Chapter V

Sherman devastates Northern Georgia--Columbia "Camp Sorghum"--A "dug-out"--I get away--Free--An unexpected plunge--Trouble ahead--Recaptured--A meal--The "debtor's cell" at Abbeville--Back to "Sorghum."

It was now reported that Sherman was on our track, devastating Northern Georgia. Accordingly, on the first of October, the guard was marched in and we were surrounded in the yard behind the hospital. The parole which we had signed was then produced, torn to pieces before our eyes, and declared at an end. We were then marched out, taken to the depot, put into some old dirty cars and transported to Columbia. Here we were unloaded, marched across Broad River, over a long, covered bridge, to an old pasture of about three acres, around which had been ploughed two furrows. One of these was designated the line for the guards beat; the other (inside), the _dead_ line. Into this pasture we were herded like so many sheep, without shade or shelter. Our rations were reduced, so that each of us received but a little over a pint of dirty old corn meal a day, and a little sorghum molasses. I had a quart cup and, after washing my meal, had just enough left to make one quart of mush with a sorghum dressing. Think of it, reader, you who have enough and to spare, and have no taste for sorghum molasses, how you would have relished this delightful fare; yet we were forced to accept it by the demands of hunger, and because we were captives to Southern chevaliers.

We named our quarters (the prison) "Camp Sorghum." The commandant, whose name I cannot now recall, was a colonel of the rebel army, and really a kind-hearted man; and I really believe that, had he been able, he would have made our circumstances comfortable; but he was a creature of circumstances and could not control his superiors. He was gentlemanly and courteous to us, and granted us privileges we had never been allowed before; he permitted us to go out to the woods under guard, and gather limbs and boughs from trees with which to make some kind of shelter to protect us from the cold, fall rains. A second lieutenant and myself dug a hole in the ground about three feet wide, seven long and two feet deep, covered it over with limbs and dirt, leaving a small hole at one end to serve as an entrance and exit. This was not original with us, as many similar ones had been made before, nor was it convenient to get in and out of, but by pulling our feet up under us we could manage to keep partially dry and warm.

I was not satisfied, however, and was continually watching for a chance to escape. Finally a long, drizzling rain came on and the colonel gave a number of paroles to some favored, to go out and get limbs, poles and boughs, with which to fix up their quarters, (if you could call their dug-outs quarters). This squad was only allowed to carry its luggage to the guards' beat, throw it over, then return to the woods for more. Then another party was permitted to go out over the dead line, get the truck and carry it back to quarters. I watched them for some time and noticed that the guard did not seem to be very particular about the mingling of those on the outside of the beat. The next time the squad came from the woods I walked out, gathered up an armful of the stuff, returned with the others, and carried the armful to their dug-out. I then waited until they came again, and deliberately walked out with those who went to the timber, the ones who had been paroled for the purpose. I was now outside of the prison in open woods, in plain sight of the pasture and only about three o'clock in the afternoon. This was to be the last trip of the paroled men, so I crawled under the top of a tree, which they had left partly trimmed, and got the men to cover me over with boughs and limbs sufficient to conceal my view from "Camp Sorghum," and there I had to lie on the cold, wet earth, without daring to move, until night.

Night came and the rain still poured down in torrents. I could easily see what few lights were visible in camp and, as I crawled out, turned my back upon these. It was so dark that I had to feel my way, and as I had my back to the camp I had nothing but the sense of feeling to guide my footsteps; but as I supposed the long looked for time had come and I was on my way to liberty, my way seemed easy, and my hopes beat high with a desire to reach the Union lines, somewhere in East Tennessee. In the course of a couple of hours I found an old road which I could follow by means of the small puddles of water that were lying at intervals all along. Then I began to lengthen the distance between myself and camp as fast as my poor, weak limbs and empty stomach would permit.

After an hour or so I began to warm up, but the storm seemed to be increasing as well as the darkness, and finally I lost the road, though still in the woods. I turned and tried to find the road and in the search I soon heard water roaring and tumbling. A few feet ahead I could see a white sheet of water and decided that it was the road. I felt my way carefully along to the edge of the white sheet; there seemed to be a black space between me and the streak of white, which I took to be a ditch that I could jump, when I should find myself in the road again. I made the jump, but alas, the white sheet proved to be a mill pond, which had no bottom at the place where I struck the water, yet I had enough presence of mind to swim for a ledge near the bank. When I reached the ledge, the rocks proved so steep I could not climb them, and I was forced to make my way by clinging to the rocks as best I could along the edge of the water, until I came to a place where some of the stone and earth had been taken away to build a dam. There I crawled out, went up the bank and into the woods again. Then I saw a light streak which I went to and, remembering my former experience, merely followed along its edge until I came to what appeared to be a bridge; this I crossed, and I soon found myself outside of the woods and again in a road. On examination I found the road was fenced and on each side were cultivated fields. The storm was clearing, and I could begin to see. Presently I came to a cornfield; I entered, plucked a few ears of corn and, by cracking a kernel at a time with my teeth, managed to eat some of it; this in a measure appeased my intense hunger. During the remainder of the night I passed a number of houses but for obvious reasons did not seek admission. When daylight came I saw an old log house near the center of a field, which on going to I found to be well filled with unthreshed cow pease. I climbed up to the gable, entered the hovel, dug a hole in the peas, crawled in, covered myself up and there remained through the day, cracking corn and cow peas with my teeth. About an hour after dark I resumed my way. The stars were shining brightly, the road was good and I was leaving "Camp Sorghum" far in the rear, all of which circumstances made me very hopeful indeed. I continued my march through the night, and as soon as daylight approached found a covey in a hedge near a small creek, where I remained through the day with plenty of water to drink. The sun came out quite warm and dried my clothing, and I washed my face and hands in the clear water of the brook, and passed the day without any untoward incident. As soon as it was dark enough I again ventured out and continued my long anticipated journey, passing through what I called a very good farming country.

