*v»- 
 
 
 I 
 
 ^:« 
 
WHAT I SAW AND SUFFERED 
 
 REBEL PEISONS. 
 
 DANIEL G. KELLEY, 
 
 Late Sergeant Company K, Twenty-fourth New York Cavalry. 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 Major ANSON G. CHESTEK, 
 N. Y. Military Agent, Buffalo. 
 
 BUFFALO: 
 
 PEZNTLNG HOUSE OF MATTHEWS & WAKBEN. 
 1866. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by 
 
 DANIEL G. KELLET, 
 
 In the Clerk's OflSce of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Northern District of New Yorl^. 
 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In the fall of 1865, a young soldier, whose crippled 
 condition was calculated to move the stoutest heart, was 
 borne into my office, by the willing arms of two com- 
 rades, for the purpose of seeking my advice in relation 
 to a claim against the Government. 
 
 This soldier proved to be Daxiel Geokge Kellet, 
 of Aurora, Erie county, late a Sergeant in Company 
 K, Twenty-fourth Regiment New York Cavalry Volun- 
 teers. 
 
 Entering into conversation with my visitor, I learned 
 the appalling fact, that by reason of neglect, exposure 
 and brutality, incident to a protracted incarceration in 
 the notorious rebel prison at Andersonville, Sergeant 
 Kelley had become totally pai*alyzed from the hips 
 downward! leaving him as helpless as a new-born child. 
 
 This interview took place but a short time previous 
 to the trial and execution of Wurz, the keeper of that 
 horrible den, where, for many months, during th.e late 
 war, worse than inquisitorial cruelty and murder held 
 high carnival. If any are disposed to question the jus- 
 tice of his fate, let them read the simple but harrowing 
 
6 
 
 story of one who, through his direct instrumentality, 
 has received a permanent inheritance of helplessness and 
 suffering. 
 
 Sergeant Kelley went to the war in the heyday of 
 youthful vigor ; he returned from it with the juices of 
 more than half his physical organization dried up and 
 destroyed forever. Providence has paid him in strange 
 coin for his patriotism and prowess, but we may be sure 
 that he Avill comprehend and extol the wisdom of this 
 inscrutable dealing when " the books are opened." 
 
 In the pages which follow, Sergeant Kelley has, mod- 
 estly and meekly, recorded the history of his sufferings 
 and his wrongs. I am sure that no words of mine are 
 necessary to interest those into whose hands the volume 
 may fall, in a recital which, even were it couched in far 
 less attractive phrase, must inevitably win the sympa- 
 thy and commiseration of every heart whose fibres are 
 genuine. 
 
 It is for us that this noble-souled young hero has en- 
 dured a hopeless and everlasting martyrdom ; it is but 
 right that from us should proceed his guerdons. May 
 such be the reception of this volume, at the hands of the 
 public, that he who has suffered grievously in the flesh 
 may rejoice exceedingly in the spirit. 
 
 ANSOX G. CHESTER. 
 Buffalo, Nov. 1, 1866. 
 
WHAT I SAW AND SUFFERED 
 
 IN REBEL PRISONS. 
 
 How eventful liave been the last four years ! 
 During that time, what changes have been 
 wrought among the j^eople of the United States ! 
 Thousands of our fellow-beings w^ho, four years 
 ago, were with us, following their daily occujDa- 
 tions, have since found graves in the Sunny 
 South. 
 
 Thousands lie buried in the same fields where 
 they fought the enemies of liberty with courage 
 and bravery never excelled, and scarcely equal- 
 led in the world's history; and although they 
 fell, they left a record of deeds which will throw 
 around their names a halo of glory that shall 
 endure as long as the name America shall deck 
 
tlie page, of liistory, or be remembered among 
 tlie natioiis of tlie earth. 
 
 Others, who fought with equal bravery, fell 
 into the hands of the enemy, and then came a 
 series of hardships, privations, exposures and 
 starvations, which carried thousands from time 
 into eternity. And now, around the prison pens 
 of Andersonville, Salisbury, Millen, Belle Isle 
 and numerous others, lie the forms of those who 
 were once so dear to kindred hearts in their 
 Northern homes. Now all is absent from those 
 hearts save the recollections of the loved and lost. 
 ^Thousands have returned to their homes with 
 broken constitutions, while in every town and 
 village men may be seen with empty sleeves, or 
 with only one limb, and each has a history. 
 
 Many have returned to their homes and youth- 
 ful associations, who will never more behold the 
 companions of childhood, the green fields and 
 beautiful flowers, the gay-plumed songsters or 
 the forms of dear ones around the fireside. No; 
 their tribute to their country has been the great- 
 est of all sacrifices — the loss of sight. 
 
 And there is one who, day after day, is an 
 unseen spectator of the numerous students who 
 pass his window on their way to and from the 
 
sclioolroom, where, less than three years since, 
 he mingled with these same students, one of 
 their number. But how everything has changed 
 with him since then ! Now, instead of a merry 
 schoolboy, he is an invalid, and has not walked 
 for many months. 
 
 Through the misfortunes of war, he was taken 
 prisoner by the rebels, and during his prison 
 life, suffered, in common with thousands of our 
 Union soldiers, such treatment from the hands 
 of the rebels as would cause the cheek of the 
 savage to blush with shame, were he guilty of 
 inflicting such treatment upon his prisoners. 
 
 In the following pages will be given a faint 
 idea of what it was to be a prisoner, but none, 
 except those who have been kept starving by 
 deo;rees for weeks and months, and felt the 
 burning rays of a Southern sun pouring upon 
 their unprotected heads, can form a just idea of 
 the sufferings of our prisoners. 
 
 When treason, dark, spread gloom o'er all the land, • 
 The Ship of State, fast drifting toward the strand, 
 Called loud for help to save her from the gale, 
 To place her in the open sea, where she might safely 
 
 sail. 
 That call was heard on every hill and plain, 
 Reached every ear in all our great domain. 
 
10 
 
 It called for action; this the prompt reply: 
 "Down with the traitor! raise our flag on high, 
 Still let it be where first its folds were given, 
 To wave so proudly in the light of heaven." 
 
 When the call of 1861 came for men to rally 
 to suppress the great rebellion which threatened 
 to overthrow our free institutions and establish 
 an empire having African Slavery as its chief 
 corner-stone, men hastened from all parts of the 
 country to sustain that banner which, nearly a 
 century since, was adopted by our forefathers 
 to rejDresent Liljerty, Union and the United 
 States. 
 
 Not only was the farmer called from the 
 plough, the mechanic from the workshop, the 
 merchant from the counter, and the lawyer from 
 the client, but students in the halls of instruc- 
 tion were animated by that love of country 
 which is the safeguard of liberty. Nearly every 
 school in the loyal States had its representatives 
 on the field, and from our own small school, 
 bearing the unassuming title "Aurora Academy," 
 in one week nine volunteered to espouse the 
 cause of the Union, " for better, for worse." 
 
 On the 15th of October, 1861, with others 
 from our school, I enlisted in the 100th New 
 
11 
 
 York Infantry, then known as tke Eagle Bri- 
 gade. In this regiment I served througk tke 
 Peninsular campaign of 1862, until the army 
 evacuated Harrison's Landing, when I was sent 
 to David's Island, New York Harbor, at which 
 place I was discharged on the 8th of September 
 1862, upon surgeon's certificate of disability, 
 having contracted malarious disease while on 
 the Peninsula. When I enlisted, my weight 
 was one hundred and sixty-five pounds, but 
 when discharged I weighed but eighty pounds. 
 Recovery was, at first, very slow, but after a 
 few months I gained rapidly, and on the 12th 
 of January, 1864, having been sixteen months 
 out of the service, and considering my health 
 perfectly recovered, I enlisted in Company K, 
 24th New York Cavalry. 
 
 When the grand Army of the Potomac moved 
 forward in the Spring of 1864, my regiment 
 was lyiug at Camp Stoneman, in the District of 
 Columbia. We had been encamped here about 
 two months, and had been occupying our time 
 in drilling, ^preparatory to receiving our horses ; 
 but on the 29th of April we were ordered to 
 the front, dismounted. We were greatly disap- 
 pointed at not receiving horses, but it is the 
 1* 
 
12 
 
 duty of soldiers to obey, and we acquiesced, 
 altlioiio:li reluctant to 2:0 dismounted. We were 
 assigned to tlie Provisional Brigade, First Di- 
 vision, Ninth Army Corj^s, Major-General Burn- 
 side commandino;. Tliis bri2:ade was composed 
 of dismounted cavalry and heavy artillery, who 
 were acting as infantry. Neither the cavalry 
 nor artillery were well pleased with the idea of 
 serving as infantry, and many were the jokes 
 which passed between the two regiments. 
 
 Once, after we had been marching, or, as the 
 men called it, "packing sand," all day, one of 
 the artillerymen called to the cavalry to know 
 what had become of their horses. A Yankee 
 cavalryman replied : "We have sent them to the 
 rear to bring up your big guns." Artillery 
 withdrew in silence. These constant jokes served 
 to cheer the spirits of the men and make the 
 time pass off pleasantly while on long marches. 
 
 How long the road seemed from Washington 
 to Richmond, by the way of Fairfax, Centreville, 
 the old Bull Run battle ground, where might 
 still be seen traces of that hard fought battle, 
 the Rappahannock and Rapidan Rivers. What 
 patience men required to march all day, then 
 work nearly all night building breastworks, ly- 
 
13 
 
 ing on the ground a sliort time to rest, and then 
 leave their works in the morning. This is what 
 wears on the soldier ; it is not the battles that 
 he dreads, but the trials and fatigues of a long 
 campaign. And it is an established fact, that 
 those who fulfill the duties of the soldier while 
 in camp and on the march without complaint, 
 can be relied on in the day of battle. 
 
 How grandly was the Sj^riug campaign of 
 1864 opened by General Grant's army in the 
 Wilderness. How many noble soldiers sealed 
 the bond of duty, — and affection, too, — for their 
 country, with their blood u]3on that ensanguined 
 field, and how the dear ones at home eagerly 
 watched the reports in the daily papers, to learn 
 the fate of some relative or friend. That was 
 indeed a hard fought battle. 
 
 Down in the Wilderness fierce raged the battle, 
 
 All the day long till the set of the sun ; 
 
 Shouts of the men and the cannon's loud rattle 
 
 Mingled together ere the victory was won. 
 
 Hard Avas the fighting and fierce raged the contest, 
 
 Charge after charge strewed the ground with the slain, 
 
 Hundreds of brave men lay wounded and dying, 
 
 And their life-blood, a crimson stream, covered the plain. 
 
 Prayers in the Northland went up for those heroes 
 Who fought for our flag in tlie Wilderness Avild ; 
 
14 
 
 Wives prayed for their husbands, parents prayed for 
 
 their sons, 
 And the sire was remembered by the dutiful child. 
 Maidens prayed for their lovers who battled for freedom, 
 That heaven Avould guard and protect them from harm ; 
 Ah, little they knew who should fall in the battle, 
 Who the Angel of Death should bear ofl" in his arms. 
 
 Brave men were made braver by thinking of loved ones, 
 And they cheerfully answered the bugles shrill call ; 
 They marched on to battle with firm step and steady. 
 Resolved for the victory though many should fall. 
 Never were braver men called forth to battle, 
 Never were men more determined than they; 
 Freedom their battle-cry, proud waved their banners high. 
 And Liberty triumphed o'er treason that day. 
 
 Ho, for the brave men who fell in that battle ; 
 
 Long may their names in our memories live. 
 
 May we, like they, when our country shall need us, 
 
 Be ready, our very existence to give. 
 
 Long may the stars in our banner shine brightly. 
 
