In and Out of Rebel Prisons Part 3

After we had exercised sufficiently we would lay down in the shade and read or sleep during the hottest portion of the day. A number of us formed a literary a.s.sociation, each subscribing toward the purchase of a library that a citizen of Macon had to sell. He said he had a library of about one hundred books, that he would sell for $500, as he was dest.i.tute and was obliged to part with them to buy provisions for his family. So twenty of us chipped in $25 apiece around and started a circulating library, appointed one of our number librarian, and in this way we were well supplied with reading matter for a long time.

I do not remember all, or any considerable number of the t.i.tles of these books, but what interested me most were some old Harper's magazines, in the reading of which I found days and weeks of profitable enjoyment. I do not think I ever fully appreciated until then, how much real comfort it was possible to extract from those old literary productions. Our reading was usually done during the hottest part of the day while lying in our quarters, when out of door exercise was too uncomfortable, and when we got tired of reading we would take a nap or go visiting to some of our friends in other portions of the camp, and there sit and talk over affairs, discussing the prospects of exchange, spinning yarns, cracking jokes, or singing old war songs to cheer each other up and pa.s.s away the time.

Others would resort to the gambling tent, where there was always a game of cards going on; sometimes it was three card loo and sometimes poker; but they would sit there from early morning until dark and play for money, and, as is always the case, some would come away happy and some broke. But somehow or other the same gang would be there the next day, anxious to retrieve their broken fortunes of the previous day, or add to their gains.

Men would there as here, sell the last b.u.t.ton off their coat to raise money to continue the game, with a hope that luck would come their way.

Thus, some who came into prison with enough to subsist them for quite a long time, would soon be obliged to live on the rations they drew, while others, who were nearly dest.i.tute when they came in, would live like fighting c.o.c.ks. I could rehea.r.s.e incidents of this kind that came under my personal observation, but as I could not do so without giving names, as the boys say, I won't give it away.

All sorts of games were played, some for money, and some for pastime.

Cribbage, back gammon, euchre, seven up, and sometimes we would play poker for the beans we drew for our rations. When the bean ration was given out, each man would have perhaps a good tablespoonful, then five or six would sit down and play until one would have the whole, which would make him quite a respectable dinner, and the rest would have to go without. Thus it will be seen that our prison camp was a village, where all kinds of business was carried on, and all sorts of characters were to be found. We had our church, our prayer meetings, our social circles, our singing, our visiting, and our gambling houses, all in a s.p.a.ce of four or five acres of ground.

We had some excellent singers, and were frequently entertained during the long evenings with solos, quartettes, and choruses, patriotic, sentimental and pathetic.

Among the patriotic songs oftenest heard, were "The Star Spangled Banner,"

"The Red, White and Blue," "The Sword of Bunker Hill," and "Rally 'Round the Flag;" but the one that touched a tender chord in every prisoner's heart, and that even the rebs used to call for, was this which I quote entire:

In the prison pen I sit, thinking mother most of you, And the bright and happy home so far away, While the tears they fill my eyes, spite of all that I can do, Though I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.

CHORUS.--Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching, Cheer up, comrades, they will come, And beneath the starry flag, we shall breathe the air again, Of the freeland, in our own beloved home.

In the battle front we stood, when their fiercest charge was made, And they swept us off, a hundred men or more, But before we reached their lines, they were driven back dismayed, And we heard the shout of victory o'er and o'er.

CHORUS.--Tramp, tramp, etc.

So within the prison pen, we are waiting for the day, That shall come and open wide the iron door, And the hollow eye grows bright, and the poor heart almost gay, As we think of seeing friends and home once more.

Then there was another, the chorus of which I can only remember, that the boys used to sing. The chorus was this:

Hurrah, boys, hurrah! Shout glory and sing; For the rebels look sad and forsaken.

Our glorious old eagle is still on the wing, And Vicksburg is taken, boys, taken.

Among the beautiful singers who were in the habit of entertaining us, I distinctly remember Capt. Palmer, who had a good voice, and to whose singing I was delighted to listen. I do not know to what regiment he belonged, but I do know that he afforded me a great amount of pleasure by his sweet songs.

Not being much of a singer myself, I nevertheless enjoy listening to others, and as I once heard a noted preacher say, it depends as much on a good listener as a good talker to have an enjoyable meeting, I thought that I contributed as much as any one towards the entertainments.

Whenever there was any singing going on, there was always a good audience of appreciative listeners, and among eighteen hundred officers, I need not say there was plenty of talent to select from, and these evening entertainments were a source of great enjoyment to all, even though the same songs were sung over and over again by the same persons.

CHAPTER IX.

FRESH FISH--ARRIVAL OF COL. MILLER--DEATH OF LIEUT. WOOD, 82ND INDIANA--MORE FRESH FISH.

