Chapter VII

1864.

PRISON LIFE OF THE OFFICERS.

I shall not in this chapter pretend to give a complete history of Prison Life in the South, only a part. As I look back over the great mass of events that were continually occurring during all hours of the day and night of less than one year, I give up in despair. The inhuman treatment, and fearful atrocities of our brutal keepers are heart-rending, and I can poorly illustrate them. Language is unable to describe the real condition of affairs in southern prisons. No one can present in its true light the fearful suffering experienced in them. Others have contributed sketches for the dark picture. I shall therefore be very brief.

By noon of the 20th of April, the entire garrison of Plymouth was in the hands of the rebels, and all the captured were concentrated on the Washington road. During the afternoon, the rebel cavalry scoured the woods and shot dead every colored soldier and man that was able to bear arms. The number murdered in this way must have been in the neighborhood of one hundred.

We went to sleep that night feeling very gloomy, tired, and hungry, most of us having had nothing to eat during the day. It was nothing new to us to sleep on the ground without anything over us, for we were quite used to that, but we could easily see what we were to expect from the hands of the rebels, and many were thinking of home and how anxious our friends would be to hear of our fate, whether killed in the battle or captured; and if captured, _worse_ than killed. The next day we had twenty-five hard crackers and on an average about ten ounces of raw salt pork issued to us. This had to last us till the morning of the 26th, making five days, thus making five crackers and two ounces of pork per day. On this we had to live and during the day make quite long marches.

Colonel Beach, Lieutenant Colonel Burnham, Major Pasco, Quartermaster Robins, Surgeon Mayer, Assistant Surgeon Nickerson, and Captain Burke, together with the wounded men, remained at Plymouth. About noon of the 21st we took up our line of march, halting about nine in the evening, making a distance of thirteen miles. We marched more or less every day until the noon of the 25th, when we arrived at Tarboro, having passed through the villages of Foster's Mill, Jamesville, Williamston, and Hamilton. Crowds of women and children lined the roadside eager to get a glimpse of the "Yankees," some hissing and insulting us in various ways. On the 23d, the 11th Virginia guarded us, and we learned that the same regiment fought against us on the Edenton road at Suffolk a year before. By the time we reached Tarboro, we were nearly starved, having been out of rations from twelve to thirty-six hours. At noon, some bacon and corn-bread were issued to the officers, and to the enlisted men in addition some peas which were by long cooking softened sufficiently to be eaten. At one o'clock, April 26th, all the officers and the 85th New York went aboard the cars and were on their way to the famous prison pens of the South, thus separating the officers from the enlisted men--only a few of whom lived to meet again at New Berne a year after. Traveling all night in crowded cars, we arrived at Wilmington at daybreak, where we crossed the river by ferry boats, and again taking cars we arrived at Florence, South Carolina, at 10 P.M.

Here we again changed trains, being packed by fifties in box cars. This was a miserable night, as we were packed so closely that we could neither lie down nor sit. Some had to stand up, and those farthest from the door nearly suffocated. Leaving Florence in the morning we arrived at Charleston at 10 P.M. Here another change of cars was made, sixty being packed in each car, and we remained there all night. The next morning some hard-tack and good bacon were issued. Leaving Charleston at seven in the morning we arrived at Savannah at two P.M. Here more rations were issued and another change of cars was made. We finally arrived at Andersonville at 2-1/2 o'clock the next afternoon. Having marched us to a position, where we could obtain a view of the famous pen, Capt. Wirz soon appeared on a horse, making such a comical appearance that we laughed outright. "You Got damn Yanks, you vont laugh when you get in dat Bull Pen," were his first words of greeting. Having been sent to Andersonville by mistake we were not allowed to go in to the Bull Pen, but were marched to a school house or church, where we staid until the next day. Being Sunday, Chaplain Dixon gave us a short sermon from Psalms 37th, which was very appropriate and suitable under the peculiar circumstances in which we were then placed. At half past nine in the forenoon we were placed aboard the cars again, and went to Macon.

CAMP OGLETHORPE, MACON.

Here we went into Camp Oglethorpe, one hundred and ten in number, being all the officers captured at Plymouth, and going under the title of "Plymouth Pilgrims." General Howell Cobb soon rode up on his charger with a bran new saddle and bridle, and introduced himself by saying, "that we were just the fellows he wanted to see." "Why don't you go to the front then," replied Adjutant Clapp. This rather astounded the old gentleman. At this camp one day, Adjutant Clapp was having his haircut and accidently the barber nicked his ear a little. A lady who was at the time passing around the camp noticed it, and the next day sent a little brother into the camp to sell pies, and in the bottom of the basket was a book with a note directed to the soldier with the cut ear, and stating that she was from the north and sympathized with our misfortune. For good reasons I withhold her name, but she was a noble and brave girl, and afterwards risked her life in aiding Federal officers to escape.