 Over the Union they fought to maintain. 
 
 Cursed be the hand of the traitor that ever 
 
 Is stretched forth to tear down that banner again. 
 
 Never will those wlio sLared in tliose bat- 
 tles forget tbe Wilderness, Spottsylvania Court 
 House, and Nortli Anna River, wliicli stream 
 we forded on the 2-4th of May, in the face of 
 the enemy. 
 
15 
 
 As we neared tlie river, each man placed his 
 arms and ammunition on his shoulder to keep 
 them dry. We did not cross at a regular ford, 
 but the stream, a swift one, was breast deep, and 
 about two hundred feet wide. ReachinG: the 
 opposite shore, without stopping to wring the 
 water from our clothes, we ascended the bank 
 and formed in line of battle imder a heavy fire 
 from the enemy. Then advancing our skirmish- 
 ers, Ave commenced building breastworks. We 
 lay here thirty-six hours, alternately building 
 works and waitino; under arms to receive the 
 enemy, and finally recrossed the river in the 
 night, on a rude bridge which had been con- 
 structed in the meantime, and which we de- 
 troyed as soon as all the troops had j^assed over. 
 
 When General Grant ordered the Army of the 
 Potomac forward on the first of May, 1864, he 
 also ordered that all mail communications with 
 that army should be suspended, and not till the 
 first of June did we receive any mail. On that 
 day all the letters accumulated in Washington 
 during the month of May for the army, were 
 distributed to. the men. What a gala day was 
 that for the boys ! Letters were carried to each 
 regiment by the bushel, and each of the men 
 
16 
 
 might have started a small post office on his own 
 responsibility. Then came a demand for paper, 
 envelops and stamj^s, which conld not be sup- 
 plied ; for thirty days' march through rain and 
 shine had destroyed nearly all such articles with 
 which the men had suj^j^lied themselves. But 
 those who had, divided witli those who had 
 none ; leaves of blank books were brought into 
 requisition ; and in less than twenty-four hours, 
 thousands of men had sent messag-es to their 
 Northern homes, to tell the anxious watchers 
 that their prayers had been answered, that the 
 loved ones were safe. 
 
 Then came the 2d of June, that, to me, ever 
 memorable day, when we engaged the enemy at 
 Cold Harbor. How Avell I remember that after- 
 noon, when we fought the enemy successfully 
 until dark, and then, as night set in, I, with a 
 detachment of our company, advanced to do 
 picket duty in front of our regiment. About 
 midnight a corporal of our company came down 
 from the right and asked if I had seen Sergeant 
 Pomeroy. He said the Colonel had sent him to 
 recall Pomeroy, who had been sent out with ten 
 men to reconnoitre. I told him I had not seen 
 him, but he might ])e fm-ther down on the left ; 
 
17 
 
 and the corporal moved on in search of the ser- 
 geant's detachment. The night was very dark, 
 and a short time after the corporal left us we 
 could just discern a squad of men a few feet in 
 our rear. Supposing he had found the object 
 of his search, and that they were returning to 
 the regiment, I stepped back and spoke to them. 
 One of the men asked me what regiment mine 
 was, and I replied : " Twenty-fourth New York 
 Cavalry." Now, if you can imagine my surprise 
 when he rejoined: "You are my prisoner! I 
 belong to the Sixty-first Alabama Sharpshoot- 
 ers." There were now ten to one, and resistance 
 would have been foll}^ I was taken to the rear, 
 and within thirty rods we passed at least five 
 thousand rebels. 
 
 I was taken before General Daniels, who com- 
 manded a rebel brigade. He asked me to what 
 corps I belonged, and if the Yankees were in 
 force in fi'ont. I replied, that although a pris- 
 oner, I was under no obligation to answer his 
 questions. After he had asked a few more ques- 
 tions, with the same success, he ordered me to 
 be taken -to the provost guard, which proved to 
 be about a mile in the rear. Here I found the 
 corporal, who had been taken prisoner only a 
 
18 
 
 few minutes before I was taken, and by the same 
 squad. There was also another of our company, 
 and many of our regiment ; also men of other 
 regiments, — in all about two hundred men. 
 
 Now arises the question, how came this squad 
 of rebels in our rear ? — and it is answered thus : 
 Each regiment picketed its own front, and the 
 14th Heavy Artillery, which joined our regi- 
 ment on the left, had removed to the rear (for 
 some reason unknown to me) in the darkness, 
 withdrawing their pickets at the same time. 
 This left an open space where the rebels could 
 come in at will, and thus gain the rear of our 
 pickets; and once there, darkness prevented a 
 distinction between them and the federal sol- 
 diers. 
 
 We spread out our shelter tents and lay down 
 for the night, covering ourselves with our rub- 
 ber blankets. But it began to rain, and we 
 were obliged to rise or lie in the water. Of 
 two evils we chose the least, and as the rain- con- 
 tinued all night, we continued to sit around the 
 fires, and morning found us in a sorry condition. 
 Tired, hungry, and covered with mud; at five 
 o'clock we were started under a heavy guard 
 for Richmond. 
 
19 
 
 Our guard, like all rebels, were very inquisi- 
 tive, and invariably the first question was: 
 " Who are you going to elect for your next Pres- 
 ident ? " And invariably we replied, " Lincoln." 
 Then came a series of long faces on the part of 
 the rebels, and they positively asserted that if 
 Lincoln were re-elected there would be four 
 years more of war; that the South never would 
 submit to the rule of an abolition President. 
 
 This day the fight raged fearfully and it 
 seemed as if the Union army held the entrance 
 to Richmond. We were marched to the front 
 and halted in a field where they had planted 
 several batteries. Remaining here only a short 
 time, we were taken to the rear, and the guards 
 told us we were to be paroled. In fact they did 
 not know what to do with us. We were kept 
 marching and countermarching the entire day, 
 and night found us tired and hungry, within 
 half a mile of our starting point in the morning. 
 We gathered sticks and built fires, and some 
 who had a little coftee left from their former 
 rations enjoyed that luxury, but the most of us 
 had none, and, still fasting, we lay down for the 
 night, hoping, in sleep, to forget our trials. 
 
 Early next morning we were ordered into 
 
20 
 
 line, aud our rul)ber blankets and shelter tents 
 were taken from lis. This was a hard blow for 
 US, for they constituted our Louse as well as bed, 
 but still we were deprived of them, and without 
 rations we were again started for Richmond, 
 by the Mechanics ville pike, under a mounted 
 guard. 
 
 All along the road we saw wagons and carts 
 loaded with furniture of all kinds, ready to run 
 into Richmond, if Lee should be compelled to 
 retreat. Long lines of ambulances, loaded with 
 rebel wounded, were hurrying fi'om the front to 
 the city, and load after load of corn bread was 
 being taken from the city to Lee's army, but 
 there ^vas not a crust for the Yankee prisoners. 
 
 As we entered the fortifications of the city, we 
 were met by a dozen or more negresses, who had 
 baskets of j^ies, cakes and vegetables to sell. 
 Enquiring the price of pies, one replied "only 
 five dollars apiece in greenbacks, or, if you have 
 no money, I will trade for your watch." At this 
 friendly suggestion, I secretly slipped my watch 
 cord out of sight, as it was altogether too con- 
 spicuous for safety ; and although I had sixteen 
 dollars in greenbacks, and had been nearly two 
 days without food, I thought I should probably 
 
21 
 
 be able to use it to a better advantao-e in tlie 
 
 o 
 
 future, so I did not purchase. 
 
 As we marclied through the streets the women 
 were very inquisitive, and evinced a strong 
 desire to know where Grant was, and when he 
 was coming to Richmond. The small boys 
 showed their dislike for the Yankees by throw- 
 ing stones at us ; and we, making a virtue of 
 necessity, maintained a sullen silence, not even 
 caring to speak to each other. 
 
 A short march through the city brought us in 
 front of Libby Prison. On one corner hung 
 the sign as when it was used for commercial 
 purposes : " Libby & Son, Grocers and Ship 
 Chandlers." 
 
 We were taken in the basement, where there 
 were long rows of tables, which gave it the ap- 
 pearance of a large soldiers' mess-room, and we 
 thought there was a good prospect of getting 
 something to eat. But the old adage, " There's 
 many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip," seemed 
 written especially for our benefit. Instead of 
 receiving rations, a major of the rebel army came 
 in and called for our money. He said that 
 greenbacks were not alloAved to circulate in the 
 South, consequently they would be of no use to 
 
22 
 
 us ; and that an account would be kept of eacli 
 man's money, and that it would all be restored 
 to us when we were released. " But " he added, 
 " all will be searched, and all that is found will 
 be confiscated." 
 
 Nearly all of us gave him our money, and our 
 names, rank, company, regiment and State were 
 registered in a book kept for that purpose. A 
 few retained their money, but in nine cases out 
 of ten it was found and no account of it given. 
 Still they were as well off as the rest of us, for 
 none of us ever had any returned. 
 
 Our knapsacks, canteens and haversacks were 
 also taken from us, leaving us entirely destitute 
 of all things necessary for the comforts of a sol- 
 dier's life. But we, feeling resentful, and being 
 able to do nothing more, cut holes in our can- 
 teens and tore up our haversacks, so that since 
 we could not use them ourselves, they should 
 be of no service to the rebels. One fellow, 
 more unfortunate than the rest, was caught cut- 
 tiug a hole in his canteen, and was " bucked 
 and gagged " for three hours. 
 
 As soon as the search was completed, we were 
 taken to Pemberton Prison, which is nearly op- 
 posite Libby, and a similar prison. It is three 
 
23 
 
 stories "hio;]! above the basement, wMcli was 
 used as guardroom. In the upper stories pris- 
 oners were confined. The two higher stories 
 were already filled, and we were quartered on 
 the lower floor. 
 
 It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, as, 
 with sad hearts and weary feet we entered our 
 prison and sat down on the floor to rest. It is 
 now two days since we have tasted food, and 
 we are in our captors' capital ; surely they might 
 now give us something to eat. But no ; night 
 closes over the scene, and, if you can, imagine 
 our feelings as, — in an enemy's country, two 
 days and nights without food, and during those 
 two days continually on the march, — we lay 
 down on the bare floor without blankets to pass 
 the night. But slowly nature yielded to its 
 "sweet restorer," and in sleep we soon forgot 
 our hummer, and imasrined ourselves once more 
 in the land of the free, once more under the 
 Stars and Stripes, in the land of plenty. 
 
 Next day, about noon, we drew rations. They 
 consisted of about six ounces of corn bread, 
 half a pint of bean soup, and one ounce of bacon. 
 This was one man's allowance for twenty-four 
 hours. The bread and soup were good enough, 
 
24 
 
 but tlie quantity was so small that I ate my 
 wliole day's allowance at once, and wished for 
 more of all but the bacon ; but, considering the 
 quality, I must say I had enough of that. Every 
 day, when we drew rations, the men would eat 
 their whole day's allowance, and then wait twen- 
 ty-four hours for as much more. 
 
 Our rations were cooked in a building in the 
 rear of our prison, and we brought them uj) in 
 large boxes and tubs. These we had to carry 
 back to the cookhouse after distributing the con- 
 tents. I helped to carry them l^ack the second 
 day after our entrance, and in the street in fi'ont 
 of the cookhouse seeing some crusts of corn 
 bread that had been swept out with the dirt, I 
 gladly picked them up and carried them back to 
 prison with me, to satisfy the cravings of hunger. 
 Others who had the opportunity did the same. 
 
 The upper stories were reached by passing 
 through the lower, consequently the prisoners 
 could pass from one room to the others, but each 
 must draw his rations in his own room. When 
 the men in the upper stories who had been con- 
 fined two or three weeks, came in our room, we 
 could tell them by their complexion ; they were 
 thin and pale, and were slowly starving. 
 
