Chapter III

Sick in the smallpox ward--A new plan of escape--Over a powder mine--The plan fails--Filling the roll, one hundred and nine men "short"--Shot at through windows--"Bread! bread!"--Hopes of exchange--May 1st--Boxes which had passed in the night--Brutes--More boxes--Danville, May 8th--Two weeks later, Macon.

By this time my health had become so poor that I was taken to the hospital, which was in the east room on the first floor of the prison. I remained there one night, when it was reported by the surgeon in charge that there were two cases of smallpox in the room and that if I preferred I might return upstairs, which you may be sure I immediately did. Then we were all vaccinated; it did not "take" on me, but there was many a groan for a while from the effects of sore arms.

One night as I lay sick upon the floor I noticed that one of my nearest bedfellows was missing. After a few days he returned early one morning, spoke to his next neighbor in bed and asked him to lie over and give him his warm place in the bed, as he had been on guard for the last four hours and was nearly frozen. His friend, who was Lieutenant Wise, complied with his wish. When he laid down his head nearly touched mine and I heard the man who had given up his warm place (Wise) ask him very secretly how near the end was, and heard the reply, "It is done now; we would have opened it to-night but thought it was too near morning."

Now I had a nut to crack; all thought of sleep was gone and I found myself constantly repeating the question, "Has the time arrived when we are to overpower the guard?"

In the morning I approached Lieutenant Wise for further information, but he was as "mum as an oyster" regarding any intended movement toward escape.

I told him what I had heard him say about the end and he assured me I had been dreaming. But I was not to be so easily evaded, and reasoning with myself that if it were a tunnel which had been prepared it must start from the middle room, the one we were allowed to use from 9 A.M. to 4 P.M. I took my station at the door and was the first to enter the room as it swung open. I could plainly see tracks on the floor coming from the east end and began an examination, but without result. It was plain that I was not in the secret. The day passed--taps were sounded and all retired. An instant later everybody was up, dressing and packing. An Illinois captain came over to me and said:

"Lieutenant, you are not able to make the effort, lie down again."

I mused to myself thus: "What can be the result; if I lie here I may be blown up, if I go and faint by the wayside I shall die, so I may as well be in one place as another." Accordingly I obeyed orders, laid down and in a few moments was entirely alone in that great, cold, desolate and deserted room. My heart fluttered as I thought of the three kegs of powder in the mine underneath me and I tried to keep my pulse still by holding my breath, but it would flutter on in spite of every effort, when, suddenly, even before I realized that any time had passed, there was a rushing of feet and my comrades poured in, one after another, pell mell, hastily unrolled their blankets and stretched themselves on the floor, every man in his place. A moment after, the rebel guard came pushing in with lanterns and scrutinized every man closely. All were apparently sound asleep but me, and most of them snoring loudly. The guard was completely deceived and retired, and then I also fell asleep; but when daylight came I noticed that both my neighbors were gone. I made no comment, though I knew I would have to be counted for them at roll call. I did this by falling in on the right, and being counted, slipped down to the rear of the line, when I was again counted--first time for Wise, then later for his companion.

The count being completed, the adjutant announced that "over a hundred men had answered roll call who were not on the floor."

We began to smell trouble.

The adjutant went downstairs and soon returned with "Dick" Turner and a guard, who drove all of the prisoners out of the room, and then passed them back one at a time, counting them as they filed through the door.

After completing the count they announced they were one hundred and nine men short, and started their patrols out in every direction to recapture the runaways. By noon they had begun to head them off, and in less than three days recaptured fifty-six. The remaining fifty-three were never heard of again as prisoners in Libby; the most of them succeeded in reaching the Union lines.

This escape was hard on the rest of us, however, our liberties being greatly curtailed and our dangers increased. Among other orders, the guard was instructed to shoot every man who showed his head at a window. The first man shot at was Lieutenant Burns, who happened to expose his head too close to an opening in the water closet, where a board had been torn off. Fortunately he only lost half of one ear.

Lieutenant Forsyth of Ohio was not so fortunate. He was sitting four or five feet from the window, reading, when he was observed by a guard patrolling on the opposite side of the street. He fired at Forsyth, killing him instantly, and many other brave officers afterwards shared the same fate as Lieutenant Forsyth, at the hands of those cowardly assassins.

Such was life in this prison, kept by people who prided themselves on their "chivalry." God save the mark!

The month of March dragged slowly along. The commissary boxes which had been sent to us from the north were in sight, but we were never allowed to touch their contents, our only ration still consisting of the one chunk of corn bread daily.

April came, and every day the cry was "Bread! bread! bread!" not only in the prison but also on the streets.

Bread riots were reported to us as having occurred even in the city.

Toward the last of April I was approached by an officer of high rank, who asked if I was "anxious to be exchanged?" Of course I was! I replied, my hopes going up.

He then told me they wanted to send a message north to headquarters at Washington, and I might carry it if they could effect my exchange. The message was that Longstreet's army from Knoxville, Tennessee, about forty thousand strong, had just passed through Lynchburg, going north to join Lee in Northern Virginia; and that Beauregard's army had passed through Petersburg, going north on the same mission, with about thirty thousand men. The message was to be enclosed in a brass button, and they were in hopes they might get me through the lines, as I was in poor health.