Upon the arrival of new prisoners at the gate of the stockade, there would be a cry raised throughout the camp, commencing near the entrance, and spreading rapidly to the farthest extremity of the enclosure, of "fresh fish! fresh fish!!" It was like the alarm of fire in a city, and quickly collected a crowd, and as the numbers increased, the din became more deafening, and to the new comer who did not know what it meant, perfectly appalling.

I have seen prisoners come in who looked perfectly bewildered as they gazed upon the mob of ragged, shoeless, hatless, unshaven, long-haired, howling beings who confronted them, looking more like escaped lunatics than officers; when some one back in the crowd would sing out, give the gentleman air, don't take his haversack, keep your hands out of his pocket, don't put that louse on him, why don't some of you fellows take the gentleman's baggage, and show him to his room, Johnny show the gentleman up to No. 13. I remember especially, the look of perfect bewilderment on the face of Col. Frank C. Miller, of the 147th New York, as he stood at the entrance of the enclosure, and the look of joyful relief as I called out, h.e.l.lo Frank, come over here, and he recognized an old and intimate friend. And he told me afterwards, that he never in his life was so pleased to see any one as he was to see me just at that moment, for, said he, I thought they were putting me into a lunatic asylum.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FRESH FISH.]

A stinging rebuke was given by, I think it was Gen. Schaler, who said to his escort, loud enough to be heard by all: "I thought I was going to be put in an officer's prison." This practice was mostly confined to the old Libby prisoners, who had, some of them, been confined for more than a year, and had, in a measure, become demoralized; for I do not believe there can be anything more demoralizing than the sufferings, privations, and hardships endured by our prisoners; and I wish to say right here, that to Chaplain Dixon, of the 16th Connecticut, and Chaplain White of the 5th R. I. Heavy Artillery, the officers owe a debt of grat.i.tude for the faithfulness with which they performed their christian duties. They were both earnest christian workers, zealous in the cause of the Master, anxious for the eternal welfare of the souls of those who were placed in their keeping, and fearless in the discharge of the duties devolving upon them as emba.s.sadors for Christ. While all did not profit by their earnest exhortations, there were few who were not benefitted by their presence and faithful counsels, and all held them in high respect and admiration for their christian qualities. Speaking of Col. Miller's entrance into Macon, as soon as the crowd saw that he had found an old friend, they gave way and I escorted him to our quarters, where I went to work, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing him happy in the enjoyment of a good breakfast. I cooked a couple of eggs, with a small piece of bacon, and fried a few sliced potatoes, which, with a biscuit, made what we called an elegant meal. The Colonel was busy talking and eating when, looking up, he said, as he helped himself to the last egg and biscuit, "By George, Lon, they give you good rations here, don't they?"

"Good rations!" said I, "good rations! why, Frank how much do you think this breakfast cost?"

"Why, I don't know, I supposed you drew this for rations."

"Well," said I, "this meal cost just about eleven dollars. All the rations you draw for two days, wouldn't make such a meal as this."

Colonel Miller, who had been a near neighbor and a.s.sociate of mine long before the war broke out, received a severe wound in the chest by a minnie ball, at the Battle of the Wilderness, and was reported dead and was mourned as such by his family for a long time, but was rescued from the flames that broke out, after the battle, and taken a prisoner to Salisbury, and placed in the hospital there, whence he was removed when convalescent, to Macon. He soon found the Adjutant of his regiment, Lieutenant H. H. Lyman, who gave him a place in his quarters, and they afterwards remained together.

On the 23d of May, Lieutenant Wood, 82nd Indiana, died in the hospital, just outside the stockade, and was buried the next day at 1.30 p. m.

Chaplain White being allowed to hold the funeral service, a number of us offered to give our parole to attend the funeral, but our request was denied. On the same day one hundred and eleven _fresh fish_ were brought in, among whom were Brigadier Generals Seymour and Schaler. That night about ten o'clock a tremendous storm came up, which drowned out all who had not built themselves sheds, and the main building, where were quartered the general officers, etc., was crowded with those driven from their quarters by the drenching rain. This main building as it was called, was a large hall, that had been built for the display of goods during the fair, which had heretofore been held on these grounds, and was the only building in the stockade that was clapboarded and shingled, and with the exception of an old tumble down affair on the opposite side, east, was the only building in the enclosure when we took possession.

Having built myself a shelter on the first day I entered the stockade, I was all right; but those who had burrowed for shelter were driven out like rats from a flooded cellar, and were obliged to seek shelter in the large hall from the pitiless storm. There was not room for all, and those who could not crowd in there had to rough it out as best they could. On the 25th of May, I first met Adjutant H. H. Lyman, of the 147th New York, from whom I learned that Col. Miller was wounded and a prisoner.