25 
 
 Some of the windows were barred, others 
 were left open ; and if any of the men went close 
 to the open windows, they were shot by the 
 guards below. 
 
 Shortly after being taken prisoner, my hands 
 and arms began to be inflamed, and by the time 
 we reached Richmond, from my fingers ends 
 to my elbows, were so swollen and inflamed as 
 to be almost useless. I applied to the attending 
 physician, and was told it was the result of 
 handling poison oak, and that if I could bathe 
 my arms with camphor it would cure them. I 
 had in my possession a small bottle containing 
 camphor gum, which I had brought from home. 
 This he took, promising to fill the bottle with 
 liquor and return it, but he never returned even 
 the bottle. Instead of attending to the sick, as 
 he was in duty bound to do, he occupied his 
 time in smuggling biscuits past the guard and 
 selling them to those who had money to buy. 
 A small tea biscuit he would not sell for less 
 than half a dollar. United States currency. 
 Boots, shoes, and in fact all kinds of good cloth- 
 ing, which the men had succeeded in keeping 
 thus far, were traded to the guards for food. 
 
 I had a gold pen and silver holder which I 
 
26 
 
 proposed to trade to the sergeant of tlie guard 
 for a loaf of corn bread ; but as soon as he got 
 the pen in his possession, he turned and walked 
 away, and that was the last I ever saw of pen, 
 holder or sergeant. 
 
 Not the least of our troubles was the filth, 
 which, spite of all our efforts, would keep accu- 
 mulating. It seemed as if the lice would de- 
 vour us. At first we w^ere ashamed to be seen 
 by each other while searching our clothes, but 
 this, in our condition, was false modesty, and 
 we soon learned to regard with an eye of suspi- 
 cion all who did not, each day, search every 
 part of their clothing. 
 
 But we were not destined to remain long in 
 Richmond, for on the morning of the 8th of 
 June, sixty commissioned officers and eleven 
 hundred non-commissioned officers and privates 
 were taken to the railroad station, placed in 
 freight and cattle cars, and started for Ander- 
 sonville. 
 
 What a change was this from the crowded 
 dirty prison, to the pure open air. Instead of 
 being afraid to approach a window, we could 
 freely gaze upon the broad landscaj^e. Over 
 rich meadows and through dense forests, the 
 
27 
 
 ever varying scenes tlirougli wliicli we passed 
 on our Southern journey AVi'ouglit a favorable 
 cliange in the sj)irits of the men. 
 
 We left Richmond on the morning of the 8th, 
 and about midnight we reached Danville. We 
 remained in the cars until morning, and this 
 was no j^leasant task, for we were so closely 
 crowded that it was impossible for us all to sit 
 down at once, and as there were no seats in the 
 cars, we had to sit on the floor. But at last morn- 
 ing came, and with it an order to change cars. 
 
 We suifered a great deal for water while go- 
 ing from Richmond to Andersonville. We were 
 seldom allowed to send for water, and then only 
 two or three men from each car, and as we 
 had nothing larger than quart cups, the quantity 
 brought was small. At Danville, while going 
 from one train to the other, we passed a beauti- 
 ful spring of water. One of the men. Corporal 
 George Riber, of Niagara Falls, asked a guard 
 to let him step out and get a cup of water. The 
 guard refnsed, and the Corporal said he was a 
 mean man who would refuse another a drink of 
 water. The guard, hearing this, struck him on 
 the head with his musket, and he fell senseless 
 to the ground. 
 
28 
 
 Our rations were very small, one man could 
 easily have eaten four men's rations. We traded 
 with the guards for food as long as we had any- 
 thing with which we could part. At one time 
 I gave a gold pen, worth two dollars, for two 
 hard crackers. At another time I gave a money 
 belt, which cost three dollars, for three hard 
 crackers. I still kept my Avatch and a gold 
 hook and key which were attached to the cord, 
 and I determined to keep them until I should 
 be obliged to part with them. 
 
 This day (the 9th,) we passed through Greens- 
 borough and Salisbury, arriving at Charlotte 
 just before dark. Here we were taken into a 
 field to rest for the night. We drew two days' 
 rations, consisting of six hard crackers and about 
 four ounces of bacon for each man. I could 
 have eaten my two days' rations at one meal, 
 and then not had enough to satisfy my ap]3etite. 
 Here I traded a j)ocket-book with one of the 
 guards for two crackers. He seemed talkative, 
 and asked me to sit down with two or three of 
 them who were then off duty, and I accepted 
 his invitation. In a friendly manner he de- 
 scribed his home to me,' and in return I showed 
 him some photographs. Two of my cousins he 
 
29 
 
 greatly admired, and wislied to know if all 
 Northern girls were as pretty. I told liim those 
 two were ordinary, in fact very plain looking 
 com23ared witli the majority of Northern girls. 
 He thought our ladies must be very beautiful, 
 far surpassing those of the South. When our 
 tete-a-tete ended, he offered me a cup full of 
 broken mouldy crackers, which I gladly accepted. 
 
 About dark it commenced to rain, and we 
 had no blankets nor tents, they having been 
 taken from us before reaching Richmond. We 
 could not get wood to build fires, so we gave 
 up all hope of sleep for the night. But the 
 rain proved only a shower, and being very tired, 
 we laid down close together on the wet ground, 
 and were soon in the land of dreams. 
 
 Next morning we were again placed in cars 
 and started on our journey. But we were worse 
 off now than on the previous day. The car in 
 which I rode contained a large quantity of ma- 
 chinery besides ninety -five men. The sides were 
 open, it being a cattle car, and the roof leaked 
 so badly that it afforded us no shelter from the 
 rain which poured down in torrents, and we 
 were soon drenched to the skin. But "it's a 
 long road that has no turning;" by the time 
 
30 
 
 we reached Columbia, South Carolina, it had 
 ceased raiuiug, and the sun sent forth its wel- 
 come rays. Here, many of the inhabitants came 
 to the station to see the Yankees. I heard one 
 young lady say she hated us, but it was a dis- 
 grace to the Southern Confederacy to treat men 
 in such a manner. But we were not long to be 
 blest vnih sunshine. While we were yet at the 
 station it commenced to rain, and the crowd 
 hastened to seek shelter. That night the train 
 ran on a side track, and we lay all night in the 
 wet cars. IS^ext morning we changed cars and 
 started toward Auo;usta. 
 
 Between Columbia and Orangeburg we passed 
 a negro hut, in the door of which stood an old 
 colored woman. As we came near she exhibited 
 a small American flag. The boys, inspired by 
 the sio-lit, 2:ave three times three rousino; cheers 
 for Aunt Chloe and the Stars and Stripes. 
 
 We reached Au2:usta on the 13th. Here I 
 sold my watch, which in our lines was worth 
 twenty-five dollars, for one hundred dollars, 
 Confederate money. I kept the cord, hook and 
 key, selling only the watch. I used twenty dol- 
 lars to buy food before reaching Andersonville, 
 — paying a dollar apiece for sweet potatoes, and 
 
31 
 
 proportionate prices for other things ; and after 
 we were placed in the stockade, I gave the re- 
 maining eighty dollars for less than half a bushel 
 of beans, but it was the best I could do. 
 
 The 14th it rained nearly all day, and at night, 
 while going up a grade, the train stopped, the 
 engineer having allowed the fires to go out. 
 To proceed further till morning was not to be 
 thought of, so we were conpelled to lie still all 
 night, but were not allowed to get out of the 
 wet cars. At daylight we again started on our 
 way to Andersonville. In fact, we longed to 
 get there, for the guards told us that the stock- 
 ade was well shaded by pines ; that there was 
 a large beautiful creek running through it with 
 plenty of fish ; and that we would have good 
 tents, and receive rations in abundance. We 
 were completely exhausted, and knew that when 
 we reached our destination we could at least 
 stretch ourselves on the ground and rest, a privi- 
 lege which, with the exception of one night, had 
 been denied us ever since we left Kichmond. 
 
 On the afternoon of the 15th of Judc, we 
 reached Andersonville, liaving been seven days 
 and seven nights on the Avay, and in that time 
 we had been out of the cars only one night, and 
 
32 
 
 wMle passing from one train to another. Leav- 
 ing tlie station we marclied to Captain Wurz' 
 headquarters, about half a mile distant, where 
 our names, rank, company, regiment and State 
 were taken, and we were sent into the stockade. 
 
 As we passed through the gate we were met 
 by men of every regiment and State, who were 
 anxious to see if any of their comrades were 
 among the new comers. We marched up the 
 main street of the prison in search of our camp- 
 ing ground, but our search was fruitless. We 
 were told that each must pick for himself; ac- 
 cordingly we broke ranks and each started in 
 search of a place to lie down. For half an hour 
 my comrade and I searched, but in vain, for a 
 place large enough to lie down. Everywhere 
 the ground was taken, and we began to despair 
 of a peaceful location, but at last laid down on 
 a vacant spot about six feet square, and posi- 
 tively refused to get ujd, claiming it as our 
 home. 
 
 The men were all divided into detachments 
 of two hundi'ed and ninety men each, and each 
 detachment was subdivided into squads of 
 ninety, and messes of thirty men each. 
 
 Each detachment had its number; ours was 
 
33 
 
 eighty-one, there having been eighty detachments 
 in the prison before we came. There was a ser- 
 geant in charge of each detachment, whose duty 
 it was to draw the rations from the rebel quar- 
 ter-master, and divide them to the squads in his 
 detachment. Each squad had a sergeant in 
 charge, whose duty it was to get his men in line 
 each morning for roll call, and divide the rations 
 among the messes in his squad ; and each mess 
 had a sergeant in charge to divide the rations 
 among the men. Each squad had its number in 
 the detachment, each mess had its number in 
 the squad, and each man had his number in 
 the mess. When we di'ew rations it was in 
 the following manner: 
 
 The sergeant of the detachment would take 
 two or three men, and go near the gate where 
 the rations were brought in, and as their num- 
 ber was called by the quarter-master they would 
 take their rations and carry them to the detach- 
 ment. Then, as there were three squads in the 
 detachment, the sergeant would divide the ra- 
 tions as nearly as possible into three equal parts. 
 Then one whose number was called would turn 
 his back to the rations, and the sergeant would 
 ask, "Who has this?" — and the squad whose 
 
34; 
 
 number was called would take the part indi- 
 cated. In tlie same manner they were divided 
 to the messes, and the sergeant of the mess 
 would divide them into thirty parts. Then one 
 of the mess would turn his back to the rations, 
 and as the sergeant pointed to a ration and 
 asked, "Who has this?" he would call some 
 number, and each man, knowing his number 
 when it was called, would take his ration. 
 
 Our rations generally consisted of about two 
 ounces of bacon and one quart of corn meal. 
 Sometimes we would get a little salt, but oftener 
 we had none. The meal was dealt out in a cup, 
 but the meat (and bread when we drew it) 
 was always dealt out in the manner I have de- 
 scribed. When we drew bread (which was in 
 the j)lace of meal), our whole day's allowance 
 would weigh from eight to fifteen ounces. 
 
 Sometimes the meat was pretty good ; then 
 again it would be unfit to eat. I remember 
 once hearing: the sersreant of our detachment 
 say, as he was trying to divide a rotten ham, " I 
 would like to present this ham to President 
 Lincoln, and tell him it was thirty men's rations 
 of meat for one day, and then see if he would 
 not soon cause us to be exchanged." He asked 
 
oO 
 
 what lie should do with it, and the boys unani- 
 mously replied, "Throw it over the dead line," 
 and over it went. The inside of the ham had 
 been eaten out by worms, and the remainder 
 did not weigh over three or four pounds. 
 
