placed on the end of the first, the other
end extending up the hill, and so on until six or eight of these
boxes were so placed and afforded plenty of water for the
entire stockade, and of a good quality. This spring is still
running to this day. After this we had no more trouble for
water. You can call this a miracle, or what you please. We
were satisfied with the water without asking any questions.
There were more than one dozen wells on that side of the~
branch, dug out from 40 to 60 feet deep, without getting any
water. ,
Poor Charley Weibel, my partner, had fallen sick with
the diarrhea and rheumatism. He could not walk a step.

62 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
This was very annoying to him and he fretted over his mis
fortune very much. Soon another of the mess, Luther Rob-
bins, now of Huntington, fell sick, but after a time he got able
to walk around, and finally got back to God's country. Weibel
never got any better but gradually grew worse from day to
day, until death ended his sufferings.

CHAPTER VIL

Efforts to Escape — Tunneling — Tattooing a Traitor — Plan
to Force the Stockade — Wirz Informed of the Plot-t-
Carrying Out the Dead — Thoughts of Home — How We
Learned of the Capture of Atlanta — A Night of Great
Excitement.
)S it was useless to try to escape while out on detail it
became necessary to try other means. So tunneling
was resorted to. In order to tunnel we were compelled to dig
downward at least five feet to get under the stockade. Tun
nels were usually started as though you were going to dig
a well. Then you would start at right angles and keep on a
level as near as possible. The tunnels were from fifty to sev
enty-five feet long, and men would work in them day and
night. During the day the dirt would be hauled back into the
well, and at night it would be carried out and scattered around
or put in any little depression and covered up with top-soil so
as not to attract the notice of the guards in the day time. It
would take several days to complete these tunnels. Now the
great trouble was that some of the raider crowd would inform
on you, and the leaders of the tunnel would be taken out and
punished, and the tunnel broken in without any one making
his escape. Whenever any certain set Of persons had made
up their minds to dig a tunnel, they would try to keep it a

64 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
secret, yet these fellows would find out many of them and
report the same to the rebels. It began to be discouraging to
try to get out that way, although there were parties at work
all the time digging. Another trouble was that the rebels sent
in some of their own men, disguised as prisoners, to watch for
tunnel diggers. One day quite a commotion was noticed in the
prison. It was soon learned that a large tunnel had been
almost completed and some one had reported the boys and they
were taken out for punishment. Some one suggested that the
fellows who were suspected of giving the information be pun
ished. So several of them were caught and had one side of
their heads shaved as close as it could be done, when they were
let up and had to run the gauntlet. This was pretty severe
punishment. One fellow was caught close to where I was
stopping, and there seemed to be no doubt of his guilt. Among
the fellows that he had reported was an old sailor, who was
very mad at not having an opportunity of going through the
tunnel and at least making the attempt to get to God's country.
He proposed that they put a mark on the fellow that all might
know who he was. The old sailor understood the art of tat
tooing with India ink, and having a supply with him, said to
the boys, " Lay him on the ground a while till I mark him." He
was laid on the ground, while some held his feet, others his
hands, and the old sailor took his head between his knees and
began operations by picking a large letter "T" on his fore
head, the stem, or large part of the " T " running down his
nose. The sailor, like all other sailors, used tobacco pretty
freely, and as his work proceeded he would stop and deliver a
well directed shot of spittal on the fellow's forehead, which he
would rub over the part he was at work on. After he had
finished his work the fellow was let up, and there was a large
letter " T," that could be seen for several rods away. He was
then compelled to run the gauntlet. He made for the gate

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 65
and was taken out. It was soon understood that he was a rebel
who had been sent in to watch the prisoners and report tunnel
digging. Soon a guard came in and took the old sailor out
with some of the other boys and put them in the stocks, but
did not keep them there long, and when the old sailor came in
he remarked that that fellow had a mark he would not lose
this side of the grave, and said some more fellows would get
the same kind of treatment if they did not stop their meddling
with other people's business. From the trouble experienced
in trying to get out by tunneling, the case seemed hopeless.
Enemies without and enemies within. What should next be
done ? By this time there were thousands of good able-bodied
men, captured in the spring campaign, who had not become
reduced much and who were anxious to be outside. There was
a plan proposed to force the stockade, and this seemed to meet
with the approval of all the prisoners that were let into tho
secret. They then commenced to form companies. Fifty men
were to form a company, and every man had to take a solemn
oath to obey the officers appointed over them. The work of
organization progressed nicely, and everything seemed to be
working well. Men were detailed to dig tunnels to tho stock
ade and then to follow along the stockade for twelve or fifteen
feet, hollowing out the ground, so1 that when the time came to
make the break by running against the stockade it could easily
be pushed down. There were several of the tunnels prepared,
or nearly so. When the time came the men were all to
rush against those places and push the stockade down, and
through these gaps the men were to rush out and try and cap
ture the star fort, which had twelve guns. It was thought this
could be done before they could fire more than one round.
There were companies of artillerymen organized to take
charge of the guns who were to turn them on the rebel camp.
The other companies were to overpower the guards and take
5

66 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
their guns from them. It was supposed that the guards would
throw down their guns, as most of them were young men and
conscripts. After once getting outside and capturing the
guards we were to form and make our way to Florida. It was
certain then we would have at least twenty -five thousand good
effective men. With this army we could drive everything
before us. We meant to take all the teams that we could find
on the march. The prisoners would reason that Sherman was
holding Johnson so that he could not spare any of his troops,
neither could Lee, nor could they spare troops enough from
any point to cope with such a force. It was reasonable
enough to suppose that our plans would have been successful
could we have made the attempt. A few days before the break
was to be made, Capt. Wirz sent in and arrested our leader and
we never heard of him afterwards. I think his name was
Wilson, and he was from New York. He was a cool and brave
man. As soon as Wilson was taken out Wirz sent in for all
the Sergeants of hundreds to report to the gate, which they
did. He took them outside and informed them that he had
been apprised of the plot for some time and had taken extra
precautions to guard against it. Said he: " Should you have
made the attempt, you could not have forced the stockade, as I
have caused it to be so braced that you could not have forced
it, and you would have caused thousands of deaths, as I should
have opened on the stockade with every gun I could have
brought to bear on it." And we had good reasons to believe
that he would have done so. Thus this plan all came to
naught. As soon as the Sergeants were returned to the stockade,
Wirz sent in some men who hoisted a line of poles across the
stockade with a strip of cloth on them and issued orders that
if there should collect fifty or more men in one mass between
the poles and dead line, he would conclude that they had a

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 67
design on the stockade and should open on them with grape
shot. As this plan had fallen through, we turned our atten
tion to other matters for a few days.
I was detailed one morning to help carry out a dead man.
We got to the gate where we found several others waiting for
it to open. We laid the dead man down and had to stand
around him. The sand was very loose and dry. I was in my
bare feet, and while standing here in the sand, the gray-backs
would crawl over our feet as if you had put your foot in an ant
hill. There was a large space around the gate that was used
for the examination of the sick, and they would be brought
here by their friends and laid on the ground until they could
be examined. The dead also would be laid here for some time,
and the lice would crawl over the ground. It was literally
alive with gray -backs.
All the news we could get from outside was from the new
arrivals, or "fresh fish," as we called them. Whenever a new
lot of prisoners were seen coming, they would be asked by the
old prisoners for the news. Everybody wanted, to know what
the prospect was for exchange. As a general thing they learned
but little about an exchange. Occasionally some one would
come in and make the statement that a few days before
his capture he saw in the New York Herald or Balti
more American the statement that there had been an agree*
ment made whereby all prisoners were to be exchanged,
and he had no doubt but what, in a few weeks at farthest, we
would all be out of the pen. If he had no doubt at the time
he made the statement, it is fair to suppose he had many doubts
before we were released. The Branch was a good place
to go for news. As all could go there, you were free to visit it
almost any time and engage with the boys in conversation,
either relating the part they had played or how they came to

68 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
be gobbled up. Every soldier thought he belonged to tho best
branch of the service, and had the best and bravest officers.
One of the most trying and aggravating things that a
prisoner had to endure was to hear boys and men tell what
good victuals they used to have at home, and what good times
they would havo when they got back. They would begin this
way: First boy would say, "I know my ma can beat the
world to make good light biscuits. I tell you they would
almost melt in your mouth." Second boy: "I tell you my
ma was lightning on buckwheat cakes; oh, how I wish I had
some of them instead of this everlasting corn meal." No one
knows what effect this kind of talk would have on a fellow
until he is starved as we were. Go where you would you
could hear this kind of talk, and they would keep it up until
some one would bawl out, " Stop that racket. You' know it is
not allowed in this glorious Sunny South."
The fate of Sherman's Army, then on its triumphant
march to the sea, was a matter of which we were extremely
solicitous. Few prisoners were received after the month of
July, and although our hopes were high, our apprehensions
were ofthe gravest character. Tho defeat of Stoneman's Cav
alry, with the loss of its commander, and a considerable num
ber of his men, followed by the defeat of our infantry at
Etowah Creek, had a very depressing effect. Such news as we
received came at long intervals, generally through rebel
sources, and always colored to suit themselves. To show the
officers that they were attending to duty, the guards in the
stockade perches called the number of their posts and the time
every half-hour. The-formula was as follows: "Post num
ber-  , half-past ten o'clock, and all is well." This was
repeated until it had made the rounds, when silence would
again prevail. One night our cars were startled by the call
from one of the perches, "Post number four, half-past eight

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 69
o'clock, and Atlanta's gone to h — 1!" Every prisoner in the
stockade, apparently, heard the call. Our astonishment at this
announcement may be imagined. Every heart took courage,
and in an instant the prison was a scene of great rejoicing.
Cheers followed cheers. The sick were mado almost well by
tho glad news, the strong leaped for joy, and the hand
shaking and hurrahing was indescribable. Atlanta was won,
Sherman's army was safe, and wc almost felt that we were once
again with the loved ones of our Northern homes. Sleep was
banished from our eyes. You could hear patriotic songs all
over the prison. I believe Boston Corbet and somo others
organized a praise meeting. The "Star Spangled Banner"
was sung, " Rally Round the Flag, Boys," and " Tramp,
Tramp, we are Marching." Tho most of the night was spent
in this manner until the men actually became hoarse from
cheering and singing. So great was the excitement that the
rebels became alarmed lest we should make a dash on the
stockade and a grand rush for freedom. The guards were
placed under arms, and not until exhausted nature forced us to
rest, were they- withdrawn. It was a night never to be forgot
ten by any comrade in Andersonville.

CHAPTER VIII.

A Promised Exchange — Death of My Partner — Trans
ferred to Savannah  Deceiving the Prisoners —
Improved Prison Fare— Futile Attempts at Tunnel
Digging— The Story of the Arrest of the Commander
at Savannah as a Rebel Spy— His Death at Fort
Delaware. FEW days later, early in the month of September, the
rebel sergeants who called the roll visited the stockade,
and each addressing his squad, stated that a general exchange
had been agreed upon. They said that United States vessels
wese then at Savannah waiting for the prisoners, and that
twenty thousand men would at once be sent to that place, ten
detachments to leave the following morning. As stated, the
first detachment left in the morning, but as my hundred was
not included, I had to wait a few days. I took my station the "
next morning near the gate, and soon the column that was
ordered out began to move. I never saw men so rejoiced as
they were. Some could hardly walk, others had to hobble
along with the assistance of a stick, but all seemed cheerful,
and you could hear from all sides, " We will soon be in God's
country." The long column soon passed out of the gate. I
walked to the top of the hill, where I could see them move off
towards the station where the cars were waiting for them. As

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 71
soon as they were gone, I approached the guard and had a
little conversation with him. ' He said every man would be
taken out of the pen as fast as they could furnish transporta
tion. The well ones would go first, then the siok. I went
back to my quarters and told Charlie Weibel what I had seen
and what the guard had told me. It so elated him that he sat
up for awhile, but as soon as the excitement began to wear off
he seemed worse. I talked to him, and said to him I did not
have any doubt but that we would all be removed in a few
days. He said, " I am not strong enough to stand the trip."
We told him. it was not so far to Savannah, and the rebels said
they were going to make different arrangements for the sick,
and as soon as we got to our boats we would be taken care of.
He said, " I will try and keep up." In a day or two the guards
came back and said, " You ought to have heard your fellows
holler when they first saw your old flag." This kind of news
put us all on tiptoe of excitement again, and another squad
was ordered out. By this time it began to thin out the pris
oners so that one could move around with a little ease. In a
few days the guards were back again. This time the hundred
to which I belonged was included. We were ordered on the
south side of the branch and a guard was put between us and
the branch. This was done to keep out "flankers." We went
over there in the evening. I was now compelled to leave
Weibel for the first time since our imprisonment. Before I left
him I took my blanket and fixed him as good a tent as I could,
supplied him with water, and there was a young man from
Ohio who stayed close to us. We had become acquainted. He
said he would draw his rations for him and keep him supplied
with water as long as his hundred remained in the stockade.
We remained on the south side all night. The next morning
we did not go out. Ten o'clock came and no orders to leave, so
I obtained permission to go back and see my comrade. I

72 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
found him very much depressed. He said he felt that he could
never make the trip. By talking with him for awhile he
revived up. I had to go back to the squad, and about 3 o'clock
in the afternoon the young man from Ohio came over and said
Weibel wanted to see me. I went as quick as I could. I found
him much worse. He said to me, " Long, I can't stand this
any longer. I am sure I cannot live through another
night. I have here some letters, memoranda book, and gold
rings. Tako them, and if you ever get home take them to my
sisters at Indianapolis and tell them where I died. The letters
are written in German. They will forward them to their des
tination." I said, " Charlie, I think you will soon bo better;
cheer up ; I heard an officer say that the next to go would be
the sick, and I am sure you will be able to go.'' By talking to
him for a short time he cheered up, and I handed him his
goods back. I remained with him until near dark, when I
reported back to my hundred. The next morning I went back
to see him and found him very bad. I remained awhile and
got him some breakfast. He ate a little. I brought him some
fresh water, when I was again ordered to my hundred, but for
some reason we did not go out. About two o'clock tho young
man from Ohio came over and said that Charlie wanted to see
me. I hurried over there as quick as I could. When I ap
proached him, he handed me his traps and said: "Do with
them as I told you yesterday." I said, " Do you not feel any
better?" "No," said he, " I want to die and bo out of this
misery. Do not talk to mo to cheer me up, for I cannot live
any longer in this misery." I made several attempts to talk to
him, when he would say, " Don't, I will soon be out of this
misery." Four or five of the boys that I was acquainted with
came up, and we sat on the ground close by him. All at once
he turned over, and I went to him and found that he did
not breathe. Ho was dead. We straightened him out,

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 73
removed the blanket, tied his hands across his breast, tied his
big toes together, and I wrote his name, Company, Regiment
and State, date of death, on a little slip of paper and pinned it
on his breast, after which we carried him out. I was now
alone as far as any of my Regiment wore concerned. We had
boon so scattered that now we were all gone. While I felt tho
deepest sorrow for poor Weibel, I was truly glad that he was out
of his misery, as his imprisonment had been terrible. Wounded
at the start, then the diarrhea, and then rheumatism, he had
not been able to walk for weeks, but was compelled to lay on
tho bare ground day after day, and night after night.
About sunset we were ordered out, and off wo go, as wc
suppose, to God's country. After we had embarked, the train
moved slowly along at a rate of speed not exceeding eight
miles an hour, and when we recollected that tho reported dis
tance to Savannah was 240 miles, it seemed as if wo should
never reach our destination. Macon was the only town of
commercial importance along the line. Its population at that
time was about five thousand. At regular distances along tho
line of the road would be seen an open shed which served as a
station. The country through which wo passed consisted
principally of pine barrens, and for miles and miles there was
no sign of habitation. The inhabitants — such as we saw —
were of the class known as " low-downers." They were lazy,
ignorant and stupid, dull-eyed and open-mouthed, lank and
lean, and had evidently never made the acquaintance of a
barber or hair-dresser. We looked upon them and their pov
erty-stricken land with undisguised contempt, remembering
the culture, intelligence and comforts of the sturdy yeomanry
of our Northern homes.
The morning of the second day after our departure from
Andersonville wo reached the city of Savannah. Contrary to
our expectation, wo found it almost a deserted village. The

74 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
unbroken stillness, so different from what we expected on
entering the metropolis of Georgia, and a city that was an
important point 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 still
ness of Savannah. Finally some boys came close to us,
and we opened up a conversation. " Say, boys, are our ships
down in the bay yet?" "I don't know." "Ain't they going
to exchange us here ? " " Don't know.'' " Well, what are they
going to do with us, any way?" " They have got some of uns
around by the old jail." " What, are there any prisoners here
now? " "Yes, around by the old jail there is a- place fixed for
uns all." How our hearts sank within us. The truth flashed
across our minds that we had been deceived, and for a purpose.
We soon learned that there had not been any prisoners
exchanged, and that there had been no exchange agreed upon.
They had lied to us for the purpose of allaying our fears and
preventing our trying to make our escape while being trans
ferred from Andersonville to Savannah. By this means they
could do with many guards less than it would have required if
we had known we were going to another prison. So you can
see how well they succeeded in deceiving us. Soon the guard
formed into lines, one on either side of the street. We were
ordered off the cars, formed between the guards, and after a
short march through the city we came out to an old jail,
where we saw a high board fence erected enclosing a large
tract of ground adjoining the old jail. We soon came to the gate,
where we were counted off into hundreds, names taken, and
then turned into the pen, where we met our old comrades who
had left Andersonville some twenty days before. Among them
were some of the 5th Indiana Cavalry. I soon found the 5th
boys, and among them my old friend, Bob Fisher, who at this

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 75
time is a doctor, and lives somewhere in Kansas. Bob was not
long in telling me how they had been deceived. He was in
the first squad that left Andersonville. I said, "Bob, what do
you think about exchange now?" " Oh," said he, "it is all
right. We will soon be exchanged. There was a little
difficulty arose between the rebels and our folks," said he, " in
regard to our boats coming up the Savannah river, and that
has delayed the exchange for a few days. We will soon be out
of here. You see this is not near so strong a place as Ander
sonville, and if they did not intend to exchange us why did
they go to the trouble to send us here? " I said, "I hope you
are right, but I don't believe a word the cusses say in regard
to exchange, for I know they have lied to us this time. They
said that they saw you go on our boats, and said, 'you ought
to have heard your fellows holler when they saw your old flag.'
Now you see that is a lie, and if they will lie one time they will
another when it suits their purpose and they can accomplish
anything by so doing." Bob said, "What do you think?"
"Well," I said, "I think they have got a little scared and have
moved us to keep us from falling into Sherman's hands. You
see Atlanta is ours, and how long it will be before Sherman
gets down here no one knows. I think they were more afraid
of that than anything else." "Why, don't you think we are
going to be exchanged?" " Not a bit of it; at least, not now."
As I was entirely alone now, as far as any of my Regi
ment were concerned, and there was no room with Fisher for
an extra man, I began to look around for some place to stop,
which I could call my own. _ At last I met two men from Ohio.
They had not been prisoners long. They lived in Cincinnati,
and had been captured in the Shenandoah Valley. They had
each a blanket, and I had one, and so we went together and
fixed up a place to stay. I soon found them to be gentlemen
in every particular, and very kind. Their names were Khalor

76 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
and Ellis. Khalor was well educated and well posted in
regard to the war. He would set for hours and tell us his
views as to the final outcome of the war. Ho had no faith in
an exchange. He had kept himself posted before his capture,
and said that there was not the least prospect -for exchange,
nor never would be, unless the rebels would exchange colored
troops tho same as other soldiers. This, he said, our govern
ment was lawfully bound to do, and could make no other
arrangement that would be honorable or just. The weather
was fine, it being the 1st of October. There was not so many
men here as at Andersonville. After we got fixed up wo
thought, after all, this is a much better place than Anderson
ville. The guards treated us much better ; in fact they were
gentlemen by the side of those brats we had left. The guards
hero were marines enlisted for the Southern navy. As Uncle
Sam had blockaded all the ports, the South had but little use
for marines, and they refused to take the field. Many of them
had belonged to the U. S. Army before the breaking out of the
rebellion, and didn't seem to care whether the South gained
her independence or not. We felt relief to know that we
were not to be ruled over by that villain, Wirz. There was a
young man in command of the camp. He had been at Ander
sonville a short time. His name was Davis — a lieutenant in
the rebel army. His home was in Baltimore. He had taken
an active part in the mob which assailed the old Sixth Massa
chusetts Regiment when they were on their way to Washing
ton. As usual such men as would engage in a mob did not
liko the idea of meeting the enemy face to face on equal terms,
and being wealthy, he got the position of commanding the
camp at Savannah. He was a very foul-mouthed fellow.
Would make terrible threats of what he would do if his
" ordahs " were not obeyed. He was one of those fellows that
could swear by note and never miss a bar or skip a quarter
note.

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 77
Our rations were much better here than they had been at
Andersonville. The meal was ground finer and was sifted,
which was much more palatable, and wo got a little salt every
few days. Our ration of meat was larger and of a better
grade. We soon began to be glad that we had been transferred
to this place. Our ration of wood was limited and required a
good deal of economy to make it do our cooking. There were
no new prisoners coming in and we soon began to be anxious
to know what was going on outside. When the first prisoners
arrived at Savannah they were put inside of the enclosure.
The boards did not go down into the ground, but rested on the
sod. The prison was located on a piece of commons, which
was sodded over, and the soil being sandy it was but a few
minutes work to dig under the fence and get outside. As there
was no dead-line established, the men were allowed to crowd
up to the fence. Many of them took advantage of this oppor
tunity and dug out. There were several hundred got out the
first night. When morning came, look anywhere along the
fence and you could see holes where the Yank's had dug out.
The alarm was given and men and dogs started out after the
fugitives. By night, all or nearly all, were back in the pen, as
all the bridges were guarded and all boats broken up. It was
simply impossible to escape. The boats had been broken no to
keep their men from going out to our fleet. When the last
squad was brought in Davis said ho would stop that "d — n
business," so he established a guard line about twelve feet from
the fence and issued orders to the guards to shoot any prisoner
who came inside of the dead-line. This did but little good, as
the sod was very stiff, and underneath the sand was very loose,
it only required a little more time to tunnel out, three or four
hours being sufficient to complete a tunnel. The next morn
ing several tunnels were discovered and some fifty or a hun
dred men had passed out during the night. This made Davis

78 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
very mad. He said, " I will stop this business." There was a
great revolution going on in his dull brain. At last Davis hit
upon the plan to find out if any tunnels had been commenced
during the night. Every morning he would come in with a
lot of guards and a cart with a mule attached to it, the cart
loaded with stone. They would go on the inside of the dead
line and when the wheels of the cart crossed a tunnel they
would break the sod and the tunnel would be exposed. Davis
was wonderfully elated over his plan. He said, " I guess I am
a match for the d — n Yank's." He supposed that it would take
two or three nights to dig a tunnel with the implements at
hand, while three or four hours was all a brisk Yankee wanted.
So the next morning there were a lot of men out. Davis came
in and said, " You fellows beat the devil." " Oh yes," said one
of the boys, " I guess that is about the size of it, for we have
been beating the rebels of late badly and we think they are
worse than the devil." Davis seemed terribly excited and
said, "I can fix you. I will let you know that I can keep you
in this prison and I will keep you there." He went out and in
a short time we saw a large gang of negroes at work digging
a ditch around the outside of the fence. This ditch was dug
about twelve feet wide and five feet deep. Davis had this
filled with water from the city water works and kept it full all
the time. This ended the tunneling. There was no use to try
that any more.
When we first arrived at Savannah great numbers of her
citizens came out to the prison or stockade, to see us, and would
crowd up close to us, as the stockade was not entirely
finished. When we first arrived there was only a guard line
to keep the citizens and prisoners apart, and as they seemed
anxious to talk and the prisoners equally as anxious, they
would be continually crowding up to them. One day one of
the guards saw a young man standing in the crowd of pris-

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 79
oners whom he thought was a citizen from his dress, and
ordered him out. The young man walked out and sauntered
away and endeavored to make his escape, and got within
twenty miles of Sherman's lines when he was recaptured and
returned to Savannah. .." When he was brought back to the
stockade Davis was standing near the gate. He looked sternly
at him and at his rebel garments, and muttering, " By God, I'll
stop this," he caught the coat by the tail, tore it to the collar,
and took it and his hat away from him. The name ofthe
young man was Frank Beverstock. In a few weeks Bever-
stock was included in an exchange, and was sent to his home
at Newark, Ohio, on a furlough. While on the cars, on his
road home, I think, Beverstock met and recognized Davis, who
had been sent out of the Confederacy to Canada with dis
patches for Southern emissaries then harassing the Northern
borders from the Dominion. Davis had made an effort to dis
guise himself, but could not conceal his identity from the
young man, who, with the assistance of some comrades, placed
him under arrest, and delivered him to the authorities at Camp
Chase, near Columbus, Ohio. A court martial afterwards tried
Davis as a spy, and he was found guilty and sentenced to be
hanged. When the trial was over, Beverstock stepped up to
Davis, and reminding him of the incident at the prison gate.
remarked, " I believe, Davis, we are even on that coat now."
Davis was to have been executed at Johnson Island, but through
family connection with border State Unionists, his sentence
was commuted to imprisonment during the war. He was
taken to Fort Delaware for confinement and died soon after.
So ended the life of a foul-mouthed tyrant and traitor whose
name, with that of Wirz, ought only to be remembered with
infamy.

CHAPTER IX.

Efforts of Confederates to Secure Mechanics From Among
the Prisoners — Flanking Into a Sick Man's Place —
Deceived Again — Transferred to Millen — Tunneling
Again on an Extensive Scale Only to Meet With
Another Disastrous Failure.
/ I \ HE weather continued fine, with but little news to break
J- the monotony of prison life. No new prisoners came, in,
and we had littlo opportunity of hearing from our armies. We
had about made up our minds that we would have to stay
here through tho winter, when one day a rebel colonel came in
and posted up notices that the Confederate Government
wanted all the blacksmiths they could get, and if any of the
Yankee prisoners would go out and work for them they wOuld
give them a parole of honor, take them out and would pay
them in Confederate money or greenbacks. They wanted
blacksmiths, machinists, shoemakers and a few carpenters.
The notice stated that the colonel would visit the prison from
day to day and take out such as chose to go. As winter was
just hero and my clothing was very thin, I could not see how
I was to pull through the winter. So Kahlor went down and
saw the colonel, as Ellis and myself were blacksmiths. We
agreed that if they would take all three of us out, we would
go out on parole, and by so doing we might meet an opportu-

>>?3 a
o
s

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 83
nity to make our escape. At any rate it could make matters
no worse than they were. When Kahlor returned he said he
had made the arrangements and we were to go out the next
day. Several of our friends found out that we were going out
and came over to our tent. Some wanted us to do all we could
to get them places, while others said, " It is all wrong," and
whenever we got exchanged we would be punished for work
ing for the enemy. I almost backed out, as I did not like to
work for my enemies. Kahlor reasoned with us, and said he
did not believe that our government would punish us at all,
and said he : " If we have to remain here all winter without
shelter or clothing the most of us will be dead by spring," and
ho thought tho best thing to do was to go out, as he had made
arrangements. So we decided to go. About 3 o'clock in the
afternoon my old friend, Bob Fisher, came up to our tent much
excited. Said he : " I told you we would soon be exchanged.
Do you see that squad of rebel officers down there? Well,
they just came in and ordered from one to ten detachments to
get ready to leave at 6 o'clock this evening and I want you to
take the place of a sick man. in my hundred and go out with
mo. I know we will soon be at home." By this time the
entire camp was in a blaze of excitement. I said, " All right,
I will go." Turning to Kahlor and Ellis I said : "It will not
be long till you will follow." " Wo hope so," said they, " yet
we have our doubts." "Oh, I guess we are all right this time."
I took up my blanket and cup, which was all of my outfit at
this time, and bidding my friends good bye, saying to Kahlor :
"Tell that Irish Colonel to mend his own dilapidated ma
chinery, as wc propose, to work for Uncle Sam in preference."
I went with "Fisher to the sergeant of his hundred and
assumed tho name of the sick man. The sergeant said to me,
" I will do tho best for you I can, but if you get in trouble do
not blame me." " All right," said I. Six o'clock soon arrived,

84 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
and the word was given to fall in, and I took my place in lifie\
We were marched outside ofthe gate amidst the cheers of the
entire camp. We could hear patriotic songs all over the camp
as we marched to the gate. When outside of the gate we were
formed in line, and Davis marched up and down the line,
swearing that if there was a man who had flanked out he
Would shoot him. As soon as it was known, I began to wish I
Was back inside ofthe stockade, but all I could do was to stand
still and await the result ofthe roll call, which was commenced
in a short time by a rebel sergeant, who, like all the sergeants
who had been over us, were very poor hands to call names.
As they approached near me I almost sank down, but was close
to the sergeant, who said, " Be quiet." When the sergeant
called out the man's name, I answered in an undertone.
Imagine my relief when he and Davis passed on. I felt that
I had passed a terrible ordeal, for I believe Davis would have
put his threat into execution at that time. We were told to
remain here for awhile, and about eight o'clock the order Was
given to move. So here we go with high hopes Of soon beiflg
in God's country.
We soon arrived at the Cars and were literally packed into
them. There was no room to lay down or hardly sit doWfi.
After considerable confusion with the guard, the old, squeaky
cars began to move. We could not tell in what direction We
were going, but supposed we were going to Charleston and the
rebels encouraged us in this belief. They said there had been
some difficulty in allowing our fleet to pass the fortifications Of
Savannah and hence it Was the cause of our having to go t<5
Charleston for exchange. After pounding along all night,
morning came, and we were not long in discovering that the
country through which we were traveling was the same we
had covered in coming to Savannah. It soon became painfully
SVident that we were returning to Andersonville. When we

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 85
reached the junction at Millen, we haulted at the "Y" and
waited the orders of the officers with intense anxiety. Tho
left hand road was the route to Andersonville, the right hand
road led to Charleston or Richmond. The left hand road meant
a return to our wretchedness. The right hand road hinted a
hope of speedy exchange. Our engine took the right hand
track, but after running about five miles, stopped in the middle
of a heavy pine forest. We were ordered out of the cars, and
marching a few rods, came in sight of another of those hateful
stockades, similar to that at Andersonville, with this exception,
the logs in the stockade at Andersonvillo were hewed, at Camp
Lawton they were in their rough state. We were marched up
to the gate of the prison. Oh ! how our hearts sank within us
at the idea of again being confined inside of those gloomy
walls. There were a lot of rebel sergeants at the gate who pro
ceeded to take our names, Regiment, Company and State.
This was a tedious operation, as no rebel was over an expert at
writing names, and especially Yankee names. We were
formed into hundreds. Over each hundred a sergeant was
appointed, and ten hundreds formed a division over which a
sergeant was appointed. It took until dark to get the pris
oners arranged, when the gates opened, and we were marched
inside. For the "first and only time in my prison life, we had
plenty of fuel. There was an abundance here, the refuse of
the stockade. The night was very chilly and we soon had
regular log-heaps on fire. After we had been inside for about
one hour we received about one-half pint of corn meal. This
was our rations for the night. We soon found some water,
and making our meal into mush, talked over the situation and
how we had been fooled, or how the rebels had lied to us.
After we had finished our supper I said to Fisher, " what do
you think of exchange now?" " Oh," said he, " these rebels are

86 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
the worst liars I ever saw." He said, "what do you think? "
I said, " I think that whenever a man gets mtan enough to be
a rebel he is mean enough to do anything that is dishonorable."
" Well," said he, " I guess that is about the size of it. I do not
believe I can ever put any confidence in them any more, for
this is twice they have fooled me." The ground was covered
over with a thick coat of wire-grass which had formed a
regular sod. We selected a place, built a large fire and lay
down for the night to dream of home and the good things in
God's country. When morning came we got up and took
a general survey of the inside of the stockade. It was, in
every respect, similar to that of Andersonville. The guards
were "mounted in little perches at the top of the stockade, just
the same, and they called out the time of night the same. It
only differed in this respect. Whereas, Andersonville was
built around a swamp and was surrounded by swamps, Millen
was built on good dry ground, with a large clear stream run
ning through it, the banks of which were firm and solid and
the stream afforded plenty of good, clear water for all pur
poses. The guards were of a different class from those brats
at Andersonville. Here they were mostly old men from fifty
to sixty years of age, natives of Georgia. They did not show
a disposition to shoot one at a pretended violation of the
prison rules, but would give notice that you were trespassing
and warn you away. After making the rounds of the prison,
we came to the gate, where we learned that one Capt. Bows,
was in command ofthe "camp" as the rebels call it. (They
never say stockade or prison, but always say camp.) .Capt.
Bows had the appearance of being a man of about 45 years of
age,' rather good looking, and seemed rather pleasant. He was
so much different from Wirz or Davis that we soon began to
be glad that we were under him in preference to either of the
others. After we received our rations for the day we were

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 87
ordered on the south side of the stream where places were
assigned for each hundred. We began to fix up for house
keeping. We lost no time as it was necessary to use the
material while it lasted. Fisher and two others of the 5th
cavalry and myself composed our mess. We commenced at
once to fix up so as to make ourselves as comfortable as possi
ble. We dug out a place about eight feet square and one and a
half feet deep. By this means we could keep warmer than if
we built our tent on top of the ground. We gathered up
a good quantity of pine leaves, placing them in the bottom of
our tent. This formed our bed and was much better than any
we had had before. We then took some sticks, sticking one
end in the ground near the side of the pit, coming together
over the center, same as a rafter on a building, tying the ends
together. Then we took other sticks and laying them on these
they answered as lath or sheeting. Now we were ready to put
on the roof. We gathered up the long leafed pine and
thatched it over and closed up the ends in the same way.
When completed it made a warm place to stay in. Our roof
turned the rain very well. In this place we spent most of our
time while at Millen. Our rations were pretty near the same
as at other prisons, with this exception, the meal was ground
much finer and was bolted, which made it much more palata
ble. In a few days we were all fixed up and fell into the
regular routine of prison life. Every few days there would be
a train load of prisoners arrive from Savannah. In about ten
or twelve days after our arrival at Millen, I was going to the
branch, when I saw Kahlor, who had just come in. He said
after we had left they concluded not to go out, thinking that
perhaps there was an exchange. He said the Irish Colonel was
very much out of humor when he could not get any one to go
out. Kahlor said, "I now wish we had went out. We would
have had much better chances to escape than we can have

88 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
here." Said he, "if we had gone out, we could have got the
papers and learned where our armies were and -kept posted all
the time, but here we can get no news unless it is from some
new prisoners, and there are not many coming in now." Said
he, "I intend to try and make my escape the first oppor
tunity." I said to him, " I know of a tunnel that is in process
of construction, and I am interested in it. I will let you know
when it is done, so you can go out with us." He said, " I will
work in it and help to complete it." I said, " I can not take
you there now, as the number that can be used is full and we
are on our honors not to let any one know where it is until it
is completed, when those who dug it will go out first, but
before going, we have the privilege of telling our friends how
to find it. It will not be many days before it is completed, as
there are one hundred men interested in it, and they work
day and night. It is the largest tunnel that has yet been dug,
and we feel confident that some one will make their escape
and get to our lines. The arrangements are that but two men
are to go together and no two are to go in the same direction.
Some are to go south, others east, others west, while the
majority are to go north or northeast. By dividing up, the
guards would be thrown off the trail." He seemed much
elated over the prospect of getting outside of the stockade.
I said, " I will keep you posted from day to day, so you can be
ready." About one week after this the word was given out
that the next night the tunnel would be completed, and we
notified our friends. We had saved up all the meal we could
and had baked it for the purpose of having some rations to
take with us. It had been raining all day and was raining
very hard at dark. The order was to cut the hole out. There
were some fifty men in the tunnel, with twice that many ready
to go in as soon as the way was cleared. Imagine our surprise
when we went to cut the hole out, we had only got to the

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 89
stockade, coming up by the logs on the inside. When this was
learned it was several minutes before we could get the men
out of the tunnel. Some almost smothered owing to its
crowded condition. When the tunnel was cleared they com
menced, work again. It would take several clays to complete
it, as it would have to be dug at least twenty feet further, but
at it we went with a will, hoping to complete it before it was
found out. The leader gave orders that we should all return
to our quarters and remain there until called for. This we did
and when tho time came we responded to a man.
As soon as it was learned what tho trouble was there was
a detail formed to prosecute the tunnel with all possible speed.
By commencing back a little from the stockade and running
tho tunnel on an incline we could get under it. There were as
many men placed in the tunnel as could be used. Each one
would remove the dirt as far back as he could, when another
one would receive it and conduct it in the same way until it
reached the place of beginning. Here the dirt was left until
night, when it was carried out in pieces of old blankets or any
thing that would answer the purpose. The dirt was put in
any little depressions that could be found and covered over
with top soil, so as not to attract tho attention of the guard.
The rain continued to fall at times in regular torrents, but the
work went on, as it was thought if we could get out while it
was raining we would have a better chance to escape as the
dogs could not follow us so easily. The second night it was
thought that we were far enough outside to cut out. About
eleven o'clock the word was given to cut the hole out. The
man detailed to do it found out that the tunnel had been run
to much on an incline and was too deep for him to reach the
top of the ground. The tunnel was cleared and it was found
that there was not a man in the squad who could reach the"
surface. So one of the boys brought up a corporal from some

90 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
Michigan regiment who was over six feet high. He was taken
into the secret and asked if he would try and cut out. He said
he would, and all parties were now notified that the tunnel Was
completed and ready. So in goes the corporal and soon had a
hole cut through. By working the hole a little slanting he
was able to gep his head outside, while he took a good look at
the surroundings. After he had rested a bit he made the
attempt to raise himself on top of the ground. As he did this
the entire ground gave way and fell in, fastening him as
though he was in a vise. As the dirt fell in it made considera
ble noise, so that the guard heard it, but could not see any one.
It was just time to relieve the guard and as they came up the
sentinel said to the sergeant that he believed the Yankees were
digging out. The sergeant laughed at him and said, " I guess
you are a little scared." As soon as the sentinel was relieved
he went to the place where he heard the noise and there he
found the corporal, who could not get out of the tunnel or
back into camp. The rebels raised the alarm and they soon
released the Yankee, building up a big fire at the place and
putting a stop at any further attempts to escape. It was some
time before the tunnel could be cleared, and you can imagine
our disappointment, after having worked so long and hard, and
not one man had made his escape. The next morning a rebel
officer came inside with a lot of negroes, and broke in the tun
nel its whole length, filling up the ditch with stone. I walked
down there the next morning and heard the rebel officer say
to some rebel sergeants who had been calling the roll, that he
was "getting pretty d — m tired of this kind of business."

CHAPTER X.

Preparing for a Winter's Residence — An Exciting Elec
tion in the "Precinct of Millen"— Disgust of Rebel
Officers — Tricking the Rebels as to Our Nativity —
A Base Proposition Bravely Spurned — Wanton Plun
der of the Camp and Robbery of Prisoners — A Fiery
Speech — A Scene of Awful Excitement — Almost a
Massacre.