About this time, they brought us in lumber, pine poles and nails, to build ourselves some sheds, and all went to work on the construction. I belonged to No. 9 squad, and on the 27th of May, our lumber and other materials were furnished, and we all went to work, and by night had our shed so nearly completed that we moved in, though it took us several days to get our bunks finished and everything comfortably arranged. It was amusing to see a squad of ninety men go to work to erect one of these sheds.

Out of the ninety, about thirty would do the work, and the rest would stand around and make suggestions. Among so many who should be equally interested, it was astonishing how many bosses there would be, who could tell how it ought to be done, but seemed indisposed to do it. Nothing was done to suit these Superintendents, but when their grumblings became too loud and boisterous, some one who was tugging away at the big end of one of these fifty feet pine poles, would rest it on his knees long enough to shout "Louder, old pudden head." This was a favorite epithet, used to quiet any one in camp who got too excited or eloquent on any subject, and I remember one Tennessee officer, Captain Hayes, who so objected to it that he was ready to fight any one who called him "old pudden head"--and I have seen him furiously searching for the man who had yelled this, while he was loudly proclaiming his sentiments on some subject, but it only caused him to be annoyed the more, for when it was seen how sensitive he was on this point, there were plenty to be found to thus pester him, while they dexterously avoided the blows, aimed at their heads with a stick he hurled after them. He was a large, powerful man, with a voice that could be heard from one end of the camp to the other, very excitable when talking, and could never understand a joke, but took everything in earnest, and nothing afforded the boys more pleasure than to get him boiling mad.

CHAPTER X.

MANNER OF TUNNELLING.

The manner of digging a tunnel was this: The place selected to commence a tunnel would usually be in some shed nearest the stockade. In these sheds we had built ourselves bunks, ten or twelve inches from the ground, which would usually be movable, and, after the camp had become quiet, one of these bunks would be removed and a well sunk five or six feet, first taking the precaution to carefully lay aside the dirt that was just shoveled off, because that would be dark and look old. Then a guard would be stationed to prevent any one from seeing what was going on. Pickets would be thrown out, who, if any one approached, would enter into conversation with them, in a tone loud enough to be heard by the tunnellers, and caution them to suspend operations until the danger was over, when the work would be resumed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TUNNELLING AT MACON, GA.]

In a camp of eighteen hundred, with always some sick, there would be no time in the night when some were not going to or returning from the sinks; so that seeing anyone moving about camp in the night attracted no particular notice. One would dig and fill haversacks or bags, and another, with an overcoat on, would carry it concealed beneath that garment to some place that had been selected as a dumping ground and deposit it, returning to the shed by a roundabout way so as not to attract attention. After a well had been sunk about five feet, the tunnel proper would be started horizontally, in the direction desired, always keeping as accurate a measure of the distance tunnelled as possible. When it came time to suspend operations for the night, boards that had been previously prepared, would be fitted in the well, two feet below the surface, and covered over with some of the earth that had been removed, always being careful to put the old dirt that had been preserved on top, thus giving the surface the same appearance as the rest of the ground; all would then be carefully swept over, and all traces of new or fresh earth removed. The bunk would then be replaced and everything resume the careless appearance of everyday life.

So cautiously would this work be carried on that officers sleeping only a few feet away would not be disturbed, and never suspect that anything unusual had been going on. Thus, night after night, would the work be prosecuted, the men spelling each other in digging and doing sentry duty, until, by careful measurement, it was ascertained that the tunnel had reached a sufficient distance beyond the stockade to insure an escape. No one in the prison, except those engaged in the work, would be let into the secret until the work was completed and the tunnel was to be opened. This secrecy was necessary to prevent a curious crowd from hanging around, which would attract the attention of the rebs, who, in blissful ignorance of any plot, would sing out: "Post number fo, twelve o'clock, and a-l-l's w-e-l-l. Post number six, twelve o'clock, and a-l-l's w-e-l-l!" When, perhaps, some wakeful wag of a Yankee prisoner would answer: "Post number fo, twelve o'clock, and the Confederacy has gone to h--l," in the same sing-song way the reb guard had just given it. Sometimes the Johnnies would take all of this good-naturedly, and at others would call out: "Here, you Yanks, if youens don't keep still I'll shoot in thar," which would have the effect of quieting them for a time.

On the 17th of May, we were moved into the stockade, and it was not long before we commenced prospecting to find an opening for an escape.