 Sometimes we drew beef instead of bacon, 
 with only a pint of meal, and two or three 
 spoonfuls of rice. At other times we drew 
 about half a pint of beans, and a pint, instead of 
 a quart, of meal. The beans required so much 
 cooking that we were often obliged to eat them 
 raw, and sometimes we w^ould parch them like 
 corn. They were always worm-eaten and not fit 
 for food, but we were obliged to eat them or 
 starve. When we drew them cooked they had 
 never been sorted, and were mixed with gravel, 
 pods and all sorts of dirt, and were fi'equently 
 sour when issued to us. We had to sort them 
 and then wash out the gravel before eating. 
 
 At eight each morning we had roll call. Each 
 squad formed by themselves, and the rebel ser- 
 geants came in and counted the men; and if 
 there were one man missing, rations were with- 
 held from the whole squad until he was ac- 
 counted for. 
 
 The stockade was built of hewn timbers 
 
 2* 
 
36 
 
 about ten inclies square. These were set about 
 five feet iu the ground, side by side, and stood 
 about fifteen feet high. The sentry boxes were 
 built against the stockade on the outside, and 
 were high enough that the men occupying 
 them w^ould stand breast high with the top of 
 the stockade. Inside, and about fifteen feet 
 from the walls, was the dead-line, which was 
 formed by driving posts in the ground, and 
 nailing narrow boards on the top of them. 
 
 In the west side of the stockade were two 
 gates, called the north and south gates. The 
 north gate was used when our rations were 
 brought in. The other was used for sick call, 
 and when the dead were carried out. 
 
 Our rations were brouo-ht in in was-ons, and 
 from them they were divided among the detach- 
 ments by the rebel quarter-master. When the 
 bread was unloaded there were always some 
 crusts and crumbs remaining that had broken 
 off from the loaves. These the men nearest the 
 wagon would pick up, when they had a chance, 
 and I have seen the rebel quarter-master kick 
 men in the face for reaching in the wagon for 
 bread when it was unloaded. 
 
 From each gate was a street running nearly 
 
37 
 
 across the prison. Tlie sutler's stand was erect- 
 ed on the main street near the north gate, and 
 the adjutant of the post acted as sutler of the 
 prison. He brought in things and left them 
 with two or three of the federal prisoners to be 
 sold on commission. Flour was sold at one dol- 
 lar a pound ; salt at one dollar a quart ; onions 
 from twenty-five cents to one dollar and a half 
 each, and everything else they had to sell, at 
 proportionate rates. 
 
 - Besides the head sutler there were numerous 
 small stands, where things could be bought in 
 small quantities. Those having a few dollars 
 would buy a quantity of things of the head 
 sutler, and sell them to the men in smaller 
 quantities; for instance, salt at five to fifteen 
 cents a spoonful, potatoes twenty to fifty cents 
 each, and so on. 
 
 Some who had enough money built large clay 
 ovens, and buying flour at one hundred dollars 
 a sack, baked it into biscuits and sold them at 
 twenty-five to foi*ty cents each. 
 
 But the reader must remember that money 
 was very scarce, and that all the money the ma- 
 jority of the prisoners had, they procured by 
 selling their rations. A ration of meat (from 
 
38 
 
 one to two ounces) would bring ten to twenty 
 cents ; meal from ten to thirty cents a quart ; 
 and corn bread from ten to twenty-five cents a 
 ration, — said rations weigliing from five to fif- 
 teen ounces. 
 
 It may be thought strange that when we 
 drew such small rations, any should sell instead 
 of eating them. But some could not eat meat, 
 or meal, and they preferred to sell them and 
 buy something better, although a smaller quanti- 
 ty. Others would not eat meat because they 
 could sell it and buy a larger quantity of some- 
 thing else. 
 
 Every morning those having any thing to sell 
 or exchange would repair to the main street 
 near the sutler's stand, which we called the 
 market. Here you might have heard men call- 
 ing out : " Who'll trade meal for meat ? " — or 
 " Who's got meat for beans ? " — or again, " Who 
 wants to ])uy the wood ? " 
 
 Wood was scarce as rations. For a time, 
 when we drew raw rations, each detacliment 
 was allowed, once a day, to send three men 
 outside the stockade to get wood for the whole 
 detachment. Think of it: ninety men being al- 
 lowed only what wood one man could carry on his 
 
39 
 
 back at one load, a distance of about forty rods, 
 and this to cook tlieir rations for twenty-four 
 liours, having raw meal furnished tliem to tlie 
 amount of one quart each man, said meal being 
 of the coarsest kind and frequently musty. 
 
 A guard always accompanied the men who 
 went for wood. While outside the prison, some 
 of the men tried to escape, and for this, all were 
 prohibited going out for wood. It was after- 
 ward drawn into the stockade and we received 
 one common cordwood stick of green pine each 
 day for ninety men. At the same time there 
 were thousands, I think I may with truth say 
 millions, of cords of wood within a mile of the 
 stockade. 
 
 The brook entered the stockade from the west 
 and ran through the centre of the prison. The 
 water was of the poorest kind, being the surplus 
 from the swamps above, and rendered still more 
 filthy by carrying away the refuse of the cook- 
 house, by which it passed before entering the 
 prison. This brook in a great measure supplied 
 the men with water. They went as near the 
 stockade for it as they dared, for the nearer the 
 stockade the purer the water. The dead line at 
 this point was broken down, and it Avas a com- 
 
40 
 
 mon occurrence for the guards to shoot among 
 the men while getting water. 
 
 There were a few wells, but they were dug by 
 companies, and none but those who helped dig 
 them were allowed to get water from them. 
 
 There were also some springs near the brook, 
 but these, like the wells, were owned by indi- 
 viduals, and the prisoners at large were not al- 
 lowed to get water from them. 
 
 For some distance on each side of the brook 
 the ground was low and swampy, and the filth 
 collected here was beyond description. This 
 low ground was the receptacle of all the filth 
 and refuse of the camp, and more than an acre 
 was covered with maggots to the dejjth of fif- 
 teen or eighteen inches. Nor were they con- 
 fined to the valley ; they were scattered all over 
 the camp, and at night, before lying down, we 
 would brush them away from the ground we 
 were to lie on, only to wake in the morning and 
 find them crawling under us and in our clothes. 
 
 It was not an uncommon thing to see maggots 
 crawling in the mouth and ears of living men. 
 I saw one man who looked as if he had lain a 
 week, dead on the battle field. The maggots 
 were crawling in his mouth and ears, and he 
 
41 
 
 was so emaciated tliat I do not think he could 
 have weighed over fifty pounds. And there he 
 lay in all his filth, unable to move or lift his 
 hand to his head. Still he was a living man 
 and a Union soldier. 
 
 The stench arising from the low ground was 
 ahnost unbearable, and nothing but the kind 
 hand of an overruling Providence saved us from 
 all being swept away by j)estileuce, such as yel- 
 low fever, and other epidemic diseases of the 
 warmer climates. 
 
 When we entered the prison on the 15th of 
 June, it contained about fifteen acres, on which 
 were quartered above tw^enty thousand men, 
 and still they were crowded in until some were 
 obliged to lie on the low ground. Others be- 
 came sick and being unable to walk far, chose 
 to stay near the brook where they could get 
 water to drink. Many, when they got so low, 
 would have no ap^ietite for the coarse, poor food 
 we received, and would go to the valley to drink 
 and die. I have known men to lie there three 
 days without tasting food, and then die without 
 a friend to close their eyes or take a message to 
 their homes. 'Tis sad to see one's friends die thus, 
 and have no means to relieve their sufferings. 
 
42 
 
 As an illustration, I will give you an account 
 of one or two with whom I was intimately con- 
 nected. 
 
 There was a man in Company C of our regi- 
 ment, by the name of John B. Williams, who 
 was also taken prisoner on the night of the 2d 
 of June. He was a resident of the tovna. of 
 Golden in this (Erie) county. At the time of 
 his capture, he was a strong hearty man, but 
 having neither blanket nor shelter, and being 
 constantly exposed to the sun and rain, wore 
 heavily on his constitution. His feet became 
 swollen and his form wasted to a mere skeleton. 
 
 At last I lost sight of him, and did not see 
 him for two days. Becoming alarmed about 
 his absence, I went to look for him, and found 
 him in the valley, by the brook, unable to walk 
 or stand alone, so I procured assistance and took 
 him back to his detachment. During the two 
 days of his absence he had not tasted food. I 
 found him on the 24tli of August, and from 
 that time till his death I took care of him. 
 
 The 25th and 26th of August were extremely 
 hot, and he lay with a burning fever, exposed 
 to the sun and unable to move, only as I helped 
 him. He had no aj)petite, and not till I 
 
43 
 
 strongly urged liim, would lie eat a little poor 
 corn bread, wLieli was the best I had, or could 
 procure for him. 
 
 How many times during those two long days 
 did I pour cold water on his fevered brow, and 
 give him of the same to drink. How inany 
 times, during those two long days of countless 
 suffering, did he speak of home and loved ones. 
 Of the father who had guided him with gentle 
 hand, instructing him in the ways of honor, in- 
 tegrity and manhood ; of the mother who had 
 early taught him to remember his Creator in the 
 days of his youth ; of the kind loving woman 
 he had chosen to be the companion of his life, 
 and the childish prattle of the little one he 
 should never more behold. Yes, it was sad to 
 stand by the side of him whose life was thus 
 passing away in a rebel prison, far from all that 
 he held dear on earth, and hear him speak of 
 loved ones and the comforts of home, and be 
 able to administer no relief for his sufferings. 
 But they were destined to be of short duration, 
 for, on the morning of the 27th of August, he 
 expired, after giving me messages to carry to 
 his kindred. 
 
 I will refer you to one more instance, and 
 
44 
 
 this, with the one already given, will closely ap- 
 ply to thousands of soldiers who died in South- 
 ern prisons. 
 
 This description was given to the public on 
 the 19th of August, 1865, under the title of 
 
 THE DYING SOLDIER IN ANDERSONVILLE. 
 
 It was in the month of August, and the sun was shining 
 
 warm, 
 I stood beside a dying man, whose heart with grief was 
 
 torn ; 
 He had battled for the Union, and he fought with right 
 
 good Avill, 
 But now we saw him dying in that hell, Andersonville. 
 
 He was a right good soldier, and from Massachusetts 
 hailed. 
 
 Shared in many a hard-fought battle, but his sj^irit never 
 quailed ; 
 
 But the flxtes had turned against him and he now is 
 lying still. 
 
 And death lias called another from that hell, Anderson- 
 ville. 
 
 Six long months he lay in prison, always hoping to be 
 
 free. 
 To once more behold the Stars and Stripes, the flag of 
 
 liberty ; 
 
45 
 
 But that dear, beloved banner behold he never will, 
 For by traitors he is murdered in their vile Anderson- 
 viile. 
 
 Just one week before his spirit fled, he called me to his 
 
 side. 
 And he said: "I left beloved ones around our fireside; 
 But I never more shall see them, for I feel death, damp 
 
 and chill. 
 Is stealing o'er my senses in this hell, Andersonville. 
 
 "I would have you take a token, if you ever should get 
 
 free. 
 To the friends who oft are thinking, and are watching 
 
 oft for me. 
 Would to God I now could see them, I could bow to 
 
 Heaven's will. 
 And be reconciled, although I die in vile Andersonville. 
 
 "Take this portrait from my pocket; 'tis a sister near 
 
 and dear; 
 And now, comrade, from my hollow cheek, brush of that 
 
 scalding tear. 
 Tell my sister, as I thought of her, the tears my eyes did 
 
 fill, 
 And I blest her as I dying lay in cursed Andersonville. 
 