)S the weather was getting pretty cool and our clothes
-were very thin, a great many fell sick from the effects of
the continued cold rain. After the great disappointment nar
rated in the last chapter, my squad about concluded that there
was no use in trying to escape, and We began to fix up our
shanty the best we could, as it looked as though we would
have to remain the guests of Captain Bows all winter. There
was nothing to create any excitement for several days, until
just before the Presidential election of 1864. Both the rebels
and the prisoners were greatly interested in that event. The
re-election of Lincoln meant a continuation of the war to a
successful conclusion on the part of the United States. The
election of McClellan meant a possible compromise, and a
probable cessation of hostilities. - It was represented to the
rebel officials by a few of the raiders who had accompanied us
from Andersonville, and who lost no opportunity to ingratiate

92 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
themselves into their favor, that the prisoners were so hostile
to tho administration of Lincoln for not acceding to any terms
offered by tho rebels for an exchange, that if a vote could be
taken an overwhelming majority would be cast for McClellan.
Tho idea seemed to please the rebels, who probably thought
such a result might be used in the North for the purpose of
political capital, and be a benefit to the rebel cause. Accord
ingly, an order was issued for an election in the prison tho
same day of the Presidential election. The prisoners selected
their own judges of election, and the votes were deposited in
ballot boxes supplied for that purpose by Captain Bows. The
contest was hot, although one-sided. A large number of rebel
officers, including the commandant, came in during the day to
see how the voting was going on. If they had any confidence
in the raider crowd up to that time it must have been dispelled
when they watched the voting. Instead of all of us voting for
McClellan, the polls were surrounded with ticket peddlers,
shouting, " Vote the Lincoln ticket," " Come right this way and
get your Union, unconditional surrender, Abraham Lincoln
tickets," "Don't gratify a d — d rebel anywhere, but vote to
whip them and make peace with them after they have laid
down their arms," " Don't vote for McClellan, the candidate of
the Northern copperheads," etc. The rebel officers remained
in the stockade but a short time, and their disappointment
could plainly be seen. When they strutted out it was amid
the jeers of the prisoners, and the boys were as happy as if
they had won a battle. The result of the vote was over seven
thousand for Lincoln and but three or four hundred for
McClellan. I was told an election was held the same day at
Florence, with a similar result. If the rebels ever sent any
report North of the " Precinct of Millen," I am not advised
of it. When the excitement of the election had died down, and

Twelve Months in Andersonville. S3
after several days of Weary monotony, 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. No reason was
given for the order, but by common consent it was agreed that
it meant a partial exchange of prisoners and the rebels were
going to still further punish the men born in the North by dis
criminating against them, and sending home a class of > men
Who would be of least service to the Government. Acting on
this suggestion, a great majority of the prisoners proceeded to
have themselves enrolled as foreigners. I was classed as a
German, but from my appearance and dress might equally as
Well have claimed nativity near the sources of the river Nile.
When the rolls were finished and sent out, I am told that they
did not show the names of five hundred native Americans in
the prison. If the rebels didn't make up their minds that the
battles for the Union were being fought by foreign mercen
aries, it was no fault of ours, for the rolls mentioned England,
Ireland, France, Germany, and the names of almost every
habitable country on the globe, as the place of our "bOrnin."
The day following the completion of the rolls, an Order
came for all those whose names appeared thereon to "fall in."
We did so almost as one man. We were on hands by hundreds
and by thousands, and the few " native Americans " left were
hardly large enough in number to have organized a lodge of
"know-nothings." We were marched outside the stockade and
massed around a stump on which a rebel officer was standing
for the purpose of making a speech to us. When all had
marched out and silence had been restored, the officer began.
He said the Federal Government had abandoned us, refusing
all offers of exchange upon the part of the Confederacy ; that
Stanton and Halleck had both declared they had no use for the
prisoners. Continuing, the officer Congratulated the men Oil
their loyalty to the cause they had espoused, and arraigned the

94 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
Government for its inhumanity in throwing them to one side,
leaving them to starve and die. " The Confederacy," said the
speaker, " is certain to secure its independence. It is only a
question of a few short months. You have already endured all
your Government has a right to demand of you. If you will
now join with us, become our allies until the close of the war,
you will receive the same rewards as other Confederate sol
diers. You will be taken from tho prison, clothed and fed, and
when peace crowns our efforts, given a warrant for a good
farm, a large bounty,  "
At this point the sergeant of one of the Divisions, a man
with stentorian lungs, sprang out of the ranks and shouted,
"Attention, First Division!" The command was repeated
down the line by tho sergeants of the other Divisions. " First
Division, about face," commanded the stout-voiced sergeant.
Tho same order followed to tho other Divisions. "First Divi
sion, forward, march," came next, and in an instant each man
in all tho thousands of prisoners turned on his heel and away
tho boys marched to the stockade, leaving the crest-fallen officer
by himself on the stump.
The rebels were wild in their fury at the way their baso
proposition had been received, and we were hardly in the
enclosure before several companies of the guards came in with
loaded guns and fixed bayonets. We were driven from one
point to another of the stockade, and tho guard, under pretext
of searching our quarters for contraband articles, such as
spades, axes, etc., tore down our huts, stole our blankets, and
proceeded to destroy and plunder us indiscriminately. It was
a sight to provoke us to the last extremity. Robbed of tho
littlo wo had, in pure wantonness, because wo refused to surren
der out principles, our indignation made us almost desperate.
Among the prisoners was a young man named Lloyd, a mem
ber of tho 61st Ohio. Ho was illiterate, but full of patriotism
and common sense. Mounting a stump he began a fiery ad-

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 95
dress. He denounced the statement that the Government had
deserted us as an infamous rebel lie, and predicted that before
the spring came the "hell-born Confederacy and all the lousy
moss-backs who support it, will be so deep in hell that nothing
but a search warrant from the throne of the great God of tho
Universe can discover it. Tho stars and stripes will wave in
triumph over this whole Nation as sure as God reigns and
judges in Israel." The burning words from the lips of the
speaker aroused us to tho highest pitch, and we began cheer
ing tremendously. A rebel officer came running up and
demanded of one ofthe guards that ho should " shoot tho Yan
kee son  ." Before the order could be put into effect
Lloyd was jerked from his position and his life saved.
Then ensued a scene that beggars description. Shouts
were made to charge on the guards ; take their guns and make
an assault on the gates of the stockade. We quickly formed in
line of battle, and the rebel officers hurried behind- tho lino of
guards. The guards were badly frightened, but held their
ground, their muskets leveled to receive our assault. Captain
Bows, from an elevation outside the prison, had discovered tho
condition of affairs, loaded and shotted his cannon and stood
ready to give the command to sweep the stockade with canister
and grape. The long roll was sounded, and for a moment it
looked as if tho massacre was to begin. Cooler heads among
the prisoners realized the desperate danger and lent them
selves to an effort to dissolve the line from its menacing atti:
tudo. Slowly the boys deserted their lino of battle and spread
over the prison grounds. The guards by an indirect march,
that they might keep their faces toward the prisoners, cau
tiously withdrew. The agony was over, and all drew a breath
of relief. Had a collision occurred the carnage must have been
dreadful. By evening all were engaged in an effort to fix up
their tents and huts, that we might again make ourselves as
comfortable as possible.

CHAPTER XI-

Trading a Composition Pen for Tobacco — A McClellan
Badge Worth its Weight in Gold — How the Sick
Were Neglected — Carting the Dead Away — Waiting
For the Clothes of Dead Men — Another Dreary
Railroad Ride — An Escape From a Moving Train —
Through Savannah to Blackshear, Ga.
) S the days and nights were very damp and chilly we had
made use of all the refuse that would answer for fuel
and now had to make details to go outside after wood. Every
time we went out after wood we would bring in some of the
long leaves of the pine to repair our hut with, which the rebels
had destroyed to a great extent. One of my squad tried to go
out on as many details as possible, in order to get material to
fix up our hut.
One cold, damp day I got out. As soon as I passed the
gate a man about 45 or 50 years of age stepped up to me
and said, " I will go with you." As we walked along towards
where we got wood he said to me, " Have you anything to
trade me for tobacco ? " I said, " I do not know as I have, as I
have traded all my buttons off and have nothing left but these
old rags, and they will soon be gone." He said, " I would like
to get something from tfie Yankees to send home to my
daughter. I promised her I would send her something when

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 97
I left home." I said, "How far do you live from here?" He
said, "I reckon it ain't more than 40 miles. I never was here
before. I never traveled around much before I was con
scripted. I always liked to stay at home, and it would please
my daughter to get a present." I examined my old rags to see
if I could find anything. At last I felt something in my vest
pocket. I got it out of its hiding place, and to my surprise it
was a composition pen, one of those that looked like gold. It
had worked through the pocket and was secreted between the
outside and the lining of the vest. I looked at it and found
the point badly bent, so much so that it was entirely worth
less. But it was bright and nice looking. I layed it in my
hand and said to him, "How would this suit you?" "What is
is it ? " he asked. I remarked that it was a gold pen. How his
eyes flashed. Said he, " It is just what I want ; my daughter
has always wanted one of them." I said "that I hated to part
with it, but as it seemed as though I never would have any
more use for it, at least while I was in the South, I would trade
it off if I could get a good trade." By this time we had got
near several pine tops that had fallen together and formed a
large body of brush. Said he, " let us go under the brush and
I will show you my tobacco." We entered the tangled mass of
brush and were soon concealed from the gaze of any other
guard. I said to him, " This pen is very valuable, srnce gold
brings such a high premium." " Well, I will give you a good
trade for it." He wore a long-tailed coat with pockets in the
fails which would hold something less than a peck each. He
commenced to disgorge, piling his tobacco on the ground, I
Still insisting it was not enough, when he would lay on another
twist. At last his supply was exhausted. I said, " Is that all
you have?" He answered, "It is all but a little which I want
to keep so that if any one asks me for a chew I can give him
one." I said, " there is not enough." " Well," said he, "take this
7

98 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
and let me have the pen, and I will be on duty again day after
to-morrow, and you come out and I will give you some more."
I said to him, " all right." We broke off some pine leaves, lay
ing them on my arm, then the tobacco, then some more leaves
and a little wood. We moved back to the gate : I went inside,
and when I arrived at the hut I was about played out. I threw
down my load, when the boys said, " Why did you not bring
more wood?" I said, "Open that bunch of leaves and you
will see." When the tobacco was displayed they asked, " How
did you get that?" I told them, but I never called for the
balance of the tobacco, nor do I know how the pen suited the
young lady.
This transaction opened up a new field for my mess for a
few days. We could trade the tobacco for meal, beans and
meat, and adding this extra to our rations did us a world of
good. At this time one of the mess had come into possession
of a medal which was composed of a yellowish substance
which resembled gold. Upon examination we thought we
could erase the letters that were on it and pass it for a $20.00
gold piece. So going to the creek we found a piece of sand
stone which wo took to our hut and began to rub the medal
with it. By this operation we erased the letters and by means
of pieces of old cloth we gave it a good polish. Taking it in
your fingers and holding it up it looked very much like a $20.00
gold piece. Myself and one of the other boys started out to
trade it off. We followed around the line of guards, but could
find no one that had enough stock in trade to strike a bargain
with, but we kept trying from day to day. The usual question
would be asked, "how much do you want for it?" We would
say, "five hundred dollars in Confederate money." They
would say, " we would like to have it, but we have not so much
money." We began to think we could not get a trade. We
knew that if we offered it much lower they would suspicion us

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 99
of some Yankee trick, so we held to our first price. Going
down the line one afternoon we accosted a young guard with,
" do you want to buy some gold? " He said, " yes, how much
have you? " We said $20.00, holding the piece up in the sun
shine. He said, "how much do you want for it?" We said,
"five hundred dollars in Confederate money." He answered,
" I have not got that much money, but my lieutenant has and I
know he will buy it. I will soon be relieved and will see him. I
will be here again in two hours, and if you will come then I
know you can sell it to him." We said, "all right, we will be
back at that time." We watched when the relief came on and
went back to the perch. Sure enough, there was the rebel
officer. As we came along we heard the sentinel say to the
officer, " there they are." When we came opposite the post we
halted, when the officer said to us, " are you the Yanks that
wanted to sell the $20.00 gold piece?" We answered we were,
holding the piece up. He said, "I have not got $500; can't I
trade you something else for part?" Wo said, " we will take
some meal, peas and sweet potatoes." He answered, " I will
give you a good big haversack full of each and $300 in Con
federate money." We told him we could not do that. He
said, " that is all I can get now, but if ypu want to trade I will
give you that now and the balance in a few days." We
said, "you must give us tho meal, peas and potatoes
as interest for waiting on you." Ho said, "all right. T
will be 'back here in about one hour." At the appointed
time he was back. "Now," he said, "I don't want to cheat
you, and I don't want you to cheat us. You tie that piece of
money in a cloth while we look at you, and tie the cloth to this
club fthrowing us a small club at the same time), then you
must hold it up all the time until I tell you to throw it over
the stockade. Here are the meal, peas and potatoes, (holding
them up so we could see,) and here is the money. I will put it

100 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
in this sack of meal. Now I will go down, and when I am
ready you throw the piece of gold over and this guard
will throw these sacks to you." "All right," we said. So
down he goes, and when the word was given my comrade
threw the piece over. We heard him say to the guard, "all
right, Johnnie, I have got the gold, throw the sacks over." Here
they come. We gathered them up and hurried to our hut as
fast as we could. Upon opening the sacks we found the fellow
had done as he said he would. That is now more than twenty
years ago, and I have never heard how he came out with his
gold. The Prison at Millen differed from all the other prisons
that I was at in this respect, that others had a hospital outside
of the regular stockade. This can be accounted for by there
not being so many at the prison as there were at other points.
There was some vacant ground inside of the stockade, and no
prisoners were allowed on the south side of the branch except
the sick. They were corralled in the southeast corner. We
could go over and see the sick at any time we chose, but could
not build our huts there. There were no tents or shelter of
any kind provided for their accommodation. They simply lay
on the bare, cold, damp ground. At night some of the well
men would go over and piling up the logs in heaps, fire them
so they would have fire all night. This was kept up as long as
there were any logs to pile up. After the cCld, rainy spell that
I spoke of in my last, the sick died very fast. They had
become greatly reduced and the cold nights were too much for
them. The thermometer would almost register at freezing
point. I do not know how many died here, as there was no record
kept of the dead. I cannot say in what condition they were
buried, as 1 was never at the burying ground. All I know
now about the dead is what I saw. I often went to the gate

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 101
and saw them hauling off the dead by wagon loads, without
giving any attention whatever to where they belonged or who
they were. As the weather was very chilly and our clothing
very thin, we did not know what to do, for winter was just
here. One day I was talking with some Kentucky prisoners
who were almost naked. They said that some of their squad
had been watching the sick and as soon as a man died, if he
had any clothes on they took them off. "In this way," they
said, "we have got much better clothes and we do not think
there is any wrong done any one, as the clothes can do the
dead no good, but can do us a sight of good." We talked the
matter over in my squad. My clothes were the nearest gone
of any of the squad. I needed a coat badly, as I only had on,
when captured, a blouse, and it was nearly gone. They said
they thought I had better go over and see if 1 couldn't get a
coat. As I had not been over to see the sick for several days,
I went over and took a look through their part of the camp. I
shall here relate what I saw, and no doubt many will say that
I have misrepresented the condition of the sick and dead, but,
God being my helper, it is the truth and nothing but the truth,
and every word can be substantiated by living witnesses.
As'soon as I crossed the branch and came to the part occu
pied by the sick, I could see what the cold rains had done for
the poor fellows. There were several hundred scattered over
a small space. Many were already dead, many more were
dying, others could not walk or stand, some were lying in the
mud unable to get out of it. This- was amongst the hardest
sights I saw while I was a prisoner. Those who were dead
were entirely naked, laying where they died, scattered over the
ground in every direction. I walked over the ground and took
a good look. When I went back to the hut the boys said to me
"What luck had you? " I told them what I had seen. " Oh,
well, we can't help it. If I were you I Would go over there

102 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
every day until I got a coat or any other garment." The sight
that I had witnessed seemed impossible for me to shake off.
When I lay down that night I could see the poor fellows claw
ing up great handfulls of dirt and loaves as they were in the
agonies of death, others begging for water, and still others
making complaint of how cold they were. I could see in my
imagination, those poor boys who were dead and had been
stripped of their clothing. They had become so reduced before
death that they were only skeletons. Their sunken eyes,
extended cheek bones, and regular claw fingers, they seemed
to haunt me for days, and to this day I can see them in my
imagination as plain as I could on that cold November day in
1864. I got up early the next morning and went over again.
I saw several men who were dying and there would be from
one to four men standing or sitting near by to strip him of his
clothing as soon as the breath left his body, and I have no
doubt but what many were stripped before they were dead. At
last I came to a man that I saw was dying. He had on pretty
good clothes. I thought now is my chance, so I sat down on a
stump near him as I saw he would be dead in a few minutes.
I was not there long until up came two more men when one of
them said, " Are you waiting for this man's clothes ? " • I said,
"That is what I am here for." "Well, that is our business, so
we will divide them as soon as he is dead. As you seem to
have tho oldest right which garment do you want ? " I said I
wanted the coat. "All right," he said, "We will take the rest."
I sat there a few minutes, and as it became lighter and I could
see the horrible sights I felt sick. Getting up I walked away
and returned to the hut. When the boys said, "Didn't you
have any luck this time," I said no. I related what I had seen,
and said to them, "If I freeze, all right, I will never take the
clothes from a dead man's body." " Well, what will you do ?
You can't live through the winter without clothes." I said "I

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 103
will do the best- I can, and when I turn up my toes you can
carry me out like the rest ofthe poor fellows."
There was no excuse for the rebels treating the sick in
this way, for we were in the midst of a pine forest, and any
number of the prisoners would have gladly prepared shelter
for the sick if they could have had the privilege to do so.
But such privilege was denied them. It was not down on the
plan of Jeff. Davis, John H. Winder and the rest of the rebels.
Their plan was to kill off as many as they could, and as fast as
they could. It is a well known fact and a matter of history,
that John H. Winder boastingly said that he was killing and
disabling more men than Lee was at the front. The prison at
Millen was located on land owned by General A. R. Lawton.
Lawton was educated by the U. S. and held the rank of Major
I think. He deserted the flag that he had sworn to protect
against all of its enemies and joined the so-called Confederacy.
The prison at this place was named in honor of this man and
he arose to the rank of Commissary General in the Confederate
army. Time began to wear very heavily on our hands. No new
prisoners came in and we could hear nothing from the outer
world. The weather had cleared up and was most delightful,
only a- little cool for those whose clothes were so thin that
they afforded scarcely any protection. There was nothing of
any exciting nature occurred until late in the month, when
one night about ,ten o'clock, the Rebel sergeants who called
the roll of the prisoners, came in and ordered the first and
second divisions to prepare to march at once, and the rest of
the camp to be ready to leave at a minutes notice. It was one
of the most cheerless nights I ever saw. The rain was pour
ing down in perfect torrents. There was a perfect confusion
in the camp. All sorts of rumors were rife. The rebels said
that the difficulty that had existed about our vessels coming

104 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
up the Savannah River to the city had at last been adjusted,
and we were going back there to be exchanged and there were
boats enough to take us all at once, and they were in a great
hurry to get us there. They said all would go. There would
be a special train for the sick as they intended to abandon this
stockade. After an enormous amount of swearing by the
Rebel officers and guards, we got outside of the gate and
marched to the railroad, but there were no cars there. The
officers seemed very impatient. It was near noon before we
got aboard of the cars. The rain continued to fall, at times
very hard. Many of the cars were flats. I was lucky in get
ting in a box car. Again our hopes were revived with the
thought that we should once more see the Stars and Stripes.
After we got aboard the cars we soon moved off. When
we came to the " Y " our train took the road to Savannah. The
car that I was in was filled with men from Ohio, Indiana, Illinois
and Michigan. I fell in conversation with a man from Ohio
who had been captured late in the summer campaign. I asked
him what he thought of our prospects of getting exchanged at
Savannah. He said, " I do not believe it. It is only another
rebel lie told to deceive us, and you will find it out." I said,
" What in the world do they mean by moving us from Millen
so soon after going to such expense as they have to build such
a stockade? " " Well," said he, " 1 think their plans have been
badly frustrated, and they are a little puzzled to know what to
do with us." I said, "What do you think is the cause of our
removal? " " I think," said he, " they are afraid of Sherman.
You see as far South as Sherman is, he can conduct a campaign
better in the winter than in the hot summer, and I believe he
has cut loose from Atlanta and is coming this way, and they
have to get us out of his line of march." I said, "Do you have
any idea that Sherman is able to force his way through the
heart of the Confederacy?" "I certainly do. You see Grant

/
Twelve Months in Andersonville. 105
is holding Lee at Petersburg so he cannot reinforce Johnson or
Hood. I understand that Hood has superceded Johnson, and
is in command of the Rebel army near Atlanta, and I heard
just before my capture that Hood was trying to flank Sherman
and had gone to Tennessee. ' So you see that Sherman has
nothing in his front but Joe Brown's Reserve Brats, who will
be no hindrance to him whatever, and I think Sherman will
strike for the coast, either at Savannah or Mobile. Should he
go to Savannah, we are right on his line of march. Should he
strike for Mobile, Andersonville would be too close to his lines
to be safe." I said, " if we are not to be exchanged where do
you think they intend to take us ? " "I do not know, nor do I
believe they know themselves, but we shall soon see." The
rain continued to fall in showers all day and part of the night.
Our train thumped and pounded along over the road as usual,
the axles fairly squeaking in the worn out boxes. I do not
think they had received any oil for weeks from the noise they
made. The Confederacy was getting hard up for materials to
operate a railroad. Toward evening the man from Ohio said
to me, " There are a lot of my regiment who have made up our
minds to try and make our escape to-night, and if you wish
would like to have you go with us." We talked the matter
over. He said, " If we can get off the train we are going back
North, and we think we will soon meet Sherman's army." I
said, " My shoes are so hard I cannot wear them, and could not
travel more than one night barefooted, and I fear it would only,
make my case worse." " Well, if you do not want to try it, I
want you to help us off the cars at the proper time." I said I
would do all in my power to help them. About 10 o'clock at
night he came to me and said, " I will now tell you our plan.
There are twelve or fifteen of us, and we have discovered that
we can open- the door on that side of the car (pointing to the
door). We want you and this man here to take your blanket

106 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
and hold it up in front of the door, while, one at a time, we go
behind it and drop to the ground. Your blanket will make a
perfect screen between us and the guard in the other door, so
that he will not be able to discover us as we drop to the
ground. We will lay perfectly"still until the train passes, then
we will get together and start back." The train was moving
along very slow and the rain came down in a brisk shower.
At last all the arrangements were completed. The leader was
to go first. I took hold of one corner of the blanket and the
other man took the other, holding it up before the door. It
made a perfect screen. The leader passed behind it and
pushed the door open. Then he took another man behind the
screen, when he took hold of the leader's hands and lowered
him to the ground. As there was no alarm given the next
man was dropped ; in this way we let fifteen off, and the most
of them got to Sherman's army. In a very few days, by some
cause they became separated and a few were recaptured and
returned in a week or so. I learned the full details from them
when they returned.
At last morning came, and at the dawn we approached
Savannah, pulling in on the same street as when we were first
taken there. The train halted. We were ordered off the cars.
There were dead men in almost every car. The poor fellows
had received an exchange over which Jeff Davis, John H.
Winder and the rest of the rebel curses had no control.
Details were soon ordered to carry the dead from the cars to a
place designated for them. They were laid in a row, when
soon some negroes came with carts and took them off and sunk
them in a sand bank. No record of their names, regiment or
the State to which they belonged, was made. They were sim
ply blotted out of existence as it were, and for what ! For
doing their duty as U. S. soldiers. They had given their lives
that the Government might be maintained and the American

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 107
flag not dishonored. Were their lives given in vain ? I think
not. They have not been forgotten, though no record of their
deeds can be found. Their light will shine when traitors will
be banished to everlasting perdition.
We were given a few substitutes for hard tack, something
similar to what we received when we first went to Savannah,
and were marched to the other side ofthe city and put on cars
on the Gulf railroad, and soon started down the road. We were
told this was only temporary, and that we would return in a
few days as soon as our vessels came in. They said the city
authorities objected to having us quartered in the city, and we
would be run down the road. Of all the roads we had traveled
over this was the worst. All the rolling stock and machinery
that was good for service had been removed to other roads of
more importance, as this road was of very little use to the
Confederacy. Every few miles something would break down,
either the cars or engine, and the train would come to a stand
still when the rebel officers would coax the prisoners to got out
and help push the train over the grade or help patch up the
old wheezy engine. There was no wood prepared along the
road and no facilities for taking water. There were some
negroes who rode on the tender who would gather up pine
knots and fill the tender. When the water gave out they
would stop by some swamp and fill it up with buckets. They
insisted on the prisoners helping do the work but we informed
them that as we were on an excursion for pleasure, having been
ordered down here by Jeff Davis, we thought it hardly good
manners to do any work. Whenever the train stopped we
were allowed to get off and build up fires while they were get
ting ready to move. We would often remain for hours at the
same place. This did us lots of good. We could see through
the woods, see the birds flying about, see something free once
more. We also instituted a raid on the graybaeks which had

108 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
become very numerous. Here was the first cremating that I
had seen done. Our clothes had become so badly infected with
the graybaeks that it was too much of a job to pick them off.
Some Yankee found that by building a fire out of pine
knots, taking off your pants, putting two sticks crosswise in the
waist, and taking the pants by the ends of the legs and holding
them up over the fire, the legs would serve as stove-pipe to
draw the heat. Then hold the pants high enough above the
blaze so they would not burn, and the heat would draw up the
legs, which would puff up every grayback to his fullest capacity
when you would give the pants a shake and the lice would fall
off in the fire. This was the most effectual way of getting rid
of the pest I ever tried. Any ex-prisoner who was on that
trip will tell you that this was a God-send to us.
The. country over which we were traveling was very poor.
In all of our trip on the Gulf road of eighty-five miles, from
Savannah to Blackshear, there was not a single town or collec
tion of over one-half dozen houses. It was almost one unbroken
forest, the soil very sandy and poor, and nothing seemed to
thrive but the long-leaf pines. We were so long on the road
that our rations gave out, and the guards were almost as bad
off as we were. Our makeshift of an engine would give out
oftener as the trip lengthened and take longer to fix it up.
There were some good mechanios among the prisoners, so at
last they consented to go and repair the old wheezy concern on
the promise that as soon as we got to Blackshear we would get
rations, and not until we reached that point could we get any.
When the boys came back to the car from repairing the engine
one of them declared that he believed this was the road that he
had heard of where nothing remained but two streaks of rust
and the right of way. The scurvy still lingered in our systems
and we were in need of something green. When we made the
stops we would get off and pull up what the natives call bull

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 109
grass. It has a small white root, which was almost tasteless,
yet it seemed to supply a long-felt want, and it was eagerly
sought after. After thumping along in this manner for five
or six days we reached Blackshear, the county seat of Pearce
county, Georgia, the largest county in the State, and having
500 square miles of territory to every inhabitant.

CHAPTER XII.

A Camp Without a Stockade — Signing a Bogus Parole —
Kilpatrick's Cavalry — The Story of the Escape of
Three of my Companions to the Coast, where they
were Picked up by a Government Vessel.

w

/ HEN we arrived at Blackshear, the train halted and
wo were told to get off. I looked about to see the
town, but could not see as much as a respectable dwelling.
Was told that this was the county seat of Pearce county,
Georgia. Here the same scene took place as at Savannah.
There were dead men on most of the cars. They were taken
off by order of the rebel officers and collected in one place
near the railroad track, where a detail was made to bury them.
They dug a long trench and laid the poor fellows in it. When
this was finished wo were ordered to fall in and marched out
through the woods near a stream and were told that we would
establish our camp here for the present. We were in a heavy
forest and the boys commenced to build shanties the same as
we did at Millen. We thought we would make use of the
material while it lasted. There was no stockade here. They
placed a heavy guard around us, and several sections of
artillery, in commanding places. After receiving rations, all
hands began to erect their huts, as though we were to remain
here for the entire winter. We were so far south that the

Twelve Months in Andersonville. H3
weather was very warm although it was the 1st of December.
After wo had been here for several days, a rebel officer came
out and ordered tho first division to fall in, and marched them
outsido of the guard line. Massing them close together he
presented a paper, which ho said was a parole, which he had
been instructed to have us sign in order to save time when we
returned to Savannah for exchange. We did not understand
this and thought it was a rebel trick they desired to play on
us. When some one said, "read it," tho officer read it over,
yet we were not satisfied, and said, " let some of our boys read
it." " All right," he said, when a young fellow stepped out
and taking the paper in his hand, the officer said, " get up on
this stump and read this to these d — n fools that they may
know for themselves that it is all right." The young man
read off the parole carefully, and when he had finished it said,
' " this is all right, boys." Then the men said, "we will sign
that," and such a cheer as they set up we had not heard sinco
we heard of tho downfall of Atlanta, while at Andersonville,
three months before. The cheering was taken up by those
inside of the guard line, and when the boys got through
cheering the officer said, " you will arrange yourself alphabeti
cally, and sign tho rolls as fast as you can." When the rolls
were finished there were two day's rations of corn meal issued
to the men and they marched to the railroad, went aboard the
cars and started back for Savannah. This process of parol
ing continued from day to day. Each day a train load was
taken away until a number of trains had left. At last no more
were taken out. The rebels said we would go in a few days.
About a week after the last train load had left, one day wo
heard a big noise up towards the railroad. Looking up the
road wo saw a large crowd of men coming down. Soon they
came near enough that we could see they were prisoners and
had a strong guard on each side ofthe road. We almost held
8

114 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
our breath. At last some one said, what does this mean?"
" It means," said a prisoner from Ohio who was standing near
me, " that the d — d rebels have been lying to us again." Soon
the boys came inside of the guard line. The guards were
doubled, the artillery manned, the pieces were shotted and we
were ordered to make no demonstration. Said the officer, " If
you do we will open on you with these guns." The prisoners
that came in were the last train load that had left us. Before
they could reach the Charleston & Savannah railroad, Kilpat-
rick's cavalry had made a raid on it, destroying the road and
capturing many rebels. There was nothing left for them but
to return to us. Hence the strong guard and the secret of the
paroling was out. It was apparent they had fears of our cav
alry, and that was why they paroled us. They had no idea of
exchange. They wanted to get us to Charleston, or Florence,
South Carolina.
Ever since we had left Millen, up to this time, the guard
and officers had been very mild, and did not seem to care
whether we left or not. They would say, " If any of you are
d— -n fools enough to run away and lose your chance of ex
change what do we care ? It will be the worse for you." This
kind of talk kept many a fellow from trying to escape, but
now the secret was out and they changed their tune. They
gave strict orders and established a dead line at once. After
the first squad had left, we traded off our blankets and almost
everything we had, thinking we would soon be in God's coun
try, where we could get much better blankets, etc. I had kept
my woolen blanket that I got of the guard on my way from
Richmond to Andersonville, but I was so very hungry that I
traded it off for an old quilt, getting a few sweet potatoes as
"boot." The rebel that I traded it to seemed so honest that I
could not help but put confidence in what he said, and I yet
think he was deceived. He said, " I know you will go home,

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 115
for I heard the Captain say so, and this old quilt will do you
until you get back to Savannah, and the blanket will do me
so much better this winter."
After the return of the boys we knew there was no pros
pect of exchange at this time, so we commenced to make
arrangements to try to escape. We made all the inquiries
about the country . and the distance to the coast. A number
made their escape here, amongst them three of my acquaint
ances. I will here narrate what they told me after we got in
God's country. All of my squad had gone out in the first lot
that left, so I was alone as far as acquaintance was concerned,
but I soon fell in with three fellows from Ohio who had been
captured late in the campaign. The next day after the squad
returned the boys said to me that they were going to move
that night, and if I thought I could stand the trip they would
do all for me they could. They said, "We have made up our
minds not to go to any house unless we are on the eve of
actual starvation, and then only to the negro huts." I do not
remember any of their names except one. His name was
Cochrane, and he was the oldest ofthe three. He was to do
all the talking for the squad. It was impossible for me to
travel, as I had no shoes that I could wear, and one night in
the hrush would take off all my rags. I said, " It is useless for
me to try it, and perhaps I would be a hindrance to the rest of
you. I will not try it." They said, "We have here several
things that we can not take with us. You can have them if we
succeed lin getting away; if we are captured and returned
before you leave here we will all stay together." Cochrane
said, "I have, bribed one ofthe guards to let us pass, to-night.
I am to give him this blanket. After we have got beyond the
lines several rods, he is to fire his gun into the air, so as to
clear him should we be discovered by any other guard. We
are to go at ten o'clock to-night. That post right there is

116 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
where we are to go out. You can see from here whether we
get out or whether he actually shoots at us or in the air." All
arrangements being ready I gave them the address of my
father, and they said, "if we get through wo will write your
folks, tell them where we saw you, and all about things in
general." We built up a good fire. It blazed up nicely. At
last the relief for ten o'clock came on duty. The boys taking
up their few things and each of them taking me by the hand
and bidding mo good-bye, marched up to the guard, and I saw
Cochrane hand the guard the blanket. As he took it, ho turn
ed and marched up his beat. Tho boys passed out, I saw them
start on a run. The guard turned about, stood for a few sec
onds, and then I heard the click of his musket. As he cocked
it I fairly held my breath, for tho next instant I saw the flash
of his gun, but could' not tell whether he shot at them or not,
but I could hear no noise outside. At the same time ho called
out, "Corporal ofthe guard, post No. 4." In a very short time
the corporal and officers of the guard came running up to tho
fellow. They inquired the cause of alarm. " Well," said tho
guard, "I thought I saw some Yankees out there and I fired,
but I did not hear anything after I fired." Tho officer went
out, looked around a little, but soon returned and reprimanded
the guard for giving a false alarm. He said, "You do not want
to get scared at tho shadow of these d — d Yankees, and before
you fire any more you want to be sure it is a real live one, and
then give it to him." But the boys had made their escape. I
sat by tho fire for more than an hour. I was now entirely
alone as far as acquaintances. At last I lay down to dream of
the boys and home.
I had the pleasure of meeting all three of these boys five
months after this time, and under very different circumstances.
Wo met this time in God's country, in a land o'f plenty, and
where traitors were not allowed to dictato to us. Tho boys

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 117
said the first night they were out they made good time, travel
ing fully twenty miles before day-light. They secreted them
selves in a thicket, and two would sleep at a time while the
other kept a lookout. As soon as it was dark they started
again and again made good time. This night they crossed a
field and found a sweet potato patch. Taking all they could
carry not to load themselves down, they made their way south.
Tho weather was warm and clear so they had no trouble in
shaping their course. They made for the coast of Florida
whore our blockading vessels lay. The second night they
made good time and again hid in a thicket. In this manner
they traveled for several nights, at last coming to a poor
stretch of country where they could find nothing to eat.
Being worn out by traveling through the swamps and thickets,
they became so hungry that they thought they would have to
give up. At last they reached a turpentine orchard, and
secreted themselves in a thicket. As the warm sun came up
they fell asleep and when they awoke it was late in the after
noon. While tho party were deliberating what they should do
they saw a black man gathering tho turpentine from tho trees,
and made up their minds to surround him and capture tho fel
low should ho try to make his escape. They worked their
way round the fellow unobserved when they closed in on him.
Ho was badly surprised at first but when told who they were,
and what they wanted, he said he was the overseer of the or
chard and it was several miles to his masters or any other white
persons. They asked him if he would give them something to
eat. He said he would, and they concluded to go to his cabin, as
ho assured them that there was no danger. His wife soon had
their supper ready, which consisted of corn bread and fat pork.
The couple also provided them with some provisions and the
man guided them through a swamp, giving them all tho infor
mation ho could. Ho traveled with the party until in the after

118 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
part of the night, when they came to another old darkey's
cabin, whom he called up and told who the visitors were. And
when the fugitives wantejd to go, he said he would go
with them to a certain darkey's, who would conduct them fur
ther. In this manner they were piloted through by the dar
kies, each one going as far as he could, so as to get back before
daylight. After many nights they came to a place where the
darkies said they could take them no further, as they could not
cross the swamp and get back the same night. As they would
have to go many miles around in order to cross, and all the
roads leading through the swamp were picketed by the rebels,
they did not know what to do, but again thought they would
have to give up. Finally a young darkey said if they would
take him with them up North he would go. This was readily
agreed to. The party had a terrible time getting through the
swamp, but finally succeeded, and early next morning they
came to the beach. The darkey said, "Right out there the
boats lay." The fog was so heavy they could not be seen. The
sun came up, the fog disappeared, and they could at first see the
outlines of a boat, and soon discovered that it was one of the
Union vessels. They hoisted their blouse on a pole and sig
naled the boat. Along in the afternoon they saw them lower
a small boat and start towards the bank. They came more
than half way when they turned and went back. Oh, how
their hearts sank within them. The next day they kept sig
naling all the time, but no boat came out. The third day they
became almost wild, as they knew they could not stay much
longer, as they had nothing to eat. They made a more deter
mined effort than ever, and could see the officers on the boat
watching them, and from their actions were certain they were
using their glasses. They tried every way they could to make
them understand they were friends and not enemies. At last
they saw them lower a boat, three men getting into it, and

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 119
pulling direct for the shore. They came rapidly towards the
shore until they were within forty or fifty rods, when they
halted. The refugees could see that there was some trouble. In a
minute or so the sailors commenced to row, and the escaped pris
oners met them at the beach, when the officer asked who they
Were. They told their story. He said, " Get into the boat and
let us hurry back, for the woods here are full of guerrillas, and
we may be fired upon." They stepped into the boat and pushed
out for the vessel. When the boat stopped while it was coming
to the rescue, it was on account of the sailors refusing to row
any further. They said that the party were rebels and that
they did not want to be made prisoners. The officer- having a
glass could see better, and had been thoroughly convinced that
they were escaped prisoners. When they stopped and refused
to obey the officer, he took out his revolver, cocking it, and
holding it in his right hand, he took out his watch with his left
hand and said to the sailors : " I give you two minutes to
commence to row, and at the expiration of that time, if you
persist in your mutiny, I will kill you." The sailors, knowing
the officer, felt that it was a case of life or death with them,
and thought they had better obey the officer and take the
chance of being made prisoners.
Arrived at the vessel, the boys were received kindly and
treated with all the care that could be lavished upon them.
They were clothed with a new suit of clothes and given plenty
to eat, remaining on this boat until the supply boat came,
which was several weeks later, when they were sent North,
stopping at Hilton Head, South Carolina. They remained
there for several days, when they were sent to New York.
From there they came here, landing this morning.' I said to
him, " How long were you getting to the coast? " He said,
" Six weeks from the time we left you until we reached the

120 • Twelve Months in Andersonville.
coast, and we never saw a white man or a woman during that
time." " What did you do with the negro?" "We left him
at New York. A doctor took him for his coachman and said
he would take good care of him and write us occasionally how
he was doing." Remember, this conversation took place five
months after we parted at Blackshear. I went up to the bar
racks and saw the other two fellows. They seemed very glad
to see me, and said they had often talked about me. " But,"
said they, " we never expected to see you here. We thought
j^ou would reinforce some of the sand banks in Georgia before
this, but we see you have outgeneraled them this time."

CHAPTER XIII.