A tunnel was commenced almost immediately, but after working ten nights upon it, it was discovered and filled up. This did not discourage them, however; they must have something to occupy their time; and although we were busy all day building sheds, this did not prevent us from trying nights to find a way out of our confinement. When the first tunnel was discovered, that had just been started, all hands were fell into line, and a general search was made for tunnels, but none were discovered. On the next day, however, Captain Tabb succeeded in discovering another, and in an altercation with Maj. Pasco, of the 16th Connecticut, who was claiming that he had a right to escape whenever he could, slapped the Major in the face for a.s.serting his rights. This was a cowardly act, for Tabb was not only armed, but surrounded by a guard, while, of course, Major Pasco was an unarmed prisoner. It made a fellow's blood boil to witness and suffer such indignities; but what could we do under such circ.u.mstances? To resist was certain death, while to submit was a mortification and humiliation that it was hard for a proud-spirited officer to submit to, in the presence of his comrades. All we could do was to hoot and hiss him from a safe distance, and chaff and exasperate him by sneering, deriding and laughing at him; so that although he was the king, and we the subjects, we managed to insert in the crown he wore, more thorns than laurels. On the second day after the discovery of this second tunnel, Tabb had a platform built on the northwest corner of the stockade, and another on the opposite side, upon each of which he mounted a twelve-pounder bra.s.s-piece.

Here was a good chance to have some fun, and as we watched the progress of the erection of the platforms and mounting of the guns, we indulged in all sorts of comments and criticisms. Some one would sing out, "Say, Captain, get a good, strong force behind that gun when you fire it, to catch it when it goes over;" "Say, Johnny, that gun is like the Irishman's musket, there'll be more danger behind it than in front;" "Tabb, when you fire that gun, just stand plumb behind it, and we'll be satisfied;" "I'll let you shoot that gun at me for a dollar a shot, and take Confederate money, if you will pull the laniard yourself." "How is it that Lee never found you out, and placed you in command of his engineer corps or artillery, instead of keeping such a genius here, guarding Yankee prisoners, with no chance of immortalizing yourself?" "Barnum would make a fortune out of you. Why, he paid five thousand dollars once for a fellow that wasn't half as big a humbug, and done well out of the speculation." "Oh! go soak your head." "Don't shoot, Tabb; we won't tunnel any more." "We don't want to get away; we just dig a little once in a while for exercise." "You can't drive us out of the Confederacy with that gun; we have come to stay."

Such exasperating expressions were kept up from morning till night, for the two days they were at work erecting these guns on the frail platforms, to prevent tunnelling. But these precautions did not for a moment interfere with our tunnelling, and while we were thus pestering Tabb, others were busy preparing other avenues of escape. Two tunnels were started simultaneously, one commencing in an old building on the east side of the camp, and the other in what was called No. 7 Squad, which was on the opposite side of the stockade. The one on the east side was already to open, and the one on the west nearly ready, when they were both discovered and filled up. There was strong evidence of treachery in the discovery of these tunnels, as Captain Tabb went directly to both of them, and seemed to know just where to find them.

There was at this time in the prison, one Hartswell Silver, who claimed to be a Captain in the 16th Illinois Cavalry, but who was generally believed to be a spy, placed in there to detect our efforts at escape, and to him was attributed the disclosure of our plot. Had these two tunnels been completed, at least half of the officers would have escaped, and as the force guarding us was small at that time, there is no doubt but that the majority of us would have succeeded in getting away. In fact the evening before, two or three officers escaped, by crawling under the stockade, where the branch or stream entered the camp. They were fired upon by the guard, and one was brought back. The long roll was sounded and the whole force turned out in expectation of a general break. All officers were notified that any one leaving their quarters, even to go to the sink, would be fired upon by the guard. A great excitement prevailed among the rebs all night, which was aggravated by those in their bunks calling out every little while--"Corporal of the guard post number fo." "Dry up there will you." "Oh! give us a rest." "Louder old pudden head." "What's the matter with you." "Put him out." "Shoot him." "Lie down." "Tabb try your big gun on this fellow," and like expressions, making a perfect uproar in camp all night long. After a moment's silence, some fellow would imitate the plaintive caterwaling of a cat, another barking like a hound, and another would answer from away off with the deep bark of the mastiff, another would crow like a c.o.c.k. Sleep was out of the question, you might as well try to quiet a barroom full of drunken politicians who had elected their favorite candidate as to keep those fellows still. Once in a while the guard would call out, "keep still there you Yanks or I'll shoot in there," when some one at a safe distance would sing out "Put him in the guard house." "Buck and gag him." "Stone the loafer," etc., and so it kept on during the whole night.

The next morning Tabb had two more field pieces planted in the woods to the south of our camp, and hors.e.m.e.n appeared with hounds to track and capture the fugitives, but for some reason they could not get on the right trail and only succeeded in treeing a c.o.o.n. There were several other escapes about this time. One by Lieut. H. Lee Clark, 2d Ma.s.sachusetts H.