 "Tell my father that I long had hoped to be once more 
 
 at home ; 
 That when the war was over I never more would roam. 
 
46 
 
 But my pi'osjDects all are blighted, and death will my 
 
 measure fill, 
 And I'll find a peaceful resting-i^lace, though 'tis Ander- 
 
 sonville. 
 
 " Tell my mother I remember how, when I was but a 
 
 child, 
 I knelt beside her knee to pray, and she sweetly on me 
 
 smiled. 
 How she taught me pure and precious truths about 
 
 God's holy will. 
 And they cheer my soul while dying in this hell, Ander- 
 
 sonville. 
 
 "Comrade, I shall never see them; but remember, when 
 
 I'm gone. 
 The messages I've told you to carry to my home. 
 Break it gently to the loved ones, for their hearts with 
 
 grief will fill, 
 When they know how I have perished in vile Anderson- 
 
 ville." 
 
 I watched the suffering soldier; day by day he paler 
 
 grew, 
 Exposed to every burning sun, and every night's damp 
 
 dew. 
 His suffering and his anguish no human tongue can tell, — 
 The sufferings of the soldier who died at Andersonville. 
 
 Just three days before his spirit left its tenement of clay, 
 I heard him call his mother; his mind roamed far away. 
 
47 
 
 He seemed once more to gaze upon the brooklet and the 
 
 rill,— 
 The scenes of childhood's happy hours, and not Ander- 
 sonville. 
 
 Three long days and nights his spirit dwelt amid his 
 
 childhood's scenes, 
 Father, Mother and his Agnes oft were mentioned in 
 
 his dreams ; 
 But at last the spell is broken, and the death-dew, damp 
 
 and chill. 
 Spreads o'er the soldier's features, and he leaves Ander- 
 
 sonville. 
 
 Thus lie j)erislied; tlius not only he, but 
 thousands of our noble soldiers fell, victims of 
 the cruelty of those who had command of our 
 prison. 
 
 Since my return to our lines, I have redeemed 
 my promise by writing to his father, and send- 
 ing the portrait entrusted to my care. 
 
 He had a comrade also without a blanket, 
 and frequently during the month of July they 
 would take off their blouses and hang them 
 over sticks to keep the sun off their heads. 
 There they would lie for hours together, with 
 their heads in the shade and their bodies in the 
 sun. But both died, one on the 2d of August, 
 the other on the 12th of September. 
 
48 
 
 The prisoners came in so fast during the lat- 
 ter part of June, that they were obliged to en- 
 large the stockade. This was done by building 
 an addition on the north side, and on the 1st of 
 July both prisons were opened into one by tear- 
 ina; down the north side of the old stockade. 
 This added some ten or twelve acres to the 
 prison. In the new stockade there was a con- 
 siderable quantity of timber, which gave us a 
 good supply of wood for some time. After this 
 was gone, we dug up the stumps to cook our 
 rations ; and when the stumps had disappeared, 
 we received no other wood, besides our rations, 
 than that we brought from the outside when 
 we carried out the dead. 
 
 The dead were all carried to the south gate 
 early in the morning ; at nine o'clock the gates 
 were opened, and four prisoners were allowed 
 to go out, under guard, with each dead man. 
 Those nearest the gate were taken first, and to 
 prevent confusion, they were laid side by side, 
 with their heads to the south, reaching back 
 toward the centre of the prison. I think I have 
 seen fifty, and sometimes more, lying thus, side 
 by side, ready to be carried out. 
 
 There was a general desire on the part of the 
 
49 
 
 living to get a chance to carry out the dead, for 
 they were allowed to bring back an armful of 
 wood, of which there was a good supply on the 
 outside, near the gate. When a man was being 
 carried toward the gate, a common expression 
 among the prisoners was : " There goes another 
 dead man to be traded off for wood." But had 
 it not been for the fuel obtained in this way, 
 we should often have been obliged to eat our 
 rations raw. Some who were to weak to carry 
 back a heavy load, sold their chances to go out 
 to those who were strong. The price paid was 
 from fifty cents to one dollar, and the wood 
 which one man could carry back was worth from 
 one to two dollars. Some whose clothing was 
 very poor went to the gate and exchanged, tak- 
 ing clothing from the dead and replacing it with 
 their own. 
 
 When I was taken prisoner, my clothing con- 
 sisted of two cotton shirts, two pairs of socks, 
 an old pair of pantaloons, an old blouse and a 
 cap. My comrade's clothing was no better than 
 mine, with the exception of an overcoat which 
 he purchased of one of the prisoners before 
 reaching Andersonville. 
 
 From the 15th of June until the 4th of July, 
 
50 
 
 it rained every day, sometimes all night, and we 
 liad no shelter of any kind ; but on tlie 4tli of 
 July my comrade gave his overcoat and I gave 
 one of my shirts, and the hook I kept when I 
 sold my watch, for a blanket. We next traded 
 some rations for three poles, each about ten feet 
 long ; then by inserting both ends of the poles 
 in the ground, and fastening on our blanket 
 with some wooden pins, we formed our tent. 
 This served to jjrotect us from the sun and rain, 
 and although Ave were obliged to lie on the 
 ground, we could not complain, for we were 
 better off than thousands of others, — for thou- 
 sands there were who had no blankets or shelter 
 of any kind to protect them from the sun by 
 day or the damp dews by night. Can it l^e 
 wondered at, then, that so many of the men 
 fell an easy prey to disease and death ? 
 
 Troubles, it is said, never come singl}^, and 
 this proved true in our case. Confinement and 
 suffering were attended with a demoralizing ef- 
 fect upon the men. Stealing and fighting were 
 of common occurrence, and quite a num])er of 
 murders were committed. About sixty of the 
 most abandoned characters had organized a 
 gang to plunder the men of all they possessed 
 
51 
 
 whicli was of value. Money, watches and blank- 
 ets, which the men had succeeded in keeping 
 from the rebels, were taken from them by this 
 gang. If they were refused, knives and clubs 
 were freely used to enforce their demands, and 
 frequently men lost their lives by endeavoring 
 to resist the raiders, and retain their own prop- 
 erty. 
 
 One night they surrounded some men belong- 
 ing to our regiment, and searched them. Not 
 finding anything more valuable, they took their 
 cups and a razor and razor-strop. A few days 
 after they were robbed, the man owning the 
 razor, saw one of the men sharpening it on the 
 strop that had been stolen from him, but had 
 no power to regain them. 
 
 Finally we organized a police force sufficiently 
 strong to arrest and punish any who should in- 
 fringe upon the rights of their fellow-prisoners. 
 Twenty-four were arrested and tried by a jury 
 composed of twelve sergeants. Six of the twen- 
 ty-four were found guilty of murder, and sen- 
 tenced to be hung, which sentence was put in 
 execution on the 11th of July. 
 
 The scaifold was erected near the south gate, 
 on the hillside, and the execution was witnessed 
 3 
 
52 
 
 by about tweuty-five tliousand. prisoners. The 
 sentry boxes were also crowded witli spectators 
 from tlie outside. 
 
 As soon as the scaffold was completed, the 
 police cleared the path to the gate, and the 
 criminals soon appeared, each having his arms 
 pinioned and walking between two men who 
 were the executioners. As they approached 
 the stand, one of the criminals broke from his 
 guard, and, rushing through the crowd, ran 
 across the valley and jumped over the dead-line, 
 closely pursued by his guard. The sentries did 
 not shoot him, but his guard was allowed to go 
 and take him. He was taken back, and with 
 the others ascended the platform. 
 
 After they had taken their stand by the ropes, 
 they were each allowed to speak a few words. 
 They asked the boys to pray for them, and 
 begged in vain for the mercy they had refused 
 to show to their innocent victims. After they 
 had finished speaking, they were each given a 
 drink of water, then the ropes and caps were 
 adjusted, and the executioners descended from 
 the platform. All the criminals, except one, 
 now stooped, that the fall might be as light as 
 possible; but the other stood erect, and when 
 
63 
 
 the prop was witlidrawn and the platform fell, 
 he broke his rope and fell to the ground. He 
 now begged, but in vain, for pardon; the rope 
 was re-adjusted, and he was placed by the side 
 of his companions in crime. 
 
 Some may think the prisoners did wrong in 
 hanging these men ; but what were we to do ? 
 They were given a fair trial, and found guilty 
 of murder; and as long as the guilty were al- 
 lowed to go unpunished, the innocent must 
 suffer at their hands. But this proved a warn- 
 ing to others. I do not think there was another 
 murder committed, and stealing was of rare oc- 
 currence. 
 
 Many of the men dug tunnels, hoping thus to 
 escape ; but in nearly every instance the tunnels 
 were found by the rebels before they were com- 
 pleted. If any could have been successful 
 enough to gain the outside of the stockade, 
 there were nine chances of their being caught 
 to one of escape; for twice each day, the camp 
 was circled by bloodhounds to see if any of the 
 prisoners had escaped, and if the hounds found 
 a track, they pui'sued it until it was lost, or the 
 prisoner re-captured. 
 
 Often tunnels were reported by prisoners who 
 
54 
 
 hoped to obtain favors hj joining witli the 
 rebels ; and they were generally rewarded by 
 being detailed outside of the stockade as nurses, 
 cooks and waiters. 
 
 In the latter part of August some Union 
 Tennessee soldiers in my detachment commenced 
 digging a tunnel. They started it in their tent, 
 which was composed of one blanket for four 
 men. They worked at it nights, and during the 
 day covered it with their coats to conceal it 
 from view. 
 
 About nine o'clock at night, one man would 
 crawl in the tunnel, dig the clay loose with a 
 knife, and draw it to the mouth of the tunnel 
 with his hands and arms. Then those on the 
 outside would put it in a piece of canvas, carry 
 it to the valley and throw it in the brook; for 
 if they left it near their tent it would lead to 
 the discovery of the tunnel. 
 
 They worked in this way, night after night, 
 until they reached the stockade. It was neces- 
 sary, now, to dig some twenty feet further, to 
 avoid the outside line of guards ; and they ex- 
 pected to get out in two or three nights more, 
 when a prisoner belonging to an Indiana regi- 
 ment, reported the tunnel to the rebel quarter- 
 
master, who acted as tunuel-liunter. He gave 
 Indiana half a plug of tobacco for his informa- 
 tion, and set some slaves at work, filling up the 
 tunnel. 
 
 Indiana, fearing he would be justly punished 
 by the enraged Tennesseans, begged hard to be 
 detailed outside of the stockade, but was re- 
 fused, and as soon as the quarter-master was out 
 of sight, they caught him, shaved his head, and 
 gave him a sound thrashing. Then, not being 
 fully satisfied, and ^vishing to serve him more 
 like God did Cain, they marked a large letter 
 T (signifying traitor) on his forehead, with in- 
 delible ink. They then led him all through the 
 camp, telling what he had done, and the signifi- 
 cation of the mark on his forehead. 
 
 Next day, Captain Wirz sent a file of guards 
 into the stockade for twenty men of our detach- 
 ment. I was one of the number. We were 
 taken outside of the gate, where we were told 
 by Captain Wirz that if we punished Indiana 
 any more, he would hang six of the best men of 
 our detachment. Had it not been for this, I 
 think the Tennesseans would have killed the 
 traitor who thwarted their prospects of escape. 
 