Another Move — The Rebels Fire the Huts — Several
Prisoners Concealed in the Trenches Badly Burned —
A Short Stop at Thomasville — Southern Unionists —
A Seven Days' March — Terrible Suffering of the
Prisoners — A Beef Broth From a Bone Thrown Away
By the Guards — Escape of a Naked Bather — Once
More in Sight of Andersonville Stockade.
FEW days after the boys left we were ordered to be
ready to leave our camp. All being ready wo started
for tho railroad. After we left camp and got o.ut on the road we
were halted. It seemed that after we left our huts some of
the guards found one of our boys concealed and raised the
alarm. Some of the rebel officers went back and upon exam
ination of tho camp they found several of our boys concealed.
Our boys, upon learning that wo were to be moved and go
further South, dug ditches iu their huts long and deep enough
to hold a man, covering them over with fine brush, and when
tho order was given to leave they crawled in this ditch and
were covered over by their friends. They hoped to remain
concealed until tho rebels had left and then try and get to
Sherman. When the officers wont back to camp and dis
covered the situation they ordered all tho huts fired. They
burned readily and made a very hot fire. There were a num-

122 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
ber of boys severely burned ; being in the trenches they could
not get out until they were badly burned. They came up to
the rest of us, receiving no attention whatever. Some were so
badly injured that they could scarcely see. All the hair was
burned off their heads and their arms and faces were dreadfully
scorched. It was reported that some were burned up, and the
rebels never denied the charge so far as I ever heard. Several
years ago I met one of the prisoners who was burned. He
was badly disfigured about the face.
We went aboard the cars and started down the road. The
same old squeaky cars and wheezy engine. We made very
slow time. The rebels were bringing up the Florida coast
guards to assist in keeping Sherman out of Savannah. We
were run in on a switch at one place while a train load of those
fellows halted beside us. They had on board of their train a
very fine battery from Tallahassa, Florida. They were on flat
ears the same as we were. Our boys would halloo at them.
We would say, " Hurry up ! Uncle Billy will put on the sec
ond relief! " "Yes," they said, "you will see we will have Bill
Sherman and all the rest of his cut-throats in the same fix as
you are before many days." We would say, "Go ahead. You
will never get to load those guns if you get within twenty-five
miles of Sherman. Some of his bummers will take charge of
them, when you will get a free ride up North." At last they
pulled out and left us in high glee at the idea of capturing
Sherman. We saw some of these fellows after the war was
over at Jacksonville, Florida, when we asked them about their
success. Said they : " We went down the road at a rapid rate
until we came within about twenty miles of Savannah. All at
once our engine gave a fearful blast. The engineer called for
brakes, the train came to a halt, some of us jumped off and ran
ahead to see what was the matter. Just as we got to the engine
we saw that the rails were taken up, and when we looked out

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 123
in the woods we saw a line of blue coats with a battery ready
to fire at the word of command. What could we do ? " I said,
" I suppose you could surrender." " That was just what we
did do, and as quick as we could, as we saw there was no time
to parley, and in a few minutes we saw the Yanks take charge
of our battery."
Our train thumped and pounded along at a slow rate for a
day or two. At last we came to Thomasville, and were told to
get off the cars. It was raining pretty hard. It was about ten,
o'clock at night. We were marched out to the woods about
one-half mile from the town, and went into camp. The next
morning I got up and took a good look at our camp. No one
seemed to be inclined to build shanties. There was plenty of
wood, so we kept up big fires all night. This was a much bet
ter part of the country than we had left. The soil was pretty
good. The town seemed to have some life. We were told that
before the war many rich planters made this place their home.
There were some very handsome residences in the place. We
had not been here long until a large lot of negroes came out
and commenced a ditch around the camp throwing the dirt up
in a ridge. Itformed a pretty good breast-work. The guards
walked on top ofthe ridge. The artillery was planted at suita
ble places. There was a heavy guard kept around us all the
time. While we remained here the weather cleared up, and
was very warm, so much so that we were glad to get under
shade during the greater part of the day. We did not stop at
Thomasville more than ten or twelve days until we were
informed that we would go back to Andersonville. They said,
"We have sent up there after more guards and as soon as they
arrive we will start for that place." So one evening we heard
quite a commotion up at the station. It was caused by two
regiments who had just arrived from Andersonville. In a
short time we received orders to be ready to start On the

124 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
march. The next day while we were in this camp many citi
zens came out to see us, and some seemed to be very much
affected at the sight they saw, and manifested much sympathy
for us. I have reason to believe that there was a strong union
feeling in this town. I made some inquiries about the distance
we would have to march, and was told that we were about
sixty-five miles almost due south of Albany, which place, at
that time, was the terminus of the Georgia Central Railroad.
We would have to march across the country to that place and
from there we would go on the cars to Andersonville. The
next morning after the arrival of the guards, we broke camp.
and started on this march which lasted six or seven days. We
did not make more than eight miles tho first day. That night
there came up a heavy rain storm and the weather turned cold
for that country. We camped in the woods, receiving a small
quantity of corn meal and a small piece of fresh beef. The
next morning wo resumed our march. It was terrible. Tho
roads wore muddy and we traveled through a low, wet country,
most of tho day. Many of the boys gave out. What became
of them I do not know. Should anyone who reads these lines
know what became of tho boys who gave out on this march,
and let mo know, it would bo a great favor. At night
wo again camped in the woods close to a large plantation,
receiving the same amount of rations as before Wo now
crossed a better stretch of country, passing many small farms,
and on every farm was a small field of turnips. The guards
would help themselves, throwing us the tops. Many lively
tussols wero had to get those turnip tops. They were very
careful never to throw us a turnip. Thus we plodded along
from day to day. Tho weather on the 23d of December got so
cold thatit froze the mud in tho road. We started early in tho
morning so we could reach the Flint river that day. As no
one had any shoes and had marched over fifty miles barefooted

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 125
through the mud and sand, their feet were worn out. This
day you could track the men by the blood. Many of them did
not take a step without leaving blood in their track. We
reached the river late in the afternoon of December 24th and
went into camp at Blue Spring, about two miles below Albany.
While on the march this day I was lucky in picking up a beef
bone which tho guards had thrown down when they had
marched over the road some ten or twelve days before. I car
ried it until we went into camp when I got an old hatchet from
a friend, spliting the bone up in small pieces. It being the
knuckle joint there was some nourishment in it. I took the
pieces and boiled them, drinking the broth. I have been very
hungry sinco that time and before it, but I never tasted any
thing half as good as that broth did at that time, for I had been
so hungry that I had chewed sticks during the day to satisfy
the cravings of my stomach. I had no salt. After drinking
at least one quart of the broth and chewing the bones I lay
down to rest and fell asleep. When I woke up I Was very
sick. The bones had laid so long in the sun that they were
badly tainted, and I had drank too much of tho broth. Next
morning, Dcc. 25th, the sun came up clear and nice. Many
people came out from town and the surrounding country to see
the Yankees, we being the first that had ever been in that part
of tho country. During the day the boys were allowed to go to
tho river and bathe. For my part I did not feel like going
into the water. I was sitting on the bank watching the boys.
There were two or three hundred in the water. The guards
did not seem to think there was any danger of tho boys trying
to cross the river, being entirely naked. I noticed some follows
that kept working their way out farther and farther. At last
one fellow struck out for the opposite side of tho river. The
guards did not notice him until he was near tho middle ofthe
stream when they called to him to come back, but he had no

126 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
intention of coming back, but made greater efforts to reach the
opposite bank. At last they commenced to fire at him, but
their aim was bad and he soon reached the opposite shore.
Pulling himself up the bank, he was out of range of their guns.
He turned and saluted and then started off at a lively pace.
What became of him I do not know, but I know that it stopped
the bathing mighty quick. About noon it clouded up, and
along in the evening it commenced to rain. The wind blew a
perfect gale. This was as disagreeable a night as I ever saw.
We had used up all the wood that was inside of the guard line,
so we had no fire and no shelter. About three o'clock in the
night orders came for us to go up to the bridge that spanned
the river. It was a covered bridge and would afford us some
shelter. When we got there we were met by some officers who
ordered us to go over to the railroad and get in the cars ; we
were more dead than alive. We remained aboard the cars
until morning before the train started. As the depot was
right in the town, we could see that it was a place of consider
able importance. There were hundreds of cotton bales piled
up along the track. At last the signal was sounded and our
train moved up the track. It did not seem to make much
difference to us where we went for our fare was just the same.
The country looked about the same and the inhabitants seemed
to be near relations to each other. We did not expect much
sympathy from them and did not receive much. At last our
train reached Americus, where we halted for awhile. There was
an old gentleman standing on the platform at the depot who
commenced to talk to us. From him we learned more than we
had from any one else. He said they were filling up the stock
ade at Andersonville. He said Bill Sherman and his cut
throats had gone clear through the State and had- fetched up
at Savannah, and he did not know where the trifling whelp
would go next, but said, "I think he will try to prance around

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 127
in South Carolina same as he has in this State, but I tell you
he will have a different set of fellows over there and if he does
not get his head in a halter I am fooled." We asked him what
Hood was doing. " Oh, he thought he would slip away from
Sherman and go over in "Tennessee and maybe he would get
up in Kentuck." " Well, I guess Hood has found his match up
there. Old Pap Thomas is enough for him." " Well," said he,
"they have been having some pretty hard fighting up there."
We asked him why they did not stop Sherman before he went
clear through the State. "Oh ! we did not have any troops to
set afore him but Joe Brown's Reserves, and they are a power
ful ornery set in a fight." "Yes," said some of the boys, "that
is what we think. They would find it quite different to face a
regiment of blue coats to what they do in guarding us poor
starved Yankees." At last the train started, and we passed
over a pretty fair part of the country. Along in the afternoon
we halted and were told to get off the cars. The first man we
saw was Captain Wirz. He was flourishing his big navy revol
ver and swearing terribly. The weather was cloudy, cold and
damp. We were formed in line when the old process of count
ing began, Wirz walking up and down the line making all
kinds of threats. From where we stood we could see over in
the stockade. At last we had been arranged in hundreds and
divisions and started for the stockade.

CHAPTER XIV.

My Return to Andersonville — Homeless, Shelterless and
Friendless — A Five Cent Row — I Open a Tin Shop and
Become Known as the Tenth Street Tinker— Supplied
with Raw Material Unexpectedly — Fresh Arrivals —
How " Old Baldy " Revived our Hopes and Stirred up
the Anger of the Rebels.
)RRIVED at the gate of the stockade we were halted for
a few minutes when the gates opened and wo passed
inside. Imagine our despondency when wo took a survey of
tho situation. The weather was cold and very damp, and you
cannot conceive a more cheerless situation than we were then
placed in. No tents or shelter of any kind were given us, no
wood to build fires with. My worldly possessions consisted of
one old quilt and a small cup. Many of the boys were alone
as far as old comrades or any member of their regiment were
concerned, having been separated from them in our several
removals. I was one of the number. I walked over the
prison to seo if I could "find anyone that I knew and at the
same time looking out for a place to stay; but, after spending
considerable time I gavo up all hope of finding any one of my
former friends. About the time we left the prison in Septem
ber the rebels had allowed our boys to erect two long sheds on
the north sido of the prison. They were to be used as a

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 129
hospital. There was no siding put on them, just simply a
rough frame and roof of split boards. I went over there late
in the evening and found fifty or more like myself looking for
a place to stay. There were about a dozen of us who went
together and fixed up a place in one of the sheds which we
called our own. There we remained several days and nights.
The weather was very cold and having no clothing we suffered
terribly. We would all lay down together and crowd up to
each other as close as we could to get all the warmth possible,
one from the other. In this way we fcpent our time, only get
ting out long enough to answer at roll call and- draw our
rations. After eating our scanty supply we would lay down
and remain as quiet as we could. We had been here but
a short time until we were bothered terribly with the gray-
backs. As soon as we would begin to get a little warm they
would commence their daily and nightly drill. They would
have division, brigade, regiment and company drills, ending
up with a general review. When those large fellows began to
prance around in front of the lines- it would make some one
halloo out, " I must turn over, I can't stand this any longer ! "
So we would all turn to the right or left as the case might be.
This would stop the chaps for a short time. The weather
remained cold for a number of days with rain every day
or two. At last one cold rainy evening, a lot of guards came
over to the sheds and ordered us out. Said they were ordered
to move us to the south side of the Branch and no one would
be allowed on the north side but the sick. This was a dread
ful blow to us. While we were very cold we could keep dry
under the sheds. Now to be turned out in a cold rain was
terrible. But go we must, for it was the order of Captain Wirz
and must be obeyed. I wrapped my old quilt around my body to
keep me as warm as possible. After we crossed the Branch,
we commenced to patrol the camp to see if we could find any-

130 , Twelve Months in Andersonville.
one we could stop with. After spending one or two hours in
this manner, just about sunset, I was standing at the foot
of what was known as Tenth street, It was raining very
hard, and I had about given up all hopes of finding a place to
stop. While I was standing here I noticed two young men in
a dug-out near and from their actions I thought they were talk
ing about me. Pretty soon one of them spoke up and said,
" Are you one of the boys that have just been sent over here
from the sheds ? " I said I was. He said, " Have you no
place to stop?" I said I had found no place yet. He said,
"How would you like to stop with us? We have room here
for three. One of our boys was taken sick and has gone out
to the hospital and you can take his place if you like." I was
more than glad to accept the offer. They had dug a hole in
the ground about eighteen inches deep and had covered one
side with an old blanket. The other side and end was
thatched with pine leaves. Tho place was just large enough
for us to lay down in and be comfortable. We could use my
old quilt for a cover. I felt very fortunate to get so good
a place and they expressed themselves as being more than
pleased in getting a partner who was the owner of so much
worldly goods !
After we had fixed up for tho night the usual inquiry was
made as to what command do you belong. I said, " I belong
to Company F, 13th Regiment Indiana Volunteer Infantry."
"Where wore you taken?" "At Chester Station, Virginia."
"What regiment do you belong to?" "We belong to Com
pany K, 53rd Illinois regiment ; were captured at Guntown,
Mississippi. We were taken while on tho raid under General
Sturgis. We do not think Sturgis is much of a General or ho
would not have been drawn into such a trap and lost the most
of his command." I found my new friends to be nice fellows.
I would like very much to hear from them if they are living

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 131
Their names were David Scolstock and Herman Hensler.
Scolstoek lived near Livingstone, Illinois, and Hensler lived
near St. Louis. I have Scolstock's photograph which he sent
me after he got home. I have written to him but can get no
answer. If any one should read these lines and know of
his whereabouts and would let me know it would be thank
fully received.
I remained with these boys during the rest of my impris
onment. We fixed up our tent as fast as we could, and in the
course of ten days or two weeks we had a pretty good house
for Andersonville. Upon looking around and making inquiries
I found that most of the boys in our immediate vicinity, like
myself, had been separated from their regiment. We formed a
squad for our own mutual protection out of this class of boys.
There were not more than three or four from any one regi
ment, and our squad numbered about forty. After wo had
become acquainted we felt secure, felt that we were able to
secure our rights with any other squad in the prison, and
during the rest of our confinement there was not one of our
squad proved untrue to us, but were always ready to help any
of tho squad in need of help. To illustrate this, I will narrate
a little incident that happened a short time after our acquaint
ance. I commenced to repair tin cups, spoons, etc., and was
fortunate enough to get ten cents from a fellow for repairing
his bucket. I took the ten cents and went up the street to a
squad of New Yorkers who had peas for sale. I bought five
cents' worth and handed the fellow ten cents. He took it. I
said, " Why don't you give me the change ?." He said, " There
is nothing coming to you." I said, "I gave you ten cents and
have here but five cents' worth of peas." "Five cents is all
you gave me," he said. I said, " That is a mistake. I gave
you ten cents, and there it is now." He said, "You are a liar."
I said, " I am not, but you are if you say I did not give you ten

132 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
cents." He said, "If you repeat that I will slap your mouth."
I said, " Try that, and I think I will give one lying Yankee all
he wants." I thought I could handle the fellow and I saw
that he was not over anxious for the job, but just back of him
lay a big burly fellow, who raised up and said, " Billy, if you
don't slap that fellow 1 will slap you." I knew now that I had
stirred up a hornet's nest. The fellow started for me, and I
thought the best thing I could do was to "git and git," which
I did with the fellow after me. We went down the street at a
lively pace, and when near our squad a big fellow by the name
of Rood, from Michigan, raised up just as the fellow was reach
ing for me. Rood was very tall and had long arms. He yelled
out, "You s — n of a b  h, what are you after ?" At the same
time he gave the fellow a good blow, which stopped him. As
he started back Rood started after him, applying the toe of
his boot to the fellow's lower extremities. In the excitement
Rood followed him too far, and a half-dozen or more of the fel
low's companions made for him. Rood succeeded in getting
away without getting hurt. A few days after this Rood was
up to the sutler's, and some of the New Yorkers saw him,
when the whole squad made for him. He tried to get back
to our squad, but they had cut off his retreat; he took around
the sutler house with two or three after him. They had it
around and around. Every little while they would get a lick
in, and as often he would return it. He found he was getting
tired out, made a desperate effort to break through their lines,
which he succeeded in doing, but not without receiving many
bruises. When he came to the squad he was bleeding
freely. After we learned the circumstances our squad was for
going up and cleaning out the New Yorkers, and would have
done so, but for the timely advice of Mr. Ellis, of Boston, Mas
sachusetts. He said he thought we had better let it go. If we
went up there we would all get bruised up more or less and we

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 133
had better drop the matter. By the way, this Mr. Ellis, I
think, ranked much higher than First Sergeant, as his stripes
showed. I have always thought that he ranked as high as
Colonel or Brigadier, and had concealed his rank from the
rebels for purposes best known to himself. I do not think his
real name was Ellis; I think that was a fictitious name. He
was a perfect gentleman, and remained in our squad until our
release. I spent many hours in conversation with him. He
told me that his occupation before the war was that of boot
and shoe dealer in the city of Boston. From him and two men
from Maine I received many favors. The favors consisted in
supplying me with some tools to set up shop with. They soon
found out that I was a mechanic and pretty handy at repairing
cooking vessels. One gave me part of an old jack-knife, which
was beyond price at that time. Another gave me several darn
ing needles to make drills of, and many useful articles. Cooking
utensils were so scarce and the demand so great that I opened
up a regular shop for the manufacture and repair of those
articles. This, I think, had as much to do in saving my life
as any one thing. It gave employment to my mind as well
as exercise to my body. In addition I received more rations,
and so I had more to eat.
I opened up my shop for the repair of buckets, cups, and
spoons with the outfit of tools that I had at my residence on
Tenth street. I added, from time to time, such tools as I could
get, and soon found myself in possession of what was then
considered a good outfit. I had two railroad spikes, one old
jack-knife with the large blade broken off, so it was not more
than one inch long, two darning needles which I had made
drills of, one five-inch easy running file, one old back-spring
of a knife which I made a punch with. I soon received a good
patronage, had all the work I could do from morning until
night, day after day. This gave me steady employment, and

134 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
for my work I received a certain portion of corn meal from
the boys that I engaged work from. It would take two weeks
for a fellow to pay for making a bucket. He would give me
each day for a certain number of days, two or three spoonfulls
of meal, just as he thought he could spare it. In this way I
soon had many fellows indebted to me and just as soon as they
drew their rations they would come around and give me the
amount due for that day. I soon accumulated a good supply
of meal and beans and with this extra amount of rations and
the exercise it gave to earn it, my health began to improve
and I began to feel like myself once more. I now took hold
of life with more determination to try and live through. The
weather through the month of January was cold and damp
most of the time. Thero would be days at a time that you
could scarcely see a man on the move inside of the prison, only
at roll call or time of drawing rations. They would spend the
entire time in their dug-outs, trying to keep as warm as possi
ble. Whenever there would come a warm day and the sun
shone out clear for three or four hours in the afternoon, you
could soo hundreds of men doing skirmishing duty. They
would go on the north side of the Branch and arrange them
selves on the south side of the hill, facing the south. Then
operations would commence. Each fellow would take off his
clothes and search the seams for gray-backs. In this way they
could get rid of the largest of them, when hostilities would
cease until another favorable day came. I have seen a thous
and or more engaged at a time trying to exterminate tho pest.
This was an every day occurrence when the weather was
favorable. The latter part of January, one cold damp evening, I
received orders to report at the gate. I asked, "What do they
want of me? " The guard said, " I dunno, that is tho ordahs."
I said, "I have not violated any prison rule that I know of, and

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 135
I can'i think what they want of me." "Well," said he, "I have
given you the ordahs and you had better go." I said, "I won't
go. If you want me you can take me, but I will not go of my
own accord." He insisted that I had better go. At last Mr.
Ellis said to mo, " I think you had better go, for if they want
you they will come and take you, and it will only make matters
worse for you." I studied over the matter for a minute when
1 said to Mr. Ellis, "I think you are a man of good judgment,
and I will take your advice, and let the consequences be what
they may." When I started for the gate I said to the boys,
"Good-bye, if I never see you more." They said, " We hope
nothing bad will happen you." Dave Seolstock said, "I am
going with you to the gate and see what the trouble is." Wo
walked up to the gate and stood there for a minute or two,
when the officer asked if Long had come yet. I stepped out
and said that I was the chap he sent for. "All right," he said.
You can now imagino my feelings better then I can descripe
them. Moments seemed hours to me. At last ho opened the
gate, when I saw two boys from Illinois that I was acquainted
with, who had been detailed to go outside and help bury the
dead. The officer said to them, "Is that the fellow?"
When they said, "He is," the officer pointing to me,
said, "the boys have a pack of stuff they want to give
to you." The older of the two, stepping forward, ex
tended me his hand, which I clasped, and at the same
time said. " We have here a pack of goods which we think
will be of value to you." He stooped down and picked up a
large roll of tin, and a good supply of rivets, handing them to
mo. They said, "We hope this will bo the means of helping
you through." I thanked them for their kindness, when the
officer said, "You must get inside the stockade." Bidding my
friends good-bye I walked inside of the stockade. Seolstock
was still standing there. He said, "what in the world have

136 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
you got?" I answered, "I am not able to tell you yet." He
said, "Who gave it to you ? " When I had told him we went
down to the dug-out where the rest of the boys were. We
found them discussing the "whys and wherefores" of my being
taken out. They had about come to the conclusion that it was
because I was engaged in working for the boys, and were
about as greatly surprised at seeing me back so soon as I was
in getting back. We unrolled the tin and found it was part
ofthe roof of a car that had been wrecked a few days before.
They gathered up a large lot of the tin and took it to Captain
Wirz's headquarters, where they obtained permission to give it
to me. I have bought many a box of tin since that day, but I
am free to say that those few sheets of tin were worth more to
me at that time than all I have purchased since. I now com
menced the manufacture of buckets for cooking purposes, and
I have no doubt that some of the boys are still living who used
th,ese buckets. I made one for myself which I brought through
the lines when I got back to God's country.
There were no new prisoners received during the month
of January. Those that did come in were some that had been
held at other prisons for several months. It was a very long
month to us. We could get no fresh news from our armies and
did not know what had become of Sherman. It made us very
restless, yet we reasoned in this way that if they had defeated
Sherman there would be some new prisoners coming in, and as
there were none, it was fair to presume that they had not
defeated him. At last, February opened more pleasant, and
we felt in better cheer, as we could take more exercise, and the
boys began to sing patriotic songs, something we had not
heard for weeks. One day we heard a big noise up at the rail
road, and looking over that way we saw a sight that made our
hearts sink within us. There were a thousand or more pris
oners being arranged in hundreds preparatory to coming in

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 137
the stockade. We looked one at the other and asked ourselves
what it meant, had they really captured Sherman's army, and
were they bringing it here. We asked one of the guards
where they were from and he laughed and said, " That is some
of your Uncle Billie's boys that you seem to think so much of."
" You do not mean to say they are a part of Sherman's army
do you ? " " Certainly I do. Did we not tell you that we
would soon have him in the same fix as you ! " Pretty soon
we saw them start for the stockade. We got as near the gate
as we could, every fellow trying to learn first who they were.
As soon as the gate opened and they began to - file through we
began to ask them questions. Almost every boy called out,
" What command do you boys belong to? " You can imagine
our relief when they said, "Banks'." The next word would be
where are you from? They said from Cahaba, Alabama.
" How long have you been prisoners ? " Some said two months
and others said four. At last I cornered a fellow from whom
I learned that they were the odds and ends of several small
prisons in Alabama, and had been taken while on different
scouts from time to time until there were more at Cahaba than
they could keep, hence they were sent up here. Among them
was a Baptist preacher who belonged to a Chicago battery.
He was brimful of patriotism, and was a fluent talker, and I
think hated a rebel as bad as any man I ever saw. The first
evening they were in it was given out that about dark this
man, who was called by his prison friends " Old Baldy," would
make a speech. About dark I saw a large crowd gathering
about the center of the prison. I walked up there and soon
he began to speak. He spoke about twenty minutes. I
thought it was the best speech that I ever listened to in my
. life. He exhorted the boys to prove true to the old flag. Said
he, " I tell you this blasted Rebellion cannot succeed. It was
born in sin and cradled in iniquity, and it is going to pieces

138 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
like a ship driven upon a rock. Bill Sherman is at this time
cutting a swath through South Carolina forty miles wide." At
this the boys began cheering, and after they had cheered until
they were hoai'se, some one started up " Rally round the flag,
boys," when it was taken up all over the camp. The rebels
became very much alarmed fearing that in our excitement we
would make an attempt to force the stockade, but as no one
went towards the stockade but rather went from it, there was
no cause for them to fire on us. After tho excitement abated
tho announcement was mado that ho would speak the next
evening, but what he had said had put new life in the camp.
There had not been as much stir in camp for weeks together,
as there seemed to be this night. Everybody seemed cheered
up. The old man had been a prisoner but a few days and was
well posted in what was going on in our armies. I had the
pleasure of meeting this old man here in old Antioch after the
war was over, and many of our citizens no doubt will remem
ber him. He preached one or two sermons in the Christian
church while here. He was then on his way to Philadelphia
to attend the general conference.
All the next day the boys were in good cheer. You could
see groups gathered together all over the prison discussing
tho situation. Evening came, and all of the prisoners were
anxious to hear what " Baldy " had to say. About sunset
some one opened up by singing, " Rally 'Round the Flag,
Boys." This was the signal, and in a short time two or three
thousand prisoners collected around the place whore the sing
ing was going on. I noticed that several officers were in tho
perches with -the guards, seeming as anxious as we were to
hear what he had to say. At last he commenced his speech
and as he progressed he warmed up until he mado the prison
fairly resound. He commenced at the beginning ofthe trouble
between the North and the South, giving it in detail, step by

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 139
stop, until the present time. He told us how our armies had
cut the rotten confederacy in two and were simply going
where they pleased. " Why," said he, " tho rebels are thor
oughly whipped now, and would be glad to stop the war but a
few of them are afraid they will be hung, and are continuing
it in the hope that they can get a chance to leave the conti
nent." At this the boys began cheering, which created great
excitement. They acted as if they were attending an old
fashioned Methodist camp-meeting. They would sing and
fairly shout for joy, marcb round and round shaking hands
while the speaker exhorted them to prove true to the Govern
ment and the old flag. At last the excitement got so great and
his speech was so cutting that the rebels became excited and
gave orders to stop the speech and disperse the crowd, or they
would fire on the camp regardless of consequences. It required
a good bit of work to get tho boys to disperse and keep quiet.
After everything was quiet tho rebels sent in an officer, who
said there should not be any more speeches mado, and should
there be any gathering of the prisoners as thero had been
this evening, it would be construed to mean that they meant
to try and force the stockade and they would be fired upon
without any further notice. Of course this settled the matter,
but " Baldy " improved the time going over the ground and
talking to the boys and cheering them up. He said, " I know
they cannot keep us three months. As soon as spring opens
up there will be a move all along the lines, and this cursed
Confederacy will go up like a house on fire." His words acted
like magic. The boys took courage and seemed to think that
it was but a question of time until they would be released.
They talked of home, and made many plans as to what they
would do when they got back to God's country.

CHAPTER XV.

We Leave Andersonville Again But Only for Three
Days — The Guard Become Considerate and Col. Gibbs
Makes a Speech — Another Excursion — We Visit Macon
But Return to Andersonville Immediately — Fugitive
Confederates Fleeing South — A Scared Lot of Rebels
— Confederate Money Loses all Value — A Sixty-Five
Mile March — In Camp at Lake City, Florida.
)LL through the month of February the weather was
very fine with but few exceptions. There were no more
prisoners came in after "Baldy's" squad, and we could
hear nothing new, only the rebels would occasionally say that
Lee had given Grant another drubbing. At last April came,
and one day the first week in the month an order came to get
ready to leave at once. This, of course, was good news and
we were soon ready, and so the next evening an order came for
one thousand to go over to the depot. Said the officer, " You
will all go as fast as transportation can be obtained." We were
soon at the railroad where we found a train of cars in waiting
for us. The officers said they were ordered to take us South,
probably to Florida, for exchange. We did not care where
they took us, so we got away from Andersonville. We were
soon all aboard, and away we go for Albany. We arrived at
Albany along ih the afternoon the next day, when we were

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 141
ordered off the cars and lay near the depot for several hours.
The officers seemed to be at a loss to know what to do with us.
At last we got in line and marched through the town, crossed
the river and went into camp for the night. We remained here
for two or three days when orders came to return to Anderson
ville. The officers said that our folks would not receive us
unless we were sent back to Vicksburg. We marched back to
the railroad. It was very warm when we got back to Ander
sonville. We arrived there about noon, and were soon inside of
the stockade, when the boys fixed up their huts as though they
were going to stay all summer. The hot weather began to tell
on the old prisoners, who had the scurvy so bad their joints
began to swell and they could scarcely walk. I, myself, felt
the effects of it more than I had at any time during my impris
onment. I began to think that if ever I got back to old
Indiana I would have to start soon. After we got in the stock
ade an officer got in one of the perches and said that Colonel
Gibbs would make us a speech late in the evening, when it was
cool. Said he, "The Colonel will speak from this stand, and
when the bugle sounds he requests that you will come up here
and hear what he has to say." Some one yelled out, "Tell
Colonel Gibbs and all the rest of your lying officers to go to
h — 1; we have heard enough of your rebel lies." These
epithets did not seem to rile up the guards or officers as they
used to. At the sound of the bugle a large body collected near
the gate where they could hear the Colonel. He began by
saying, " Prisoners, 1 hold in my hands an order from General
Pillow, which was received at this camp this day, and it is for
the removal of you to your lines. It will go into effect be
tween this and the 18th of this month. You will be
taken to Vicksburg for exchange. I want you to take
as good care of yourselves as you can under the cir
cumstances. Prisoners, I call on you for witnesses that

142 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
during your long confinement, when you were being re
moved from one prison to another, havo I ever said you
were going home ? It has often pained me to see you so badly
deceived. I did not at that time, nor do I now, think it was
right to so cruelly deceive you. It has often pained me more
than I can express to you, to witness the horrors of this prisop.
Many months ago I resolved that I would never knowingly
deceive one of you. Many of you will remember when you
asked me about exchange I would say that it was not for me to
say when an exchange would take place. If I had had the
power I would have caused an exchange many months ago, or
I would havo made your condition different from what it has
been. But I now speak from authority and can say that there will
be no extending the time beyond the 18th, and it may bo
sooner." The Colonel made quite a lengthy speech. Bo it
remembered that Colonel Gibbs was the colonel who had com
manded the guard at Andersonville for many months. It was
he|who testified at the trial of Captain Wirz and gave such
damaging testimony. After the Colonel closed his speech
there was much speculation as to whether it was genuine or
not. Several of the old prisoners said, " I have often heard him
asked about exchange, when he would say, ' That is not for me
to say.' " Some said, " It is nothing but another rebel lie. They
need these guards somewhere to help their forces and have
taken this plan to deceive us again, but that is getting old
and won't work any, longer, and as soon as we seo the guard is
being diminished, we think we had better make an effort to
force the stockade if half of us are killed. It will bo bettor
than staying here another summer, for more than that many of
us will die if wo do not get out soon." We found by walking
over the camp that the speech had created a good bit of excite
ment. Many said, " I believe Gibbs is honest and knows what
he says, and this war cannot last always. It must close, some-

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 143
time, and why not now as well as any time?" They would
reason in this way: He did not say they were going to
exchange us, but he said he had an order to take us to our
lines, and no one has ever known Gibbs to tell us a lie. And
it is certain that Sherman is making his way through South
Carolina at will, and how do we know but what Grant has
taken Richmond before this time, as there are no new prisoners
coming in here? The boys finally made up their minds that
they would wait and see if Gibbs was telling the truth.
The weather was very warm and my legs began to swell
badly, so much so that it was with considerable pain that
1 could walk around, yet I took exercise every day, for I knew
my only chance of getting out alive was by taking all the
exercise I could, and thus baffle tho disease. At last, on
the evening of April 17th, an order came to get ready to move.
We were not long in getting ready. Soon we passed outside
of the gates, and away to tho railroad and here we go for
Macon. There were three train loads of us and I was on the last
train. We got to Macon just at day -light. The next morning
when our" train pulled up alongside of the other trains, which
were laying on side-tracks, we asked how long they had been
here. They said, " Several hours." "Why do you not get off
the cars?" wo asked. They said, " There seems to be some
trouble and they do not know what to do with us." I saw a
well off about two hundred feet from the track and asked the
guard if I could go and get a drink of water. An officer was
standing near and heard me ask. He said, " Certainly." I
walked over to the well and while there a guard came up and
I asked him what the trouble was. He said, " I do not know
exactly." I saw he was considerably excited. I said, " Where
are you going to take us ? " "I do not know, but I think it is
time that our officers were doing something for I am getting

144 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
tired of this d — n business." I walked back to the cars, and
just then I saw Captain Wirz coming along giving orders to
the officers. He said, " We will go back to Andersonville, but
will stop only to draw rations," when you could hear from a
hundred at a time, " You old lying Dutch s — of b — , you are
going to put us back in the stockade."
The trains moved back towards Andersonville in the same
order they came. That threw the train tha;t I was on in the
rear. At the rear of our train was attached one passenger
coach which was filled with rebel officers and among them was
Captain Wirz. All went well until in the afternoon. Our
trains ran very slow and kept as close together as it was safe
to run. Along about two o'clock in the afternoon our train
stopped to take wood and water, and it so happened that the
car that I was on stopped on the crossing of a wagon road. We
discovered a long train of negroes, white folks, mules and
wagons all mixed up, and looking on the other side of our
train, as far as we could see down the wagon road was a per
fect jam of vehicles of every description. There were several
darkies close to the road, when our boys called them up to the
cars and commenced to ask questions. They sard to the
darkies, "Sambo, what's the trouble ?" The darkies answered,
"I dunno. Massa said we had better be going for the Yankee's
am up at Columbia and specks they will be down here afore
long, so we dun packed up and am going south clean away
from them." "You don't say that our armies are at Columbia
do you ? " " Dat am hit, sure ; dey done come last night and
Massa is in a big hurry to get all de criters away 'fore they
come and toat dem off." "Who is it that is commanding the
Yankees?" "Massa says his name is General Wilson. He has
lots of you-uns on horses and we done want to get away foo he
gits down here." The guard noticing the darkies, walked up
and ordered them away and refused to let them come near the

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 145
cars. From this, on every wagon road we passed, we could see
men, women and children going south. We now began to ask
what it meant, when some of the last prisoners who had been
brought to Andersonville said that General Wilson was in com
mand of a large force of cavalry and mounted infantry and was
operating in Alabama, and no doubt he was making his way
for Andersonville and Macon, for, be it remembered, that the
rebels had a stockade at Macon for officers only and kept a
large number there all the time since they built the prison
at Andersonville. Well do I remember seeing the officers
taken from our train when we were on our way from Rich
mond to Andersonville almost one year before.
Just before we arrived at Andersonville our train stopped
and I saw Captain Wirz step off the ear. He had a newspaper
in his hand. A rebel officer came walking up along the train
and he and Wirz talked for a few minutes. We could see they
were very badly excited. Soon the train moved on and when
we came in sight of the stockade we fairly strained our eyes to
see if we could see any of our boys inside. As we came near
and could see better we saw no one inside the stockade, nor
were there any guards in the perches. We said, "what does all
this mean? Are they going to take us somewhere else?"
Arrived at the station we saw no rebels there, but learned from
our men who had been left to take care of the sick, who were
unable to be moved, that there was a call for men to go for
rations. While they were getting rations one of our boys who
had remained to help the sick came to our car and related the
following : "Early in the morning word was sent to the officer
of the prison to destroy all the artillery and ammunition
together with the muskets, and for the guards to disperse in
every direction and not more than two of them go together,
and keep in the woods as much as possible." He said, "There
is no doubt but that some of Wilson's men are near here now
10

146 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
and the rebels do not want to be caught guarding us. They
have destroyed all the artillery in the forts, cut down the
wheels of gun carriages, thrown their muskets in that deep well
at Wirz's headquarters." Said he, "It was worth a month's
imprisonment to have seen those scared devils. Their livers
fairly turned white when they heard that there was some real
live Yankees close by, and to encourage them we would halloa
at them and tell them they had better git before Wilson's men
got here if you do not want to try the strength of Georgia cot
ton, for if he comes here and finds you he will hang every
mother's son of you." We noticed that our guards were very
nervous and the officers seemed much excited.
At last Colonel Gibbs came along the train and said we
would go to Albany and march across the country to Thomas
ville, where we would take the cars for Tallahassa or Lake
City, Florida. Soon the signal was given and our train moved
on south. Our boys seemed in good cheer. They indulged in
singing patriotic songs and the guards were very kind to'us
now to what they had formerly been. We thumped and
pounded along the road all night. The next morning we
arrived at Albany and were marched through the town,
crossed the river, and marched down near the Blue Springs
where we went in camp and remained for two days. The
weather was very hot. Some of the boys had got hold of
some Confederate money, consisting of Richmond bills. They
tried' to buy beans with it, but the rebels refused to take it.
This was the first time they had refused Richmond money and
it created considerable excitement with the boys, and we said
to the guards that we believed the reason was that Grant had
taken the city. This they denied and said that Lee had given
Grant a terrible licking, almost annihilating his army. We
said, "What have you done with the prisoners you took?"
They said, " Our authorities have concluded to parole all pris-

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 147
oners that we take as fast as taken, together with all old ones,
so as to curtail expenses of keeping them." We said, " That
looks rather thin." They said, " What do you think is being
done with them?" "We dp not believe you have taken very
many, and if you have paroled any it is because you could not
get them away. We think your rotten Confederacy is about
used up." They said, "Not a bit of it." We said, "Then why
were you fellows so badly scared at Andersonville the other
day? " " Oh ! we were not scared. We have concluded to
abandon all of the prisons, as we have said, to reduce ex
penses." We said, "We guess your army is getting reduced in
about the same proportion as your territory is being reduced."
On the third morning after we had arrived at Albany, we
started on the march. It is sixty-five miles to Thomasville.
The weather was very hot, and our guards never had done any
marching. The prisoners marched four abreast. This caused
the guards to walk outside of the well-beaten track and was
very hard marching for them. They could not make any
better time than the prisoners and complained about as much.
They had knapsacks to carry. We had gone but a short dis
tance until one of the guards came up to me and said, " If you
will carry my knapsack to-day, I will divide my rations with
you when we go in camp to-night and will give you some
tobacco." I looked at the fellow and said, " I think you are
about as able to carry your traps as I am." He said, " That
may all be so, but I never marched a day in my life and am not
stout, nor am I well this morning, and if you will take it,
should I not be able to keep up, I will get permission to take
charge of you and we will take our time." I looked at the fel
low. He seemed like a very nice young man. I said, " I will
try it, and if I find it is too much for me I will hand it over to
you." He took it off and strapped it on me. It was not very
heavy. Now, in order for him to save his traps, it was

148 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
necessary for him to watch me closer than it would have been
otherwise. I tried to give him the slip two or three times
during the first two or three hours I had his traps, but his eyes
were on me and he would order me to my proper place, when
I would make some excuse for getting out of my place. Along
in the afternoon he complained of being very tired, and said
he would be compelled to stop and take a rest. His Captain
came along and he asked permission to stop and rest, also for
me to be given to him and he would be responsible for me.
He explained to the Captain what 1 was doing for him, and the
Captain consented to his- request. We walked outside of the
road a few steps to a log and sat down. As soon as we were
out of hearing he commenced to talk to me. He said his
father had been very wealthy before the war commenced. He
owned several hundred negroes, the most of whom had run
off, and it was going to financially ruin him. He said that he
had never done a day's work in his life, had not been in very
good health. His father had not been in favor of the war
from the start, and, said he, " I managed to keep out of the
army until a few months ago, when 1 was conscripted and
taken up to Andersonville to do duty. I am very tired of it
and wish it was over." I said, " Do you not think that the war
is about over?" He said, " I do not know, but there is some
thing very strange about it. We cannot get our officers to say
much about it, but I notice they are all the time talking about
something when no one is near enough to hear what they say."
I found him very talkative when we were by ourselves. We
jogged along until night. It was quite dark when we came up
to where they had gone in camp. Before we went inside of
the guard line he took his knapsack and opened it and gave
me half of his rations and some tobacco and said, "I want you
to take it for me to-morrow."
I soon found my comrades and the next morning I looked

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 149
for my man but could not find him. I never saw him after
wards. We started early on the march. The roads were good
and we made pretty good time — much better than we did when
we marched over the same road in December. The rebel offi
cers seemed to be in a great hurry to get somewhere. As for
ourselves, it did not matter much. Anywhere was better than
being cooped up at Andersonville. There was nothing of
importance occurred on the march but every day we became
more convinced that they were going to release us. The night
before we got to Thomasville our friend Rood said that he was
going to run the guard and do a little foraging off the country.
He left his traps in our care and said if he could find anything
to eat he would divide with us when he returned. A little
after dark he slipped out of camp and started out in the coun
try. He traveled from farm to farm all night but could find
nothing. He did not leave the road very far. The next morn
ing, a little after daylight, he came out near the road and about
five miles from our camp. While he was standing near the
road he saw a rebel soldier coming toward him. The soldier
saw him about the same time. Rood started to run, when the
soldier ordered him to stop, saying, at the same time, "I do not
mean to hurt you in the least." Rood halted, when the rebel
came up. He was a sergeant and said his folks lived about two
miles further on the road towards Thomasville. He said, " I
have permission to go home and wait till the rest come up."
He asked Rood where he had been. Rood told him that he
had been trying to find something to eat. He said, " Go with
me and we will get something when we get to my home."
They soon arrived at his home. Rood said the folks seemed
very glad to see the soldier. They wanted to know what fellow
this was and he told them it was a Yankee. Rood said the
soldier asked them to prepare breakfast for them, which they
did. The soldier's mother was very talkative and improved

150 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
the time to the best advantage. She inquired of her son if he did
not think the war was about over. He said he did not know,
but was in hopes it was. The old lady said, "If I could only
get all the Yankee coffee I could drink once more, I would be
satisfied to die." She said, "I do hope Sherman will come down
here, then I know I can get coffee." They talked very freely
and Rood soon began to think they were not in sympathy with
the rebellion. The old lady said, "1 told them it was wrong,
and they would find it out. Now I guess they see who was
right." The folks gave Rood a good supply of corn bread, and
meat, to bring to us. As we came up, Rood was sitting under a
shade tree at the side of the road. He gave us some bread and
meat, which was very acceptable. At that time our rations
had been very small on the entire march. Rood said it was
about five miles to Thomasville. We got there about two
o'clock in the afternoon and got some rations — the first that
had been given us since the morning before. The boys were
very hungry and weak.
We heard the trains blowing at the railroad and were
ordered to be ready in one hour to leave. We could see the
officers were very much excited and seemed to be in a terrible
hurry. Soon the word was given to start for the cars. We
went aboard the train and started south. Of all the roads we
had traveled over this was by all odds the worst. It was at
times a torture to remain in the cars. The squeaking ofthe
dry axles, the wheezing of the engine, all combined, made it
terribly disagreeable. Then we would eome to places in the
road where the train would have to move very slow, owing to
the bad condition ofthe road bed. Thus we pounded along for
two or three days and nights. At last we arrived at Lake City.
Here the same scenes were enacted as at Thomasville. The
officers seemed to be at a loss to know what to do. We remained
on the cars for several hours. The guard said that they were

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 151
awaiting for orders from General Pillow. We were finally
moved out about one-half mile from the town, near a large
swamp, ordered off the cars and told to go in camp on the west
side of the railroad. They then gave us some corn meal.
Fires were soon burning all over the camp, the meal made into
mush and eaten with a relish after a fast of forty-eight hours or
nearly so. Soon a lot of officers came out with some blank
rolls and ordered them filled out, and said as soon as they were
completed we would be sent to Baldwin and there turned over,
or rather, released.