On the 17th of May, 900 officers from Libby arrived and were placed in a pen which had been built a short distance from our camp, and in the evening we were also placed there. Here we found Lieutenant-Colonel Burnham, Major Pasco, Quartermaster Robins, and Captain Burke, who were separated from us at Plymouth. Colonel Beach and Surgeon Mayer had been exchanged. Prison life had now commenced in earnest with us and we felt it deeply. We had heretofore been where we could see what was going on around us, and had the liberty of trading with hucksters and others. We were now cut off from the world, _in a pen_, with little or no shelter, and under the command of the most brutal, cruel, heartless, and inhuman men that this world produces. They were General Winder, Major Dick Turner, and Captain Tabb. As it is not the purpose of this history to record all the brutal acts of these men I give two or three to illustrate what fiends we were under. When General Stoneman made his attempt to rescue the prisoners, Winder issued an order called No. 13, which stamps the brute with infamy beyond redemption. In this order, which has been preserved, Winder commanded "the officers in charge of the artillery to open their batteries, loaded with grape-shot, as soon as the Federals approached within seven miles, and to continue the slaughter until every prisoner was exterminated." We had at this time six cannon bearing on us. "Was the prison mined," said Colonel Farnsworth to Turner, the jailor of Libby Prison, "when General Kilpatrick approached Richmond to attempt the rescue of the prisoners?" "Yes, and I would have blown you all to Hades before I would have suffered you to be rescued." Major Turner himself gave the prisoners to understand that if any more attempts were made for their rescue, the prison would be blown to atoms. The following atrocious order from rebel headquarters was afterwards issued. "Any soldier killing a Federal soldier, approaching the dead line, shall receive a furlough of sixty days; while for wounding one, he shall receive a furlough for thirty days." Under this order many were shot, who had no intentions of escaping. On May 29th, Assistant-Surgeon Nickerson was brought into prison. On June 10th, fifty of the officers, (Lieutenant-Colonel Burnham being one of the number,) were taken to Charleston and placed under the fire of the Union batteries on Morris Island.

We had religious services very regularly and they were well attended after the rebels found out that we would have them, cost what they would. I think it was the second service that we had, and on Sunday evening, for during the day word came to the commandant of the prison, Captain Tabb, that "the prisoners were praying for Abraham Lincoln, Grant, and Sherman." Services had commenced in the evening and the congregation were singing the first hymn, when in came Captain Tabb accompanied by the officer of the day. They at once inquired who had charge of the meeting, and being informed that it was Chaplain White, came up to him, and, entering into conversation, told him "he (Captain Tabb) could not allow any praying in there for the President of the United States." Meanwhile the hymn was concluded, when Chaplain Dixon, of the 16th, knowing what was up, at once stepped forward and began to pray, asking God to bless all in authority, especially the President of the United States, his cabinet and Congress, and all his advisers, also that he would bless General Grant and his glorious army; that he might be successful in capturing Richmond, the capital and stronghold of the rebellion; that he would also bless Sherman, spare his life, give him wisdom to carry out his plans, that his army might be a victorious one all through its campaign; that treason might be crushed, and traitors punished; that the time might speedily come when our dear old flag should wave over every village, town, and city of the United States, and we enjoy peace again. When the prayer was finished Captain Tabb withdrew from the crowd saying, "d----n smart prayer, but I don't believe it will amount to anything."

Many attempts to escape were planned, but few were successful. Major Pasco was caught tunneling, and the officer in command ordered him to fill up the tunnel. A revolver was held menacingly at his breast; but he resolutely refused. He was taken from prison and threatened with hanging, but was finally recommitted. On the 4th of July, the rebels gave us four roll-calls in the morning. An officer hoisted a small United States flag, which we all cheered lustily, much to the chagrin of the rebel guards. Then another sang the Star-Spangled Banner and we cheered that. Afterwards, without any preconcerted arrangement, we went into a large building, and held a meeting. Chaplain Dixon made one of the most patriotic prayers we ever heard. Then earnest, off-hand speeches were made, filled with a determination to persevere until the Rebellion should be crushed. Lieutenant-Colonel Thorp, 1st N.Y. Dragoons, was particularly defiant, and the audience showed their appreciation of it by frequent and prolonged applause. Of course such proceedings could not be tolerated by our rebel commandant, and he sent in his officer of the day to break up the meeting. The crowd quietly dispersed, after giving three rousing cheers each for President Lincoln and the little flag, the Proclamation, Grant, and Sherman. To us it was a very satisfactory celebration. In the course of the afternoon the following order was posted on the bulletin-board:

SPECIAL ORDERS NO. 6.

C.S. MILITARY PRISON, }
MACON, GA., July 4th, 1864, }

"I. Lieutenant-Colonel Thorp is relieved from duty as senior
officer of prisoners for a violation of prison rules, and
Lieutenant-Colonel McCrary will again assume that position.

"II. The same order and quiet will be observed on this day as on
any other.