 In August my back began to be lame, and by 
 
56 
 
 the first of September it was go bad that I could 
 hardly stand on my feet. Frequently, after ly- 
 ing all night, I would be half an hour in getting 
 on my feet ; and then it was with the greatest 
 difficulty that I could stand or walk ; but after 
 I had been on my feet a short time, the pain 
 partly left me, and I exerted myself as much as 
 possible, for I knew that if I gave up I should 
 die, — for others who were no better than myself 
 were dying all around me. 
 
 I had a package of letters and photographs, 
 but I scarcely ever looked at them. I strove to 
 forget the past : to forget that I had a home, 
 that I had a friend, and that I was a prisoner. 
 But the recollection of these would fill my mind, 
 spite of all my eiforts to crush them. And 
 when I thought of home and plenty, of the 
 friends who were anxiously watching for a word 
 from me, and of the comrades who must battle 
 on without me, the minutes seemed like hours, 
 and the days like months. I would have given 
 my life for a year of liberty; 1 would have 
 made any sacrifice to have been once more free. 
 But we could do nothing toward our liberation. 
 We were, to the number of thirty thousand, 
 shut U2> on twenty-seven acres of land, and be- 
 
57 
 
 neath tlie whole broad canopy of heaven there 
 was no other spot for us to rest upon. Of the 
 millions of acres of noble forests, there was not 
 a single shrub to throw its shadows over and 
 protect us from the scorching rays of the sun. 
 Notwithstanding the vast quantities of wood 
 within a short distance of the stockade, we were 
 frequently obliged to eat our scanty allowance 
 of meal or beans raw, for want of fuel. And of 
 all the inhabitants of the far-famed hospitable 
 South, not one came to administer to our neces- 
 sities, or speak a word of encouragement to the 
 perishing thousands of their fellow-beings. 
 
 How many nights have I lain upon the bare 
 ground, with my face upturned, and watched 
 the moon and the stars as they shone down 
 upon us, thinking of scenes which had passed 
 away, alas, never more to return. How many 
 nights have I lain thus for hours together, think- 
 ing of home and other days, until, worn out by 
 my thoughts and the gnawing hunger, I have 
 dropped to sleep and dreamed of a happy home 
 in the Empire State, and saw myself once more 
 a member of a happy circle. Often have I 
 dreamed of sitting: at a well-filled table, and 
 satisfying my hunger with the choicest viands, 
 
58 
 
 when suddenly tlie vision would vanish, and I 
 would wake to hear the rude voice of the sentry 
 as he cried the hour from his post, or the shrill 
 report of the rifle and the whizzing of the ball 
 as it sped on its errand of death, summoning 
 some unhappy prisoner, who had crossed the 
 dead-line, to his eternal home. Then how I 
 have wished for the morning. 
 
 And the prisoner, sad and weary, tired of waiting for 
 the day, — 
 
 Tired of waiting for the sun to come and drive the night 
 away, — 
 
 Tired of waiting for the day to come when prison life 
 should cease, 
 
 Tired of waiting for the day that should proclaim a glori- 
 ous peace, 
 
 Arose, forlorn and weary, and with a deep-drawn sigh. 
 
 Cried, despairing, "God of heaven! must I in this pris- 
 on die?" 
 
 And all the response the prisoner heard ^vas the 
 feeble groan of a dying comrade, or the mourn- 
 ful sound of the night-wind as it sung a requiem 
 for the de2:)artiug spirit. 
 
 There were a great many 2:)rofessors of religion 
 among the prisoners ; meetings were held in dif- 
 ferent parts of the prison every Sunday, and 
 evening meetings were often held during the 
 
59 
 
 week. On these occasions, those taking part in 
 the meetings were subjected to many insults 
 from the guards. The foulest language and 
 the vilest oaths were made use of by tlie guards 
 to break up the meetings. On one occasion the 
 prisoners had been ordered to break up the 
 meeting and disperse, but the meeting was con- 
 tinued ; the guard repeated, with an oath, that if 
 they did not disperse he would fire among them. 
 The prisoners, knowing that he would execute 
 his threat if his command was not obeyed, 
 closed the meeting. 
 
 Tuesday, July 19th, rebel papers stated that 
 Sherman's cavalry had started on a raid, and 
 that they probably intended going to Anderson- 
 ville. The same evening, a train loaded with 
 women and children who had fled from Atlanta, 
 arrived at the station. They encamped in the 
 vicinity, and remained there several days. 
 
 On the 20th, Sherman's cavalry were reported 
 to be within sixty miles of Andersonville, and 
 the rebels commenced fortifying the place, in 
 anticipation of an attack. Earthworks were 
 speedily thrown up on all sides of the house (a 
 small one, partly of logs and partly frame) 
 which was occupied by Captain Wirz, for head- 
 
60 
 
 quarters. In tlie evening anotlier train-load of 
 refugees arrived from Atlanta. 
 
 Thursday, tlie 21st, tlie rebels worked hard 
 all day on tlieir fortifications, and in the after- 
 noon reinforcements arrived from Macon. 
 
 Saturday, the 23d, the rebels told us that the 
 Commissioners of Exchange had agreed to ex- 
 change all the prisoners then at Andersonville. 
 This was a ruse resorted to by the rebels to 
 keep us contented while they were building 
 fortifications. 
 
 Friday, the 29th, the rebels raised a line of 
 white flags through the prison from north to 
 south, a short distance from the west side of the 
 stockade, and told us that if we collected in 
 groups of more than one hundred men between 
 the flags and the gates, they would shell the 
 prison. On the follomng day a few prisoners 
 came in wlio said they were captured six miles 
 soutli of Atlanta. 
 
 On Monday the first of August, the priest 
 came in the prison, and said he was sent by 
 General Winder to inform us that the Com- 
 missioners had met and agreed uj^on an immedi- 
 ate exchange. 
 
 Tuesday, the 2d, four hundred and fifty pris- 
 
61 
 
 oners came in. They said they belonged to 
 Kilpatrick's cavalry, and were captured six miles 
 south of Macon, while on a raid to Anderson ville 
 to release us. Poor fellows ! How we pitied 
 them for coming as j)risoners, and how sorry we 
 felt that they did not succeed in releasing its. 
 On the next day, new prisoners reported General 
 Stoneman captured. 
 
 On the 7th, the rebel quarter-master went to 
 every detachment and told that General Win- 
 der had received orders to parole all the pris- 
 oners at Andersonville, and send them to the 
 federal lines as fast as transportation could be 
 furnished. He said we would commence to go 
 the next day. But the next day, and the next, 
 came, and still we were confined as closely as 
 ever. 
 
 Tuesday afternoon, August 9th, it rained very 
 hard, and in four places the timbers of the 
 stockade fell, in consequence of the earth which 
 supported them being washed away. 
 
 Double lines of guards were immediately 
 placed on the outside of the stockade where the 
 timbers had fallen; the soldiers not on duty 
 were formed in line of battle ; every man took 
 his place at the guns on the fortifications, which 
 
G2 
 
 commanded tlie prison at sliort range, and two 
 or three shells were fired over the stockade, to 
 warn us against attempting to escape. 
 
 On the 10th of August, the rebels commenced 
 furnishing lumber for sheds. They were framed 
 outside of the stockade, and when brought in 
 were ready to be put together. Four sheds 
 were finished, and the frame of the fifth was 
 erected, but not finished before I left the prison. 
 They were each about fifty feet long, twenty 
 feet wide and twelve feet high. They contained 
 two floors; one near the ground, and the second 
 about five feet above the first. Each of the 
 floors was divided into bunks, — each bunk be- 
 ing about six feet square, and occupied by four 
 men. They were covered by a board roof, and 
 the sides were left ojDen. These sheds were oc- 
 cuj)ied by the men Avho built them, until the 
 rebels commenced removing the prisoners from 
 Andersonville. 
 
 Tuesday, August 16th, the rebels took pic- 
 tures of the camp from difterent sentry-boxes; 
 the photographer occupying the sentry-box and 
 setting his camera on a log of the stockade. 
 The same night a train loaded with soldiers 
 passed by the prison. As they neared the sta- 
 
tion tliey gave dieer after clieer, and fired several 
 volleys. They were probably state militia, on 
 their way to Atlanta to reiuforce Johnson, and 
 thought to frighten the prisoners by the firing. 
 But let their thoughts have been what they 
 might, the familiar sound sent a thrill of joy to 
 the heart of every prisoner within tlie stockade, 
 for we cauo^ht at the idea that Sherman's raiders 
 might be near to release us; but in tliis we 
 were disappointed. 
 
 Among other things, camp reports did a great 
 deal to keep up the spirits of the men. Rumors 
 of parole and exchange were in constant circula- 
 tion, and although most of them were without 
 truthful foundation, tliey kept us from getting 
 discouraged. Often was the day of exchange 
 fixed upon bv the men, but as often were we 
 disappointed. 
 
 Finally, on the evening of the 6tli of Septem-- 
 ber, the rebel sergeants who called the roll came 
 into the prison and ordered eighteen detachments 
 to be ready to leave the next morning. The 
 news quickly spread through the camp, and 
 soon all was commotion. The sergeants had not 
 told them where they were to go, l>ut report 
 said for parole or exchange. Some said we had 
 
64 
 
 been lied to so often they did not believe any 
 of tlie prisoners were to go ; but on tlie next 
 morning, September Tth, a long line of men left 
 tlie liospital for tlie station, and five detach- 
 ments were taken out of tlie stockade. The 
 manner of removing the prisoners from the stock- 
 ade to the station was as follows : 
 
 Two lines of guards were placed fi'om the 
 south gate of the stockade to the station, which 
 was half a mile distant, between which the pris- 
 oners were obliged to pass. At the gates the 
 prisoners were counted by the officers, and taken 
 out in squads of sixty men each. From the 
 northern hill, we who were in the prison could 
 plainly see those on the outside. We could see 
 each squad halt in front of General Winder's 
 headquarters, where they remained two or three 
 minutes, and then passed on to the station. In 
 the evening, every detachment in the prison re- 
 ceived notice to be ready to leave at a moment's 
 notice. At five P. M., of the 13th, our detach- 
 ment was ordered to pack uj) and go to the 
 gate. It was a short job to pack, and fifteen 
 minutes after receiving orders, we were waiting 
 at the gate. 
 
 On that night a train loaded A\"ith prisoners 
 
65 
 
 ran off the track about four miles from Ancler- 
 sonville. Seven or eight men were killed, and 
 some damage was done to the track. Next day 
 the prisoners were sent back into the stockade. 
 
 When the prisoners commenced leaving An- 
 dersonville, the sheds were taken for a hospital ; 
 and before each detachment left the prison, all 
 the men belonging to it who were not able to 
 walk to the station were taken to the sheds and 
 left in the care of some men who Avere detailed 
 as nurses. The sheds were all filled to over- 
 flowing, and many who could not get in them 
 lay on the ground outside. Their rations gen- 
 erally consisted of a small quantity of poor mo- 
 lasses and dirty rice, half-cooked and frequently 
 sour. 
 
 The men were in the worst possible condition. 
 Pen can never describe, nor painter portray the 
 scenes there presented. Imagine a thousand 
 forms, the wrecks of former manhood, strength 
 and nobleness, some in sheds, and others on the 
 ground near by, all suffering from disease, and 
 many of them unable to leave the spot they lie 
 on, in the most filthy condition, and all eagerly 
 watching for their scanty allowance of poor mo- 
 lasses and half-cooked rice. 
 
How many men have died simply because 
 they lacked the commonest necessaries of life. 
 How many men have starved to death because 
 they could not eat the rubbish which the rebels 
 furnished us for food. 
 
 At the sheds the men died so fast that the 
 nurses had not time to carry them to the dead- 
 house, and a squad of policemen was detailed 
 each day to carry the bodies from the sheds to 
 the dead-house outside the stockade. 
 