But trouble was now ahead of me, in spite of all my hopes. As soon as I could see signs of daylight I began to look about for a safe resting place for the day. Seeing a piece of woods not far away I went to it, but upon my arrival I found it to be surrounded by three houses, and very open. Roosters began to crow, dogs to bark, pigs to squeal, and my chances of hiding there without discovery were absolutely worthless. Looking ahead I saw another piece of timber, which looked larger, thicker and more secluded, so I made for it, when to my astonishment I saw a boy approaching on a mule. I stepped behind a tree until he passed, then I continued my way, crossed a road, but had only gone on a few steps when a couple of men stepped out from behind a tree, armed with shot guns, which were immediately stuck into my face, accompanied with the command to "Halt!" Of course I obeyed. They took me in charge and I found myself again a prisoner in the hands of the enemy. One of my captors was a young man, a soldier home on a furlough; the other, an old, nervous, gray-haired citizen, perhaps a neighbor. The soldier walked by my side, was very pleasant and communicative, and the old man walked in the rear with his old shot gun continually leveled at my head, and a determined look, which meant that he would not hesitate to shoot if I made any effort to escape. They conducted me to the soldier's house, and, on reaching it, the young man told the old gentleman that he could go, as he would see that I was taken care of. This seemed to be satisfactory and the old man departed.

The soldier then led the way into the house and I followed. Everything indicated a comfortable farmer's home. I was given a chair in front of the fireplace, in which was burning a good, hot fire. The family seemed to be a large one, and as one after another appeared, he or she would extend a hand, which was grasped by mine in return, much as if we had been old friends just meeting after a long absence. After getting warmed, I asked for a chance to get washed, which was soon furnished, after which I again took my seat by the warm, comfortable fire, but with such a craving appetite that I began to fear I should have to tell my hostess that if she would hold prisoners she must needs feed them, but they had been so hospitable thus far I refrained and waited. Soon after a negro woman brought in a large server on which was a bountiful breakfast, which was placed on the table and I was invited to help myself. You may be sure that I was not long accepting the invitation. I took a chair at the table, the first table I had sat down to in over a year, and enjoyed a clean, wholesome meal.

The lady of the house was a great talker, and while I was eating she entertained me with her views. She told me that before the State of South Carolina seceded they were all a happy, prosperous people; that if they wished to go anywhere all they had to do was to pack their trunks and go. But now they were in the Confederacy, ruled by old "Jeff" Davis, and all the laws they had were laws to impress their property and conscript the men; that all of the best men were being killed off, the only ones left being either deserters or cripples, and that God only knew what would become of them. Her ideas of the future of the Confederacy were anything but flattering or optimistic.

After I had finished my breakfast the soldier told me he would have to take me to Abbeville, and there deliver me over to the provost marshal, the distance being about four miles; but he said that he would not start until four o'clock in the afternoon; in the meantime I could have the freedom of the house and yard by giving him my parole verbally, which I readily did. This soldier and this family were true representatives of Southern chivalry, and had I received the same treatment at the hands of my other captors, all that I have heretofore said in this little story against the false chivalry that prevailed would have been left unsaid. But to proceed: Through the day the ladies of the house repaired my torn clothing as far as they dared, and when the hour of departure came, I was taken in a buggy and delivered over to the custody of the provost marshal at Abbeville jail. Here I was taken to a room called a "debtor's cell," and told to enter. I obeyed the order. Imagine my astonishment on so doing, to behold six other escaped prisoners from "Camp Sorghum." In figuring up the distance which I had traveled in the three nights of my journey, I found that I was sixty miles from Columbia and had traveled on foot and alone, living on corn on the ear and raw cow peas, fifty-six miles, had rode in a buggy four, and had had two good square meals. After remaining in the debtors' room two nights and one day, we were taken out, loaded into an old carry-all and taken to Lexington County court house, where we were confined over night, then started out again next morning, with an entirely different outfit, for Columbia, and there delivered to the provost marshal, who conveyed us in a stylish rig to "Camp Sorghum." The gate was thrown open and I found myself back again in the old quarters, in spite of my ducking in the mill pond, my hard rations of cow peas and raw corn and sixty miles travel. But such is the lot of the soldier and I had to submit. When we entered the camp we were greeted with the old familiar cry of "Fresh fish! Fresh fish!! Fresh fish!!!" but our identity was soon discovered, and, after giving them an account of our experiences, we retired to our various quarters. I found my old dug-out just as I had left it, crawled in and got a good night's rest and sleep, with a good prospect of another long captivity--how long only the future would reveal.

At this time there were many absentees, but all were accounted for at roll count, which we had gotten so systematized that the count was kept correct in point of numbers (one man only was selected to look after the count of the absentees), but the citizens in the country were continually capturing and returning escaped prisoners.