The application was made, but alas for the hopes of a prisoner in the hands of rebel captors! I never heard anything further of the proposition, and again settled down to wait some new disappointment.

The first of May came, that day of so many bright memories in my northern home. The city of Richmond was all excitement; old men and small boys could be seen going down Franklin Street with old muskets and clean new white haversacks; and the rebs commenced to issue to us our long-looked-for boxes. Once more hopes of a change for the better took possession of us, and it seemed as if they could not deliver us our boxes fast enough. Negroes would carry them over to the lower middle room and then the roll would be called.

When my name was finally reached I seized my blanket and quilt and got a couple of friends to go with me to the room, where a good large box was waiting to be receipted for. They opened the box, while I spread both blanket and quilt on the floor in great excitement and feverish expectation. They emptied the contents upon my receptacles; next a couple of rebs sat down, each armed with a marline spike made for the purpose, and began overhauling and searching the contents. The salt, sugar, coffee and pepper were scattered all over everything; they reached a roll of butter--think of it, a roll of butter!--and in that the spike struck something hard, upon examination of which they found to be a small glass vial in which had been placed a ten-dollar greenback. No sooner had they laid eyes upon that ten than they appropriated it to their own use. The despised Uncle Sam's money was a very Godsend to them, the cowardly robbers. It is needless to say that I never saw the ten-dollar greenback again. I was permitted to lug my blanket and quilt, with what motley stuff they contained, upstairs, and I studied for some time how to separate the sugar from the sausage, and the salt from the coffee, and I must confess it required some brainwork to so arrange my provender as to make any part of it palatable. Still I finally concluded that I was a lucky man to be even permitted to look upon the relics of the good things that my friends in the north had taken so much pains to send me, and I said again, "How grand it is to be among a chivalric people." On the morning of the fifth the old negro who distributed the morning papers down Franklin Street was heard to cry: "A Great Battle on the Rapidan! Great News from the Rapidan! Full Account of the Battle of the Rapidan!"

My! what an effect this had upon us captives. Our boxes came in thicker and faster until finally old Libby looked like a great storehouse or supply depot, and once more our expectations were raised to a fever heat, only to have them again dashed below the zero mark.

On the morning of the eighth, after roll call, we were informed that an order had been issued for our immediate removal and that we would only be allowed to take one blanket or quilt, which was to be held open as we passed out of the door. We were to receive our rations outside. What a surprise this was to us after all the promises that had been made to us. A perfect bedlam ensued; men would grab up their best books, copies of Dickens, Shakespeare, law books, medical works, magazines, novels, tear out the leaves by the handful and throw the empty covers down on the floor. Next came the groceries, sugar, coffee, pepper, salt, soap, sardines, pineapples and cheese from New York; soused mackeral from Maine; pickled eels from Massachusetts; all sowed broadcast on the floor and mixed into a conglomerate mass a foot or two deep.

We started and at the head of the stairs I turned to take a last, farewell look. I could see many a short piece of candle that had been lighted and stuck fast to the plate which supported the roof, the blaze beginning to lap up the sheeting, but I did not stop to look back again, the outside was good enough for me. I passed down and out through the door, holding my blanket open, and received my hunk of corn bread as I passed out. We started up Franklin Street on the pavement, and, oh, how rough it was after seven months on the smooth floor of the prison. We had bid adieu to old Libby with all its horrors and terrors, yet it proved to be the best prison of my experience.

After marching awhile we turned to the left, then came thoughts of Belle Isle. But, no, we were not destined for that place, for we passed over the bridge, across the island and on to the depot, where we were put aboard some old freight cars. The bell rang, the wheels began to roll, and soon we were whirling over the iron rails. The cars were filthy with dirt, but the atmosphere was fresh, the meadows green and the air fragrant with the perfume of apple and peach trees in full bloom, and I assure you that it was a fragrance we all enjoyed for the time permitted; it was the free air of heaven.

It was the eighth of May and we were moving in a south-westerly course, our destiny being an enigma to us. Late in the afternoon we pulled into Danville, where we were unloaded and marched to a large brick building, which had just been evacuated by other prisoners. Around the outside of the building were a number of Union men, who were just convalescing from the smallpox; scabs were falling off and the men pitting nicely; however, we escaped contagion. We were only confined here about two weeks when we were again put aboard the cars and started south, passing through Charlotte, N.C., and Augusta, Ga., thence west to Macon. Here we left the train and were marched to the fair grounds, which covered about four acres. It was enclosed by a high board fence, with a platform and sentry boxes on the outside for the guard. When we got inside we found one large rustic building near the center, (floral hall) and in the north-west corner was an open shed, fourteen feet wide by over one hundred feet long, which had been built for our predecessors, who in turn had made cots or bunks by driving stakes into the ground about two feet apart, covering them over with boughs and limbs, and leaving just enough room between each one for a man to walk without inconvenience. I was fortunate enough to get one near the center, which was high and gave me a good shelter.