 How eagerly those perishing men caught at 
 every rumor of parole and exchange. How they 
 watched and waited for Sherman to come and 
 open their prison doors, and take them back to 
 the land of lil^erty. But how were they disap- 
 pointed ! 
 
 Think you, that you who have always enjoyed 
 the blessed light of liberty, who have never 
 known what it is to be pinched by hunger for 
 weeks and months, can form a just estimate of 
 the sufferings of these men, both in mind and 
 body ? Do you know with what anxiety they 
 watched and waited for the Government which 
 they had fought for, and which had pledged 
 them protection in case of misfortune, to release 
 them from bondage which was worse than death, 
 
67 
 
 and wliicli was daily carrying scores of tlaeir num- 
 ber from time into eternity ? Can you wonder 
 at or blame tliem for sometimes upbraiding that 
 Government for leaving tliem to die by hun- 
 dreds, — aye, and thousands, when it had the pow- 
 er to release them ? I cannot blame them, nor 
 can I uphold the Government in the policy ])ur- 
 sued in relation to an exchange of prisoners. 
 
 Was it a sufficient reason for not exchanging, 
 that the confederate soldiers were able to take 
 the field, while the Union soldiers ^vho were 
 confined in the South were in feeble health, 
 most of them with ruined constitutions, and 
 many of them near the end of their earthly ca- 
 reer? Did the fact that they were unable to 
 take the field, relieve the Government from a 
 sinofle oblio:ation to them ? I think not. I think 
 the Government was under as much oblio-ation 
 to protect the soldier, as the soldier to protect 
 the Government, and that when the United 
 States officials left so many thousands of the na- 
 tion's protectors to j)erish with hunger, having 
 the power to redeem them honorably, they com- 
 mitted a national sin, surpassed by none, and 
 equalled only by African slavery. 
 
 Thursday, September 15th, we drew no ra- 
 
68 
 
 tions. In the afternoon confederate officers went 
 to tlie slieds and told tlie sick tliat all wlio 
 could get to tlie station would be sent to the 
 federal lines. At this, all who could walk, and 
 many who could only crawl, started for the 
 gate. Five hundred were taken out in the iirst 
 squad, and it was enough to wring tears of sym- 
 pathy from a heart of adamant to see them on 
 their way to the station ; and, accustomed as the 
 prisoners were to scenes of suffering and distress, 
 tears streamed down the cheeks of many as they 
 beheld men who were themselves scarcely able 
 to stand, trying to assist comrades who were 
 still weaker, to the station, or some who were 
 unable to walk, endeavoring to crawl a distance 
 of half a mile — the promise of liberty being their 
 incentive to go forward, death in prison their 
 doom if they remained. 
 
 On ari'iving at the station, this squad was im- 
 mediately placed in the cars, and started toward 
 Macon, when the officers came back and took 
 out another squad of eight hundred men. In 
 this squad men were taken from the detachments 
 as well as from the sheds, and I was one of the 
 number. At this time I was bare-footed, my 
 boots having been worn out when I was taken 
 
69 
 
 prisoner. One pair of the socks I had when 
 captured I sold while in Andersonville, for ra- 
 tions, and the others I had w^orn out. My lower 
 limbs were partially paralyzed, and it was with 
 the greatest difficulty that I could walk. My 
 back was very lame, and my teeth all loose from 
 the effects of scurvy, however I managed to get 
 to the station wdth the others. 
 
 We lay on the grass all night, exjjecting a 
 train to come for us, but none came. A short 
 distance from where we lay was a small stock- 
 ade, which was used for the confinement of rebel 
 offenders; and judging by the noise, there was 
 a goodly number of them. All night they kept 
 up a disturbance, hooting like owls, cursing the 
 Yankees, or tantalizing their guards. 
 
 At eight o'clock next morning, as was cus- 
 tomary, a number of women came to the station 
 with pastry and vegetables to sell to the rebel 
 soldiers ; but the officers forbade them selling or 
 trading any with the prisoners. We were all 
 the time expecting a train to come for us, but 
 none came, and at noon they told us we were to 
 go back into the stockade, to wait for transjDor- 
 tation. At one o'clock they gave us each half 
 a pint of cooked rice, and five or six ounces of 
 
com bretid. These were tlie first rations we liad 
 drawn in two days. At two o'clock they took 
 us hack to the stockade. This half mile was 
 the saddest journey of my whole life. In the 
 prison we saAv only death hefore us; if we 
 could get to the station ^ve were promised lib- 
 erty. IIow I felt the truth of the old proverb : 
 " IIo])e deferred maketh the heart sick." I would 
 rather have died than go back into the stockade. 
 I felt that our Government cared nothing for 
 us; I thought we were forsaken by God and 
 man. IIo\v I got back into the stockade I 
 hardly know, but when I saw the gates closed 
 upon me, I felt as if immured in a living tomb ; 
 and the sentries seemed like evil spirits set to 
 watch us in our misery, and prevent us from es- 
 caping to the outer world. How often, during 
 those long, dark days, did I think of tlie follow- 
 ing lines from the pen of Mrs. llemans: 
 
 "I dream of" all tilings free! of a gallant gallant bark, 
 That sweeps through storm and sea, like an arrow to its 
 
 mark ; 
 Of a stag that o'er the hills goes hounding in its glee; 
 Of a thousand tlasiiing I'ills, — of all things glad and free. 
 I dream of some proud bird; of a bright-eyed mountain 
 
 king; 
 In my visions I liave heard the rushing of his wing. 
 
71 
 
 T follow some wild river, on whose })renst no sail may be; 
 l);iik woods around it shiver, — T dream of all things free. 
 Of a happy forest child, with the fawns and ilowers at 
 
 Of an Indian midst the wild, with the stars to guide his 
 
 way ; 
 Of a chief, his warriors leading; of an archer's green 
 
 wood tree; 
 My heart in chains is bleeding, and I dream of all things 
 
 free." 
 
 Tuesday evening, September 27tli, we were 
 ordered into line. About eiglit Inuidred men 
 were taken out, but our detachment was not in- 
 chided. Wednesday evening we were again 
 ordered into line, and tliis time our detachment 
 Avas taken. Many of the men, like myself, were 
 so weak they could scarcely walk; still M(\ did 
 not like to stay behind onr detachments, for if 
 we remained we would be taken to the sIkmIs. 
 I went out with the rest, and, with the lielj) of 
 my comrade, succeeded in getting to the station. 
 
 We were halted in front of General Winder's 
 headquarters to be counted, and vvlien ordered 
 forward, one of the men failing to keep liis place 
 in the ranks, was knocked down and kicked to 
 the side of the road by Captain Wirz, 
 
 We marched to the station and found a train 
 
72 
 
 waiting for us. In tlie cars were two days' ra- 
 tions, consisting of about one pound of corn 
 bread, and four ounces of bacon for each man. 
 About midniglit we started for Sav^annab. 
 
 Next day (29tb,) between Millen and Savan- 
 nah, we found eight locomotives and about sixty 
 cars, loaded with refugees from Atlanta. Whole 
 families were together, having beds in the cars, 
 and cooking at camp-fires near the track. We 
 arrived at Savannah about dark, and were taken 
 into a stockade a short distance from the station. 
 This stockade was built of plank, and contained 
 about five acres. The camj? was guarded in the 
 same manner as at Anderson ville, having sen- 
 try-boxes so arranged that the guards could 
 overlook the prison. 
 
 Our rations were some better than at Ander- 
 sonville, and five out of every hundred men 
 were allowed to attend sick-call once a day, and 
 as there were only about twenty-five per cent, of 
 the men on the sick list, we could see the doc- 
 tors every three or four days. 
 
 Here, too, on Sunday mornings, we could 
 hear the chiming of the bells, reminding us of 
 our own native village, the Church and the 
 Sabbath School; and although we were con- 
 
73 
 
 fined in prison in an enemy's country, our spirits 
 still clung to tlie recollections of the olden time. 
 
 The citizens of Savannali knowdng of our 
 destitute condition, adopted measures to relieve 
 our sufferings. They offered to furnisli us a 
 su23ply of clothing, but the officers in command 
 would not allow it to come into the prison. 
 
 This was in the first part of October, and the 
 nights were very cold. We all suffered a great 
 deal from this cause, and many were chilled to 
 death. On the morning of the ninth, five men 
 were found who had died of cold the preceding 
 night; and on the morning of the 10th, eight 
 were found to have died from the same cause. 
 Many, also, who escaped death contracted scur- 
 vy, paralysis, stiffness of the joints, and many 
 other diseases from which they will never re- 
 cover. 
 
 During our stay in Savannah, the rebels hired 
 all kinds of mechanics to go out and work for 
 them. All men who had trades and were will- 
 ing to work for them were employed. They 
 were required to take an oath not to return to 
 the federal lines until the close of the war, also 
 that they would work faithfully for the Con- 
 federacy, and not attempt to escape; and in 
 
74 
 
 consideration of tlie fiiMllraent of said oatli they 
 were to receive their board and three dollars 
 per day in rebel money. There were some who 
 accepted these terms, but the majority of the 
 prisoners refused. The question which arose in 
 the minds of thousands was: "Is it lawful for 
 me to work for the Confederacy?" — and under 
 ordinary circumstances the answer would invari- 
 ably be : " No." Then another question : " Is it 
 lawful for the United States to leave us here to 
 perish with cold and hunger, when they have 
 the power to redeem us? Has not the Govern- 
 ment first broken the bond of mutual protection 
 existing between us ? And if that bond of mu- 
 tual protection be first broken by the United 
 States, does justice demand a fulfillment on our 
 part, even unto death ? No, it cannot." Thus 
 reasoned thousands of prisoners, yet, out of ut- 
 ter detestation of the rebels and their cause, 
 they remained in prison, preferring to die than 
 lift a hand, even indirectly, against the Ameri- 
 can flag. 
 
 Here, too, as in Andersonville, camp reports 
 were in constant circulation. On Sunday, the 
 2d of October, not a churcli-])ell was rung, and 
 it was reported that General Grant had taken 
 
75 
 
 Richmond and forty thousand prisoners. On 
 the 4th an immediate exchange was reported, 
 and on the 6th, the exchange was contradicted 
 by some who affirmed that- there was a new 
 stockade building for us, which proved to be 
 true. On the 10th they commenced removing 
 the prisoners, and on the 12th our detachment 
 was taken to the station, placed in the cars, and 
 at dark started for Millen, which is seventy-eight 
 miles from Savannah, on the Augusta raiboad. 
 
 While we were waiting for the train to start, 
 a little boy came toward us, having a loaf of 
 bread which his mother had sent him to give to 
 the prisoners, but the officer of the guard would 
 not allow him to put it in the car. Just then a 
 colored man stepped up, took the loaf from the 
 boy, and threw it into one of the cars to the 
 prisoners. This enraged the officer of the guard, 
 and he had the negro arrested and taken away 
 by a tile of soldiers. "We arrived at Millen at 
 one o'clock that night, and in the morning were 
 sent into the stockade. 
 
 The formation of this stockade, the sentry- 
 boxes, and the dead-line, were the same as at 
 Andersonville, but it was a much larger and 
 nicer prison. It contained forty-two acres, and 
 
 4 
 
76 
 
 througli the center ran a large brook of good 
 water. The place selected for a prison had been 
 a dense pine forest, and the trees, except those 
 near the brook, had all been cut down. Large 
 quantities of this timber had been used to build 
 the stockade, and a great deal still remained; 
 but it was in such a shape that we could not use 
 it in an economical way. I spent three whole 
 days trying to trade a gold ring for an axe, but 
 the guards would not trade, and the negroes had 
 no opportunity. 
 