CHAPTER XVI.

Fight Among the Guards — The Goobers vs. The Sandlop-
pers — Taken to Baldwin — Officially Notified of Our
Release as Prisoners — The March to the Lines of
the Union Army — A Last Look at the Rebel Sol
diers — Secreting My Bucket, Tools, Spikes and
Trinkets. FEW hours after we had been in camp a regiment of
the Florida coast guards came out to relieve the Georgia
militia. Now the fun commenced. The Georgia fellows said,
"We'uns have guarded the Yankees this far, and we'uns do not
intend to let the Sandloppers have anything to do with 'uns."
The Florida fellows said, " We don't want any Goobers down
here." The Goobers was a name applied to the Georgia
militia. You could not find a Georgia soldier without he had
his pocket filled with peanuts, called in Georgia "goober peas."
"Sandlopper" was a name applied to the Florida coast guards,
probably from the fact that the country was very sandy and
poor. Each party seemed to think more of the Yankee than
they did of each other. They finally got to fighting, and it
was our turn to enjoy the fun. They became so enraged that
the fight became almost a general thing all over their camp.
The officers had hard work to stop the fuss. They finally
compromised by putting the Florida guards on the east

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 153
and south of our camp, the Georgia fellows on the north and
West sides. The Georgia fellows, were to guard the first train
out, the Florida fellows the second, and so on. There had
been a detail of our boys made to assist in making out the
rolls, which were being hurried through as fast as possible..
At Lake City many citizens came out to see us. As soon
as the rolls were completed orders were given for the first
division to move. A train pulled up by the camp, when the
bOys went aboard and soon left for Baldwin. Soon another
train arrived, which was quickly loaded and moved off. Thus
it continued until the last train. I was on the last train.
We arrived at Baldwin when the sun was about one hour
high. As we got off the train Colonel Gibbs was standing on
top of a freight car and said he would like to talk to us a few
minutes. Said he : "Prisoners, I have done all for you 1 can.
I have no rations to give you. 1 am sorry to see you go without
rations when I know you need them so bad, but it is not in my
power to do more than I have done. I want you to keep
together and not take to the swamps. You are released. We
cannot take you further, and, no doubt, some of your men will
reach Jacksonville to-night. Then your folks will know the
situation, and will no doubt meet you with teams and assist you
to get to your lines. I advise you to keep on the grade of the
railroad. That is a direct route. You will meet scouts and
see pickets on the way, but they have been notified that you
are coming, and will not disturb you in the least."
The railroad had been torn up from Jacksonville to Bald
win by our men sometime before and the iron removed, so
Baldwin was as far as the rebels could run trains out from
Lake City. All the sick were removed from the cars and laid
on the grass under the live oak trees. A few well prisoners
stayed back to bring water to them and render all the assist
ance they could until our folks could get to them. The squad

154 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
that I belonged to was composed of boys from different states.
There were about thirty of us. We went out under a shade-
tree and held a little council. Gibbs said it was about five
miles out to their last picket post. After we passed that post,
said he, you will see no more Confederate soldiers. We took
a vote as to whether we should try and get outside of the
pickets before we camped or remain another night in the
Confederacy. The question was put and carried unanimously
that we would try and get to God's country before we camped.
It was also agreed that we would not leave any of our squad,
but would help the sick and the lame to make the trip. So
here we go. The sun was not more than half an hour high.
This was the hardest march we ever made. The road bed was
nothing but a sand bank and was full of sand burrs. We were
all bare-footed, and the sand burrs were as sharp as needles.
The road was full of boys. As far as you could see either way
you could see dozens at a time trying to extract the burrs from
their feet. I presume this was about as motly a crowd as any
one ever saw. There were but very few who had on a suit of
clothes ; most of them were bare headed ; some had on pants —
no shirt or coat of any kind ; some had on only a shirt. Many
had been prisoners from twelve to twenty -two months and had
long hair and matted beards. Their skins were black from the
pine smoke, not having had any soap for twelve months to
wash with. We made a pitiful sight, yet I presume there was
not a happier set of men on God's green earth at that time. It
was joy enough to know we were going to a land of plenty
and where we would be permitted to see the glorious Stars and
Stripes. Every little while you could hear the boys giving
three cheers for some fancied reception they would receive
when they got to God's country.
Our squad moved forward as fast as we could until dark.
We became very thirsty, but could find no water. We

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 155
kept going until about nine o'clock, when the boys became so
weak and thirsty they said they could go no farther unless they
could get some water. We saw, over in a field, a light. As I
was about the strongest one ofthe squad, I said I would go and
see if any one was there who could tell us where we could get
water. I started across the field and was soon near the fire,
when I was halted by a sentinel who said, "who goes there? "
I answered that € was a paroled prisoner and in search of
water. He said, "all right, we have been notified of your com
ing ; you can advance and we will not molest you in the least."
I approached the fire where I found a Captain and twenty or
thirty men who were doing picket duty. It was a company of
Cavalry and their extreme out-post. The Captain said, "what
do you want ? " I told him we could find no water, and some
of the boys could go no farther unless we could find some. He
said there was none close at hand, "but," said he, "I have
several men who have gone for water and as soon as they
return you can have a drink." I said that some of my com
rades were in need of it more than I. He said, " I will send a
man over to the road and have the boys come out here, and by
the time they get here, my men will be back with the water.
Sit down and rest yourself." Soon the rest of the boys came
out to the post, and in fifteen or twenty minutes the water
squad came with the water, when the Captain said, "give these
boys a drink." After we had all taken a drink, the officer said,
"boys, I am sorry I can not give you anything to eat, but such
is the fact. We used up all our rations for our supper and
expect to go to camp for breakfast." We then asked how far
it was to our pickets. He said " about eight miles. We are
the out-post of our army, and you will not see any more pickets
after you leave this post." " Then we are outside of your
lines," I said. "Yes," he answered. We could scarcely control
our feelings to know that we were once more outside of rebel

156 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
authority, and I noticed the boys brighten up at that announce
ment. The officer said, "about one mile further down the road
is a creek, and as soon as you cross it you will find good dry
ground to camp on, and can get to the water handily. On this
side the ground is wet and marshy. There is plenty of good
wood to build fires with on that side, but you must be careful,
for you have to cross a tressle bridge, and the timber is so
thick that it will be very dark, and if you ar% not careful some
of you will get hurt. Just as soon as you cross it you will get
on good, firm ground." The officers or men never intimated to
us that the war was over. If they knew it we could not detect
it in their conversation, but to the contrary, they seemed very
sanguine of succeeding in the end. I now think they knew
the war was over, but were too proud to make the acknowledg
ment. After we had rested we started on our journey, intending
to stop for the rest of the night at the place the officer spoke
of. Bidding our rebel friends good night, we started. After
going about twenty steps, for some cause I turned and took a
good look at the rebel squad, who were standing around their
fire watching us as we were leaving them. They were the last
armed rebels I ever saw, yet I have seen many since who were
too big cowards to show it by carrying a musket or saber,
although they were willing to hold secret meetings to plot
treason, and to do all their cowardly natures would let them do
to destroy the best government the sun ever shone upon.
Such traitors we have nothing but contempt for. We can re
spect a brave man, if he is our enemy, but a sneaking, cowardly
whelp we have no respect for under any circumstances. After
trudging along for half an hour or so we came to a curve in
the road. As soon as we came round it we could see hundreds
Of fires burning in the distance. Soon we came to the tressle
work, and after crossing it we went into camp for the rest of

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 157
the night. It tried one's faith to cross the bridge, as it was so
dark we could not see any object. We had to get down on our
hands and knees and crawl over it in that manner to prevent
falling through between the ties. There being plenty of good
dry wood, we soon had a big fire burning, and our boys could
not be content with one fire for our squad, but started half a
dozen or so. They said it was the first time they had found
plenty of anything in the cursed Confederacy, and they
intended to use all they could.
One of the boys was standing near me watching the fires.
He turned to me and said, "I wish the whole Confederacy
would burn as readily as do the piles of brush. What delight
I would take in spreading the flames and witness the last dying
embers of the cursed thing die out." I said, "We are free now
I think, and you should not feel that way." Said he, "I cannot
help it. I can never think of this country without it brings to
my mind the horrors of Andersonville, and think how many
of my comrades are left there in that sand bank, and to know,
as we know, that they starved to death when there was plenty
in sight. It makes me sick to think of it. If I could forget
what I saw and felt there, I would' be glad, but it is burned in
my mind and can never be erased while I live. I am a South
erner. I was born and raised in Tennessee,- and to know that
our own people would use us as they have, is more than I can
account for." Said I, "Perhaps they have seen their folly now
and will do better after the war is over." " Well," said he, " I
have fully made up my mind that some of them can't live in
the same country that I do. I am determined to be avenged of
the wrongs I and my family have received at their hands, I
was driven from my home and had to hide in the mountains
for weeks before I could get to the Union lines. My stock was
all run off or killed by them. My. fences were all burned.
Wife and children insulted, and everything that they could do

158 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
to annoy myself and family has been done, and I cannot rest
until I am avenged."
While he was talking he became very much excited. The
boys lay down on the ground near the fires to rest and sleep if
they could, but I do not think there was much sleeping done
that night, for all night men would come up who had stopped
to rest and got behind their comrades. As they came in camp
they would call for their comrades, and kept it up until they
could find them. Some of the first that had stopped in camp,
becoming rested, would start on the march. My squad adhered
strictly to our pledge, and kept together. Every time I closed
my eyes I could see, in imagination, the guards, or hear them
calling out the time of night.
At last morning came. We went to the creek and took as
good a wash as we could without soap. Returning to the fire
we gathered up our traps and made ready to start. I had
a bucket that I made at Andersonville, and all of my tools,
such as they were. I do not think the entire outfit would
weigh more than eight or ten pounds, yet it was quite a load to
carry. I was thoroughly convinced that we were released, for
this was the first morning for twelve months that we could not
see or hear guards pacing around our camp. As daylight
came, we could see no guards nor hear any hounds baying. It
did not seem possible that we were free, yet we could see our
boys going where they pleased and no one ordering them back
in line. While we stood by our fire I said, " There can be no
doubt but what we are free, and I believe I will leave my tools
and bucket here as it is too heavy to carry." The boys
gathered around me while I layed them out on a log, seeming
to take a last look at the faithful friends of railroad spikes and
other trinkets. At last, one of the boys said, " Let's wrap
them up in this old rag and put them under the log so they
may- remain undisturbed for all time to come, for I do not

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 159
believe that anybody will ever want to live in this God for
saken place." So we wrapped them up carefully and placed
them under the side of the log, covering them over with leaves
and laying a heavy chunk on them. This done, we started on
our journey, towards God's country. If I had those faithful
tools now, no reasonable price would buy them, but alas, they
are gone but not forgotten, for to them, I think I owe my life.
We traveled on the railroad. The boys were thickly scat
tered all along the track. They had traveled until too tired to
go farther, when they would lay down to rest. When rested
they would get up and start once more. Yet they seemed
happy. As the sun came up, the sand became so hot to our
bare feet that we could scarcely travel through it, but our faces
were toward the Promised Land and we were determined to
press forward. The country through which we were traveling
was very thinly timbered, almost a prairie, with now and then
a clump of trees and occasionally a palmetto tree. The ground
was covered with a thick coat of grass, which was at that time
about knee high. We made pretty good time while it was cool
in the morning, but our progress became slower as it got
hotter. About 10 o'clock, as we were passing a nice grove of
trees about ten rods frohi the road, some of the boys proposed
that we go out there and rest. So out we go, and throw
ourselves on the ground in the shade of the trees. We were
O ! so hungry. After resting a few minutes, the boys com
menced to pull up the grass and weeds, chewing the roots to
appease the cravings of their stomachs. We found some soft
brush that we chewed, which seemed to stop the cravings of
our appetites. All at once we heard a sound that startled
every one and brought us to our feet.

CHAPTER XVn.

First View of the Stars and Stripes — The Grandest Sight
of My Life — Providing for the Sick — News of the
Assassination of Lincoln — Medicated Coffee — Getting
Rid of the Graybacks — Arrival at Annapolis, Mary
land.

"w

HAT is that," some one said. " It sounds like a
steamboat whistle." I said, "I think it is a boat on
the St. Johns river, and is coming to the landing at Jackson
ville." While we were talking we heard it more distinctly,
Some said it was the whistle of a railroad engine. I said, " it is
too far to the right, for the railroad makes a curve just ahead
of us, and it cannot be the whistle of a railroad engine." We
started for the road, but had not gone far when we heard a
shrill whistle, more to our left, when all exclaimed, "that is the
cars coming out to meet us." Just before we left the track to
go to the shade trees we had come to where the iron remained
on the ties, not having been taken up. We had not gone far
before we heard it more plainly. By the time we arrived at
the track we could hear strains of music from a brass band,
and could hear our boys cheering. We stopped to listen and
we strained our eyes looking up the track in hopes of seeing
the cars. Imagine our joy if you can. While we stood there
the train came around the curve in the road, and the first

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 161
thing we could see was the glorious old stars and stripes.
There was a fellow standing on top of a box car holding them
out to the breeze. I never saw the American flag look half so
grand as it did at that time. There was a good band on the
train playing National airs. We forgot that we were hungry
or naked and commenced to cheer.
Reader, imagine our feelings if you can. I cannot find
words to express them. I never saw such a time, nor do I ever
expect to see another similar one.- May that glorious old ban
ner wave over the Land of the Free as long as time shall last, is
the wish of one who was there. Men would cheer until they
became so exhausted they would fall to the ground and could
not get up until they were helped. This was one of the grand
est days of my life. I felt that I had, to a certain extent, been
repaid for the suffering that I had endured. The very sight of
that old flag gave us new life. Upon the train were several
officers in full uniform, nice and clean. How grand and. noble
they looked, to what the rebel officers did, dressed in their
dirty gray, with old slouched hats and long hair. There was
no comparison between tbe two in our estimation. We could
not look or speak to one of them but what he would try to
insult us or the cause in which we were engaged, Now it was
different. The officers spoke kindly to us. The cars were
moving along very slow, as it was not safe to run fast, as many
of the boys were on the track. Several of the cars were sup
plied with tobacco cut in small pieces. As they moved along
the officers would throw the tobacco out to the boys, and one
officer standing on the car, said to us, as they passed by, to get
into the shade and nqt try to walk any further, as they would
take us all in on the train as fast as possible. Little did that
officer know our anxiety to get where we could secure some
thing to eat.-
We could not be content to stay, but kept on the move.
11

162 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
The train went on as far as the rails were laid, where they un
loaded some whiskey and provisions for the sick. The teams
were on the wagon road, coming out to take the provisions to
our sick at Baldwin, and several doctors went out, also, to take
care of the sick and have them brought in to Jacksonville.
As soon as they unloaded the provisions, the train started
back. Before it got to my squad there had as many got aboard
as could be accommodated. As they passed us the conductor
said, " We will soon be back," but we could not be content to
stay but kept on going.
We soon came to the thick timber and got out of the sand
burrs by" going to the side of the track. We got along very
well there. We came to a small creek, and upon looking down
the stream we saw smoke arising. Some of the boys said, let
us go down there and see what it is. We did not go far until
we smelled coffee, when one of the boys exclaimed, "my God,
don't you smell the coffee ? " When we got to the fire we found
several soldiers there. It was the reserve picket post. They
were from Massachusetts, and were one of the last regiments
that State had furnished. Among them was an old soldier who
had served all through the war. The post was in command of
a lieutenant, who was away visiting some of the other posts at
the time we came to them. As soon as we came up, the old
soldier said, " boys, I suppose you are very hungry." "Yes,"
we said, "can you give us some coffee?" "I will make it as
quick as possible." He turned to the other soldiers, who were
engaged in conversation with the boys, and said, "come boys,
lend a hand here, and let us get these fellows some coffee, and
then we will talk with them." They soon had coffee boiling.
O ! how delicious it smelled. As soon as the coffee was made
he said, "now boys, every one of you that has got anything to
eat in his haversack bring it out here and let us divide it with
the boys." Harversacks were soon brought forth and emptied

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 163
of their contents, the old soldiers divided them with our boys.
Oh, what a breakfast ! Coffee and soft bread ! Something I
had not tasted for twelve months. The coffee was good and
strong. It fairly made us drunk.
While we were eating we heard heavy firing down
towards Jacksonville. I asked what they were firing for. " Do
you not know that the President has been assassinated? These
are minute guns on account of his death." I said, "Do you
mean to say that President Lincoln has been killed? " "Yes,"
he said. I said, " I am sorry to hear that, for I was in hopes
that he would live to see the close of the war." " Well, don't
you know the war is over?" I said, " We have not heard
it before." " Well," said he, " that is a fact. Lee and Johnson
have surrendered, and all of the rebel troops east of the Mis
sissippi River. Dick Taylor is trying to keep the strife up
over in Texas, but we will soon close his career if he does not
surrender." I said this is news to us. The soldiers seemed
fairly surprised that we did not know about these great events
which had taken place in the last few days. We told them
that the Johnnies said Lee had given Grant a terrible drub
bing and had almost annihilated his army. " Well, Lee has no
army any more, and our forces are now occupying Richmond
and Petersburg." It seemed like a dream to us as we walked
back to the railroad. We said to each other, " Can that be
possible ? It does not seem that it can be so, but the soldiers
would not have said so if it were not true."
Soon, the train came back and stopped near us. We went
aboard and were taken to the depot at Jacksonville. An officer
said to me, " This train load will go up the river to the Live
Oak Grove, where tents are prepared for you." I said, "I
know where that is. I was here about fourteen months ago."
He said, " You can go there through the city or you can go out
this road, which is as near." I said, " I prefer to take the

164 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
road." He then said, "You go ahead and the rest will follow."
I started off and we soon reached the grove, where we found
tents already prepared for us. They had been put up by the
colored troops who were stationed there. Three or four of our
officers came out to us and said that we would soon have some
dinner. It was then about two o'clock in the afternoon. Inashort
time some one yelled out, "Here comes the ration wagon."
Soon a large government wagon, drawn by four mules, drove
up. The boys crowded up, expecting to get something to eat.
Imagine our surprise when the fellow who was in the wagon
said, " Get in line, and as you pass by the wagon I will hand
you a piece of this soap." Some one said, "I thought you
were going to give us something to eat ? " " So we are, but we
wash here before we eat,vand I think from the looks of you
fellows you need a good wash, so take this piece of soap and go
for the river, and by the time you take a good wash there will
be some rations here for you." We took the soap and
went to the river. After being in the water twenty
or thirty minutes we saw the wagon coming back. This
time they gave us some bread and coffee, but the coffee
was not good. They had put medicine in it to act as a physic.
We took our ration, which was not large, and there was a good
deal of grumbling. Some said they did not give us much more
than the rebels did, but after awhile an officer came out and
said that we would get more rations late in the evening. He
said, " In your weak condition it will not do for you to have all
your stomachs crave. Last night several of your comrades got
to the city and were furnished by the citizens and soldiers all
they could eat, and now some ten or fifteen are dead from the
effects of eating too much. You must be careful for awhile, as
we wish to see you all get home. You will be provided with
clothing as soon as it can come up from Hilton Head, and as
soon as you are able to stand the trip you will be sent North.

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 165
So now make yourselves as comfortable as possible under the
circumstances. We are glad to see you, and want to do all for
you we can. There are many blackberries now ripe here in
the thickets. You can eat all you want, for they will do you
good. Bathe as often as you wish. That will help you, and it
will not be long until you can go home.'' In a few days the
clothing came, and was issued out to us. When my squad went
up to get ours, we told the fellow to roll them up so that we
could carry them without getting them exposed to the gray-
backs. When the last one got his clothing, we took them,
holding them as far from our persons as possible. Going to
the river we hung them on a brush, taking off our old ones
and throwing them in the water. We then took a good bath,
putting on our new clothes. We felt like new men. That was
the last time that I ever saw a grayback. In about top days
we were notified to be ready to start North the next day.
Early in the morning we went to the landing and went aboard
a boat, which was soon out on the great deep. On arriving at
Hilton Head we were put on a propeller and started for An
napolis, Maryland, where we arrived in due time.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Camp Chase, Ohio — Meeting Old Comrades — Longings for
Home — A Kind-hearted Officer — Forwarded to In
dianapolis — FURLOUGHED FOR THIRTY DAYS — HOME AT
Last.
/ I \ HE next day after arriving at Annapolis I was walking
_L through the camp when I heard some one call my name.
I looked around, but could see no one that I knew. I started
on again when I heard my name called a second time. I
looked around and could see no one but a man dressed in
citizens' clothes. I thought I would go to him and see who he
was. When I got near him he called out, "well, old fellow,
you do not seem to know your old friend since you have got
in God's country." I now recognized him as one of the, boys
that run the guard at Blackshear, of whom I have spoken in a
previous chapter. They had just landed that morning, and he
was looking to see if he could find any one he knew. Our
meeting was a great surprise to both of us. He said to me,
"come down to the barracks and see the other boys." I went
down there and we had a good time together. And here is
where they related to me their experience in getting to our
boats on the coast of Florida, of which I have spoken before.
I remained at Annapolis only five days, when with several
hundred more, I was started for Camp Chase, Ohio. In the

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 167
course of due time we arrived at Camp Chase. Here I was
again surprised on entering the camp. Among the first boys I
met was my old friend Fisher, and several of the Fifth Cavalry
boys. They had got out on parole some months before, had
been at home on furlough, and were now in camp waiting for
their descriptive lists in order to be discharged from the
service. We had a good time talking and making inquiries
after friends. I asked Fisher how long he had been here.
He said, "several weeks and we have to remain here until we
are discharged. There is an order out," he said, " forbidding
the furloughing of any ofthe men, but that they would be dis
charged as fast as the descriptive list could be had." He said
to me, "you will have a good, long stay here before you get out."
I said, " I am going home." " How will you get out? " I said,
"you do not think this old rqtton board fence will keep me here
many days, do you? " "Well, supposing you get outside ofthe
camp, what will you do?" "I will get aboard the train and go
home. I have money and can pay my fare." He laughed at
me and said, "things are not now like they were when you
were here. Every train is guarded and all soldiers traveling
without a pass are arrested, and you can not get a pass, so I
guess you will have to stay awhile." I said, "I will get on the
outside of that fence before a week and will march home. I
guess they will not arrest me in the country." He laughed,
and said, " I guess you had as well make up your mind to be
contented and remain here for a few weeks." But I had set
my face homeward, and there was no place like home for me
at that time, so I set about looking for a chance to get out.
While going through the camp I saw a notice stuck up
ordering all Indiana soldiers whose terms of service had
expired to report to General Cox's headquarters. This was
Thursday morning. I at once started for the General's head
quarters. On arriving there I found two boys from the 29th

168 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
and one from the 47th regiment. We took seats on a bench.
At last a captain came to us and took our names, regiment, etc.,
and told us to report the next day at ten o'clock, which we did
promptly. After waiting for more than two hours, an orderly
came to us saying that they could not get our papers out that
day, and we should report the next day at ten o'clock. We
were on hand promptly at the appointed time and after waitr
ing for a long time an officer came to the door and said they
could do nothing for us that day. I was the nearest to him. I
said, " I am sorry, as I wanted very much to get home." He
looked at me and said, " how long since you were at home ?"
"Three years," I said. "How long have you been a prisoner?"
"One year." " Well, you look like you ought to be at home."
I saw by his talk that he was anxious that we should start for
home. He said, "wait here for a few minutes and I will go and
see the General." I could see the General from where I was
standing. The officer approached him and they engaged in
an earnest conversation for a few minutes. I could see that
they were talking about us and were very earnest. Soon the
General and the other officer came to the window and asked us
a few more questions, which I answered promptly. The Gen
eral turned to some clerks and said, "have these men's papers
made out at once." Turning to the officer he said, " Captain,
have these men go to their quarters at once, and get their traps
ready to leave. Call a corporal to go with them to the
Soldiers' Home. They will get their dinners there. You
must hrurry so they can take the 12:30 train for Indianapolis."
We were soon at the quarters and commenced rolling up our
blankets, when the boys gathered around us and wanted to
know how we had managed to get a permit to go. I said,
"There is an order there posted on that tree. Go and read it.
If you are included in it, you can go as well as us." In a few
minutes the corporal was at the quarters with our papers and

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 169
said we must hurry in order to make the train. We bade the
boys good-bye once more, and some of them for the last time
this side of the Great Beyond, as we have never seen them
since, and some of them have gone to answer to the roll-call
beyond the river. We hurried to the Provost Marshal's office.
The corporal handed him the papers. He glanced over them
and said to the soldier, "take these men up to dinner. They
are in a hurry, for the train will soon leave." We went to our
dinners, but before we were half done eating, the officer called
us, saying, "you must come ; I can not hold the train longer."
As we passed out ofthe gate he handed me a large envelope, at
the same time saying, "take this and report to Major Dunn at
Indianapolis." We were soon on the cars. It was a very
pleasant afternoon, the very last of May. At twelve o'clock
that night we arrived at Indianapolis. On going to the hotel
the clerk said he would give us a bed, but it was too late for
supper. Being very hungry, we started out ; going to a res
taurant we got our suppers. On going back to the hotel the
clerk demanded $1.50 for our bed and breakfast, which we
paid. The next morning was Sunday. We walked over the city,
saw many ex-soldiers and spent the day very pleasantly. Mon
day morning we reported to Major Dunn. When I handed
him the papers, he looked at me and said, " You look like you
had seen some hard service." I said, "About as hard as I care
to see." He opened the envelope, looked over the papers and
called the names. The two 29th boys were discharged. The
47th boy had something wrong with his discriptive list. The
Major said, " I will give you a furlough home for thirty days.
By that time I will get your papers all right and can give you
a discharge. Looking up to me he said, " How does it come
that you never received pay or clothing since your enlistment."
I said, " I have received pay and clothing. Was paid the last

170 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
time at Jacksonville, Florida, in April, 1864. Do not remem
ber the paymaster's name." " Well, if that is so, I cannot
discharge you. Your descriptive list does not state that you
ever received pay or clothing from the day of your enlistment.
I will give you a furlough home for thirty days. You can go
home and rest and recruit up, which I think you .need about as
much as you need a discharge. At the expiration of your fur
lough you will report here, and I will have your papers ready."
He wrote an order and handing it to me he said, " Take this,
go over to the quarter-master, who will furnish you with trans
portation." I went over and got my transportation. At
1 o'clock we left for home, arriving at home about 9 o'clock
that night, May 29th, 1865, just one month after I got to our
lines. So here I am, and my neighbors know what I have been
since that time. I have tried to do my duty as an American
citizen. I love the old flag. I love the brave boys who gave
the best days of their lives to protect it. I love every Ameri
can citizen who loves the old flag and is willing to give his life
to protect it if need be. I can find no words to express my
contempt for a disloyal man or woman. There is nothing so
degraded in my eyes as a traitor to his flag.

My attention has been called to the fact that I have
omitted to mention the recovery of the money taken from me
by the rebel Provost-Marshal, at Richmond. It was finally
returned to me through General Mulford, the United States
exchange agent. When Richmond was captured, the register
which the Provost Marshal kept was found, together with some
$25,000 in money, a large number of watches, gold rings, pins,
and other valuables taken from the prisoners. Several months
after my return, Mr. Thomas Gibbs, then a resident of Mt.

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 171
Etna, Huntington county, but now living at Dora, Wabash
county, saw an advertisement in the Baltimore American, over
the signature of General Mulford, calling upon all prisoners
who had turned over their valuables to the rebel Provost Mar
shal to inform him of the fact, and if their statements were
verified by the register in his possession, and the property had
been recovered, it would be forwarded to the owners. Mr.
Gibbs having shown me this advertisement, I wrote to General
Mulford, telling him the facts regarding my case, and in about
ten days the amount surrendered by me to the Provost Mar
shal was forwarded to me by express at old Antioch.

CHAPTER XIX.

The Use of Blood-hounds Before the War — How the Con
federate Authorities Hunted the Prisoners with
These Brutes — Instances of the Remarkable Instinct
of the Dogs — Refugees Overtaken and Torn Almost
to Pieces — A Day of Reckoning.
/ I \HE young men and young women who are to-day filling
JL important positions in life, know very little of the state of
society before the war, especially in the South. The present
differs from the past in a great many respects, and many
things which were tolerated twenty -five years ago, and sanc
tioned, would now be condemned and suppressed. In the
Southern States, then, every black man and woman was a
slave, or in a condition little better than slavery. They were
subject to all the abuse that any white man desired to heap
upon them. They had no rights the white race were bound to
respect. There was no redress for wrongs inflicted upon them
in the courts. Even their testimony could not be received
when whites were engaged in controversy, or in their own
behalf. All slaves were held as chattels. The slaves were
bought and sold just as we buy and sell horses in these days.
A good, sound and healthy young man would command a good
price-^from $800, to $1500. In order to keep them subject to
their masters, they were kept in ignorance as much as possible.

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 175
It was a crime for any one to teach them to read and write,
punishable by a heavy fine and imprisonment. These slaves
were always quartered near their master's residence, in small
houses built for that purpose. All slaves must be in their
quarters at certain hours in the evening. Should any be
absent at roll call, they were punished the next day by receiv
ing a certain number of lashes on their bare backs. But there
was always a certain instinct that seemed to say, " I have just
as good a right to my freedom as any one else." Hence, some
took their chances to make their escape. To prevent this, and
help to secure the re-capture of the fugitives, each planter
kept a pack of blood-hounds which were trained to track the
negroes in case of attempted flight. Many slaves, from mis
treatment or some cause, would hide in the swamps, coming
out of their places of refuge at night to get something to eat,
and retiring to the swamps during the day. The dogs were
very useful to hunt down the runaway slaves, and by reason
of their long training, the rebel authorities found them equally
useful in hunting down refugees and escaping prisoners during
the war. They were of more real service to the Confederacy,
in this direction, than many regiments of soldiers would have
been. In all the histories of wars, I know of no civilized
nation — except the so-called Confederacy — which ever resorted
to such means as the use of dogs, to hunt down their enemies.
In this chapter I will tell my recollections of the blood
hounds that were kept at Andersonville ' for the purpose of
hunting down escaping prisoners. There were several packs
of hounds and other dogs kept for that purpose. One of the
packs of a dozen or more was kept near the stockade. When
not on duty they were kennelled in an old log house. A man
had charge of them whose duty it was to make the rounds of
the prison every night and morning, to see if any Yankee had
gotten out. This man rode a small white horse part of the

176 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
time, and part of the time a mule. He carried a carbine and a
cow's horn scraped very thin. When all the prisoners were
put inside the stockade at night he would go to the log house,
open the doors, let out his dogs, mount his horse, give a blast
on his horn, when all the dogs would start by making a circuit
of the entire prison. If no one had escaped he would go to
the house, give a few blasts on his cow's horn, when all the
dogs would come up and enter their den. This man was a
professional slave hunter before the war, I was informed, and
was sent to Andersonville on account of his knowledge of
the business in managing the dogs. This business was fol
lowed every day while I was at Andersonville, making the
rounds in the morning before any one was allowed to go out,
and again in the evening after all had been returned to the
stockade. If any one had made an escape, as soon as the dogs
would strike the trail they would set up a howl, when their
keeper would follow them. It has always been a mystery to
me how they could tell the trail of an escaping prisoner while
there were several hundred paroled men on the outside, besides
seven or eight thousand guards and patrols, who were continu
ally scouting the country over, both day and night. If any
one can tell how they knew the difference I would be glad to
know it. I know, however, that they could tell, as but very
few prisoners were ever able to make their escape from the
prison on account of these dogs. They were feared more than
the guards. The guards could be bribed or deceived, but the dogs
never. All old prisoners recollect how the dogs would howl
and what a noise they would make while in the house, and how
anxious they seemed to be to start on their rounds when once
turned loose. I have seen several boys who got out of differ
ent prisons and eluded the dogs by wading in water for miles.
Then they would go on dry land and travel for days, but as
sure as any white man or woman saw them they would soon

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 177
hear the dogs coming on their trail. Be it remembered that
almost every man that owned a slave \also owned a pack of
hounds to hunt runaway slaves. The hounds were used to
hunt Yankees during the war. All prisoners remember how
they would say to us, " Why are 'uns all come down heah to
fight we'uns foah ? " Our answer would be, " To preserve the
Constitution and enforce the laws of our Government." They
would then say, " Why are 'uns putting niggers in the field to
fight we'uns foah?" We would always shut them up by ask
ing, " Why are you hunting our men with dogs ?" for as common
as this practice was in the South, they did not like to talk about
it. There is no doubt but what thousands of our men would
have made their escape if it had not been for the dogs. Many
a poor boy who sleeps the sleep that knows no waking at An
dersonville would to-day be living if it had not been for these
dogs./ They deterred many from making the effort to escape.
I did not like to take the risk of laying in the woods and
swamps for weeks almost starved, possibly almost within hear
ing of friends, to be overtaken by these dogs. The guards
could never have captured one man in ten had it not been for
the assistance the dogs rendered them.
While we were at Millen some of the Fifth Indiana Cav
alry made their escape in the following manner : They were in
the first lot that went up to Millen from Savannah. They
arrived at Millen late in the evening. It was quite dark when
they went inside the stockade. The rebels placed a guard line
through the center of the prison just on the opposite side of
the creek from them. On going to the creek for water they dis
covered that they could get outside of the stockade. Where it
crossed the creek, the logs were far enough apart to let a small
man through. Several small boys belonging to the Fifth Cav
alry availed themselves of this opportunity to go but, and as
the start was made in the water on the inside of the prison,
12

178 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
they thought they could, keep in the water so far down the
creek that the dogs would not strike their trail. So a little
while after dark, four, I think, started, and succeeded in going
out unobserved. They followed down the stream until they
became so badly chilled they could not stay in the water any
longer, when they took to the solid ground. They made good
time, and at daylight they were several miles away from the
prison. They then secreted themselves in the woods for the
day. Starting out early in the evening they made good time,
and when daylight came they were crossing a large farm, en
deavoring to make the woods on the opposite side. While
crossing this farm they were discovered, and soon heard the
dogs coming on their trail. They started to run, but before
they could gain a place of safety they were overtaken and
badly scratched and bitten about the breast and arms. They
were returned to the prison without any attention being given
to their wounds.
I saw a man while I was at Andersonville, who tried to
make his escape, was overtaken by the dogs and had one cheek
almost torn off. His left arm was badly bitten. He said he
used his left arm as a guard to keep the dogs from getting him
by the throat while he was striking at them with a club which
he had in his right hand. He said while he was thus engaged
the rebels came up and ordered him to stop striking at the
dogs, saying that if he did not they would shoot hhn.
Reader, you can now form some idea of the chance you had
to make your escape when you recollect that every white man
and woman in the South stood ready to assist in your re-cap
ture should you be able to get outside of the prison pen. It
was said that many of the dogs were brought to the South from
Cuba during the Florida war to hunt the Indians in the
swamps. If such was the case it certainly does not reflect
much credit upon our people or any people who would resort to

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 179
such measures. I want it understood that I do not complain of
the cruelties of the service or of prison life while they were
conducted on the principles of civilized warfare. What wo
complain of was the barbarities which the rebels practiced on
us. We know war is cruel the best you can make of it, and
then to add all the barbarities practiced upon its helpless pris
oners that the imagination of man could conceive, is what we
complain of as prisoners of our late war. There is not a civil
ized nation on the globe that ever practiced such gigantic out
rages as were practiced by the rebel authorities who had
charge of the Union prisoners. It would have been doing
many a poor boy good service if they had done by them as the
Spanish authorities did in Cuba a few years ago, drawn them
up in line and shot them, instead of torturing them by the slow
process of starvation and exposure. Who is to blame for these
outrages? There certainly will be a reckoning. What a chap
ter this will make when it is written as it ought to be written,
and as I believe it will be.

CHAPTER XX.

The Present Owner of Andersonville — Official Report of
United States Officer as to its Condition When Taken
Possession of by the Government.
I HAVE often been asked as to the ownership of the land
that the stockade at Andersonville was built on. In order
to be able to give the correct answer, I wrote to the postmaster
at Andersonville, Georgia, on the 18th of September, 1885,
asking him who was the owner of the land at the time the
stockade was built. In reply he says the land was owned by a
white man by the name of B. B. Dykes. The owner at this
time is a colored man by the name of George W. Kennedy.
The population of Andersonville he reports as now about 500.
Distance from Andersonville to Americus, eleven miles; to
Albany, forty-seven miles; Thomasville, 100 miles; Macon,
sixty miles. Macon is on the North. The other towns named
are on the South. In order to further substantiate what I
have said in regard to the horrible condition of the prisoners
at Andersonville, I will here give the testimony of James M.
Moore, Captain and Assistant Quartermaster, U. S. Army.
The following is his report in full :
Washington, D. C, September 20, 1865.
General: — In accordance with special orders No. 19,
Quartermaster General's office, dated June 30, 1865, directing

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 181
me to proceed to Andersonville, Georgia, for the purpose of
marking the graves of Union soldiers for future identification,
and enclosing the cemetery, I have the honor to report as
follows :
I left Washington, D. C, on the 8th of July last, for Ander
sonville, via Savannah, with mechanics and material for the
purpose above mentioned. On my arrival at Savannah I
ascertained there was no railroad communication whatever to
Andersonville. The direct road to Macon being broken, and
that from Augusta via Atlanta also in the same condition, I
endeavored to procure wagon transportation, but was informed
by the General commanding the department of Georgia that a
sufficient number of teams could not be had in the State to haul
one-half of my stores, and as the roads were bad and the dis
tance more than four hundred miles, I abandoned all idea of
attempting a route through a country difficult and tedious
under more propitious circumstances. The prospect of reach
ing Andersonville at this time was by no means favorable and
nearly one week had elapsed since my arrival at Savannah. I
had telegraphed to Augusta, Atlanta and Macon, almost daily,
and received replies that the railroads were not yet completed.
At length on the morning of the 18th of July the gratifying
telegram from Augusta was received announcing the comple
tion of the Augusta & Macon road to Atlanta, when I at once
determined to procure a boat and proceeded to Augusta by the
Savannah River. The desired boat was secured and in twenty-
four hours after the receipt ofthe telegram alluded to I was on
my way with men and material for Augusta. On my arrival
there, I found the railroad completed to Macon, and that from
Macon to Andersonville having never been broken, experienced
little difficulty in reaching my destination, where I arrived
July 25th, after a tiresome trip occupying six days and nights.
At Macon, Major General Wilson detailed one company of

182 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
the 4th United States Cavalry and one from the 137th Regi
ment United States colored troops to assist me. A member of
the former Company was killed on the 5th of August at a sta
tion named Montezuma, on the Southwestern railroad. The
rolling stock on all the roads over which I traveled is in a mis
erable condition and very seldom a greater rate of speed was
attained than twelve miles an hour. At the different stations
along the route the object of the expedition was well known
and not infrequently men wearing the garb of rebel soldiers
would enter the cars and discuss the treatment of our prisoners
at Andersonville, all of whom candidly admitted it was shame
ful and a blot on the escutcheon of the South that years would
not efface. While encamped at Andersonville, I was daily
visited by men from the surrounding country and had an
opportunity of gleaning their feelings towards the Govern
ment and with hardly an exception found those who had been
in the rebel army penitent and more kindly disposed than
those who had never taken a part, and anxious again to become
citizens of the Government they had fought so hard to destroy.
On the morning of the 26th of July the work of iden
tifying the graves, painting and lettering of head boards, laying
out walks, and enclosing the cemetery, was commenced, and
on the evening of August 16th was completed with the excep
tions hereafter mentioned. The dead were found buried in
trenches on a site selected by the rebels, about three hundred
yards from the stockade. The trenches varied in length from
fifty to one hundred and fifty yards. The bodies in the
trenches were from two to three feet below the surface, and in
several instances, where the rain had washed away the earth,
but a few inches. Additional earth was, however, thrown upon
the graves, making them of a still greater depth. So close
were they buried without coffins, or the ordinary clothing to
cover their nakedness, that not more than twelve inches were

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 183
allowed to each man. Indeed the little tablets marking their
resting places, measuring hardly ten inches in width, almost'
touch each other. United States soldiers, while prisoners at
Andersonville, had been detailed to inter their companions,
and by a simple stake at the head of each grave, which bore a
number corresponding with a similar numbered name upon
the Andersonville hospital record, I was enabled to identify
and mark with a neat tablet similar to those in the cemeteries
at Washington, the number, name, rank, regiment, company
and date of death, of twelve thousand four hundred' and sixty-
one graves, there being but four hundred and fifty-one that
bore the sad inscription, "unknown." One hundred and
twenty thousand feet of pine lumber were used in these tablets
alone. The cemetery contained fifty acres, and has been divided
by one main avenue running through the center, and subdi
vided into blocks , and sections in such a manner that with the
aid of the record which I am now having copied for the Super
intendent, the visitor will experience no difficulty in finding any
grave. A force of men are now engaged in laying outwalks and
cleaning the cemetery of stumps and stones preparatory to plant
ing trees and flowers. I have already commenced the manufacture
of brick and will have a sufficient number by the 1st of October
to pave the numerous gutters throughout the cemetery, the
clay in the vicinity of the stockade being well adapted to the
purpose of brickmaking. Appropriate inscriptions are placed
through the grounds, and I have endeavored as far as
my facilities would permit, to transfer this wild, unmarked
and unhonored graveyard. into a fit place of interment for the
Nation's gallant dead.
At the entrance gate, the words, " National Cemetery,
Andersonville, Ga.," designate this city of the dead. On the
morning of the 17th of August, at sunrise, the stars and stripes
were hoisted in the center of the cemetery, when a National

184 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
salute was fired and several National songs sung by those pres
ent. The men who accompanied me, and to whom I am
indebted for the early completion of my mission, worked zeal
ously and faithfully from early in the morning until late at
night, although suffering intensely from the effects of the sun.
Unacclimated ' as they were, one after another was taken sick
with the fever incident to this country, and in a brief period
my force of mechanics was considerably lessened, obliging me
to obtain others from the residents in different parts of the
State. All my men, however, recovered with the exception of
Eddy Watts, a letterer, who died on the 16th of July, of
typhoid fever, after a sickness of three weeks. I brought his
body back with me and delivered it to his family in this city-
Several of the 4th United States Cavalry, detailed by General
Wilson, died of the same fever, shortly after joining their com
mand at Macon.
Andersonville is situated on the Southwestern railroad,
sixty miles from Macon. There is but one house in the place
except those erected by the so-called Confederate Government
as hospitals, officers' quarters, and commissary and quarter
master's buildings. It was formerly known as Anderson, but
since the war the ville has been added. The country is covered
mostly with pines and hemlocks and the soil is sandy, sterile
and unfit for cultivation, and unlike the sections of country a
few miles north and south of this place, where the soil is well
adapted to agricultural purposes, and cotton as well as corn are
extensively raised. It is said to be the most unhealthy part of
Georgia and was probably selected as a depot for prisoners on
account of this fact. At mid-day the thermometer in the
shade reaches frequently one hundred and ten degrees, and in
the sun the heat is almost unbearable. The inhabitants of this
sparsely settled locality are, with few exceptions, of the most
ignorant class, and from their haggard and sallow faces, the

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 185
effects of chills and fever are distinctly visible. tThe noted
Prison Pen is fifteen hundred and forty feet long and seven
hundred and fifty feet wide. The dead line is seventeen feet
from the stockade and the sentry boxes are thirty yards apart.
The inside stockade is eighteen feet high, the outer one twelve
feet, and the distance between the two is one hundred and
twenty feet. Nothing has been destroyed. As our exhausted,
emaciated, and enfeebled soldiers left it, so it stands to-day, as
an inhumanity unparalleled in the annals of war. How men
could survive as well as they did in this pen, exposed to the
rays of an almost tropical sun by day, and drenching dews by
night, without the slightest covering, is wonderful. The
ground is filled with holes where they had burrowed in their
efforts to shield themselves from the weather, and many a poor
fellow, in endeavoring to protect himself in this manner was
smothered to death by the earth falling in upon him. The
stories told of the sufferings of our men while prisoners here
have been substantiated by hundreds and the skeptic who will
visit Andersonville even now and examine the stockade, with
its black oozey mud, the cramped and wretched burrows, the
dead line, and the slaughter house, must be a callous observer,
indeed, if he is not convinced that the miseries depicted of this
prison pen are no exaggerations.
JAMES M. MOORE,
Captain and Assistant Quartermaster.
Brevet Major General M. C. Meigs, Washington, D. G.

CHAPTER XXI.

The Trial of Wirz — His Efforts to Shift the Responsi
bility — The Charges and Specifications — Overwhelm
ing Evidence of Guilt — The Sentence and Execution.
dAPTAIN HENRY WIRZ, the infamous commandant at
Andersonville, died, as he deserved, by the hand ofthe
hangman. At the close of the rebellion, General Wilson, com
mander of/ the Federal cavalry forces, learned that he was still
at Andersonville, and sent a squad of cavalry from Macon, Ga.,
under Captain Noyes, of the 4th regiment, to arrest him.
Wirz knew resistance was useless, but claimed immunity from
punishment by reason of the terms granted at the surrender
of Johnson. His protest was of no avail, however. Even had
the Government permitted him to escape, it is almost certain
he would have met a violent death at the hands of some of the
prisoners whom he had maltreated in the days of his despotic
power. The day of his arrest, he wrote the following letter to
General Wilson: Andersonville, 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 my object,
would not intrude upon you. I am a native of Switzerland,

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 187
and was, before the war, a citizen of Louisiana, and by profes-.
sion, a physician. Like hundreds of others I was carried
away by the 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 Alabama.
My health failing me, I applied for a furlough, and went
to Europe from which I returned in February, 1864. I was
then ordered to report to the commandant of the military
prison at Andersonville, who assigned me to the command of
the interior of the prison. The duties I had to perform were
arduous 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 control. I do not think that I
ought to be held responsible for the shortness of rations, for
the over crowded 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. 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 lost all my property
when the Federal army besieged Vicksburg. I have no money
at present to go any place, and even if I had, I know of no
place where I can go. My life is in danger, and I most re
spectfully ask of you help and relief. If you will be so gener
ous 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 will not be
giving to one who is unworthy of it. My intentions are to
return with" my family to Europe as soon as I can make the

188 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
arrangements. In the meantime I have the honor, General,
to remain, very respectfully, Your obedient servant,
HENRY WIRZ, Captain, C. S. A.
Major General J. H. Wilson, Commanding, Macon, Ga.
The trial of Wirz was held at Washington. The prisoner
was brought North via Chattanooga, Nashville and Cincinnati,
and so bitter was the public feeling that, although accompanied
by a strong guard, it was necessary to smuggle him through in
disguise to escape the vengeance of ex-prisoners and the
friends of those who had died in captivity. So execrated was
the man that even his fellow countryman, the Swiss Consul-
General at Washington, refused to be the custodian of funds
raised to conduct his defense before the Court-Martial.
The Court-Martial detailed to try the prisoner consisted of
Major General Lew Wallace, of Indiana, President; Brevet
Major Generals Mott and Geary; Brigadier Generals Fessen-
den, Bragg and L. Thomas ; and Colonels Ballier, Allcock and
Stibbs. The Commission convened August 23d, 1865, and the
taking of testimony continued until the 1st of October.
Colonel Chipman was the Judge Advocate, and the culprit
was defended by Lewis Schade, a prominent Washington attor
ney, together with three assistant counsel. Over two thousand
pages of testimony were taken, and so completely was the
truth of the charges established that the Government closed
the case before all the evidence offered was heard. The follow
ing is an abbreviated copy of the charges and specifications
upon which Wirz was tried :
Charge I. — That Henry Wirz maliciously, willfully and
traitorously, in aid of the then existing rebellion against the
United States, at divers times on or before and between the
1st day of March, 1864, and the 10th day of April, 1865, com-

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 189
bined, confederated and conspired with John H. Winder and
others to injure the health and destroy the lives of soldiers in
the military service of the United States, then held as prison
ers of war in the military prisons of the so-called Confederate
States, to the end that the armies of the United States might
be weakened and impaired, in violation of the laws and cus
toms of war. That the said Wirz subjected prisoners to torture
and great suffering by confining them in unhealthy and un-
wholsome quarters; by exposing them to the inclemency of
winter and the burning suns of summer; by furnishing them
with insufficient and unwholesome food, he being fully clothed
with authority of the so-called Confederate Government, and
in duty bound to' treat, care and provide for such prisoners
according to the laws of war; by neglecting to furnish the
prisoners with tents, barracks and other shelter; by ordering
the confiscation ofthe clothing, blankets, etc., ofthe prisoners;
by refusing to furnish food to sustain the lives ofthe prisoners,
or wood to cook their scanty rations or for warming purposes ;
by compelling the prisoners to subsist on unwholesome food in
quantities inadequate to sustain life; by compelling the prison
ers to use unwholesome water reeking with the filth and
garbage of the prison and prison guard, and the offal and
drainage of the cook-house, whereby the prisoners became
greatly reduced in bodily health and strength, their minds
impaired, their intellects broken, and over ten thousand per
mitted to languish and die for want of proper care and treat
ment ; by leaving the bodies of the dead until they became
corrupt and loathsome, among the emaciated sick and lan
guishing living, thereby increasing the unwholsomeness of the
prison, and causing the sickness and death of prisoners to the
number of one thousand; by subjecting prisoners to cruel,
unusual and infamous punishments upon slight, trivial and fic
titious pretense, such as binding prisoners closely together with

190 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
large chains around their necks and feet, placing them in an
instrument of torture known as the "stocks," without the
power to change position and without food and water, thereby
causing the death of thirty prisoners; by the establishment of
a " dead line," which was ih many places an imaginary line,
and in many other places marked by insecure and shifting
strips of board, nailed upon the top of small and insecure posts,
instructing the prison guard to fire upon and kill prisoners who
might touch, fall upon, pass over or under or across the said
" dead line," thereby causing the death of about three hun
dred prisoners ; by keeping ferocious and blood-thirsty
Leasts, dangerous to human life, called blood-hounds, to hunt
down, seize, tear, mangle and maim the bodies and limbs of fu
gitive prisoners, whereby about fifty prisoners lost their lives ;
by the use of poisonous and impure vaccine matter, for the
pretended purpose of preventing small-pox, by reason of which
about one hundred prisoners lost the use of their arms and
about two hundred lost their lives.
The finding of the Commission on this awful charge, after
amendment, was "Guilty."
Charge II. — This charge embraced personal acts of
brutality perpetrated by Wirz. Twelve distinct specifications
were alleged, on ten of which the finding was "guilty. ." These
specifications were as follows : 1. July 9th, 1864, with a
revolver in his hands, shooting and mortally wounding a pris
oner, from the effects of which injuries death followed in
twenty-four hours. 2. September 20th, 1864, jumping upon,
stamping, kicking and bruising a prisoner with the heels of
his boots, causing his immediate death. 3. June 13th, 1864,
shooting and mortally wounding a prisoner, with a revolver,
causing his immediate death. 4. August 20th, 1864, confining
a prisoner in the stocks, in consequence of which cruel treat-

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 191
ment, maliciously and murderously inflicted, the prisoner died
in ten days. 5. February 1st, 1865, confining a prisoner in
the stocks, and causing death in seven days. 6. July 20th,
1864, binding the necks and feet of prisoners together with
heavy chains, compelling them to carry large iron balls on
their feet, from the effects of which one of the sufferers died in
five days. 7. May 15th, 1864, ordering a rebel soldier to fire
on an unarmed and helpless prisoner, thereby causing his
immediate death. 8. July 1st, 1864, ordering a guard to fire
upon a helpless prisoner, causing his death. 9. July 1st,
1864, causing the blood-hounds to pursue, attack, Wound, and
tear to pieces, a prisoner, from which injuries death followed
in six days; 10. July 27th, 1864, commanding a sentinel to
fire upon a helpless prisoner, causing immediate death.
There was no lack of proof of the charges preferred
against Wirz, or of the atrocities perpetrated by and under the
authority of this monster. The evidence was overwhelming,
that, by his orders, prisoners had been beaten until they died
from their injuries ; that they had been confined in the stocks
until death ended their suffering ; that they had been shot
down in cold blood ; that they had been torn and mangled by
blood-hounds ; that Wirz himself had inflicted punishment,
such as shooting prisoners, knocking them down and kicking
and stamping them. Nearly two hundred ex-prisoners gave
their testimony, and in all the annals of crime history furnishes
hardly a parallel to the damning character established for this
brutal wretch. In addition to the testimony of the prisoners,
Colonel Gibbs, the confederate commander of the troops
stationed at Andersonville, testified that Wirz had sole control
of the prison and prisoners. The surgeons in charge of the
hospital testified as to his utter indifference to the condition of
the sick, and the meager supplies furnished. Wirz had even
refused to allow them to carry in vegetables to stop the scurvy,

192 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
although a plentiful supply could have been secured, as there
had been a fair crop raised in the vicinity.
In answer to the charges, Wirz put in pleas in bar to the
effect : 1. That the war being over, and the country at
peace, he could not legally be tried by a Court Martial. 2.
That he was entitled to immunity by the terms ofthe surrender
ofthe confederate army. The objection in the first paragraph
ofthe answer was overruled, and in answer to the second, Cap
tain Noyes, who made the arrest, declared that no terms or
promises of protection had been given the prisoner at the time
of his surrender. Wirz then entered a plea of not guilty ;
denying any knowledge of a conspiracy to destroy the lives of
prisoners ; denying that he was an accomplice of Winder or
any other person for such a purpose ; denying his responsi
bility for the over-crowded condition of the stockade, scanty
prison fare, lack of shelter, awful mortality, etc. ; and denying
each and every act of cruelty alleged against him personally. ,
The sentence ofthe Court Martial was death by hanging.
President Johnson approved the finding, and General C. C
Augur was charged with its execution. On the 10th day of
November, 1865, the sentence was carried into effect in the
Old Capitol Prison at Washington. Although Rev. Fathers
Wheelan, Boyle and Hamilton were pei'mitted to visit the
prisoner up to the last moment for the purpose of giving him
spiritual consolation, his body was, by order of that stern but
just official, Secretary of War Stanton, refused Christian
burial. Infamous as were his crimes, he met his fate without
flinching. Jeff Davis, whose tool Wirz was, lives to this day,
and from his comfortable home in Mississippi we occasionally
hear his lamentations over "The Lost Cause." Truly, justice
was blind when the subordinate only was punished and the
principal allowed to go free.
Only Wirz, of all the brutal officers who were placed over

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 193
the prisoners, was punished. John H. Winder died the first
day of January, 1865. Adjutant Ross was burned up in a hotel
at Richmond a few years after the war. The others disap
peared, no one knows where, well knowing that should they
ever meet some ofthe prisoners whom they had so cruelly mis
treated, their lives would have paid the penalty.

13

CHAPTER XXII.

Fixing the Responsibility — What the Confederate Ar
chives Disclose — Why There was no Exchange of Pris
oners — The Treatment Accorded Rebel Prisoners in
the North — Thirteen Thousand Martyrs Buried in
the Andersonville National Cemetery — The Diseases
from Which They Died, and the States from Which
They Enlisted.
IF proof were wanting of the truth of my statement of the
horrors to which the prisoners were subject, the letter of
Wirz, to General Wilson, furnishes it an abundance. It admits
the scanty food, crowded condition of the stockade, lack of
clothing, want of shelter and fearful mortality. That Jeff. Davis
and the rebel authorities knew of the suffering and misery in
the rebel prison pens does not admit of a doubt. That they
permitted and encouraged the barbarities practiced on helpless
prisoners, is equally clear. Wirz, as he declared, was their
tool— a merciless and cruel one — conscious that his course was
fully in accord with the sentiments of those in higher au
thority. It has been urged, by rebel sympathisers, that the Con
federate authorities were powerless to properly care for the
prisoners ; that their treasury was bankrupt to purchase sup
plies ; that their country was impoverished to such an extent as

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 195
to afford only a meager support for their armies in the field.
In short, that the inhuman treatment of prisoners could not be
helped, and, therefore, the Confederate authorities should not
be held responsible. Out upon such lies ! Even these lies
afford no explanation of: — (1.) ' The location of the Ander
sonville stockade in a pestilential swamp, only a few rods
removed from healthy ground with plenty of water and shade.
(2.) The crowding of 35,000 men on sixteen acres of ground
when there were thousands of acres of land, unoccupied, on
every side. (3.) Depriving the prisoners of the privilege of
securing fuel, without cost or labor to the Confederacy, from
the abundant forests in the immediate vicinity of the stockade.
Nor are the excuses made as to the inability of the rebels to
secure supplies, valid, as witness the fact that the rebel soldiers.
always had provisions to sell the prisoners who were is posses
sion of money.
By all the laws of civilized war, it was incumbent upon
the rebel Government to treat its prisoners humanely. The
South boasted of its chivalry, and yet no tribe of savages was
ever guilty of greater barbarity. The tortures inflicted upon
their captives by the Indians were not more cruel or more
dreadful than fell to the lot of the men of the North, who, by
the fortunes of war, fell into the hands of their own country
men who were engaged in fighting tho battles of a slave
oligarchy. The man who excuses the treatment of the pris
oners, is the meanest kind of a traitor — an enemy to the Union
and a foe of humanity.
The capture of the archives of the Confederacy furnishes
the most conclusive evidence that the condition of the Ander
sonville prison pen was fully known to the rebel authorities.
Isaiah H. White, Chief Surgeon of the Hospital, over his own
signature, called attention to the fact that when the stockade
was built tho outside limit of the number of prisoners for

196 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
whom there was room was ten thousand. In August, 1864, ho
wrote a long report to General Winder, which was published
after the war, in which he called attention to the crowded con
dition of the prison ; lack of hospital accommodations ; absence
of vegetables necessary_to. prevent the scurvy; the drainage of
the garrison camps into the stream which furnished water for
the stockade; lack of clothing and proper medicines for the
sick, and the fact that there were but twelve surgeons to look
after the health of over thirty-one thousand prisoners. His
report had no effect, however, and at the beginning^of Septem
ber he was succeeded as chief Surgeon by Doctor Stevenson, a
man who was openly charged, at the trial of Wirz, by Doctor
Thornburg, one of the hospital surgeons, with having embez
zled about $80,000 of the hospital fund. The testimony of this
same Stevenson as to the condition of the stockade reveals that
he forbade General Winder and other officers from entering
the stockade except when in the best of health, so filthy and
pestilential was its condition. Doctor Bates, another rebel sur
geon, testified that green corn was taken away from the
patients and prisoners and the latter severely punished for
buying it. These documents also disclose that during the
month of August, 1864, Colonel Chandler, of Mississippi, Con
federate Inspector of Military Prisons, visited Andersonville,
and he, too, made a report, which was brought into court at
the trial of Wirz, and which bore the indorsement of the War
Department of the Confederate Government as filed in Octo
ber. In this report Colonel Chandler denounced the condition
of Andersonville prison as " a disgrace, to the Confederacy as a
Nation," and severely criticised General Winder. To these criti
cisms General Winder repliedby impugning Chandler's veracity.
This led to a demand by Colonel Chandler for a court of
inquiry, but his request was refused on the ground that officers
eould not be spared from the field for that purpose ! Here, is

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 197
direct evidence of knowledge of the condition of the prisoners
by the Confederate Government, and the fact is patent that
there were no steps taken for their betterment.
Two pertinent inquiries will arise in the mind of every
careful reader: (1.) What object had the Confederate authori
ties in exterminating the prisoners ? (2.) Why was there not
an exchange of prisoners?
In answer to the first inquiry: The deliberate cruelty
was practiced in the hope that the desperate suffering in theF
rebel prison pens — reports of which were beginning to be
heard in the North — would create such a sentiment as to de
mand a cessation of hostilities in the interest of humanity. If
the people of the loyal States could be made to believe that the
fifty thousand Union prisoners in captivity must perish unless
the war should cease, the rebels believed it would raise a great
cry for peace to reinforce the copperheads and rebel sympa
thizers of the North in their demands for a compromise.
Failing in this, a secondary object was to cripple the Union
army, in case of an exchange, by returning to it a lot of dis
eased and broken-down soldiers — " miserable wretches," as
Robert Ould, the Rebel Commmissioner of Exchange, called
them — unfit for service, in exchange for the well-fed rebels who
were cared for in the Northern prisons, who were then in
prime condition for field service, and who would prove a valu
able reinforcement to the Confederate army.
As to the second inquiry: There was no general
exchange of prisoners the latter part of the war for the sole
reason that the rebels refused to concede that the black man
was no longer property. The Federal Government desired an
exchange, and General B. F. Butler, United States Commis
sioner of Exchange, addressed a long letter to Robert Ould,
the Confederate Commissioner, in August, 1864. In this letter

198 Twelve Months in Andersonville.
General Butler declared his Government ready provided that
all enlisted soldiers and officers could be exchanged alike.
Here was the stumbling block. /"fThe South refused to treat the
black men in the United States service as soldiers, and held
that white officers over them were criminals. It claimed the
right to reduce to a state of slavery, free men, prisoners of
War, who had once been in bondage, but had been emancipated
by the proclamation of President Lincoln ; and, by advertise
ment in Southern newspapers, called upon the former owners
of black men regularly enlisted in the Federal army, who had
been captured, to come forward and claim " their property."
Because the Government of the United States insisted that
every soldier who wore the blue — black as well as white —
should be equally entitled to the privilege of exchange ; that
officers in colored regiments should have the same treatment
as officers in white regiments ; the rebel authorities declined
an exchange. The United States was honorably bound to
protect the rights of the' colored soldiers and their white offi
cers, and because it refused to discriminate against them, no
agreement could be arrived at. The scenes of Andersonville,
Belle Isle, Florence, etc., were among the last dreadful pictures
of the woe brought upon this Nation by the terrible crime of
human slavery.
I am rejoiced to know that the confederate prisoners who
were captured and lodged in the military prisons of the North
were kindly treated. I have acquaintances who served as
guards at northern prisons, and they tell me the prisoners
fared as well as the soldiers who guarded them. The prison
discipline was rigid of necessity, but the Johnnies did not lack
for food, clothing or shelter. The sick were cared for properly
and the mortality of the prisoners were but little, if any high
er, than the mortality of men kept in confinement in penal
institutions the world over. Nor have I ever heard, from

Twelve Months in Andersonville. 199
responsible rebel sources, any complaint of inhumanity such
as disgraced the cause of the Southern Confederacy.
In writing this, the story of my personal experience in
Andersonville, I havo endeavored to avoid any exhibition of
vindictiveness. Twenty years of peace have not been without
their effect in toning down the just resentment which every sur
vivor of Andersonville feels at the barbarity, to which himself
and comrades were subject, but thrice twenty years cannot
obliterate the remembrance of the horrors of the place. With
all these scenes rising fresh before my eyes, it has been (a dif
ficult task to write with the moderation which I had hoped,
but of one thing my readers can rest assured : I have written
only the truth. I could not have drawn a milder picture had I
been on the witness stand to answer "under tho pains and
penalties of perjury."
Of the fifty-two members of the 13th Indiana who entered
the stockade, thirteen died while prisoners at Andersonville.
How many died in other prisons, how many went to premature
graves from the effects of that confinement, or how many still
linger in this life the victims of diseases brought on by their
sufferings, I have no means of determining. I know that thir
teen thousand as brave soldiers as ever followed the Stars and
Stripes — six hundred of them tho sons of the Hoosier State —
laid down their lives at Andersonville, martyrs to the grand
cause of Freedom and National Supremacy.

APPENDIX.

The total number of prisoners received at Andersonville
during its use as a prison was 45,613. The records show that
18,000 of this number were admitted to the hospital for treat
ment, and the death register contains the names of nearly
13,000 prisoners who died. The principal causes of death were
diarrhea and dysentery, 6,400 ; scurvy, 3,800 ; gangrene,
700 ; fevers, 406 ; gun wounds, 155 ; phthsis, 137 ; rheumatism,
83 ; small pox, 68 ; sunstroke, 52. Of the remaining two thou
sand, many different forms of disease are named, but the
majority were wantonly murdered, and no report made. The
hospital records alone give the cause of the death of 443 pris
oners as "unknown."
The recapitulation of deaths by States is as follows :
Alabama,  15
Connecticut,  315
Delaware,  45
District Columbia,  14
Illinois,  850
Indiana,  594
Iowa,  174

n Appendix.
Kansas,  5
Kentucky,  436
Louisiana, .  .1
Maine   233
Maryland,   194
Massachusetts, .... . . . 768
Minnesota,   79
Michigan, ...  630
Missouri,  . ... 97
New Hampshire,  . 124
New Jersey,  . . 170
New York,  2572
North Carolina,  17
Ohio,  ... 1030
Pennsylvania,  . 1811
Rhode Island,  74
Tennessee,  738
Vermont,  . . 212
Virginia, . . 288
Wisconsin,  244
U. S. Army  399
U. S. Navy, . . 100
Civilians, . .... ... 166
Unknown,  517

Total,  12,912
The following is a list of Federal prisoners from Indiana
and Ohio who died and were buried at Andersonville, from the
organization of the Prison in February, 1864, to the surrender
of the Confederate army in May, 1865. Compiled from the
Prison Hospital Register kept by the Confederate Surgeons,
White, Stevenson and Clayton :

Appendix.

Ill

INDIANA.

No. of
Grave.

ITame.%

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

571.

Allen, Jessie, corporal.

. . . K, 116th Inf.

April 15,

'64

1917.

Adkins, George - -

. . D, 6th Cav - -

. June 14,

'64

3991.

Andrews, E. L . .

. K, 6th Cav.

. . July 26,

'64

4270.

Anderson, D. .

- E, 76th Inf. -

. July 29,

'64

5680.

Ault, J. W. .

. . D, 40th Inf.

. . Aug. 14,

'64

6921.

Alexander, S. . . .

. . D, 93d Inf. . .

. Aug. 26,

'64

7124.

Alexander, J. D 

. . K, 5th Cav.

. Aug 28,

'64

9292.

Auburn, 0. .

. H, 65th Inf. .

. Sept. 19,

'64

9445.

Adkins, J. F. ....

. H, 2d Cav. .

. Sept. 21,

'64

9584.

. A, 35th Inf , .

. . Sept. 23,

'64

9643.

Allen, D. B., sergeant. . .

. 29th Inf. - .

. Sept. 24,

'64

9759.

Alfred, W. J. .

. . K, 117th Inf.

. Sept. 25,

'64

10473.

Allyn, D. .

. K, 88th Inf. -

. Oct. 7,

'64

10793.

Atland, C . .

. C, 32d Inf .

. . Oct. 12,

'64

11186.

Albin, I 

. D, 89th Inf. .

. . Oct. 19,

'64

12183.

Austin, Alfred . ¦

. . . K, 5th Inf

. Nov. 27,

'64

12513.

Amick, W. . ....

'65

B
313.
Bash, David . '.
. O, 117th Inf. .
April 2,
'64
576.
Bee, Thomas -
. Cavalry ....
. April 16,
'64
596.
Bock, Samuel .
. I, 75th Inf . .
. April 17,
'64
838.
Brown, T. .
. D, 66th Inf . .
. May 1,
'64
1514.
Barry, Henry . .
. . . D, 84th Inf .
May 31,
'64
1603.
Boley, A. J. .
. . C, 66th Inf .
'64
1759.
Barra, John .
. H, 65th Inf. .
. June 9,
'64
2016.
Burnett, Wm. .
. G, 6th Cav -
. . June 15,
'64
2191.
Buckhart, E. .
. F, 27th Inf .
. June 19,
'64
2222.
Brasier, S., musician
. I, 19th Inf .
. . June 20,
'64
2299.
Baumgardner, . .
. D, 44th Inf . .
. . June 22,
'64
2458.
Barrett, E. . .
. 1, 42d Inf .
. June 25,
'64
2874.
Bowman, JohD
. C, 42d, Inf.
. -July 4,
'64
'3044.
Bruce, J. W. .
. . M, 5th Cav . .
. .July 8,
'64
IT. No. of
Grave. 3359.
3366. 4027.4035. 4251.4479.
4563.4948.5089.5993.5220.5275.5442. 5590.5690.5794. 5981.
6163.
6410. 6518. 7370.
7794.8314.8397.8519.9098.9548. 9708.9777.
9793. 9846.
103oO.
10909.
11559.11604.
11919.

Appendix.

Name.

Broughton, D. . . .
Bricker, J. . ...
Barton, J. F 
Balinger, Robt. . .
Bonly, James . . .
Baker, J 
Baker, D. W. . .
Bayer, F. .
Brenton, J. W 
Bowlin, Wm 
Barton, E. . ...
Busick, W. A., corpora]
Bryer, P. . .
Bohens, Philip . .
Baker, J. P 
Boom, W. P. . . . : .
Barton, George . .
Brookers, J. M . .
Brown, J. M 
Bartholomew, I 
Bamgroover, J. A. . .
Barnes, Thomas M. .
Babbitt, W. H. .
Bassinger, H. .
Boyd, W. F.
Bortley, S. .
Bray, T. E 
Brown, J., sergeant,
Birch, T. A . .
Bozell, J. F .
Bixter, D 
Blackaber, W. H .
Benton, L. . . ...
Bennett, R. N. .
Bernis, J. M., sergeant,
Brown, D 

Co. Eegt.
. K, 7th Inf. .
- C, 68th Inf .
. G, 52d Inf. .
. I. 39th IdI .
- C, 81st Inf. -
. G, 9th Inf. -
. B, 13th Inf .
. . H, 129th Inf.
. I, 29th Inf. .
G, 53d Inf. .
G, 2d Cav.
F, 101st Inf.
. K, 81st Inf. .
. A, 79th Inf .
H, 7th Cav -
. F, 31st Inf. .
- F, 130th Inf.
- E, 112th Inf.
. F, 66th Inf. .
. A, 99th Inf.
H, 101st Inf.
C, 5th Cav. .
I, 29th Inf. .
. C, 14th Inf .
- F, 125th Inf.
I, 88th Inf. .
. K, 79th Inf.
. A, 1st Cav. -
. L, 58th Inf .
. B, 40th Inf .
. B, 5th Inf.
- I, 42d Inf.
. H, 30th Inf.
. D, 72d Inf.
. F, 87th Inf.
. B, 128th Inf.

Date of Death.
July 15, '64
'64 '64'64'64'64
'64'64'64'64'64'64 '64'64
'64'64'64 '64
'64 '64'64'64'64'64'64 '64'64'64'64'64'64'64 '64'64'64'64

July 15
July 26
July 26
July 29
. Aug. 1
. Aug. 2
Aug. 7
. Aug. 8
• Aug. 8
Aug. 10
Aug. 10
. Aug. 12
. Aug. 14
. Aug. 15
. Aug. 15
. Aug. 17
. Aug. 19
. Aug. 22
Aug. 22
Aug. 31
. Sept. 4
. Sept. 10
- Sept. 10
. Sept. 12
. Sept. 18
Sept. 23
- Sept. 24
. Sept. 26
- Sept. 26
Sept. 27
. Oct. 5
- Oc>. 14
. Oct. 27
Oct. 28
. Nov. 8

Appendix.

No. of
, Grave. Name.
11930. Bailey, George 
12019. Bennett, A 
12128. Booth, J 
12294. Bennett, C 
12486. Barrey, H 
12504. Balstrum, J 
12596. Branson, E  0
301. Charles, James .
625. Connell, P 
634. Claycome, S. A., sergeant, . .
1117. ; Cox, Joseph, sergeant, .
1146. Carter, Henry 
1172. Curry, J. W. .
1463. Currfer, Wm 
1523. Crest, J. D 
2254. Carpenter, O. C, corporal, .
2307. Cottrell, M. sergeant, .
2776. Cooley, A -
3043. Clark, W. .
3922. Connolly, D 
4234. Curry, W. F. .
4192. Cox, S 
4917. Clifford,' H. C.
5262. Courtney, J. F.
5654. Collar, E 
5660. Crews, E.'M.
5901. Clark, A 
6203. Chrichfula, S.
6477. Croane, J. J 
6646. Cornelius, E 
6926. Carnahan, A. W. sergeant . .
7383. Carpenter, S. .
7726. Callings, W.
7737. Cramer, A . 

Co. Seat.
A, 72nd Inf .
G, 29th Inf .
. E, 32nd Inf .
H, 6th Inf
I, 66th Inf.
F, 93d Inf. .
A, 57th Inf .

G, 6th Inf. .
M, 6th Cav.
- G, 66th Inf.
. B, 42d Inf. .
• C, 2d Cav.
.•F, 30th Inf. .
. K, 87th Inf .
. F, 31st Inf.
D, 29th Inf .
. . G, 6th Cav -
- C, 38th Inf.
C, 82d Inf. .
- I, 9th Inf .
. I, 4th Cav.
- E, 66th Inf.
. I, 7th Cav -
L, 2nd Cav .
G, 130th Inf
. A, 5th Cav .
. A, 54th Inf .
A, 93d Inf. .
. - C, 22d Inf.
- B, 58th Inf -
. E, 6th Inf. .
. I, 66th Inf. .
. F, 120th Inf.
. H, 30th Inf.

Date of Death.
.Nov. 8, '64
. Nov. 15, '64
.Nov. 22,' '64
. Dec. 15, '64
. Jan. 19, '65
. Jan. 22, '65
. Feb. 6, '65

April 1, '64
April 19, '64
April 20, '64
May 15, '64
May 16, !64
May 17, '64
May 30, '64
May 31, '64
June 21, '64
June 22, '64
July 2, '64
July 8, '64
July 25, '64
July 29, '64
July 28, '64
Aug. 6, '64
Aug. 10, '64
Aug. 14, '64
Aug. 14, '64
Aug. 16, '64
Aug. 19, '64
Aug. 22, '64
Aug. 23, '64
Aug. 26, '64
Aug. 31, '64
Sept. 3, '64
Sept. 3, '64

VI

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

7899.

Cheney, James - -

. I, 7th Cav

. Sept. 5, '64

8051.

Crampton, R.

. I, 101st Inf .

. Sept. 6, '64

8108.

Crazen, J • 

. . G, 53d Inf . .

.Sept. 7, '64

8133.

Crager, J.

. C, 13th Inf.

. Sept. 8, '64

8144.

Cooper, J .

. E, 80th Inf .

. Sept. 8, '64

9294.

Christman, J. E

. G, 6th Cav

. Sept. 19, '64

9535.

Collins, G 

. F, 56th Inf .

. Sept. 22, '64

9980.

Connett, Daniel

. F, 130th Inf.

. Sept. 28, '64

10084.

Conel, J. . .

. D, 13th Inf

. Sept. 30, '64

10905.

Callen, M .

. B, 35th Inf.

. Oct. 13, '64

11423.

Cafer, J. H. . .

. K, 87th Inf.

Oct. 24, '64

11631.

Cummings, J. W.

. F, 93d Inf .

. Oct. 28, '64

12062.

Clark, M . .

. B, 101st Inf

. Nov. 17, '64

12173.

Cannon, A .

F, 42d Inf.

. Nov. 16, '64

12213.

Cregs, Wm 

. . E, 5th Cav

. Dec. 3, '64

12415.

Collins, W. A., sergeant .

. . G, 5th Inf.

. Jan. 8, '65

12559.

Calvert, G. F 

. I, 8th Cav. . -

. . Jan. 30, '65

D

426.

Drummond, J. H. .

. . F, 65th Inf.

. April 7, '64

508.

Davis, J. M .

. I, 65th Inf.

April 12, '64

964.

Darker, Wm,

. C, 12th Inf.

. May 8, '64

2205.

Denny, John . .

. E, 44th Inf.

June 19, '64

3157.

Detrich, C.

. K, 29th Inf.

. . July 11, '64

3419.

Dusan, J.

. . D, 6th Inf.

. July 16, '64

4021.

Develin, E.

. . B, 35th Inf. -

. July 26, '64

4029.

' Decer, P. .

. K, 32nd Inf

. . July 26, '64

4124.

Dill, C. P .

F, 42nd Inf. .

. July 27, '64

5255.

Davis, K. . .

. D, 13th Inf.

. . Aug. 10, '64

5367.

Dunben, M . .

. E, 36th Inf. .

Aug. 11, '64

5420.

Dehip, Z. S. . .

. . D, 13th Inf.

- Aug. 12, '64

5681.

Dallinger, W. C

. E, 38th Inf.

. Aug. 14, '64

6147.

Denton, Philip.

. D, 81st Inf. -

: . Aug. 19, '64

6234.

Downey, S. M. .

. I, 116th Inf.

. Aug. 25, '64

6944.

Dowell, W. S.

. C, 6th Inf.

. . Aug. 26, '64

9236.

. F, 19th Inf. .

. Sept. 19, '64

Appendix.

VII

No. of
Grave. Co. Regt. Date of Death.
9638. Dunlap, W  A. 30th Inf. . Sept. 24, '64
10010. Downs, J. R  . I, 5th Cav  Sept. 29, '64
10435. Dane, Andrew  I, 36th Inf. . Oct. 6, '64
10446. Dignon, L  B, 35th Inf. . Oct. 7, '64
10916. Dawson, L. F . . .• ... I, 29th Inf. . . . Oct. 14, '64
10954. Dial, R  B, 1st Cav.- . . Oct. 14, '64
12087. Daffendal, P. H  D, 58th Inf. . Nov. 18, '64
12172. Davenport, J  I, 6th Cav  Nov. 24, '64
12236. Delasement, F. sergeant . . B, 14th Inf. . Dec. 6, '64
12533. Duckworth, J . . . . . F, 85th Inf. . . . Jan. 27, '65
12545. Dawley, J  I, 73rd Inf. . Jan. 27, '65
12580. Dawson, J  D, 124th Inf. . Feb. 3, '65
E
916. Evans, G. H  A, 1st Cav  May 6, '64
917. Edwards, G. H. musician. . . . G, 6th Inf  May 7, '64
1083. Ellis, H. C  D, 6th Cav  May 14, '64
1279. Evans, W  I, 75th Inf  May 22, '64
1346. Eskridge, Oakley  D, 29th Inf  May 24, '64
1994. Edwards, J. W  G, 38th Inf. . . June 15, '64
2481. Essenthal, F  D, 5th Cav. . June 25, '64
4075. Eaton, W. H  B, 58th Inf. ... July 27, '64
4953. Ecker, J  I, 39th Inf. . Aug. 17, '64
5076. Evans, J  I, 6th Cav  Aug. 8, '64
7917. Ells, D  .1. 20th Inf. . . . Sept. 5, '64
11320. Elston, ,F  B, 9th Inf. . . . Oct. 22, '64
11429. Estelle, E. W. sergeant . . - L, 2d Cav. . . . Oct. 24, '64
11712. Eldridge, E  38th Inf  Nov. 1, '64
11774. Earl, D. corporal  B, 2nd Cav. - - Nov. 3, '64
12285. Emmons, W  D, 5th Inf  Dec. 14, '64 ,
F
1482. Frecks, F  D,. 35th Inf. . . . May 30, '64
1808. Fitter, B  I, 66th Inf. . . June 10, '64
2143. Fike, Tobias  - D, 30th Inf. . . June 18, '64
3014. Fitzgerald, I  D, 30th Inf. . . . July 7, '64
14

VIIINo. of
Grave. 3458.3637.8379. 8547.
8766.
9847.
10509.11311. 11526.12012.
12144. 12320.12728.