 Our rations were very small, consisting mostly 
 of beans and a small quantity of meat. We 
 had no protection from the weather, except such 
 as we ourselves could provide. On arri\dng at 
 MiUen my comrade and I had joined with two 
 others who had one blanket and an old piece of 
 quilt. We dug a hole in the ground about two 
 feet deep and six feet square ; we then banked 
 it up about two feet, and covered it with one 
 blanket. This was our tent ; it was about fom- 
 feet high, and just large enough for four to lie 
 down. We generally put the piece of quilt up 
 at one end of the tent to keep out the wind and 
 ram. Our clothes were old and ragged, but we 
 could not procure new ones, or even thread to 
 
11 
 
 mend our old ones, and tlie fall rains came on 
 with cold winds, making it impossible for us to 
 keep warm or dry. Often in cold storms we 
 would put up om' extra blanket to keep out tke 
 rain, build a little fire in one corner of tlie 
 tent, and tlien sit for tours together shivering 
 with the cold, and half suffocating with the 
 smoke. 
 
 After the detachments had all left Savannah, 
 the sick who I'emained were all taken to Milieu 
 and sent into the stockade. They were placed 
 near the gate, and some well men detailed as 
 nurses to take care of them. But their rations 
 were even smaller than those issued to the men 
 in the detachments, and they received no medi- 
 cal attendance whatever. If we had been al- 
 lowed medical attendance, many of the men who 
 died might easily have been saved; but I do 
 not believe one ounce of medicine Avas ever 
 given to the sick at Millen. 
 
 Before the dead were carried out of the stock- 
 ade, their clothing was generally taken off by 
 those of the living who were poorest clad ; and 
 in this way, many of the living who were nearly 
 naked procured a small supply of clothing. 
 
 My condition at this time was truly deplorable. 
 
78 
 
 I had not been well for some time before leav- 
 ing Andersonville. My back was very lame, 
 and my lower liml)S had become so far para- 
 lyzed as to contain scarcely strength to carry 
 me, and l^nt little feeling. On my left knee 
 was a sore as large as the palm of my hand, and 
 I had no remedy to aj^ply, nor even a strip of 
 cloth with which to bandage it. In the latter 
 part of October, I entirely lost the use of my 
 lower limbs. For several days after I could not 
 get on my feet, I could crawl on my hands and 
 knees; but not till my strength had failed me, 
 so that I had not power to crawl, did I fully re- 
 alize the extent of my helplessness and misery. 
 I have got on my hands and knees and tried to 
 cra^yl, but had not power to draw my knees af- 
 ter me, and would fall down exhausted mth the 
 effort, and unable to move from the place ^s^here 
 I lay. On the 28th of October I stood on my 
 feet for the last time, and from that time until 
 my release, (the 19th of November,) I was in 
 prison in this helpless condition. After I be- 
 came unable to walk, my hips became sore from 
 lying in the sand. There was a raw sore on 
 each of my hips as large as a common saucer, 
 and my right knee also l^ecame a running sore. 
 
79 
 
 I was almost dead, and undoubtedly should have 
 died, had it not been for the kindness of one of 
 my comrades, Corjioral George Riber, of Com- 
 pany C, 2d Regiment N. Y. Mounted Rifles, who 
 drew our rations together, prepared them to- 
 gether, and during the three weeks that I was 
 not able to leave our tent, took care of me with 
 all the tenderness of a father or brother. God 
 bless my faithful comrade; may he live a hun- 
 dred years, and every day of his life be happy. 
 
 I gave the ring that I had to my comrade, 
 and he traded it to one of the guards for eight 
 quarts of meal, which we also shared together. 
 
 In the early part of November, the rebels 
 opened a recruiting office near the gate, and 
 offered a large bounty in Confederate money, 
 and two husliels of sweet potatoes, to every maa 
 who would enlist. They adopted this ]3lan to 
 increase their army ; and to compel the men to 
 enlist in their ranks, they reduced our rations, 
 hoping to oblige us to renounce our Government 
 through want of food. They obtained some re- 
 cruits, but the majority of the men rejected all 
 their offers. 
 
 The 8th of November being election day at the 
 North, the prisoners decided to take a vote of 
 
80 
 
 the camp for President. The quarter-master 
 told lis that if we would give McClellan a ma- 
 jority, he would give us double rations that day; 
 but, upon counting the votes, it was annouced 
 that Lincoln had received a majority of nine 
 hundred and sixty-four. Our rations were not 
 doubled. 
 
 On the 10th, rebel papers stated that there 
 was to be an immediate exchange of ten thou- 
 sand sick prisoners; but we had been fooled so 
 often that we did not believe it. On the 11th, 
 a call was published in a Savannah paper for 
 the citizens of the suiTounding country to come 
 to Savannah the week following, and bring lux- 
 uries for the soldiers who were to arrive from 
 Northern prisons. Now we were convinced that 
 there was to be an exchange, and on the 13th, 
 the Doctor came into the prison, and took the 
 names of seventy-five of the worst cases out of 
 every thousand, for exchange. When he called 
 for the sick of our detachment, my comrades 
 carried me out of our little tent, that he might 
 see me, and he took my name. 
 
 The station was about half a mile from the 
 stockade, and the prisoners were taken out in 
 the following manner. Rel^el ofiicers stood in- 
 
81 
 
 side the gate, and called the names of the men 
 who were to go out. As each man's name was 
 called, he gave his rank, company and regiment, 
 and if the answer corresponded with the record 
 in the officer's hands, he was allowed to pass out. 
 
 Then, if he could, he must walk to the sta- 
 tion ; if not, he was placed in a wagon or ambu- 
 lance, and carried there. 
 
 On the 15th of November I was taken, with 
 about one thousand others, to the station, to be 
 sent to Savannah. No train came for us that 
 day, and at night they gave each of the men a 
 little half-cooked rice, and a raw sweet potatoe ; 
 but I was unable to get to the place where they 
 were given out, and so lost mine. The night 
 was very cold, and the officer of the guard, being 
 a very kind hearted man, caused fires to be 
 built^ and those who could not walk, to be placed 
 around them. 
 
 I still had a gold watch-key, one given me on 
 leaving home, — which I had hoped to retain, 
 but the desire for food overcame the wish to 
 keep the token, and I gave it to a rebel lieuten- 
 ant for twenty-four sweet potatoes, Som@ of 
 them I gave to those who had none, and the 
 
82 
 
 remainder I roasted in the hot sand and ashes, 
 eating some, and reserving a share for the 
 future. 
 
 Next morning, no train having arrived for us, 
 we ^vere again sent back into the stockade ; and 
 although the rebels assured ns that we were to 
 be sent as soon as transjDortation could be fur- 
 nished, we thought we were again fooled. 
 
 This day we drew no rations, and I appreci- 
 ated my potatoes. On the morning of the 18th, 
 we were again taken to the station, and at noon 
 placed in the cars. We now drew two da^'^s' 
 rations, — the last issued to us in the Confederacy. 
 They consisted of about one bushel of raw sweet 
 potatoes, ten pounds of boiled beef, and six 
 small loaves of wheat bread, for iifty-five men. 
 
 Starting at dark, we arrived in Savannah 
 early the next morning, and as fast as possible 
 were transferred to a transport. The only hos- 
 pitality shown us while in the South was while 
 passing from the cars to the transport. Num- 
 bers of women, both white and colored, brought 
 us water to drink, wheat bread, and such other 
 things as they could provide. 
 
 After the men were all on board the trans- 
 
83 
 
 port, we were taken about twelve miles down 
 the Savannah River, where we met the United 
 States transports, bearing aloft the Stars and 
 Stripes, — the banner of liberty, the flag of the 
 free ; and those very transports seemed dressed 
 in holiday attire, with their corps of nurses 
 dressed in bright blue uniforms, passing to and 
 fro along the decks. Yes, we beheld all this, 
 and the Spirit of Liberty seemed once more to 
 breathe upon us, and shout after shout of wel- 
 come arose from our feeble ranks. I shall ever 
 remember the 19tli of November, 1864, as one 
 of the happiest days of my life. 
 
 But how many fond hearts are there through- 
 out the loyal States, who have watched and 
 waited, but in vain, for the return of their loved 
 ones. How anxiously have they waited for the 
 day when a husband, father, Ijrother or son 
 should return to reanimate the once happy cii'- 
 cle. But he comes not again; and to the be- 
 reaved I would say, look not upon them as lost, 
 but transferred from earth to a fairer clime, 
 where the weary are at rest, — where the soldier 
 forever casts aside his armor, and the prisoner 
 is free. And in this be ye comforted: they 
 died to protect the flag which was givem us by 
 
.84 
 
 our fathers, and that this gift miglit, without 
 spot or blemish, be transmitted to generations 
 to come. 
 
 Nearly two years have passed away since my 
 release from Southern captivity,-— two years of 
 varied hopes and disapj)ointments, after which 
 time I find myself in no better state of health 
 than when I was released. I have been treated 
 by men of high standing in the medical pro- 
 fession, but find no relief. Still I am not 
 discouraged ; I patiently accept the dealing of 
 Providence, believing that God is good, and all 
 is for the best. 
 
 MY MIDNIGHT REVERIE. 
 
 It was midnight, and the watches 
 
 Of the night crept slowly by, 
 And the night-wind through the branches 
 
 Breathed a melancholy sigh; — 
 Through the branches of the maj)les, 
 
 Where all summer long were seen 
 The robin and the blue bird 
 
 And the foliage of green. 
 
85 
 
 Now the robin and the blue bird 
 
 To the south have sped away ; 
 Now the bright green leaves have fallen, 
 
 And are mouldering to decay. 
 And I lie upon my sick-bed, 
 
 In the midnight's solemn hour, 
 Thinking of the faded foliage 
 
 And of autumn's leafless bower. 
 
 And in vain my soul sought slumber, — 
 
 Slumber from my couch had fled, 
 And strange thoughts, yet full of meaning, 
 
 Crowded through my aching head. 
 Yes, in vain my soul sought slumber, 
 
 As I lay upon my bed, 
 As the night-wind through the maples 
 
 Sung a requiem for the dead. 
 
 For the dead who nobly perished 
 
 On the Southern battle-plain. 
 That our flag might float in triumph 
 
 Over every State again. 
 These brave men could give their life-blood 
 
 Freely out upon the plain. 
 But they could not see our banner 
 
 Torn by traitors in disdain. 
 
 And they perished like true heroes ; 
 
 Yes, their blood Avas freely given 
 That the Stars and Stripes might proudly 
 
 Float on every breeze of heaven. 
 And that task has been accomplished, 
 
 Although many brave men fell. 
 In the battle, in the hospital 
 
 And in the prison cell. 
 
86 
 
 Yes, our flag now waves iu triumph 
 
 Over every State and town, 
 And may palsied be the arm 
 
 That e'er again would tear it down. 
 Now the "cruel war" is over, 
 
 Those Avho have survived the blast 
 Will si)end many a leisure hour 
 
 Thinking of the eventful past. 
 
 Thus I sj)end the midnight hour, 
 
 Thinking of the days gone by. 
 And I often try in vain 
 
 To check the rising of a sigh. 
 Oh, I sigh for health, the blessing 
 
 Once possessed, but mine no more ; 
 Mine no more until I reach 
 
 The ever bright and glorious shore. 
 
 Reach the land where sickness, sorrow, 
 
 Pain and death, are never known. 
 Where we all shall bow in gladness 
 
 Round the King upon the throne. 
 Then these limbs, now so inactive, 
 
 Will be active as of yore 
 Then I'll roam in joy and gladness 
 
 O'er bright plains, for evermore. 
 
 WiLLiNK, Dec. 1st, 1866. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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