98.
322.
1048.
1165. 1215.
1312.
1594.2337.2386.
2418.3573.
4179. 4273.4847.
4901. 6189.6398.
6493.7298.7321.7698.

Appendix.
Name. Co. Regt.
Fescher, D  E, 32nd Inf.
Fuget, W  . . C, 3rd Cav. .
Fields, N  F, 6th Cav. '
Fenton, I  D, 72nd Inf.
Farward, S  ... I, 8th Cav. -
Fbrshua, W  H, 25th Inf.
Farmingham, W. C  K, 14th Cav.
Fanier, F  I, 6th Cav. .
Fish, C  H, 2nd Cav.
Falkerson, J. sergeant . . B, 93rd Inf.
Francis, F. musician  93rd Inf.
Frass, John, sergeant. . . . D, 6th Cav. .
Felnick, H  F, 10th rnf. .
G-
Graham, Wm  G, 6th Inf.
Gladman, H  B, 110th Inf.
Goodwin, Wm  M, 2nd Cav.
Grimes, F. O  '. - . I, 66th Inf. .
Garver, John  F, 29th Inf. .
Gullsen, Wm  L, 7th Cav. .
Griffin, William  I, 6th Cav. .
Gray, D. L  I, 22nd Inf.
Guthrie, W. B  C, 80th Inf.
Gillard, Wm  C, 120th Inf.
Gibbon, W. T . ..... I, 128th Inf.
Gould, Wm  E, 66th Inf.
Gilbert, H. A. sergeant. . K, 2nd Cav.
Galliger, Wm  B, 7th Inf. .
Gerard, H  . G, 35th Inf.
Goodwio, I  F, 20th Inf.
Gordon, W. M  G, 74th Inf.
Goodridge, E. corporal  H, 91st Inf.
Grass, C  - H, 32nd Inf.
Gray, H. F  V . . . . H, 2nd Cav.
Gerber, I  C, 30th Inf.

v Date of Death.
: . July 17, '64
. July 20, '64
. Sept. 10, '64
. Sept. 12, '64
. Sept. 14, '64
¦ Sept. 27, '64
. . Oct. 8, '64
. . Oct. 22, '64
- . Oct. 26, '64
. Nov. 14, '64
. Nov. 24, '64
. . Dec. 24, '64
. March 4, '65

March 22,
. April 2,
May 12,
May 17,
May 19,
May 23,
June 3,
June 22,
June 24,
June 24,
July 19,
July 28,
July 29,
July 31,
Aug. 6,
Aug. 19,
Aug. 21,
Aug. 22,
Aug. 30,
Aug. 30.
Sept. 3,

'64 '64
'64'64 '64'64'64'64 '64'64'64'64 '64
'64 '64'64'64'64 '64
'64'64

Appendix.

IX

No. of
Grave.

8546.8791.
9112.9114.
10782.
11409.11581. 12216.
12398.12483.

Name.
Galhger, P. . . .
Gaham, William
Green, S . . . .
Gillan, J. . . .
Griswold, Thomas
Gordon, J. W. .
Greenwood, W. . .
Grant, H. G.
Garnet, T 
Green, William .

Co

Regt. Date of Death.
C, 58th Inf  Sept. 12, '64
K, 35th Inf. . . . Sept. 14, '64
E, 72d Inf  Sept. 18, '64
F, 29th Inf  Sept. 18, '64
F, 2d Cav  Oct. 12, '64
D, 13th Inf. . . . Oct. 24, '64
C, 3d Cav. . . . Oct. 28, '64
G, 5th Cav. ,.-- Dec. 3, '64
E, 6th Inf. . . . Jan. 5, '65
E, 39th Inf  Jan. 19, '65

H

630. Hollar, John  I, 5th Cav  April 19
879. Herrick, William  F, 80th Inf  May 4,
1953. Hall, L. S  C, 117th Inf. . . . June 14
2118. Hilliard, J  D, 116th Inf . . . June 17
2130. Hodges, J  C, 7th Inf. . . June 18.
2379. Hustin, James  B, 74th Inf. . . June 23.
2392. Hodges, S  F, 9th Inf. . June 24,
2629. Humphrey, I  C, 3d Cav. . - - June 28
2768. Hendricks, J  C, 2d Cav  July 2
2768. Higgins, M. P  C 3d Cav  July 2
2793. Hodges, W. J. - - - - F, 5th Cav. • • ¦ -. July 2,
2812. Hillman, H  - G, 65th Inf. . . . .*July3;
'2974. Hamilton, James . ¦ K, 7th Cav. . . July 7
3289. Hine, S . . . A, 68th Inf. . . . July 14.
3507. Hodgen, J. W  G, 80th Inf. . July 18.
4487. Hanger, L. S. . . . ,  A, 65th Inf  July 1
3362. Hart, J. R  H, 88th Inf. . . . Aug. 11
5678. Hittle, B  L, 6th Cav. - - . Aug. 14.
5695. Helville, N. C. . . - : - . - .F, 20th Inf, . . . . Aug. 15
5872. Heah, Jacob  G, 20th Inf. . Aug. 16
6076. Hearne, John  F, 5th Cav  Aug. 18
6198. Hershton, A. . M, 4th Cav. Aug. 19
6491. Hendricks, I. - - - H, 129th Inf, . . . Aug. 22
7031- Hartsock, I  A, 30th Inf. . Aug 27

'64'64'64'64'64 '64
'64 '64
'64'64'64'64'64'64
'64 '64'64'64'64'64'64
'64 '64'64

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

7790.
7837.7903.7971.8091.
8347. 8541.8681.
8778.8836. 8967.
9023.
9329.
9429.99119933.
10123.
10293. 10522.
10613. 10820.
11231.11243.
11790.12249.
12536.

Name.

Hunter, J. M 
Hammond, G. W., sergeant
Halfree, J. A 
Hamilton, P. S. .
Hughes, W. H., corporal
Hart, A. . .
Haff, M 
Hunter, H 
Haynes, W 
Higgins, John W.
Hollo way, J 
Hubbner, F. . .
Hurst, R. V., corporal .
Higgins,- W. E 
Haghton, J. . .
Harrington, O 
Hoffman, J. .
Hunsler, W. H.
Hoagler, N. C . .
Harris, W. C. - .
Hector, E. . . .
Haskins, H.
Hasfle, J., musician
Hill" R 
Hamilton, D. .
Hall, H. H.

sergeant

Co. Regt,
. F, 42d Inf..
. D, 65th Inf.
. A, 32d Inf.
' . E, 7th Inf. .
. D, 81st Inf. .
. A, 7th Inf. .
. Battery 4 . .
. F, 42d Inf. .
G, 30th Inf.
. C, 3d Cav. -
. M, 5th Cav.
E, 4th Cav. .
B, 36th Inf. .
H, 53d Inf. .
. D, 2d Cav.
. I, 30th Inf. .
. C, 80th Inf.
. E, 38th Inf.
. E, 39th Inf.
. D, 13th Inf. .
. D, 13th Inf.
. A, 99th Inf.
F, 1st Cav.
. D, 14th Inf.
B, 13th Inf. .
. E, 2d Cav.

Date of Death.
¦ Sept. 4, '64
. Sept. 4, '64
. Sept. 5, '64
Sept. 6, '64
. Sept. 7, '64
. Sept. 10, '64
. Sept. 12, '64
. Sept. 13, '64
. Sept. 14, '64
. Sept. 15, '64
. Sept. 16, '64
. Sept. 18, '64
. Sept. 20, '64
. Sept. 21, '64
- Sept. 28, '64
- Sept. 28, '64
. Oct. 1, '64
. Oct. 4, '64
- Oct. 8, '64
. Oct. 10, '64
. Oct 12, '64
. Oct. 20, '64
Oct. 21, "64
. Nov. 4. '64
. Dec. 9, '64'
- Jan. 27, '65

6414. Ihn, C 
8963. Igo, T., corporal

B, 129th Inf.
E, 4th Cav.

Aug. 22, '64
Sept. 16, '64

670. Johnson, Isaac . . .
1931. Jennings, C, corporal
2212. Jackson, John ....
2353. Jones, William M. .

. . C, 5th Cav.
. . I, 6th Cav.
C, 22d Inf.^,
. . D, 63d Inf.

April 22, '64
. June 14, '64
. June 20, '64
. June 23, '64

Appendix.

XI

No. of
Grave.

3311.
5245.6172.6311. 7100.
9948.
12517.
12799.

417. 618.
858.
1908.
2036. 2407.2527.3047.
4024.5149.5253.5722.6596.7085.8621.
10689.12278.
12587.

Name.

Jasper, William  I, 38th Inf.
Judd, Henry, sergeant
Julerso, H 
Jones, H. C. .
Jones, A 
Johnson, J. . ...
Jones J 
Johnson, H 

Regt. Date of Death.
¦ ¦ July 10, '64
D, 2d Cav  Aug. 10, '64
D, 2d Cav. - - Aug. 19, '64
. C, 5th Cav. - - - Aug. 20, '64
I, 88th Inf. . . . Aug. 28, '64
A, 7th Cav  Sept. 28, '64
C, 120th Inf. . . Jan. 24, '65
C, 40th Inf. . . . March 19, '65

K

Kistner, George . . .
Kinnan, A 
Ketcham, G. W., sergeant .
Kelso, E. O 
Kelley, John, sergeant .
Kennedy, Amos 
Kanga, J 
Kennedy, J. W. corporal
Keyes, William 
Keiler, W. J., sergeant . .
Kecher, T. ....
Kern, W 
Kelley, John 
Karnes, J. - -
King, D 
Keller, I 
Kuling, I 
Keef, P., corporal . .

. B, 42d Inf  April 7, '64
. G, 56th Inf. . April 18, '64
. I, 5th Cav  May 3, '64
. C, 3d Cav  June 13, '64
. 5th Cav  June 15, '64
H, 2d Cav. .... June 24, '64
. E, 74th Inf. . . . June 26, '64
. I, 3d Cav. . - - July 8, '64
. E, 72d Inf  July 26, '64
. H, 4th Cav. . - Aug. 9, '64
. I, 29th Inf  Aug. 10, '64
. H, 25th Inf. Aug. 15, '64
. C, 32d Inf  Aug. 23, '64

F, 128th Inf.
A, 81st Inf. .
B, 49th Inf. .
A, 79th Inf. .
C, 10th Cav

. Aug. 28, '64
. Sept. 13, '64
. Oct 11, '64
Dec. 12, '64
Feb. 4, '65

1041.
1239. 1261.
2615. 2745.3029.

Lewis, J. . . .
Lawrence, R. J.
Lower, N. ©-. .
Lewis, James -
Luff, C. . . .
Lewis, J. .

H, 6th Inf  May 12, '64
. G, 30th Inf ... . May 20, '64

I, 116th Inf -
F, 65th Inf .
. I, 58th Inf .
. C, 3d Cav. -

. May 21, '64
June 28, '64
. July 1, '64
. July 7, '64

XII No. of
Grave. 3767.3890.
4548. 5014.
5585.5616.6775.7162. 8607.
9256.
10508. 11152.
11715.12250.

130. 5.
631. 746.
841.903.954.
1090. 1405.1516.
1860.
2240.
2397.2511.
2608. 3387.3633.3884. 4010.4388.

Appendix.

Name.

Lannon, J. S.
Lawrence, D.
Lyons, Wm .
Lee, John . .
Lawson, Wm
Lawyer, James
Lyons, Wm
Lowery, D
Lunger, A
Liggett .
Lewis, R.
Lash, J .
Lakin, A.
Lawrence, B. T

Co. Regt.
. F, 128th Inf.
A, 80th Inf .
. A, 35th Inf .
. C, 3d Cav. .
A, 75th Inf
. B, 80th Inf .
- E, 1st Cav .
G, 2d Cav .
. M, 7th Cav
..G, 52dlnf .
. C, 7th Cav.
- B, 101st Inf .
7th Cav. - .
. D, 42d Inf

M

McCarty, John  D, 66th Inf .
Moodie, Z. . . . . K, 119th Inf.
Mullen, James  G, 6th Cav
Masters, Wm  C, 65th Inf.
Milton, John  C, 18th Inf .
Mytinger, Wm  F, 117th Inf.
Milburn, J  K, 6th Inf. .
Moore, Peter  I, 6th Inf .
Miller, Jacob  E, 74th Inf
Martin, George, Fergeant . C, 3d Cav.
Merritt, H . .  G, 30th Inf.
Mitchell, J. J  D, 30th Inf.
Milliken, S. L  G, 1st Cav. .
Moneyhon, B  D, 38th Inf .
Marsh, J  D, 88th Inf -.
Mank, E  E, 80th Inf .
Marlit, J  H, 80th Inf .
Mulchy. J.  A, 35th Inf .
Mercer, John  F, 12th Inf .
Malsby, F  A, 14th Cav.

Date of Death.
¦ July 22, '64
. July 24, '64
Aug. 2, '64
. Aug. 8, '64
. Aug. 14, '64
. Aug. 14, '64
. Aug. 25, '64
. Aug. 29, '64
. Sept. 12, '64
. Sept. 10, '64
. Oct. 8, '64
. Oct. 18, '64
Nov. 1, '64
. Dec. 9, '64

March 23, '64
March 31, '64
. April 19, '64
. April 26, '64
May 1, '64
May 5, '64
. May 8, '64
. May 14, '64
May 27, '64
May 31, '64
. June 12, '64
. June 20, '64
. June 24, '64
. June 26, '64
- June 28, '64
. July 16, '64
. July 20, '64
. July 24, '64
. July 26, '64
- July 31, '64

Appendix.
No. of
Grave. Name. Co. Regt.
4959. McDall, R  A, 19th Inf
5562. Manihan, J . . . . . . D, 68th Inf
5618. Mageson, J  . A, 7th Cav
5703. Mensome, S., sergeant - . . . E, 42d Inf
5713. Monroe, S  F, 33d Inf.
5767. Montgomery, R  F, 80th Inf
5863. Michael, S  I, 7th Cav.
6461. Mitchell, J. H  I, 30th Inf
6521. Monroe, H. J. sergeant. . . . G, 44th Inf.
6566. Matthews, M. . . . . -  K, 42d Inf.
7043. Milsker, J  D, 5th Cav.
7233. Matheny, N., sergeant  A, 42d Inf.
, 7272. McQueston, J. 0  B, 13th Inf.
7510. Myers, A. . . . E, 29th Inf.
7820. Moore, G. corporal  F, 101st Inf.
7973. Mine, John N  H, 2d Cav.
8007. .Miller, W. W  B, 101st Inf.
8176. McCoy, W. sergeant  B, 66th Inf.
8389. Murphy, J  . E, 9th Inf.
8651. McElvain, J. . . E,-93d Inf.
8925. Myers, J. . . . . D, 143d Inf.
9575. Morrison, J. . - - B, 4th Cav.
9600. Miller, J  - G, 7th Cav.
9856. Murgu, A  D, 35th Inf.
10231. Monay, G. W  E, 7th Inf.
10245. McFarney, J  B, 93d Inf.
10394. Maples, H  H, 29th Inf.
10891. Murphy, F  . B, 35th Inf.
10995. McDonald, I. - B, 74th Inf.
11166. Mills, Milton . ... D, 26th Inf.
11271. Mitchell, I. - - - - - K, 7th Inf.
11585. McCarty, A. ... A, 7th Inf.
11665. McBeth, I. C. . - • ¦ K, 28th Inf.
11680. Murphy, F. . . - C, 35th Inf.
11746. McCarty, A. . - A, 7th Inf. .
11857. McCarty, I  A, 6th Inf. .

XIII
Date of Death.
, Aug. 7, '64
. Aug. 13, '64
. Aug. 14, '64
Aug. 15, '64
Aug. 15, '64
. Aug. 15, '64
Aug. 16, '64
Aug. 22, '64
Aug. 22, '64
Aug. 23, '64
Aug. 27. '64
. Aug. 29, '64
Aug. 30, '64
. Sept. 1, '64
, Sept. 4, '64
, Sept. 6, '64
, Sept. 6, '64
. Sept. 8, '64
. Sept. 1-0, '64
. Sept. 15, '64
Sept. 16, '64
. Sept. 23, '64
. Sept. 23, '64 '
Sept. 27, '64
. Oct. 2, '64
. Oct. 3, '64
, Oct. 6, '64
Oct. 13, '64
Oct. 16, '64 ¦
. Oct. 18, '64
. Oct. 21, "64
. Oct. 28, '64
. Oct. 30, '64
. Oct. 31, '64
Nov. 2, '64
Nov. 6, '64

XIV No. of
Grave.
11946.12548. 12563.
12624.
12639.12769.

2007.3205. 3519.
4627. 6528.
10187. 12226. 9494.

342.
1874.
2778.5226.5361. 7863. 7911.
10940.
12544.12590.

287. 559.
1249.3434. 3738.
4068.

Appendix. \
Name. Co. Regt. Date of Death.
Miller, F. B  C, 30th Inf. . . . Nov. 10, '64
Madlener, L. ./ . K, 12th Inf. . Jan. 27, '65
McFall, I. . . . . . A, 30th Inf. . . Jan. 31, '65
Manifold, W. - I, 6th Cav. - - - Feb. 9, '65
Montgomery, W. - . G, 5th Cav . . . Feb. 17, '65
Maloy, I  G, 5th Cav. - - Feb. 28, '65
N
Noosman, G  G, 117th Inf. . . . June 15, '64
Newcomb, George . . - A, 22d Inf ... July 12, '64
Nucha, S  I, 3d Cav. . . - July 18, '64
Napper, W. H., sergeant . - I, 6th Inf. - - Aug. 3, '64
Norton, N. A. . - B, 38th Inf. - - Aug. 23, '64
Note, John H. . . . . F, 39th Inf. . . . Oct. 1, '64
Nichols, J. . - G, 38th Inf . . . Dec. 5, '64
Newberry, M  L, 7th Cav. . - - Sept. 21, '64
o
O'Neil, Thomas . . . . G, 6th Inf. . . April 2, '64
Oliver, John, corporal . . 42d Inf. . . . June 12, '64
Oliver, H. H. . . . . . M, 5th Cav. . - July 2, '64
Oliver, J. . . . - K, 120th Inf. . Aug. 10, '64
Osborn, J  - E, 73d Inf. . . Aug. 11, '64
Oliver, J  . . D, 19th Inf. . . Sept. 5, '64
O'Connor, Thomas ... . B, 5th Cav. . Sept. 5, '64
Olinger, E. . . -A, 65th Inf  Oct. 14, '64 .
Ortell, M. . . . - G, 35th Inf. . . . Jan. 27, '65
Ousley, W. J  A, 7th Inf. . . . Feb. 5, '65
P
Peache, Cyrus - . . . . D, 66th Inf. . . . April 1, '64
Pashby, John  C, 6th Cav. . April 15, '64
Packer, Samuel B  G, 6th Cav. . . - May 20, '64
Pavy, W  A, 123d Inf. . July 17, '64
Palmer, A. ... . . F, 42d Inf . . . July 21, '64
Parker, E. sergeant ...... A, 29th Inf. . . July 27, '64

Appendix.

No. of
Grave. 4171.4551.4553. 5627.6159.6278.6874. 7710.
8661.
9196. 9705.
9709.
10128.
11880.12572.12588.

872.
944.
1065. 1440.1558.1696.
2140.4039.4165.4406.
5180.5259. 5454.
5542.6247.6383. 6707.9547.

Co. Regt.
Park, John  B, 129th Inf.
Pettis, H  C, 53d Inf. .
Pruitt, H.'C  K, 7th Cav.
Prentice, J. M  K, 22d Inf. .
Penab, Alexander  B, 38th Inf.
Patterson, E  G, 4th Cav.
Parten, D. R  F, 65th Inf.
Plough, J. W. sergeant - . D, 89th Inf.
Pratt, Wm  F, 29th Inf.
Plumer, A. ... . D, 2d Cav. .
Pope, I. T. sergeant  G, 5th Cav.
Patterson, N. S  G, 93d Inf. .
Packett, T. C. sergeant . . . . F, 39th Inf.
Pangburn, sergeant  B, 20th Inf.
Potts, I  H, 99th Inf. .
Phepps, A  D, 30th Inf. .

XV
Date of Death.
July 28, '64
Aug. 2, '64
Aug. 2, '64
Aug. 15, '64
Aug 19, '64
Aug. 20, '64
Aug. 26, '64
Sept. 3, '64
Sept. 13, '64
Sept. 18, '64
Sept. 24, '64
Sept. 24, '64
. Oct. 1, '64
Nov. 6, '64
- Feb. 2, '65
. Feb. 2, '65

Remy, John  B, 66th Inf. .
Reed, R  F, 57th Inf. .
Remcett, L  H, 65th Inf. .
Ryan, Martin . . . . . . B, 35th Inf. .
Roll, N. C  F, 117th Inf.
Reese, L  - . - I, 116th Inf.
Robinson, L  - I, 7th Inf. .
Rogman  ... I, 38th Inf. .
Reiggs, K. N  K, 39th Inf. .
Richardson, I  I, 35th Inf. .
Rowlings, J. W  F, 117th Inf.
Rains, G. D  G, 4th Cav. .
Ritter, Benjamin  K, 29th Inf.
Ralph, G  - F, 68th Inf. .
Roundbush, Daniel  B, 6th Inf. .
Redyard, A  F, 65th Inf.
Rawlings, E., sergeant .... C, 66th Inf. .
Riggs, L  E, 19th Inf. .
15

- May 4, '64
. May 7, '64
. May 13, '64
. May 28, '64
. June 2, '64
. June 7, '64
June 18, '64
- July 26, '64
. July 28, '64
- July 31, '64
. Aug. 9, '64
. Aug. 10, '64
. Aug, 12, '64
. Aug. 13, '64
Aug. 20, '64
. Aug. 21, '64
Aug. 21, '64
Aug. 23, '64

XVI

No. of
Grave.

6754. 7677.8488.8577.9521.
10829. 11416.11451.11935. 12454.
12523.

86.
129.
""205. 768.
817.
901.
1039. 1331. 2447.
1400.1430.
1501. 1611.
1690.1732. 2079.
2083. 2218. 2318.
2420.2625.
2740. 2799.

Appendix.

Name. Co. Regt.
Russell, J  K, 7th Inf. .
Ringold, I  I, 7th Cav.
Russmore, E  C, 2d Cav. -
Redman, N. E  ' . F, 80th Inf. .
Richardson, John . . . . D, 86th Inf.
Reeves, William  F, 42d Inf.
Rierdon, M. D. . . Bat. 5th Cav.
Rutger, W., corporal  D, 44th Inf. .
Russell, W. H  C, 13th, Inf.
Robinson, R. .  G, 8th Inf. .
Richardson, E  E, 127th Inf.

s

Smiley  
Stein, Thomas 
Stouts,  .
Sanderson, H. .
Sears, I 
Shick, Eli 
Smith, M. C, corporal .
Smith H. . . .
Stafford, J. W. . .
Sapp, A. J 
Swindle, T. O., sergeant
Smith, L 
Schroder, W. .
Sparks, L. D 
Search, C 
Shigley, T.W. . .
Stinit, D 
Smudley, W. . .
Swain, J. W 
Snow, J 
Sattershwait, A
Smith, J.
Stanchley, Wm 

. I, 65th Inf. .
. D, 66th Inf.
. I, 65th Inf. .
. G, 6th Cav.
- I, 65th Inf. .
- C, 20th Inf.
. Battery 24 .
. A, 86th Inf
I, 68th Inf.
. H, 44th Inf.
. A, 82d Inf.
- A, 116th Inf.
A, 42d Inf. .
. D, 66th Inf .
- D, 5th Cav. .
. H, 10th Inf.
. L, 6th Cav. •
. E, 5th Cav.
. A, 30th Inf.
. G, 5th Cav.
. I, 82d Inf .
- H, 65th Inf.
. K, 5th Cav.

Date of Death.
- Aug. 24, '64
- Sept. 3, '64
. Sept. 11, '64
. Sept. 12, '64
. Sept. 21, '64
. Oct. 13, '64
- Oct. 24, '64
. Oct. 25, '64
- Nov. 9, '64
. Jan. 14, '65
. Jan. 26, '65

March 21, '64
March 23, '64
March 28, '64
April 27, '64
April 30, '64
. May 5, '64
. May 12, '64
. May 24, '64
. May 25, '64
May 26, '64
. May 28, '64
. May 31, '64
• June 4, '64
June 7, '64
. June 8, '64
- June 17, '64
- June 17, '64
• June 20, '64
- June 22, '64
. June 24, '64
. June 28, '64
- July 1, '64
• July 2, '64

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

2923.3416. 4014.4054.4062. 4088.
4229. 4418.4630.
4799.5254.5418.5513.5514.5571.5611.5884.5977.6044.6736.6830.7120.7264.
7683.7822.8058.8107.
8262. 8313.
8623.

Name.

8727.8910.9093.9252.9546.

Stofer, L sergeant ....
Spencer, M. . . .
Shields, J 
Smith, J. W 
Smith, H 
Schneider, S. A 
Sollman, C, sergeant .
Stevens, M 
Snider, D 
Summersvolt, V.
Scott, B 
Smith, Samuel E 
Shoemaker, E. W.
Sims, S 
Sackett, I. . .
Stockman', L. M.
Standish, M 
Stockhoff, G 
Stout, H 
Sipe, J 
Strong, L. . . - . . »
Spellman, J.
Shaver, F. . .
Snyder, L 
Sanders, D 
Suthien, J. H 
Starkey, I 
Sizeman, I 
Stagewald, J. M., sergeant
Suillenbarger, F. ...
Sylvanus, J. J 
Shoel, J. P 
Storm, L. M., sergeant . .
Simmons, J 
Sharp, D. M.
Sharpless, W.

Co. Regt.
. B, 29th Inf.
K, 80th Inf.
. F, 128th Inf.
. . G, 38th Inf.
H, 79th Inf.
. . 3d Cav. . -
. D, 35th Inf.
. M, 6th Cav.
. . K, 117th Inf
A, 29th Inf.
. . D, 9th Inf. .
. . C, 9th Inf. .
. . I, 5th Cav. .
. B, 101st Inf.
. G, 6th Cav.
. . E, 68th Inf.
B, 66th Inf.
. . I, 19th Inf. .
G, 7th Inf.
. A, 82d Inf. .
. . F, 9th Inf.
. . F, 80th Inf.
. . I, 129th Inf.
. - A, 6th Cav. •
I, 7th Inf. .
. E, 63d Inf. .
I, 6th Cav. -
. B, 123d Inf.
. . K, 22d Inf. .
. I, 21st Inf. .
. G, 35th Inf.
. . B, 30th Inf. .
A, 6th Inf .
I, 84th Inf. .
- E, 13th Inf. -
. . G, 43d Inf. .

XVII
Date of Death.
July 5, '64
July 16, '64
July 26, '64
July 27, '64
July 27, '64
July 27
July 29
July 31
Aug. 3
Aug. 5
Aug. 10
Aug. 12
Aug. 13
Aug. 13
Aug. 14
Aug. 14
Aug. 16
Aug. 17
Aug. 18
Aug. 24,
Aug. 25
Aug. 28
Aug. 30
Sept. 34. 7
7 9

. Sept.
• Sept.
. Sept.
. Sept.
. Sept. 10
. Sept. 13
. Sept. 13
Sept. 14
Sept. 16
. Sept. 18
. Sept. 19.
. Sept. 23

'64'64
'64 '64'64
'64'64'64'64 '64'64 '64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64

'64
'64 '64'64
'64'64

xviii Appendix.
No. of
Grave. Name. Co. Regt. Dale of Death.
9623. Smith, S. B  F, 17th Inf  Sept. 24, '64
9807. Skeets, W  A, 65th Inf. . . Sept. 26, '64
10790. Smith, George  D, 131st Inf. '. . . Oct. 12, '64
10949. Smith, I  . I, 39th Inf. . . Oct. 14, '64
11006. Sloat, G. W., sergeant  B, 44th Inf  Oct. 16, '64
11187. Seigferd, G. H  I, 4th Cav  Oct. 19, '64
11427. Sweltzer, J  G, 2d Cav. - . Oct. 24, '64
11842. Shaw, W. R  B, 99th Inf. . . . Nov. 5, '64
11969. Shoe, G. W  E, 74th Inf. . . Nov. 12, '64
11984. Steamer, F  . F, 29th Inf. . . . Nov. 13, '64
12113. Scarff.F  D. 6th Cav. . . . Nov. 21, '64
12381. Starke, M. S  . . D, 73d Inf. . . Jan. 2, '65
12492. Saltz, H. C  F, 4th Cav. . . - Jan. 20, '65
12582. Smith, D. H  H, 12th Cav . . . Feb. 3, '65
12645. Sides, G  A, 66th Inf - . .Feb. 8, '65
12666. Smure, C  G, 2d Cav. . . . Feb. 17, '65
12724. Stewart, E. B  E, 38th Inf . . . March 3, '65
12809. Staley, G. W  A, 72d Inf . . . March 24, '65
T
518. Tenher, James  I, 117th Inf . . . April 13, '64
3778. Tunblora, B  B, 65th Inf ... . July 22, '64
3791. Thompson, J  C, 6th Cav . - - July 22, '64
4733. Tooley, G. W  H, 42d Inf . . . . Aug. 4, '64
5065. Truman, L. H., sergeant . . . . G, 6th Cav . . . Aug. 8. '64
54p3. Taylor, N  I, 63d Inf .... Aug. 12, '64
6509. Tooley, W. R., corporal, . . . . H, 42d Inf . . . Aug. 22, '64
6719. Todd, T  B, 6th Inf ... . Aug. 24, '64
7096. Thomas, H. D  I, 42d Inf .... Aug. 28, '64
7442. Taylor, George H  M, 4th Cav . . - Sept. 1, '64
8495. Trumble, D. A  A, 30th Inf ... . Sept. 11, '64
8525. Taylor, E  I, 25th Inf - . . Sept. 12, '64
10219. Tasnahet, Charles, sergeant . . E, 31st Inf ... . Oct. 2. '64
10438. Thomas, M  2d Cav  Oct. 6. '64
12337. Tucer, B., citizen,  Nov. 26, '64
12609. Terhune, C  A, 9th Cav ... . Feb. 7, '65

Appendix.
No. of
Grave. Name. Co. Regt.
TJ
10356. Underwood, F  C, 7th Cav -
10769. Upton, F. M. . . . .A, 52d Inf. .
V
1717. Volt, S  K, 6th Cav .
5363. Venome, James . . . . . K, 30th Inf .
6250. Vanose, J. . . B, 93d Inf .
7691. Verhouse, D  A, 42d Inf .
w
135. Windinger, J. . . . G, 117th Inf
886. Walters, J. H., corporal . . . . G, 6th Cav .
934. Williams, A  G, 6th Inf .
1194. Wright, Samuel ... . I, 6th Cav -
1776. White, P . . . . C, 6th Cav.
1812. Wise, Eli  D, 88th Inf .
1918. Warren, E  H, 65th Inf.
2107. Williams, F  ' F, 38th Inf .
2242. West, E  H, 7th Cav .
2363. Woodward, W. W  A, 29th Inf .
2417. Wilson, J. N.  G, 75th Inf .
2467. Warden, I  . . B, 44th Inf .
2554. Warren, E  I, 37th Inf .
2670. Ward, J. -  F, 79th Inf .
2900. Wyn, W. E  D, 13th Inf .
2929. Wislake, I  I, 116th Inf .
2934. Wicks, L  H, 6th Cav
3837. Weltz, Ira, sergeant ... . B, 4th Cav.
4528. Whitehead, J  I, 29th Inf. .
4639. Winship, James  K, 36th Inf.
4826. Witt, T  D, 125th Inf
5399. Wade, C  K, 81st Inf .
5547. Waynin, J. H  I, 4th Cav. .
6000. West, S. N. corporal  B, 7th Inf. .
6132. Washburn, R. H  '¦ . A, 6th Cav .

XIX
Date of Death.
¦ Sept. 5, '64
. Oct. 12, '64

June 8, '64
. Aug. 11, '64
Aug. 20, '64
Sept. 3, '64

March 24, '64
. May 5, '64
. May 7, '64
. May 18, '64
June 9, '64
. June 10, '64
. June 14, '64
. June 17, '64
. June 20, '64
. June 23, '64
. June 24, '64
. June 25, '64
. June 27, '64
- June 29, '64
- July 5, '64
- July 5, '64
- July 6, '64
. July 23, '64
- Aug. 2, '64
- Aug. 4, '64
- Aug. 5, '64
. Aug. 12, '64
- Aug. 13, '64
• Aug. 17, '64
. Aug. 19, '64

XX

No. of
Grave.

6405. 6524.7184. 7191.
7349.8943.
9228.9316.6418.9501.

Appendix.

Name.

10643.11141.
11424.11602.12708.
12316.12341.12402.12497.12737.

Winders, A . . .
Wagner, M. . . .
Winters, F. W . .
Wagoner, E.
Witzgall, John .
Weibel, Charles - . .
White W 
Watkins, J. .
Wellington, H. . .
Wilson, J. B.
Williams, J. A. sergeant
Wagner, F 
Ward, J 
Whitehead, N. B. .
White R. B 
Walters, J 
Winebrook, P 
Werper, J 
White, J 
Wells, J. M . . .
What, J 
Wade, W . . .

Co. Regt.
I, 120th Inf.
- I, 5th Cav. .
C, 84th Inf .
. . A, 42d Inf. .
. D, 2d Cav. -
. F, 13th Inf .
. - E, 7th Inf.
. . A, 81st Inf .
. - I, 129th Inf.
. . E, 6th Inf.
- C, 38th Inf .
. D, 7th Inf. .
. G, 29th Inf.
. L, 5th Cav.
- . D, 6th Inf.
. I, 5th Inf. .
- B, 35th Inf .
. . E, 32d Inf.
. A, 7th Inf. .
. . D, 13th Inf. .
. B, 93d Inf. .
. M, 10th Cav.

Y

5055. Younce, Charles A  I, 7th Cav.
5838. Yorker, Daniel  B, 28th Inf
z

Date of Death.
¦ Aug. 21, '64
Aug. 25, '64
- Aug. 29, '64
- Aug. 29, '64
. Aug. 31, '64
. Sept. 16, '64
. Sept. 19, '64
• Sept. 20, '64
. Sept. 21, '64
. Sept. 21, '64
. Sept. 28, '64
- Sept. 29, '64
. . Oct. 11, '64
. Oct. 18, '64
. . Oct. 24, '64
- . Oct. 28, '64
. Nov. 18, '64
. - Dec. 20, '64
. Dec. 26, '64
. Jan. 16, '65
. Jan. 21, '65
March 6, '65

- Aug. 8, '64
. Aug. 16, '64

1540. Zuet, J  H, 65th Inf.

. June 1, '64

Appendix.

XXI

OHIO.

A

No. of
Grave. Name.
251. Arthur, George •
789. Arrousmith, W. R.
1118. Ames, George . . .
1550. Allen, W 
1569. Allinger, D 
1724. Anderson, D 
1779. Augustus, T. . . .
1805. Akers, A. A. . .
2040. Aldridge, C. W. . -
2935. Adam, Miller . . . .
3046. Anderson, R.
3197. Aldbrook, C. W.
3485. Arthur, I. C. -
3852. Armbrish, A .
3932. Almond, A. . .
4529. Arnold, Charles . .
4990. Ailes, G. T.
5048. Andrews, Samuel G.
6422. Adams, E. .
7429. Allen, A. B.
7482. Alward, A 
7436. Arthur, J. . -
7843. Arne, I. - -
9818. Alown A. - -
10393. Andrews, I. R.
10425. Adams, I. -
10874. Allen, James C. .
11198. Andermill, John .
12495. Allen, J. W. . -
12846. Akers, J. W 

Co. Regt.
B, 7th Inf. .
, K, 45th Inf.
K, 100th Inf.
. B, 45th Inf. .
C, 51st Inf. .
. B, 111th Inf.
K, 89th Inf.
. F, 94th Inf.
33d Inf. .
I, 103d Inf.
C, 93d Inf. .
60th Inf. .
A, 89th Inf. .
A, 21st Inf. .
. A, 72d Inf. .
. G, 9th Cav. .
. I, 20th Inf. .

. C, 2d Cav. -
. C, 121st Inf.
. . B, 135th Inf.
. I, 69th Inf. .
. D, 64th Inf.
. D, 34th Inf.
K, 63d Inf.
. . I, 122d Inf.
- - F, 94th Inf.
- K, 24th Inf.
- G, 1st Inf. .
. - B, 4th Inf. .

Date of Death.
. March 30, '64
. April 28, '64
. May 14, '64
. June 1, '64
. June 2, '64
. June 8, '64
. June 9, '64
. June 10, '64
. June 15, '64
. July 5, '64
. . July 8, '64
. July 12, '64
. July 17, '64
. July 24, '64
. July 25, '64.
. Aug. 2, '64
. Aug. 7, '64
Aug. 8, '64
. Aug. 22, '64
Aug. 31, '64
Sept. 1, '64
. Sept. 3, '64
. Sept. 4, '64
. Sept. 26, '64
. . Oct. 6, '64
. Oct. 6, '64
. . Oct. 13, '64
. . Oct. 20, '64
. Jan. 20, '65
. April 24, '65

XXII

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Appendix.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

188. Baiel, W. T. . . .
207. Bodin, Thomas ....
517. Blackwood, I. H 
791. Beaver, George E 
829. Beeman, Richard ....
861. Biddinger, M., musician .
952. Branigan, James
1094. Biangy, T 
1212. Botkins, A. S . .
1226. Black, G. W 
1366. Bates, L. B 
1368. Bodkin, W 
1376. Baldwin, N.
1385 Bowers, James
1468. Boyd, H. I. .
1602. Boman, John
1609. Bryan, R. . .
1781. Balcomb, D.
1919. Brownies, John .
1937. Brooks, J.
1970. Bothin, W. J .
1993. Bartholomew, E. VV
2065. Belding, F. . . .
2067. Brookheart, W.
2087. Benor, H . .
2110. Bishop, S . .
2170. Berry, J. C .
2264. Beers, A . .
2292. Burnham, W
2415. Bird, I. . . .
2492. Bratt, G. - -
2599. Broughfman, I
2696. Brandon, John
3053. Barnes, V. Ii .
3245. Brown, Charles

. F, 45th Inf.
44th Inf.
. I, 92th Inf. .
. B, 111th Inf.
. E, 125th Inf..
. K, 94th Inf.
. F, 82d Inf. .
. B, 70th Inf. .
G, 45th Inf
, F, 99th Inf.
A, 1st Cav.
. K, 45th Inf.
F, 9th Cav. -
. A, 89th Inf.
H, 7th Inf. .
C, 2d Inf. .
. C, 16th Inf.
F, 19th Inf.
I, 7th Inf. .
. I, 135th Inf.
F, 45th Inf .
C, 205th Inf
D, 105th Inf
I, 45th Inf -
. E, 100th Inf
K, 49th Inf
E, 90th Inf .
. A, 45th Inf .
. K, 1st Art .
A, 45th Inf .
G, 21st Inf .
. C, 39th Inf .
F, 15th Inf .
. H, 92d Inf .
. D, 23d Inf .

. March 27, '64
. March 28, '64
April 12, '64
. April 23, '64
. . May 1, '64
, . May 3, '65
. May 8, '64
- May 14, '64
. May 19, '64
. May 20, '64
. May 25, '64
. May 25, '64
May 26, '64
. May 26, '64
. May 30, '64
. June 4, '64
. June 4, '64
. June 9, '64
June 14, '64
. June 14, '64
. June 15, '64
. June 15, '64
. June 16, '64
. June 16, '64
. June 17, '64
- June 17, '64
. June 19, '64
. June 20, '64
. June 21, '64
. June 24, '64
. June 26, '64
. June 28, '64
. June 30, '64
- July 9, '64
. July 13, '64

Appendix.

XXIII

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

3299.

. . B, 111th Inf

. July 13,

'64

3608.

Bfackneck, H .

. . A, 7th Cav . .

. July 19,

'64

3656.

Bogart, John . .

. G, 9th Inf . .

. July 20,

'64

3706.

Bontrell, C 

. . G, 6th Inf

. July 21,

'64

3756.

Butch, 0 . . .

. I, 45th Inf .

. July 22,

'64

3831.

Bowman, S .

. . K, 15th Inf -

. July 23,

'64

4073.

Brockway, M . .

. D, 2d Art . . . .

. July 27,

'64

4279.

Boyle, W. H . ...

. . H, 11th Inf .

. July 30,

'64

4684.

Britton, B. H 

. H, 125th Inf . .

Aug. 4,

'64

4968.

Berdy, M. J. .

. . . . D, 45th Inf . . .

Aug. 7,

'64

5138.

Buckle, J. J . .

. E, 126th Inf .

Aug. 9,

'64

5219.

Brabham, George . .

. B, 9th Cav . - -

. Aug. 10,

'64

5498.

Baldwin, George . . -

. - G, 9th Cav - - .

Aug. 13,

'64

5653.

Bonestine, W. H

... I, 107th Inf. .

Aug. 14,

'64

5656.

Burna, J. M. .

. . . . K, 121st Inf. .

Aug. 14,

'64

5758.

Balmet, J.

. . . . I, 19th Inf. . .

• Aug. 15,

'64

5771.

Brutch, E .

. I, 10th Cav. - -

Aug. 15,

'64

5819.

Bond, S. T ....

. B, 123d Inf. . .

Aug. 16,

'64

5825.

Boyle, H . .

. . . . B, 130th Inf. . .

Aug. 16,

'64

5937.

Bower, F. . ...

... I, 61st Inf. . . .

Aug. 17,

'64

5985.

Birch, L. T.

. . . . H, 31st Inf. . . .

- Aug. 17,

'64

6008.

Bowman, A .

. E, 104th Inf. . .

Aug. 17,

'64

6020.

Bright, N . .
Brown, G. S. .

. . . E, 6th Inf. . . .

July 17

'64

6152.

- F, 111th Inf . .

Aug. 18,

'64

6839.

Buren, T. J . - -

. . A, 89th Inf. . .

Aug. 25,

'64

7280.

Barrett, S. C,

F, 26th Inf. . . .

Aug. 30,

'64

7283.

Bell, A 

. B, 70th Inf. . . .

Aug. 30,

'64

7484.

Baxter, P. D.

. . D, 121st Inf.

Sept. 1,

'64

7490.

Brenning, C.

. . G, 14th Inf . .

Sept. 1,

'64

7529.

Brown, W. .

. . G, 26th Inf. . .

Sept. 1,

'64

7806.

Bear, E 

. . A, 33d Inf. . .

Sept. 4,

'64

7983.

Bender, C. .

. . C, 54th Inf. . .

Sept. 6,

'64

7993.

Brown, M. - -

. . . F, 110th Inf. . .

Sept. 6,

'64

7994.

Barnes, T. S.

. . B, 31st Inf 

Sept. 6,

'64

8363.

Benear, W. A. - • •

- F, 135th Inf. . . .

Sept. 10,

'64

8376.

Sept. 10,

'64

16

XXIV

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

8476. 8496. 8508.
8509. 8676.
8693. 8872.
8939.9287.
9446. 9473.
9625.9679. 9897.
9949.
10120. 10199.
10281.
10591.11072. 11307.11308. 11313.11626. 11920.
11939. 12296.
12383. 12524.12641.12772.

Name.
Brenner, N .
Barnes, A. . . .
Blythe, C. . . .
Brinhomer, J.
Brown, H. H. . . .
Bell, James . . .
Buckley, J. G .
Blessing, C. . . .
Baker, W. C. . . -
Brookover, George
Brace, J. R. . .
Bradley, A. . .
Blackman, S. . .
Birchfield, Eli . .
Beant, H. T . .
Brewer, D. C.
Brown, E. N.
Brum, W. H.
• Briggs, F 
Baymher, L. G.
Boles, G. . .
Bunker, J 
Burns, M . . . .
Bricker, J. J. . . .
Bumgardner, Joel .
Barber, B . . .
Bissel, J. -
Beckley, G.
Barnes, E. H.
Bower, A . .
Bowens, W . - . .

Co. Regt.
. F, 60th Inf. .
. G, 36th Inf.
. I, 1st Inf. .
C, 65th Inf. .
. A, 41st Inf. .
. B, 135th Inf.
. A, 126th Inf.
. F, 9th Inf. .
. 94th Inf. . .
. B, 135th Inf.
. C, 123d Inf .
- A, 101st Inf.
- G, 72d Inf. .
. 14th Inf. . .
. D, 34th Inf .
.K, 43d Inf. .
. E, 21st Inf.
. B, 20th Inf. .
. G, 17th Inf. .
- A, 153d Inf.
H, 112th Inf.
K, 11th Inf, .
. K, 12th Inf .
. H, 126th Inf.
C, 3d Inf . .
D, 10th Cav.
. E, 2d Inf . .
. F, 102d Inf.
. D, 2d Inf . .
. F, 37th Inf. .
. A, 100th Inf.

Date of Death.
. Sept. 11, '64

Sept. 11
Sept. 12.
Sept. 12.
Sept. 13,
Sept. 14,
Sept. 15
Sept. 16
Sept. 19
Sept. 21
Sept. 21
Sept. 24,
Sept. 24.,
Sept. 27,
Sept. 28,
. Oct. 1

Oct.
. Oct.
. Oct. 16,
. . Oct. 17.
Oct. 22
Oct. 22.
. Oct. 22
. Oct. 28
. Nov. 8
' Nov. 9,
. Dec. 16
. Jan. 3
. Jan. 26.
. Feb. 12
March 13

'64'64'64'64'64'64'64
'64 '64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64 '64'64
'64 '64'64'64'64 '64
'64 '64
'65'65 '65'65

5. Carpenter, W.
458. Copeland, G. .
561. Coates, George

. D, 92d Inf.
- A, 1st Inf.
. I, 7th Cav.

March 4, '64
April 9, '64
April 15, '64

Appendix.

XXV

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

563.

Campbell, James -

. . . H, 7th Cav. . .

. April 15,

'64

723.

Callaway, Wm. .

. F, 7th Cav. . .

- April 25,

'64

763.

Coleman, G. .

A, 101st Inf. .

. April 27,

'64

911.

Chapman, G. . .

. . A, 75th Inf. .

. . May 1,

'64

928.

Crosser, M, . . . .

. B, 111th Inf. .

¦ May 7,

'64

965.

Corby, W. C.

. B, 111th Inf. .

. May 8,

'64

1269.

C, 82d Inf . ,

. - May 21,

'64

1291.

Collins, Thomas . . .
Capeheart, H. .

. . G, 21st Inf

May 22

'64

1521.

. I, 7th Inf. .

. . May 31,

'64

1587.

Clark, H. S. .. .

. E, 62d Inf. .

- June 3,

'64

1631.

Conklin, Wm. . . .

. . B, 121st Inf. .

. June 5,

'64

1679.

Clark, D. V. . . .

. B, 111th Inf. .

. . June 6,

;64

1900.

Childers, Wm.

. B, 89th Inf. .

. June 13,

'64

1945.

Crocker, George . .

. A, 1st Art. . -

. . June 14,

'64

1992.

Christy, W. . .

K, 89th Inf. .

. . June 15,

'64

2017.

Curtis, N. . .

. D, 45th Inf. .

. . June 15,

'64

2025.

Careahan, G. M.

. F, 65th Inf.

• June 15,

'64

2101.

Caldwell, J 

. . D, 15th Inf.

. June 17,

'64

2162.

Cornelius, L. C. . - -

. . - - C, 89th Inf. .

. June 19,

'64

2207.

Cochrane, James

. . . G, 22d Inf

• June 25,

'64

2468.

Church, E. . . .

G, 2d Inf. . .

- June 25,

'64

2578.

* '

'64

2983.

Cameron, H.

. C, 69th Inf. .

. . July 6,

'64

3002.

Callahan, H 

B, 34th Inf. .

• July 7,

'64

3241.

Caynee, George M.

D, 89th Inf. .

. . July 13,

'64

3307.

Canard, J. Q. A.

G, 14th Inf.

. July 13,

'64

3356.

Cruer, J. W. . .

B, 60th Inf.

. July 15,

'64

3541.

Cole. B 

A, 82d Inf.

. July 18,

'64

3578.

Collins, T.

. I, 15th Inf.

. July 19,

'64

3604.

Cook, L. B.

. C, 2d Cav.

. . July 19,

'64

3617.

Clark, J. C. -

. H, 31st Inf.

. July 20,

'64

3774.

Clayton, D. J.

. . D, 9th Cav

. July 22,

'64

3937.

Cover, L. . . -

B, 49th Inf.

. July 25,

'64

4128.

. Clayton, J 

. G, 89th Inf.

. July 28,

'64

4342.

Conway, J.

A, 103d Inf.

v July 30,

'64

4493.

Cordray, J. J.

. G, 89th Inf.

Aug. 1,

'64

XXVI

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

4865.

Cahili, J. N 

. C, 90th Inf. . .

. Aug. 6,

'64

5105.

Charles, F. . .

. . . A, 10th Inf. . .

. Aug. 9,

'64

5451.

Collyer, J. .

G, 11th Inf.

. Aug. 12,

'64

5548.

Chandler, M.

E, 124th Inf.

. Aug. 13,

'64

5922.

Clark, James

I, 89th Inf. .

Aug. 17,

'64

6022.

Cline, K. . .

. B, 111th Inf.

Aug. 17,

'64

6108.

Church, George E.

. C, 14th Inf. . .

Aug. IS

64

6188.

Chambers, R. S. .

. A, 89th Inf.

. Aug. 19,

'64

6258.

Copir, S. A. . .

C, 33d Inf. . .

Aug. 20,

'64

6281.

Conklin, J. R.

. I, 45th Inf. . . .

. Aug. 20,

'64

6562.

Craig, D. .

. D, 2d Inf. .

Aug. 23,

'64

7483.

Caswell, G. - •

. C, 21st Inf.

Sept. 1,

'64

7486.

Coons, David .

C, 57th Inf. .

Sept. 1,

'64

7495.

Crooks, J. M. .

K, 92dlnf. .

Sept. 1,

'64

7695.

Chard, C. W.

H, 2d Inf. . .

Sept. 3,

'64

7800.

Cregg, I 

. K, 49th Inf.

Sept. 4,

'64

7835.

Cline, M. . .

. E, 2d Inf. .

Sept. 4,

'64

7919.

Clark, George .

D, 60th Inf.

Sept. 5,

'64

7998.

Cloker, J. W. S., major

. 40th Inf. .

Sept. 6,

'64

8130.

. I, 35th Inf.

Sept. 8,

'64

8454.

Cattlehock, T. . . .

. A, 35th Inf. . .

Sept. 14,

'64

8457.

Campbell, W. C. . . ..

. I, 5th Inf.

Sept. 11,

'64

8694.

Chapin, James -

. . F, 135th Inf.

Sept. 14,

'64

8701.

Crooke, W. B.

. B, 135th Inf.

Sept. 14,

'64

8810.

Clarke, J. R. . .

. F, 135th Inf.

Sept. 15,

'64

9243.

Constein, W.

. C, 98th Inf. . .

Sept. 19,

'64

9288.

Cambrlet, A. J. .

H, 123d Inf.

Sept. 19,

'64

9452.

Campbell, Samuel

. G, 74th Inf.

Sept. 21,

'64

9476.

Cadwell, A. T. . .

. F, 3d Inf .

Sept. 21,

'64

9491.

Clay, O. . .

D, 122d Inf.

Sept. 21,

'64

9662.

Obrt, W. .

. . D, 11th Inf. . .

Sept. 24,

'64

9770.

Cummings, A.

. E, 6th Cav.

Sept 25,

'64

9772.

Clark, S. . .

H, 24th Inf. . .

. Sept. 26,

'64

9895.

Conner, J. B.

G. 9th Cav.

Sept. 27,

'64

9971.

Castable, I. . .

. A, 51st Inf. .

Sept. 28,

'64

10381.

Cotes, Rufus

. . 2d Cav.

. Oct. 5,

'64

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

10796.10834.
10968.11103. 11224.11262.
11403.11540.11567.11587.11618.11641.
11766. 12082.
12385. 12435.
12691.12798.

690.930.981.
1267.1629.1748.
2251.2296.2351.2674.2909.
2973 3703.
3802. 4455.
4501.

Name.
Colts, R. E 
Cepp, J. .
Carey, A. .
Carter, J. B.
Craven, A. J. . .
Cromwell, W. H.
Cutsdagner, W. J. .
Crominberger, I.C
Cantright, L. .
Chapin, J. A. .
Clark, H M. .
Clingan, A. P.
Cohyen, J. H.
Cahill, William
Calvington, R.
Chambers, J. C.
Crampton, A. .
Conover, S. . .

Co. Regt.
. C, 2d Inf. .
. I, 14th Inf.
E 21st Inf.
I, 89th Inf.
- C, 15th Inf.
. H, 59th Inf.
. D, 95th Inf.
I, 23d Inf. .
. F, 57th Inf.
. F, 185th Inf.
. A, 21st Inf.
. K, 26th Inf.
. K, 6th Inf. .
. A, 51st Inf. .
C, 72d Inf. .
. C, 15th Inf.
C, 79th Inf. .
. B, 175th Inf.

D
Davis, William E  H, 7th Inf: .
Downing, George . . - C, 45th Inf.
Dumar, R  D, 45th Inf
Dugan, Thomas . .... B, 1st Cav.
DeRush, Samuel  F, 94th Inf

Davis, I. . .
Decker, B. F.
Dumas, J. P.
Douglas, W.
Davis, B. - .
Davis, G. H.
Dandelion, T
Dodson, L. .
Dille, Charles
Dodge,  .
Diecy, C.

. F, 7th Inf. .
. B, 111th Inf.
. H, 2d Inf. .
. F, 24th Inf. .
. B, 22d Inf. .
. E, 45th Int. .
Ind. 3d Cav.
H, 7th Cav.
I, 23d Inf. .
I, 2d Inf. .
C, 26th Inf.

XXVII
Date of Death.,
¦ Oct. 12, '64
Oct. 13, '64
. Oct. 16, '64
. Oct 18, '64
Oct. 20, '64
. Oct. 21, '64
. Oct. 24, '64
. Oct. 27, '64
, . Oct. 27, '64
. Oct. 28, '64
. . Oct. 28, '64
. Oct 30, '64
Nov. 3, '64
. Nov. 18, '64
. Jan. 3, '65
. Jan. U, '65
. Feb. 22, '65
March 19, '65

. April 23, '64
. May 7, '64
. May 9, '64
. May 21, '64
. June 5, '64
. June 5, '64
. June 21. '64
. June 21, '64
. June 23, '64
. June 30, '64
. July 5, '65
- July 7, '64
. July 21, '64
. July 22, '64
. Aug. 1, '64
. Aug. 2, '61

XXVIII

Appendix.

No. of
Grave. Name.
4772. Denton, John
5020. Desselbem, M
5268. Dorson, L. .
5299. Doty, E. E. .
5368. Dyke, F.
5465.- Donley, James
5620. Davis, W. H
6043. Decker, J .
6223. Duvant, B.
6312. Downer, A. P
6708. Dougherty, W. H
7229. Dildine, J - .
7376. Deming, W .
7419. Daley, S . . .
7427. Dick, Charles
7431. Davis, G. W.
7479. Drake, M
7500. Doran, James
7609. Ditto, John .
7631. DeMastoris, J
8034. Davison, P. S
8483. Donley, M.
8498. Drake, J. F
8779. Diver, J. .
8820. Davere, J .
9293. Diver, J. .
9605. Decker, S .
9702. Dobson, J. R,
9849. Duffy, G. .
10212. Dunbar, J.
10113. Divan, J. .
10130. Duncan, A.
10190. Dunhand, Jas
10424. Dewitt, Joseph
10596. Dibble, F .
11017. Diper, O. .

Co. Regt.
. E, 7th Cav .
I, 1st Inf . .
. I, 12th Inf. .
H, 41st Inf .
K, 5th Cav
. F, 1st Cav.
. D, 33d Inf. .
. B, 111th Inf
. D, 95th Inf .
. B, 52d Inf. .
. H, 15th Inf.
- K, 33d Inf. .
. B, 111th Inf.
. D, 33d Inf. .
. G, 53d Inf. .
G, 21st Inf .
. D, 59th Inf .
. A, 60th Inf .
. A, 51st Inf .
. B, 54th Inf .
. K, 21st Inf .
- G, 59th Inf.
. C, 185th Inf.
.4th Inf. . .
. D, 49th Inf.
- H, 123d Inf.
C, 12th Inf .
- H, 90th Inf.
. C, 45th Inf .
. F, 122d Inf.
- F, 135th Inf .
. K, 49th Inf. .
. H, 8th Cav.
- G, 65th Inf. .
- H, 101st Inf .
. I, 128th Inf .

Date of Death.
¦ Aug. 5, '64
Aug. 8, '64
Aug. 10.
. Aug. 11
Aug. 11
. Aug. 13
. Aug. 14
Aug. 18
. Aug. 20
Aug. 20,
Aug. 24
Aug. 29
. Aug. 31
Aug. 31
Aug. 31
Aug. 31
Sept. Sept.
. Sept.
. Sept.
. Sept. Sept. 11
. Sept. 11
Sept. 14
Sept. 15
. Sept. 19
. Sept. 23
Sept. 25
Sept. 27
. Oct. 1
Oct.
Oct. Oct.
. Oct.
. Oct. 10
. Oct. 16

1.

1,

'64'64'64
'64
'64'64'64'64
'64'64'64'64'64
'64'64'64'64
'64
'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64
'64

Appendix.

XXIX

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

11102.

Danton, W. H. .

. E, 105th Inf.

. Oct. 18,

'64

12159.

Donahue, P

. K, 72d Inf. .

. . . Oct. 25,

'64

12254.

Drith, C. . .

. K, 83d Inf, .

'64

12675.

Dunken, T.

. . K, 20th Inf .

. Feb. 19,

'65

12738.

Deputy, W 

- - - - H, 21st Inf. . .
E . . . B, 45th Inf. .

. . Feb. 6,

'65

327.

. . April 2,

'64

341.

Evalt, E. J 

. M, 10th Inf. .

. . April 12,

'64

1047.

Eppart, Samuel - - .

. B, 9th Inf . .

. . May 12,

'64

2221.

Earles, Wm . .

. . G, 4th Cav .

. . June 20,

'64

3376.

Ellis, Charles .

. B, 29th Inf . .

. July 16,

'64

4504.

Elliott, W 

. . F, 20th Inf . .

• . Aug. 1,

'64

53U4.

Evans, Samuel . .

- . C, 33d Inf . ,

. . Aug. 11,

'64

5349.

Eastman, J. . .

. C, 18th Inf .

. . Aug. 11,

'64

5717.

Evans, Charles .

D, 1st Art.

. Aug. 15,

'64

5887.

Ensley, William . .

- - F, 135th Inf.

. . Aug. 16,

'64

6015.

Eckhart, J. .

- B, 2d Inf. . .

- Aug. 17,

'64

7448.

Elmann, A. . .

. F, 28th Inf. .

. . Sept. 1,

'64

8981.

Entulin, B. C.

. . K, 104th Inf. .

. . Sept. 17,

'64'

11051.

Evans, W.

. I, 51st Inf. . .

Oct. 17,

'64

11169.

Evans, E. M.

. I, 20th Inf. .

. . Oct. 19,

'64

11542.

Elha, D. . .

. A, 8th Inf. . .

Oct. 25,

'64

11654.

Ewing, D.

. . D, 135th Inf. .

. . Oct. 30,

'64

12321.

Ellerman, N 

. K, 39th Inf . .
F

'64

75.

Falman, A. . .

. H, 82d Inf. .

'. March 20,

'64

176.

Fairbanks, Alf. .

. A, 45th Inf.

. March 26,

'64

246.

Ferris, Joseph .

- H, 2d Cav. . .

March 30,

'64

311.

Foster, A. M. . .

... A, 100th Inf. .

. . April 2,

'64_

572.

Frayer, Daniel

1, 99th Inf. . .

. April 5,

'64

636.

Facer, William

. K, 111th Inf. .

April 20,

'64

830.

Fisher, Charles

C, 3d Cav. .

. May 1,

'64

1054.

Bat. 22d - .
. . May 13,
'64
1381.
Freenough, George . . .
. . 3d Cav . .
. . May 26,
'64
xxx

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

1786.

Fraiser, James .

. E, 2d Inf. .

June 10,

'64

2457.

Fry,W. L 

. . H, 123d Inf.

June 25,

'64

2479.

Fenton, J. M. .

. . I, 35th Inf. .

June 25,

'64

2761.

Finlan, James

K, 18th Inf. . . .

- July 2,

'64

4231.

Ery, Jacob ....

I, 99th Inf. .

. July 29,

'64

4317.

Fitch, E. P. . .

. . G, 40th Inf.

. July 30,

'64

4337.

Fulkinson, H. ...

July 30,

'64

4651.

Fife, J 

. . E, 33d Inf. . . .

Aug. 3,

'64

4868.

Fling, T. I. . .

- A, 27th Inf.

Aug. 6,

'64

5249.

Ferce, R. S.

C, 2d Inf 

Aug. 10,

'64

5626.

Falk, W 

. D, 82d Inf.

Aug. 14,

'64

5864.

Fullerston, W.

K, 18th Inf. . . .

Aug. 16,

'64

6212.

Foreman, A.

. E, 64th Inf.

Aug. 19,

'64

6308.

Fisher, D. . .

. I, 89th Inf. . . .

Aug. 20,

'64

6891.

Futen, John H.

F, 82dlnf. . .

Aug. 26,

'64

7873.

Franks, R. L. .

. E 122dlnf. . . .

Sept. 5,

'64

7976.

Forney, W. O. .

. D, 123d Inf. . . -

Sept. 6,

'64

9158.

Firman, V. . . .

Cav. -

Sept. 18,

'64

9225.

Ferguson, H. • ¦

. D, 3d Cav. -

Sept. 19,

'64

9530.

Fowler, C. .

A, 100th Inf.

Sept. 22,

'64

9557.

Finch, C. . . .

- - B, 

Sept. 23,

'64

9976.

Franklinberg, C.

G, 72d Inf. . . .

Sept, 28,

'64

10045.

Farshay, A. .

. F, 116th Inf.

Sept. 29,

'64

10915.

Freeley, P. .

. G, 10th Inf. .

Sept. 14,

'64

11819.

Flowers, W. T.

D, 116th Inf. .

Nov. 5,

'64

11914.

Forrest, Wm. . .

. K, 21st Inf. .

Nov. 8,

'64

12108.

Fargrove, M. B.

. F, 135th Inf.

Nov. 21,

'64

12427.

Fike, W. P.

. H, 95th Inf. . .

. Jan. 9,

'65.

12637.

Fusselman, J.

H, 20th Inf.

Feb. 11,

'65

12781.

Foults, M. . ,

. D, 183d Inf. . . 5
G

larch 15,

'65

197.

Grilling, Daniel .

. A, 13th Inf. . H

larch 27,

'64

245.

Gardner, A. .

. H, 100th Inf. . . 1

larch 30,

'64

386.

Grestcaust, S.

. G, 6th Cav. . .

April 2,

'64

611.

Gillinghar, B 

. I, 7th Cav. . .

April 18,

'64

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

681.
693.906.
1465.
2152.
2926. 3130.
3251.3327. 3962.
4037.
4242.4301. 4383.
4445.4655.4802.4902.6023. 675.
6207.
6346.6408.6486.6821. 7111.
8380.8367.
9566.9813.9927.
11218. 11850.
12033. 12064.
12109.

I Name.
Godfrey, Amos
Greek, Samuel
Gibson, Collins
Greer, R. J.
Gillanni, J,
Garner, C.
Goff, P. E.
Gaunt, Wm.
Gibson, R„ .
Ginging, P. S.
Gillett, G. W.
Gilbert, J. .
Grafton, D. .
Graham, J. W
Goffy, P. . .
Gragrer, H. . .
Greer, G. G.
Granbaugh, E.
Gordon, Wm.
Gallager, James
Green, E. .
Gordon, W.
Greff, A. G.
Gates, H. .
Grooves, L.
Gilland A.
Goodrich, J. S.
Ganoid, L.
Gould, J. M .
Graft, P. . .
Galbraith, J. S
Gaither, I. .
Gardner, G. -
Glissin, A.
Gillenbuck, I.
Goodbrath, C.

17

Co. Regt.
C, 45th Inf.
C, 100th Inf.
. H, 40th Inf.
C, 6th Cav. .
. K, 35th Inf.
. . K, 1st Cav. .
. K. 19th Inf .
- I, 14th Inf. .
- B, 40th Inf. .
. . E, 21st Inf. .
. G, 6th Inf. .
. B, 19th Inf. .
. . D, 118th Inf.
C, 31st Inf. .
. . G, 113th Inf.
. . H, 125th Inf.
. D, 49th Inf .
. E, 85th Inf. .
. B, 45th Inf.
. F, 38th Inf .
D 4th Cav .
. . G, 10th Inf.
. . E, 13th Inf .
. G, 13th Inf .
C, 12th Inf .
. F, 27th Inf .
. . A, 9th Inf. .
. A, 60th Inf.
. A, 124th Inf.
. . 20th Bat. . .
H, 6th Cav.
. B, 60th Inf. ,
. K, 1st Inf. .
. . M, 2d Cav. .
B, 77th Inf .
G, 28th Inf .

XXXI
Date of Death.
¦ April 23, '64
. April 23, '64
. May 5, '64
May 29, '64
. June 27, '64
July 5, '64
- July 10, '64
. July 13, '64
. July 15, '64
- July 25, '64
July 26 '64
. July 29, '64
July 30, '64
. July 31, '64
. Aug. 1, '64
Aug. 3, '64
. Aug. 5, '64
- Aug. 6, '64
. Aug. 17, '64
- Aug. 13, '64
- Aug. 19, '64
Aug. 21, '64
. Aug. 22, '64
• Aug. 22, '64
. Aug. 25, '64
- Aug. 28, '64
- Sept. 10, '64
¦ Sept. 10, '64
- Sept 23, '64
- Sept. 26, '64
. Sept. 28, '64
¦ Oct. 20, '64
Nov. 1, '64
- Nov. 15, '64
Nov. 17, '64
- Nov. 21, '64

XXXII No. of
Grave.
12560.12842.

35.
295. 420.424.437.464. 527. 580.
748. 31.
758.
875.
949.
1129. 1129.
1132.1354.
1390. 1524. 1666.
1822.1979.2029.
2185.2263. 2300.
2369. 2607.
2424.
2997. 2671.
2775.

Appendix.
Name. Co. Regt.
Griffith, J. H  C, 58th Inf .
Gassier, P  A, 64th Inf.
H
Hall, J. W  A, 4th.Inf. .
Hochenburg, N  C, 45th Inf.
Hanny, W. T  A, 45th Inf.
Hill, J  ... I, 7th Cav. -
Henry, James  I, 7th Cav. -
Haner, Jacob .  B, 45th Inf. .
Hickcox, M. R  B, 2d Cav. .
Holdman, F. . . . D, Bat 1 . .
Hanning, Mark .... I, 7th Cav. .
Heaton, Amos ... F, 45th Inf.
Harvey, Charles  E, 76th Inf.
Henry, G. W. . . . . . E, 95th Inf. .
Hawkins, W. W  G, 103d Inf.
Hudsonpilfer, R. L. . . . . I, 7th Cav. .
Hudson, R. L. . ... . I, 7th Cav. .
Hank, George B  I, 7th Inf. .
Hind, George .  H, 103d Inf.
Holloway, G. W. . . C, 1st Inf. .
Harrison, J. . . . . I, 21st Inf. .
Hazlett, William  K, 2d Inf. .
Hull, S  . E, 21st Inf. .
Harris, E. D  I, 99th Inf .
Hengle, John  C, 1st Cav. .
Humphreys, W. . C, 45th Inf.
Hanley, C. - . . F, 15th Inf.
Henderson, S. W. . . H, 40th Inf
Howard, J., musician  D, 70th Inf.
Hander, L. C  E, 92d Inf. .
Hayford, A. E . E, 125th Inf
Harrington, S. J . . . . I, 103d Inf. .
Hurles, I  C, 126th Inf.
Hulburt, O  - . - - Hs l-14th Inf.

Date of Death.
. Jan. 31, '65
April 22, '65

March 9
April 1
April 7
April 7,
April
April 9.
April 13.
April 16,
April 20.
April 20,
April 26,
May 4,
. May 3.
.May 15,
May 15.
May 16
May 25,
May 28
May 31
June 6.
June 10,
June 15
June 15,
June 19,
June 20,
June 22,
June 23,
June 23,
June 24
June 28
June 30,
July

'64
'64 '64'64'64'64'64'64'64
'64 '64'64'64'64'64 '64'64'64
'64 '64
'64.
'64 '64
'64 '64
'64 '64'64 '64
'64'64'64

Appendix.
No. of
Grave. Name. Co. Regt.
2842. Hadison, J  B, 111th Inf.
3185. Hall, T. . . . .... H, 2d Inf.
3388. Hudson, Wm  G, 74th Inf.
3420. Hunt, W.'H  G, 113th Inf.
3736. Harman, L. . * . ., . . F, 9th Inf. .
4030. Hansbury, E. A. . G, 6th Inf.
4408. Hindershot, John  D, 45th Inf.
4411. Harris, J  . E, 1st Inf. .
4506. Hartman, H  K, 73d Inf.
4599. Harrison, J. M. . . H, 105th Inf.
4993. Hendrickson, O  F, 19th Inf.
5293. Hollibaugh., J. A. . . . E, 23d Inf.- .
5296. Hatfield, G. W. ... . K, 126th Inf.
5396. Holman, A  . K, 68th Inf.
5554. Honnihill, T. R ... . G, 9th Inf. .
5636. Hany, B. T  C, 89th Inf.
5813. Hicks, F  H, 40th Inf.
5853. Hibbett, Wm  D, 21st Inf
5858. Hoit, P  B, 116th Inf.
6058. Hamm, E. J  K 
,6123. Higgins, I. W  C, 14th Inf.
6774. Houser, W. R. . K, 89th Inf.
6522. Hicks, I  D, 11th Inf.
6625. Hughes, Henry . . A, 33d Inf.
6639. Henrix, E. . - - H, 34th Inf
6647. Hartman, I. . . . K, 2d Inf.
6798. Herrig, N. . . . . . D, 7th Cav.
6802. Hine, T. E  D, 2d Cav.
7022. Hull, O  - - B, 89th Inf.
7388. Hubbell, W. A. . - A, 23d Inf.
7446. Hurdnell, O- ... . . C, 72d Inf.
7825. Holly, V. H. . . . B, 100th Inf.
7946. Hughes, I. - E, 12th Inf.
8060. Herbolt, Daniel - - . . F, 115th, Inf
8067. Harper, I. H. . . . - I, 6nth Inf.
8284. Halshult, A . . . - C, 12th Inf.

XXXIII

Date of Death.

¦ ¦ July

3

'64

¦ July

11

'64

• July

16

,'64

¦ July
16
'64
July
21
'64
¦ July
26
'64
-July
31
'64
July
31,
'64
Aug.
1,
'64
Aug.
3
'64
Aug.
7
'64
Aug.
11
'64
Aug.
11
'64
Aug.
12
'64
Aug.
13
'64
Aug
14
'64
Aug.
16
'64
Aug.
19,
'64
Aug.
16,
'64
Aug.
18
'64
Aug.
18
'64
Aug.
18
'64
Aug.
23
'64
Aug.
23
'64
Aug.
23,
'64
Aug.
23,
'64
Aug.
25
'64
Aug.
25,
'64
Aug.
27
'64
Aug.
31
'64
Sept
],
'64
Sept.
4,
'64
Sept.
5
'64
Sept
7
'64
Sept
7
'64
Sept.
9.
'64
XXXIV

Appendix.

No. of
Grave. 8481. 8696.8725.
9189.9210.9538. 9415.
9510.
9582.
9622.
10094.
10207.10208.
10225.10390.10492.
10518. 10524.
10647.11029.
11032.11053. 11209.11228.
11335.11588.
11592.11696.
11856.
11938. 12353.
12371.
12404.
12416.12512. 12569.

Name.
Hechler, John
Hitchcock, G.
Hifner, G . .
Hoyt, R. . .
Hart, E . . .
Hall, S. . . .
Hood, F. . .
Hamilton, J.
Hoover, J . .
Hurley. J. C.
Holmes, Wesley
Harrison, J . .
Holcomb, L .
Harkins, M .
Hinton, Wm.
Hererlin, B .
Herbert „ Wm
Homich, C. . •
Herman, R. .
Hillyard, J. .
Hubber, D. .
Heymers, B.
Hannard, J. B
Hoyt, W. B. .
Henderson, D.
Hintz D. . .
Hutchins, G. W
Hutchins, J. W.
Hayner, B. . .
Hatfield, A. G.
Hume, J. A. .
Haines, N. S. .
Hill, W. L. .
Hill, E. P. . .
Hagerman, R
Hart, H. C.

Co. Regt.
. . G, 36th Inf.
. . G, 34th Inf.
. . C, 86th Inf.
. . K, 7th Inf...
.H,10th'Inf. . F^ 126th Inf
. . F, 13th Inf.
. A, 13th Inf.
. . K, 18th Inf.
. C, 124th Inf.
. F, 135th Inf.
. A, 2d Cav.
. I, 2d Inf. . .
. . D, 60th Inf.
. A, 72d Inf. .
32d Inf.
. I, 4th Inf. . .
. D, 110th Inf
- F, 135th Inf.
. F, 98th Inf.
. A, 5th Inf.
. G, 2d Inf. .
- C, 123d Inf.
. A, 29th Inf.
H, 122d Inf
- - B, 1st Inf. .
. A, 125th Inf.
. A, 153d Inf .
- A, 135th Inf.
- E, 114th Inf.
- F, 32d Inf.
- E. 72d Inf.
, . A, 54th Inf. . :
. - G, 89th Inf.
. B, 33d Inf.
- C, 2d Inf. .

Date of Death.
. Sept. 11, '64
. Sept. 14, '64
. Sept. 14, '64
. Sept. 18, '64
. Sept. 19, '64
. Sept. 20, '64
. Sept. 21, '64
. Sept. 22, '64
. Sept. 23, '64
. Sept. 23, '64
. Sept. 30, '64
. . Oct. 2, '64
. . Oct. 2, '64
. Oct. 2, '64
. Oct. 5, '64
- Oct. 7, '64
. Oct. 8, '64
. . Oct. 8, '64
. Oct. 11, '64
Oct. 16, '64
. . Oct. 16, '64
. Oct. 17, '64
. Oct. 20, '64
- Oct. 20, '64
. Oct. 23, '64
Oct. 28, '64
. Oct. 28, '64
. Oct. 31, '64
. Nov. 6, '64
. Nov. 9, '64
. Dec. 29, '64
. Jan. 1, '65
. Jan. 6, '65
. Jan. 13, '65
. Jan. 23, '65
. Feb. 1, '65

No. of
Grave.
12611. 12743.

Appendix.

Name.
Hagerly, D. G.
Holtz, W . .

Co. Regt.
. E, 72dlnf. .
. I, 101st Inf.

XXXV
Date of Death.
. Feb. 7, '65
March 7, '65

1280.1967.
7489.
8744.
10700. 12579.

Irving, Ester
Ingler, Wm.
Imboden, J.
Irwin, A. . .
Idold, A. . .
Isham, D.

. H, 114th Inf.
, C, 31st Inf.
. E, 44th Inf .
I, 1st Inf.
C, 7th Cav. -
G, 89th Inf.

. May 22, '64
June 14, '64
Sept. 1, '64
Sept. 14, '64
. Oct. 11, '64
. Feb. 3, '65

354.
1637.3590.3754.
3903.
4381. 5120.
5508.5583.5624.5839.
6265. 6810.7308.7861. 7947.
8647.8757.8760. 9306.
9700. 9744.
9850.
11014.

Justice, G. W
Johnson, J. H
Jacobs, P. O.
Jones, R . .
Jones, S. . .
Jewell, I. . .
Johnson, J. W
Johnson, M .
Jones, H. .
Jewell, W. A.
Jolly, G. . .
Jeffries, H. .
Jones, John .
Johnson, E. .
Jones, R. W.
Jacobs, H. .
Jenkins, Wm
Johnson, D. .
Johnson, I. .
Jordon, A.
Jones, I. B. .
Johnson, I. B
Jones, Wm .
Jones, S. D. .

. B, 45th Inf
. D. 98th Inf
. E, 45th Inf. .
. C, 45th Inf.
. B, 111th Inf
. F, 99th Inf.
. H 89th Inf .
. C, 126th Inf.
. G, 40th Inf. .
. G, 106th Inf.
. K, 21st Inf. .
. I, 36th Inf. .
. G, 40th Inf.
. 1, 124th Inf.
. F, 118th Inf.
. F, 26th Inf.
3d Bat.
. B, 43d Inf. .
. A, 51st Inf.
. G, 103d Inf.
. M, 3d Inf.
. C, 2d Inf. .
. B, 84th Inf
. F, 135th Inf .

April 2, '64
June 5, '64
July 19, '64
July 22, '64
July 24, '64
July 31, '64
Aug. 9, '64
Aug. 13, '64
Aug. 14, '64
Aug. 14, '64
Aug. 16, '64
Aug. 20, '64
Aug. 25, '64
Aug. 30, '64
Sept. 5, '64
Sept. 6, '64
Sept. 13, '64
Sept. 14. '64
Sept. 14, '64
Sept. 20, '64
Sept. 25, '64
Sept. 27, '64
Sept. 25, '64
. Oct. 16, '64

XXXVI

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.
11203.11942.12126.
12231. 12335.
12428.

13.
. 765. 830.
2406. 416.
4714.5381.
5448.
5576.6195.7177.
7424.
9377. 9436.
9680.
10139. 10607.
10853.11055.
11732. 12661.12746.12802.

Name.

Co. Regt.
K, 24th Inf. .
G, 125th Inf
A, 15th Inf.

Jennings, John .
Jones, G. L .
Jarvitt, W. .
Johnson, A. S  I, 45th Inf
Jones, W. H  C, 2d Inf. .
Jackson, S  E, 72d Inf.

K

Kiger, J. H. . .
Kinney, John . .
Kelley, Josiah
Knowlton, E. . .
Kimble, S. . . .
Knight, J.
Kelley, E. . . .
Knidler, J. W. .
Kelley, H. . .
Kelsey, John
Kennedy, S. J. B.
Kelley, G. . .
Kelley, William
Kerr, J. H.
Kapp, J. . . .
Killar, J. .
Kirby, A 
Keanshoff, L . .
Kerr, A. . .
Kingkade, S,
Kennedy, J.
Kaler, J. .
Karch, J. .

. E, 45th Inf .
. E, 67th Inf.
. C, 45th Inf.
. B, 6th Cav.
. A, 98th Inf. .
! E, 21st Inf.
. D, 21st Inf. .
. H, 33d Inf.
. I, 1st Inf. .
. I, 3d Inf.
. E. 45th Inf.
. E, 15th Inf.
. C, 46th Inf .
. C, 122d Inf.
. E, 54th Inf.
. D, 15th Inf.
, A, 4th Cav.
, I, 28th Inf.
I, 13th Inf.
, C, 18th Inf.
K, 70th Inf. '
B, 70th Inf.
B, 183d Inf.

Date of Death.
¦ Oct. 20, '64
- Nov. 9, '64
. Nov: 22, '64
. Dec. 6, '64
Dec. 23, '64
. Jan. 10, '65

April 9, '64
April 27, '64
- May 1, '64
June 24, '64
Aug. 1, '64
Aug. 4, '64
Aug. 12, '64
Aug. 12, '64
Aug. 14, '64
Aug. 19, '64
Aug. 29, '64
Aug. 31, '64
Sept. 20, '64
Sept. 21, '64
Sept. 24, '64
'Oct. 1, '64
. Oct. 10, '64
. Oct. 13, '64
- Oct. 17, '64
- Nov. 2, '64
. Jan. 16, '65
March 8, '65
March 20, '65

834. Lowry, James  I, 49th Inf  May 1, '64
935. Lewis, Frank  D, 103d Inf . . . May 7, '64
1286. Larme, Charles  K, 45th Inf . . . May 22, '64

Appendix.

No. of
¦Grave. 1364.
1470. 1645.
1828.
2173. 2372.2426.3495.
3497. 3649.
4097. 4354. 4262.
4641. 4628.
4692.5195.
5246. 5449.5665.
5676. 6060.
6314. 7123.
7744.
8016.8739.
8874.
9336.9518. 9361.7419.
10039.111,61. 11190.
11344.

Name.

Co. Regt.
. 1st Art . . .
F, 89th Inf .
- E, 6th Cav .
A, 21st Inf .

Larkin, Joseph 
Logan, Frank 
Logan, H 
Leonard, John . .
Lever, H. B  C, 2d Inf. .
Tisure, Samuel  A, 7th Inf. .
Lemons, M  . E, 89th Inf .
Lutz, M. . . . . C, 14th Inf. .
Love, John  E, 96th Inf. .
Linsay, J  . . . D, 21st Inf. .
Lyon, L. L  . E, 1st Art. .
Law, S. S  I, 124th Inf .
Lawson, J. . . . . . E, 2d Inf . .
Lucas, J  <¦ . . H, 89th Inf .
LeGrand, D  - B, 111th Inf.
Long, John  H, 45th Inf.
Lightfoot, Wm- • • • Gr. 9th Cav .
Latta, W. H  H, 89th Inf.
Lehigh, W. •  B, 22d Inf. .
Lamphare, G. W  K, 125th Inf.
Larison, A. . . - - D, 63d Inf. .
Lowe, G. H  C, 72d Inf. .
, Leasure, Isaack ... K, 122d Inf.
Leasure, F. . . . . K, 45th Inf .
Linway, J  H, 2d Inf. .
Lambert, James  A. 89th Inf.
Lickliter,' Henry  B, 135th Inf.
Lindsley, A. K  K, 99th Inf. '
Leonard, T. M. • ¦ H, 12th Inf.
Lovely, John  K, 100th Inf. .
Lawyer, J. B  L, 89th Inf . .
Lefarer, W. G., citizen, Gardener, Athens county.
Laley,  - - - 28th Inf 
Lepe, A  K, 7th Inf. . .
Lantz, A. W  A, 45th Inf. .
Lochner, M  ,  E, 72d Inf 

XXXVII
Date of Death.
May 25, '64
May 30, '64
June 4, '64
June 11, '64
June 19, '64
June 23, '64
June 24, '64
July 18, '64
July 18, '64
July 20, '64
July 27, '64
July 31, '64
July 29, '64
Aug. 3, '64
Aug. 3, '64
Aug. 4, '64
Aug.- 10, '64
Aug. 10, '64
Aug. 12, '64
Aug. 14, '64
Aug. 14, '64
Aug. 18, '64
Aug. 21, '64
Aug. 28, '64
Sept. 3, '64
Sept. 6, '64
Sept. 14, '64
Sept. 16, '64
Sept. 20, '64
Sept. 20, '64
Sept. 20, '64
Sept. 29, '64
Oct. 19, '64
Oct. 20, '64
. Oct. 23, '64

xxxviii Appendix.
No. of
Grave. Name. Co. Regt. Date of Death.
11440. Loughlin, M. W. - I, 1st Inf  Oct. 24, '64
11400. Lips, F  H, 2d Inf . . . . Oct. 26, '64
11816. Lane, D  D, 91st Inf . . . Nov. 4, '64
12007. Lay, John  K, 123d Inf. . Nov. 19, '64
12201. Lohmeyer, H. . . . . . K, 35th Inf . Nov. 30, '64
12297. Livengood, C. B. . . G, 35th Inf . . . Dec. 16, '64
12515. Longstreet, W F. . . -A, 31st Inf. . . Jan. 26, '65
12698. Lewis, D. . . .' . A, 7th Inf. . . Jan 28, '65
12826. Little, William D, 175th Inf . April 7, '65
M
66 Metcalf, Milo R E, 100th Inf. . March 19,
96. Malsbray, Asa . A, 40th Cav. March 22.
113. Moore, T. J . . D, 2d Inf . . . March 23.
141. McKeever James • G, 8th Inf. . March 24.
165. Mickey, Samuel . E, 45th Inf . . March 26
215. Murphy, John B, 7th Cav. - - March 28,
412. Mitchell, J. . . . . . . F, 120th Inf. . . . April 7.
444. McKindry, M . . I, 7th Inf. . . . April 9,
575. Malone, R. J. . . . . H, 40th Inf. . April 16
880. McCormick, J. W. E. . . B, 33d Inf. . May- 4,
984. Musser, D. . . B, 45th Inf . . May 9
998. Meek, David ... . K, 111th Inf. May 10,
1262. McKnight, H . . . . G, 11th Inf . . May 21
1283. McMunny, George  G, 21st Inf. . . . May 22,
1630. Moore, Charles . . .' . H, 19th Inf. . June 5
1849. Masters, Samuel I, 17th Inf. . . . June 11
1930. Martin, G  . F, 105th Inf. . June 14.
2075. McCliny, B . . I, 7th Cav. - - June 17,
2139. Maloney, A  H, 4th Inf  June 18,
2150. Mitchell, W. H  D, 31st Inf ... . June 18
2290. Massey, J. C  A, 33d Inf . . . June 21
2471. Mullin, J  K, 65th Inf. . June 25,
2667. McCloud, A. . . G, 35th Inf. . June 29
2682. Miller, T  A, 4th Cav - - June 30
2743. McFarland, L  I, 2d Inf  July 1

'64'64'64
'64 '64
'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64'64 '64
'64 '64
'64 '64'64'64'64'64'64 '64

Appendix.

xxxix

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

2806.

Mclnnes, A . . .

¦ B, 45th Inf .

¦ July 3,

'64

2873.

Moriatt, Joseph .

. . K, 5th Inf.

¦July 4,

'64

2991.

Mitchell, James

. D, 17th Inf .

July 7,

'64

3104.

Malone, L. B.

. L, 7th Cav.

1 July 10,

'64

3123.

Mitchell, C. . .

- K, 1st Inf.

. July 10,

'64

3137.

Minchell R.

. C, 45th Inf.

. July 10,

'64

3290.

Mahin, B.

. I, 51st Inf. . .

. July 13,

'64

3491

Master, J.

A, 13th Inf

. July 17,

'64

3718.

Miller, E. .

. E, 4th Inf.

. July 21,

'64

4040..

Marshall, T.

G, 21st Inf. .

. July 26,

'64

4199.

Myer, C. . .

. I, 21st Inf. . .

. July 29,

'64

4252.

Meek, J. . .

. E, 19th Inf. .

- July 29,

'64

4298.

McKell, M. J. . . .

. . D, 89th Inf. .

. . July 30,

'64

4361.

Mooney, James . .

. D, 50th Inf.

. July 31,

'64

4421.

Morris, C. E.

. H, 11th Inf. .

. July 31,

'64

4101.

McCann, A. . . .

. C, 36th Inf . .

. .Aug. 3,

'64

4657.

Maher, P 

. . Aug. 3,

'64

4789.

Martin, D.

. . - L, 3d Cav.

. Aug. 5,

'64

5738.

McCabe, H. .

C, 12th Inf.

. Aug. 15,

'64

5777.

Manson, W.

. G, 9th Inf.

. - Aug. 15,

'64

5883.

Mcintosh, D. .

. D, 50th Inf.

Aug. 16,

'64

6026.

Manahan, Thomas

. D, 21st Inf. .

. Aug. 18,

'64

6040.

McKee, James . .

A, 51st Inf. .

- Aug. 18,

'64

6055.

McHugh, W. S. . .

. D, 2d Inf.

- Aug. 18,

'64

6063.

McClair, P. M.

. A, 27th Inf. .

. Aug. 18,

'64

6478.

McCabe, J. . . .

C, 66th Inf. .

. . Aug. 22,

'64

6841.

McCormick, W. P.

G, 2d Inf.

Aug. 25,

'64

6855.

McSorley, D. -

F, 49th Inf.

. . Aug. 26,

'64

6862.

McCoy, J. B. .

. A, 93d Inf : .

. ¦ Aug. 26,

'64

6920.

McDell, William

. K, 89th Inf. .

Aug. 26,

'64

7108.

McDonald, J. .

. . H, 99th Inf.

. Aug. 28,

'64

7183.

Mason, J. . . .

D, 45th Inf. .

- . Aug. 28,

'64

7186.

More, John H.

D, 60th Inf. .

. . Aug. 28,

'64

7515.

Myers, L. H. . .

. B, 135th Inf. .

. - Sept. 1,

'64

7896.

Morris, J. . .

. A, 105th Inf. .

¦ Sept. 5,

'64

8021.

. . . K, 111th Inf. .

. . Sept. 6,

'64

18

XI

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

8044.

Myers, A 

. 1, 51st Inf.

Sept. 6,

'64

8236.

Moor, D. D 

. A, 2d Inf. .

Sept. 9,

'64

, 8385.

May mer, R.

. D, 68th Inf.

Sept. 10,

'64

8408.

McCabe, J.

. C, 70th Inf.

Sept. 11,

'64

8482.

Morens, H. -

. A, 51st Inf. .

Sept. 11,

'64

8688.

Moore, T. H 

. C, 59th Inf. . .

Sept. 13,

'64

8726.

Miller, Samuel ,

. F, 135th Inf.

Sept. 14,

'64

8838.

Mackrill, R. .

... I, 50th Inf.

Sept. 15,

'64

8885.

Manlig, S. -

. . A, 60th Inf.

Sept. 16,

'64

9039.

Miller, C 

. I, 28th Inf.

Sept. .17,

'64

9096.

McMillan, J. F. .

. A, 123d Inf.

Sept. 18,

'64

9241.

McComb, J. S. .

K, 14th Inf.

Sept. 19,

'64

9348.

Maxwell, P. . .

. . A, 12th Inf.

Sept. 20,

'64

9659.

Manley, J. . .

. M, 7th Inf.

Sept. 24,

'64

9867.

Mitchell, R. C. .

. . . 10th Cav.

. Sept. 27,

'64

10064.

Morgan, R. O.

. H, 12th Cav. - .

Sept. 30,

'64

10081.

Mcintosh, Wm.

. I, 23d Inf. . .

. Sept. 30,

'64

10106.

Morais, Wm.

. F, 135, Inf. .

Sept. 30,

'64

10517.

Montgomery, J. . .

G, 2d Inf. .

. Oct. 8,

'64

10563.

Myer, L., blacksmith,

. . A, 1st Inf.

- Oct. 9,

'64

10936.

Martin, F. . . .

- A, 10th Cav. . .

- Oct. 14,

'64

11156.

McElroy, John .

. . B, 92d Inf.

. Oct. 18,

'64

11200.

Martin, W.

. A, 15th Inf.

. Oct. 20,

'64

11341.

McQuilkin, F. - -

. I, 1st Inf. . .

. Oct. 23,

'64

11400.

Mark, J. .

. . . B, 135th Inf. .

. Oct. 24,

'64

11811.

Miller. J. . ...

. . 1, 135th Inf. .

. Nov. 4,

'64

12050.

Moore, R. F.

. C, 101st Inf. .

. Nov. 16,

'64

12054.

Mills, G. W.

- F, 60th Inf.

- Nov. 16,

'64

12184.

Morrison, J. H.

. B, 21st Inf

- Nov. 28,

'64

12535.

McDonald, H. H.,

. . Citizen,

- Jan 27,

'65

12717.

Millholland, R

. B, 183d Inf. .

March 1,

'65

12872.

McGrath, D.

. - G, 115th Inf.

March 15

'65

12875.

Martin, M. .

. B 135th Inf . . :
N

March 16,

'65

983.

Neal, John .

. C, 45th Inf.

- May 9,

'64

2328.

Nash, CD 

B, 45th Inf . .

May 22,

'64

Appendix.

XLl

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

2183.

Niver, Edward ....

. . I, 3d Cav.

. . June 19,

'64

4994.

Nelson, J.

. K, 1st Cav- -

. - Aug. 7,

'64

5897.

Neff, B 

H, 95th Inf. .

. .Aug. 16,

'64

7103.

Nelson, Thomas . .

1st Cav. .

. . Aug. 28,

'64

10584.

Nelder, S. . .

. G, 89th Inf.

. . Oct. 10,

'64

11012.

Nott. J. . . . ...

. H, 153d Inf. .

- Oct. 16,

'64

11448.

Norman, G. L. .

B, 135th Inf.

. . Oct. 25,

'64

12815.

Norris, E. J.

K, 102dlnf.

. March 25,

'65

o

2245.

Ostrander, E. W 

. . A, 100th Inf. .

. . June 20,

'64

2442.

Ott, C.

C, 51st Inf. .

June 25,

'64

4552.

O'Neil, James .

. . F, 126th Inf. .

. Aug. 2,

'64

11349.

O'Brien, John

. . D, 2d Inf. . . .

- Oct. 23,

'64

12024.

O'Connor, F.

- C, 103d Inf. .

. Nov. 15,

'64

12247.

. C, 122d Inf. .
. Dec. 8,
'64
12429.
Olinger, J. ...
. . F, 63d Inf.
. Dec. 10,
'64
12805.
Ornig J. B 
. . I, 101st Inf. .
April 17,
'65
P
65.
Pussey, James ....
. . H, 45th Inf
. March 19,
'64
9.
Price, Barney . .
I, 45th Inf.
. April 5,
'64
724.
Parker, Wm. E. .
H, 45th Inf.
April 25,
'64
913.
Penny, A. . .
C, 59th Inf.
May 6,
'64
1326
Prouty, Wm. . .
. L, 9th Cav. .
. May 24,
'64
2692.
Phenix, A. H.
H, 21st Inf.
. June 20,
'64
3391.
Pile, Wilson . ...
. F, 33d Inf. .
July 16,
'64
3555.
A, 100th Inf.
. . July 18,
'64
4020.
Perkins, W. B. .
G, 89th Inf.
. . July 26,
'64
5190.
Piffer, G 
A, 123d Inf.
Aug. 9,
'64
5377.
Parker, W. . . .
. H, 124th Inf
. Aug. 11,
'64
5426.
Perrin, N. . .
A, 72d Inf.
Aug- 12,
'64
6463.
Pariice, George W.
94th Inf. .
. Aug. 22,
'64
6589.
Potter, H 
E, 72d Inf. .
Aug. 23,
'64
6690.
Pullen, Samuel
. B, 33d Inf.
. Aug. 24,
'64
6717.
Post, J 
. D, 1st Art.
Aug. 24,
'64
XLII

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

6984.

Palmer, Samuel  I, 135th Inf. . .

Aug. 27,

'64

7021.

Pease, G. E .

.... I, 10th Cav .

Aug. 27,

'64

7157.

Plunkett, M.

 E, 124th Inf. . .

Aug. 29,

'64

7329.

Pelterson, F.

G, 113th Inf. .

Aug. 30,

'64

7368.

Purcell, John

D, 72d Inf. .

Aug. 31,

'64

7384.

Pierson, J. .

... . B, 125th Inf. .

Aug. 31,

'64

7399.

Palmer, F. G.

. D, 2d Cav. -

Aug. 31,

'64

7519.

Patten, W. .

 D, 21st Inf .

Sept. 1,

'64

7644.

Pierce, Wm.

- H, 75th Inf. . .

Sept. 3,

'64

7701.

Pruser, H. .

- B, 1st Inf. .

Sept. 3,

'64

7724.

Payne, J. .

. E, 89th Inf . . .

Sept. 3,

'64

8109.

Potts, Jas .

. . E, 172d Inf .

Sept. 7,

'64

8288.

Phillips, H. .

... I, 33d Inf. . .

Sept. 9,

'64

8534.

Powell, F . .

. G, 9th Inf. .

Sept. 12,

'64

8597.

Pror, A. M. .

. B, 135th Inf. . .

Sept. 12,

'64

8620.

Pinert, F. . .

C, 21st Inf .

Sept. 13,

'64

8753.

Parker, Z .

 E, 124th Inf.

Sept. 14,

'64

9111.

Parks, J. W.

... . G, 6th Cav

Sept. 18,

'64

9327.

Parker, J .

. . H, 49th Inf.

Sept. 20.

'64

9470.

Perrin, G .

B, 3d Inf . .

Sept. 21,

'64

9768.

Pipenbring, George . K, 13th Inf.

Sept. 25,

'64

9822.

Preston, Wm. .

. - B, 34th M. I.

Sept. 27,

'64

10056.

Parks, E. F -

D, 36th Inf .

Sept. 30,

'64

11221.

Piper, E. A .

. B, 23d Inf .

. Oct. 20,

'64

11453.

Patterson, F. .

F, 28th Cav

• Oct. 25,

'64

11676.

Prouse, P. I.

I, 1st Inf. .

. Oct. 30,

'64

11779.

Preshall, J. A .

C, 113th Inf.

Nov. 3,

'64

12038.

Peasley, J.

H, 65th Inf .

Nov. 16,

'64

12040.

Porter, W. C.

. H, 40th Inf .

Nov. 16,

'64

12352.

Powers, J. .

. K, 21st Inf.

Dec. 28,

'64

12651.

Poistan, J.

. F, 133d Inf.

. Jan. 29,

'65

12645.

Piper, I. .

. F, 64th Inf.
Pv

Feb. 13,

'65

344.

Ricker, Henry

- E, 2d Cav.

April 2,

'64

908.

Rush, D. . .

. . H, 107th Inf.

May 5,

'64

Appendix.

XLIII

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

49.

Reed, Harmon

. E, 103d Inf. . .

May 25,

'64

1642.

Radabaugh, W. H.

A, 33d Inf. .

June 5,

'64

1763.

Rei, J 

. K, 124th, Inf.

June 6,

'64

2030.

Ralston, W. J.

C, 89th Inf .

June 15,

'64

¦ 2124.

Rawlings, S. .

. E, 45th Inf .

June 17,

'64

2156.

Rancy, A. K. .

B, 111th Inf.

June 18,

'64

2231.

Rickards, W. V.

B, 33d Inf. .

June 20,

'64

2410.

Rowe, A. . . .

F, 104th Inf.

June 24,

'64

2878.

Rees, Thomas .

C, 98th Inf.

July 4,

'64

3074.

Rix, Wm. .

. K, 2d Inf .

July 9,

'64

3400.

Rogers, H. .

C, 51st Inf.

July 16,

'64

3426.

Ralston, J. M.

C, 89th Inf.

July 16,

'64

3613

Russell, L. F. .

. B, 111th Inf.

July 20,

'64

3802.

Regman, O. . .

. D, 2d Inf . .

July 24,

'64

3961.

Robinson, H. H.

H, 110th Inf.

July 25,

'64

4061.

Reiggs^H. . .

. F, 21st Inf. .

July 27,

'64

4335.

Rex, J. W. .

K, 3d Cav.

July 30,

'64

4777.

Robbins, A. . .

- D, 6th Cav

Aug. 5,

'64

5570.

Reichardson, G.

G, 82d Inf. .

Aug. 14,

'64

5631.

Russell, J. G. . .

. G, 116th Inf.

Aug. 14,

'64

5639.

Read, George H.

H, 21st Inf .

Aug. 14,

'64

5641.

Redder, G. .

. G, 45th Inf . . , . .

Aug. 14,

'64

6488.

Robbins, D. B.

I, 89th Inf. .

Aug. 22,

'64

6511.

Bass, J 

. A, 59th Inf.

Aug. 22,

'64

6835

Ridgeway, John •

. D, 23d Inf.

Aug. 25,

'64

6948.

Redd, C. .

H, 172d Inf.

Aug. 26,

'64

7174.

Ross, A.

H, 45th Inf. .

Aug. 29

'64

7353.

Roberts, Ed

. K, 75th Inf.

Aug. 31,

'64

7639.

Rutain, E. B.

. E, 41st Inf. .

Sept. 2,

'64

7844.

Russell, James

E, 9th Inf. .

Sept. 4,

'64

8521.

Rhotin, W. .

. C, 2d Inf.

Sept. 12,

'64

8747.

Riley, W. M.

B, 89th Inf. .

Sept. 14,

'64

8818.

Robertson, R.

D, 100th Inf.

Sept. 15,

'64

9614.

Robinson, J.

. D, 65th Inf. .

Sept. 23,

'64

9617.

Rose, John .

H, 72d Inf. .

Sept. 23,

'64

10165.

Riper, O. H."

. G, 110th Inf.

Oct. 1,

'64

XLIV

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

10354.

Rogers, C. , 

¦ - H, 13th. Inf.

. Oct. 5,

'64

10378.

Rochelle, John

F, 135th Inf.

Oct. 11,

'64

11279.

Romain, J.- .

H, 5Pth Inf

Oct. 21,'

'64

11360.

Reese, A. . .

, . C, 80th Inf. .

Oct. 23,

'64

11413

Reese, R. . .

. D, 59th Inf.

. Oct. 24,

'64

11646..

Rapp, N. . .

. A, 19th Inf. .

Oct. 30,

'64

11657.

Robbins, P. . .

H, 122d, Inf.

Oct. 30,

'64

11672.

Robinson, C.

. E, 2d Cav. .

. Oct. 30,

'64

11857.

Rourk, J. . .

. G, 6th Inf.

Nov. 6,

'64

12366.

Repan, A. .

. A. 47th Inf.

Dec. 31,

'64

12647.

Rapp, D. C. .

. C, 2d Inf.

- . Feb. 13,

'65

12692.

Ramsbottom, A. F.

. D, 99th Inf.
s C, 7th Cav.

Feb. 22,

'65

33.

Smith, J. E.

. March 9,

'64

44.

Smith, H. B. .

. B, 82d Inf. .

. March 14,

'64

58.

Strill, Michael

. . K, 100th Inf.

March 18,

'64

231.

Sears, Samuel .

. F, 2d Cav.

March 29,

'64

260.

Stephen, H. . .

. B, 100th Inf.

. March 31,

'64

263.

Shields, George .

L, 2d Cav. .

. March 31,

'64

284.

Saughessey, John

. B, 45th Inf.

. April 1,

'64

481.

Steele, Abraham

H. 80th Inf.

April 9,

'64

594.

Swench, W.

A, 45th Inf.

April 16,

'64

653.

Snyder, Lewis

C, 80th Inf.

. April 20,

'64

726.

Sweeney, Samuel

G, 7th Cav.

April 25,

'64

791.

Shannon, Charles

. I, 45th Inf.

April 28,

'64

804.

Starbuck, F.

. E, 62d Inf. .

April 29,

'64

937.

Storer, John .

A, 17th Inf.

. May 7,

'64

962.

Smith, John .

. . F, 7th Cav.

.May 8,

'64

994.

Smith, Wm.

E, 103d Inf.

May 10,

'64

42.

Sabine, Alonzo

A, 100th Inf.

. May 11,

'64

1160.

Samse, Wm. .

. . H, 14th Inf.

- . May 17.

'64

1179.

Smith, Conrad .

. A, 100th Inf.

. May 18,

'64

1183.

Smith, William .

G, 2d Inf. .

May 18,

'64

1229.

Spangler, A. . .

E, 45th Inf. .

May 20,

'64

1231.

Swineheart, J. W. . .

B, 111th Inf.

May 22,

'64

Appendix.

XLV

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt.

Date of Death.

1404.

Seyman, Aaron .

. D, 89th Inf. .

May 27,

'64

1672.

Sprague, W. L.

. K, 6th Cav 

June 6,

'64

1773.

Simmons, Jobn

. . . Bat. 22 .

June 9,

'64

2220.

.A, 35th Inf 

June 20,

'64

2230.

Stannett, J. .

. . . C, 45th Inf.

June 20,

'64

2376.

Stiver, J.

. . . C, 93d Inf. . .

June 23,

'64

.2524.

Smith, G. W. .

. K, 11th Inf.

June 26,

'64

2575^

Sampson, C 

. . . D, 89th Inf ... .

June 27,

'64

2638.

Stults, P 

. . . . F, 45th Inf ... .

June 29,

'64

2783.

Shiver, L 

. - B, 31st Inf. .

July 2,

'64

2792.

Smith, N. H. .

. . H, 1st Inf.

¦July 2,

'64

3116.

Smith; G 

... I, 21st Inf . . .

July 10,

'64

3252.

Short, James

- - A, 4th Cav.

. July 13,

'64

3288.

Smith, D 

- . H, 7th Inf. .

. July 13,

'64

3361.

Saffle, J. . .

. E, 2d Inf. . . .

. July 15,

'64

3536.

Steward, OS..

. . K, 33d Inf. . . .

. July 18,

'64

3602.

Stevenson, D. .

. . . B, 111th Inf.

. July 19,

'64

3298.

Squires, Thomas . .

. C, 49th Inf. . .

. July 20,

'64

3744.

Snyder, Thomas .

. G, 9th Idi.

. July 21,

'64

3770.

. . . I, 2d Inf. . . .

. July 22,

"64

3794.

Sever, H. H 

C, 2d Inf.

- July 22,

'64

4249.

Shephard, J. H. .

. E, 2d Inf. .

. July 29,

'64

4275.

Smitb, J. B. .

. . B, 1st Inf .

. July 29,

'64

4294.

Steward, J. .

. . K, 2d Inf . . . .

. July 30,

'64

4745.

Steiner, M. J. .

. . F, 72d Inf. . .

Aug. 5,

'64

5018.

Smock. A . .

. D, 93d Inf.

Aug. 8,

'64

5054.

Smarz, A. . .

. E, 93d Inf. . . .

Aug 8,

'64

5066.

Shipple, John

. G, 6th Cav

Aug. 8,

'64

5133.

Scott, S. E.

. . I, 4th Inf. . .

Aug. 9,

'64

5287.

Stevenson, John

. B, 111th Inf .

Aug. 11,

'64

5330.

Spegle, F 

. . D, 14th Inf

Aug. 11,

'64

5373.

Schem, J. . -

. K, 101st Inf. . .

Aug. 11,

'64

5455.

Stevens, G. W. .

. . . . K, 101st Inf .

Aug. 12,

'64

5896.

Sullivan, W . .

. D, 78th Inf . . .

Aug. 16,

'64

6010.

Staley, G.

. A, 89th Inf . .

Aug. 17,

'64

6632.

Smith, Wm. . .

. . . . G, 9th Cav

Aug. 18,

'64

XLVI

Appendix.

No. of
Grave.

Name.

Co. Regt,

Dale of Death.

6178

Simpson, W. J.

¦ F, 32d Inf. .

Aug. 19,

'64

6199.

Sheddy, G. . .

. K, 2d Inf. . -

Aug. 19,

'64

6214.

Shaw, George W.

A, 105th Inf.

Aug. 20,

'64

6253.

Shoulder, E.

. . F, 24th Inf . .

Aug. 20,

'64

6779.

Soper, P.

. . . G, 72d Inf.

Aug. 25,

'64

6870.

Scarberry, 0.

. D, 89th Inf .

Aug. 26,

'64

7034.

Sutton, J.

. A, 4th Inf. .

Aug. 27,

'64

7065.

Shoemaker, J.

. . E, 47th Inf .

Aug. 28,

'64

7436.

Stincher, F. E.

. A, 101st Inf.

Sept. 1,

'64

7475.

Shafer, A.

. G, 9th Inf. .

Sept. 1,

'64

7540.

Sell, Adam .

. E, 125th Inf.

Sept. 2,

'64

7788.

Stewart, John S.

B, 19th Inf .

Sept. 4,

'64

7897.

Smith, H. H.

A, 2d Cav.

Sept. 5,

'64

7986.

Selb, Jacob . -

23d Inf. .

Sept. 6,

'64

8014.

Schriver, George

K, 45th Inf.

Sept. 6,

'64

8015.

Snider, James .

C, 4th Inf.

Sept. 6,

'64

8156.

Sturtevant, W.

A, 72d Inf. .

Sept. 8,

'64

8197.

Shrouds, J.

6th Bat.

Sept. 8,

'64

8200.

Stroufe, A.

. E, 7th Inf.

Sept. 8,

'64

8229.

Shaw, W.

. I, 15th Inf. . . .

Sept. 9,

'64

8300.

Smith, N 

. H, 121st Inf.

Sept. 9,

'64

8319.

Sheldon, W.

. E, 49th Inf - .

Sept. 10,

'64

8422.

Sullivan, John

. F, 135th Inf.

Sept. 11,

'64

8728.

Sisson, P. B.

H, 18th Inf.

Sept. 14,

'64

8752.

Sickles, J. . .

. I, 51st Inf.

Sept. 14,

'64

8914.

Simmonds, S. P.

. A, 1st Inf.

Sept. 16,

'64

8931.

Stull, G. . .

. G, 15th Inf.

Sept. 16,

'64

9009.

Sharp, S. F. . .

. K, 63d Inf.

Sept 17,

'64

9244.

Schmall, J. D. ,

. . E, 12th Inf. .

- Sept 19,

'64

9386.

Smith, L. . .

. H, 153d Inf.

Sept. 20,

'64

9645.

Scott, J. H. .

. H, 33d Inf.

Sept. 24,

'64

9649.

Skiver, J 

. H, 114th Inf.

Sept. 24,

'64

10250.

Sheets, W. .

A, 81st Inf.

- Oct. 3,

'64

10312.

Spencer, S. M.

E, 89th Inf.

• Oct. 4,

'61

10434.

Shingle, D. . .

. . L, 2d Cav.

¦ Oct. 6,

'64

10437.

Stanford, P. W.

. A, 2d Cav.

Oct. 6,

'64

Appendix.

No. of
Grave. Name.
10576. Stonchecks, J. D. .
10618. Schafer, P. . . .
10703. Stout, Samson .
10383. Sheppard, John . .
11139. Shark, H 
11146. Smith, G. A. .
11249. Sullivan, F. . .
11433. Swaney, E 
11579. Smith, P. . . .
11595. Sapp, W. N.
11711. Spiker, J 
11797. Shaler, F. .
12105. Sly, F 
12281. Singer, J 
12305. Sweet, M. . .
12441. Shoemaker, C. .
12538. Stewart, A. F. . ,
12562. Sponcelar, George
12668. Shorter, W. .
12769. Sloon, L. . .
12789. Stotvup, S. .
12793. Seeley, N.
12810. Scott, R. . .

Co. Regt.
¦ F, 51st Inf,
I, 101st Inf.
F, 2d Inf. .
- D, 34th Inf. .
. F, 72dlnf. .
F, 45th Inf.
C, 76th Inf.
. A, 124th Inf.
I, 69th Inf.
. E, 20th Inf.
122d Inf.
. E, 72d Inf. .
. G, 89th Inf. .
. G, 6th Inf.
F, 49th Inf. .
. F, 8th Inf.
. D, 2d Inf.
. B, 71st Inf.
. K, 89th Inf.
. D, 123d Inf. .
. B, 50th Inf.
. D, 132 Inf.
. G, 75th Inf. .

XL VII
Date of Death.
. Oct. 9, '64
Oct. 10, '64
Oct. 11, '64
Oct. 13, '64
Oct. 17, '64
- Oct. 19, '64
. Oct. 21, '64
. . Oct. 24, '64
. Oct. 28, '64
Oct. 28, '64
. Nov. 1, '64
. Nov. 4, '64
. Nov. 20, '64
Dec. 13, '64
. Dec. 18, '64
. Jan. 12, '65
. Jan. 27, '65
. Jan. 31, '65
Feb. 17, '65
March 13, '65
March 17, '65
March 18, '65
March 24, '65

734.
743. 999.
1196.
1496. 4784.
4951-
5356. 5552.5668.6330.

Tweedy, R.
Trescott, Samuel
Trimmer, Wm. .
Turney, U. S. - .
Thomas, Wm.
Thompson, J. . .
Toroman, W. R.
Tierney, W. .
Tinsley, M. ¦ ¦
Terrilliger, N. .
Tanner, A. . . -

A, 1st Cav. -
. C, 2d Inf. .
. H, 40th Inf.
. G, 2d Cav. .
. M, 10th Cav.
E, 2d Inf. . .
. F, 13th Inf. .
L, 1st Art. .
. B, 90th Inf. .
C, 12th Inf. .
. G, 32d Inf.

19

AprilApril
. May
. May
. May
• Aug.
Aug.
• Aug.
• Aug.
• Aug.
¦ Aug.

25, '64
26, '64
10, '64
18, '64
30, '64
5, '64
#,'64
11, '64
13, '64
14, '64
21, '64

XLVIII

Appendix.

No. of
Grave. 7224.
7246. 7340.8850.
9774.9945.
10471.10800.11320.
12577.

Name.

Co.

Thompson, O. B.
Turner, S. B. .
Thomas, James .
Talbert, R. . . .
Thomas, N. . . .
Townsend, J. . .
Tattman, B.
Tinway, P. . .
Townsley, E. M.
Tensdale, T. H. .

U

12251. Uchre, S. . .

Regt.
. C, 26th Inf.
. B, 45th Inf. .
. C, 44th Inf.
. F, 135th Inf.
. B, 103d Inf.
. C, 26th Inf.
. C, 123d Inf.
. 93d Inf.
. B, 89th Inf.
. E, 2d Cav.

E, 12th Inf

Date of Death.
. Aug. 29, '64
. Aug. 30, '64
. Sept. 2, '64
. Sept. 15, '64
. Sept. 26, '64
Sept. 28, '64
. Oct. 7, '64
Oct. 12, '64
. Nov. 5, '64
. Feb. 3, '65

Dec. 9, '64

2194. Vining, W. H. H.
3902. Valentine, C. .
4450. Vaugh, B. .
4497. Vangrider, H.
5262. Vatier, J. F.
6170. Vail, John L. .
6859. Vanaman, M. .
6985. Vanderveer, A .
7756. Victor, H.
9576. Volis, J. . . .
10252. Vail, N.
10389. Vail, G. M. . .
10472. Van Fleet, H. .
11095. Van Kirk, G. .
11097. VanMalley, J. M.
12554. Vanhorn, S. .

7. Wiley, Samuel
185. Wickman, Wm.
34. Wright, Wm.

w

G, 45th Inf.
. H, 123d Inf.
F, 125th Inf
H, 103d Inf.
6th Cav.
. C, 17th Inf.
. E, 21st Inf.
H, 6th Inf.
- D, 1st Art. .
H, 34th Inf.
. K, 12th Inf. .
. D, 7th Inf.
. I, 14th Inf. .
. B, 135th Inf.
. G, 89th Inf.
. C, 9th Cav. .

. A, 82d Inf.
. B, 111th Inf.
. H, 7th Inf.

June 19, '64
July 24, '64
Aug. 1, '64
Aug. 1, '64
Aug. 10, '64
Aug. 19, '64
Aug. 26, '64
Aug. 27, '64
Sept. 4, '64
Sept. 23, '64
. Oct. 3, '64
. Oct. 5, '64
. Oct. 7, '64
. Oct. 18, '64
. Oct. 18, '64
. Jan. 30, '65

March 5, '64
. March 27, '64
. April 24, '64

Appendix.

No. of
Grave. 799.
807.
1085.1449.1604. 1836.
1913.
2020. 2041.2172.2358. 2536.2815.2840.3188.3310.3325.
4214. 4681.4688. 4695.
4833. 5121. 5211.
5726.6314.6318.6362. 6397.6700.6761. 7056. 7373.7582.8298.

Name.
Wooley, John
Werts, Lewis .
Wood, Wm . .
Wenthing, Joseph
Wood, Joseph .
Wilkinson, W.
Wilson, James
Way, Jno. . .
Windgrove, S. R.
Webb, E 
Walters, F. .
Wing 
Willis, A 
Wroten, L. . . .
Williams, D.
White, H . .
Whitten, G.
West, J. B. . .
Witt, Jno. T.
Won, J .
Wile, A. . .
Webricks, Josh H.
Winder, I. . . .
Wood, N. L.
Winters, George
Wain wright, S. G. .
Wisser. F. J.
Wistman, N. .
Wilson, E.
Watson, G. .
Wood, S 
Wood, W. H. .
Wyatt, J. .
Wentworth, L. .
Wright, J. S.
Warrrer, T. .

Co. Regt.
. B, 45th Inf.
. D, 45th Inf.
. A, 89th Inf. .
. K, 130th Inf
. B, 15th Inf. .
D, 89th Inf.
. I, 93d Inf. .
. I, 44th Inf. .
15th Inf .
. A, 45th Inf .
. E, 9th Inf. .
. M, 2d Cav. -
. A, 89th Inf .
. H, 89th Inf .
. A, 90th Inf .
. A, 15th Inf.
. K, 75th Inf. .
. B, 89th Inf. .
.G, 93d Inf. .
. B, 111th Inf.
. D, 33d Inf.
G, 9th Inf.
. D, 70th Inf .
. L, 4th Cav. .
. K, 145th Inf.
. G, 89th Inf .
. A, 35th Inf.
G, 9th Cav.
A, 4th Inf. .
. A, 21st Inf. .
. A, 123d Inf.
. E, 59th Inf.
. B, 90th Inf
. A, 72d Inf. .
. E, 49th Inf.
. C, 14th Inf. .

XLIX
Date of Death.
April 28, '64
. April 30, '64
May 14, '64
. May 29, '64
. June 4, '64
June 11, '64
June 13, '64
June 15, '64
June 15, '64
. June 19, '64
, June 23, '64
. June 26, '64
. July 3, '64
July 3, '64
, July 12, '64
. July ]5, '64
. July 14, '64
. July 29, '64
Aug. 4, '64
Aug. 4, '64
Aug. 4, '64
Aug. 6, '64
Aug. 9, '64
Aug-. 10, '64
Aug. 15, '64
Aug. 20, '64
Aug. 20, '64
Aug 21, '64
Aug. 21, '64
Aug. 24, '64
Aug. 25, '64
Aug. 28, '64
Aug. 31, '64
Sept, J, '64
Sept. 9, '64
Sept. 10, '64

L Appendix.
No. of
Grave. Name. Co. Regt. Date of Death.
8907. Wyckman, D. . . . . G, 73d Inf. . . Sept. 16, '64
9384. Worte, J  116th Inf. . . Sept. 20, '64
9527. Woodruff, J. M  F, 135th Inf. . . Sept. 22, '64
9691. Wagner. J  F, 93d Inf. . . . Sept. 24, '64
10007. Whitney, E. . . . . . . K, 21st Inf. . . Sept. 29, '64
10230. Williams, Orland  K, 7th Cav. . . - Oct. 2, '64
10309. Weaver, M  H, 72d Inf. . . Oct. 4, '64
10402. Ward, Francis  H, 21st Inf. . . Oct. 6, '64
10464. Whitehead, A. B  E, 33d Inf. . Oct. 7, '64
10528. Wiley, A  I, 26th Inf. . . Oct. 8, '64
10733. White', I  E, 73d Inf. . Oct. 11, '64
10844. Westbrook, R. L  F, 135th Inf. Oct. 13, '64
11013. Walker, C  I, 65th Inf. . Oct. 16, '64
11034. Waldron, H  .A, 14th Inf. . . Oct. 16, '64
11418. Williams, S. M  F, 60th Inf. . . Oct. 24, '64
11770. Worthen, D  . B, 122d Inf. . . Nov. 3, '64
11874. Weason, J  F, 36th Inf . Nov. 6, '64
12042. Wickham, J  . . H, 14th Inf. . Nov. 16, '64
12073. White, R. M. ... . D, 15th Inf. . . Nov. 18, '64
12i58. Warner, B. F. .... E, 35th Inf. . Nov. 25, '64
12584. Whitaker, E. ...... A, 72d Inf. . . Feb. 4, '65
12722. Wella, E.  A, 57th Inf. March 3, '65
12759. Winklet, T , . . . McL's. Sqn. . . . March 12, '65
12786. Warner, M  G, 132d Inf. . . March 16, '65
Y
638. Yulerler, W. A  E, 45th Inf. April 20, '64
5477. Younker, S  F, 80th Inf. . . . Aug. 13, '64
6068. Young, John . .... E, 7th Inf. . . Aug. 18, '64
7816. Yeager, John  B, 7th Cav. - - . Sept. 4, '64
7876. Young, J. . . . . F, 9th Inf. . . . Sept. 5, '64
10583. Young, W  G, 6th Inf. . Oct. 10, '64
12659. Young, W  A, 15th Inf. . . Feb. 16, '65
z
3225. Zubers, J. M. .  B, 100th Inf. . July 12, '64
11253. Zink, A. J. . . E, 72d Inf. . ' . Oct. 21, '64

-4> oo