"III. A disregard of this order may subject offenders to
unpleasant consequences.

"GEO. C. GIBBS, Captain Commanding."

After the meeting was over, Colonel Thorp was called out to headquarters, when the following conversation took place between Captain Gibbs and himself:

_G._--"What's your name?"

_Col._--"T.J. Thorp."

_G._--"Were you addressing the officers in the prison?"

_Col._--"I was."

_G._--"What did you mean by it?"

_Col._--"It was the desire of the officers that I should address them, _which I did_, as is the custom in our country on the 4th of July."

_G._--"_Sir_, I shall put you in _irons_, and send you to jail."

_Col._--"Very well, you can do so; but such treatment will not ameliorate my feelings toward you or the Confederacy in the least. We deem it not only a privilege, but a duty, to commemorate the 4th of July as the birth-day of a great nation, for whose defense and perpetuity we are willing to _suffer_, and _die_, if need be."

At this the Captain commuted his verdict to solitary confinement in jail _without irons_; but, before the guard arrived, the order was entirely revoked, and Colonel Thorp was sent back inside the stockade, with threats of summary treatment if he persisted in addressing the officers again on _any subject_.

SAVANNAH--CHARLESTON.

On July 28th, the first division of prisoners went to Charleston. This took of the 16th, Major Pasco, Quartermaster Robins, Captains Morse, Robinson, Burke, Hintz, and Lieutenant Bruns. The next day 600 more left for Savannah. In this squad all the remaining officers of the 16th went, they being Chaplain Dixon, Adjutant Clapp, Captain Turner, Lieutenants A.G. Case, Bowers, Strong, Andrus, Miller, Waters, Landon, and Blakeslee. On our way we busied ourselves by pitching the guards out of the cars when under full headway. Arriving at Savannah we were received by a large delegation of citizens, who were greatly interested, and wondered where our horns and tails were. Great was their surprise that we did not look different from their soldiers. The crowd was very great, and the police, aided by the city militia, could hardly clear the way for us to march through the streets. The officer in charge also was greatly confused, and gave so many wrong orders that it was a long time before we were able to march to the old United States Marine Hospital. We were confined in the yard surrounded on three sides by a brick wall eight feet high. While at this prison Lieutenant John M. Waters was taken sick with bilious fever. After a sickness of two weeks he was taken into the hospital on August 17th, dying the next day at 11 A.M. On the 19th, Chaplain Dixon was allowed to go out and perform the last duty of respect to our comrade in the presence of the Commander of the prison, Officer of the Day, Officer of the Guard, two Lieutenants, and four privates. Lieutenant Waters was very genial and, until his sickness, had kept up good courage. On September 2d, the Chaplains and Surgeons were sent to Charleston to be exchanged. This took Chaplain Dixon and Assistant Surgeon Nickerson of the 16th.

At an early hour on the morning of September 13th, we left Savannah and went to Charleston, where we were enthusiastically received and thrown into the yard of the jail. We here found Edward Woodford of Company I, who gave us some of the casualties of the enlisted men at Andersonville. He reported that the regiment stood it better than the other regiments who were captured at Plymouth, but already sixty had died. Two days after our arrival, Major Pasco, who was on parole at Roper hospital, (together with the balance of the 16th officers who left Macon in the first division, July 28th,) visited us, and through his efforts three days after, we joined him at Roper Hospital, by signing the following parole.

CHARLESTON, S.C., C.S. AMERICA,
SEPTEMBER, 1864.

"We, the undersigned, prisoners of war, confined in the city of
Charleston, in the Confederate States of America, do pledge our
parole individually as military men and men of honor, that we
will not attempt to pass the lines which shall be established
and guarded around our prison house; nor will we, by letter,
word, or sign, hold any intercourse with parties beyond those
lines, nor with those who may visit us, without authority. It is
understood by us, that this parole is voluntary on our part, and
given in consideration of privileges secured to us, by lessening
the stringency of the guard, of free ingress and egress of the
house and appointed grounds during the day, by which we secure a
liberty of fresh air and exercise, grateful to comfort and
health.

"Hereby we admit that this, our parole, binds us in letter and
spirit, with no room for doubts or technicality of construction,
and its violation will be an act of lasting disgrace. Signed:"

_The firing upon the city_ was continued daily notwithstanding our being brought here and placed under fire of our own batteries as a means of saving the besieged city. Cheer after cheer went up as we heard the missiles crash through adjacent buildings.

On September 17th, at 1 P.M., a fire broke out near us. General Foster immediately opened on the place, the fourth shell bursting in a dwelling house near by, setting that also on fire. So accurate were Gilmore's guns aimed that two shells burst in the burning buildings; and the negroes told us that one struck an engine, entirely destroying it, and killing several firemen. One shell struck our wall, tearing it nearly down. Several pieces of shell came into the yard where we were, but no one was injured. One of our officers in Roper Hospital was wounded in the arm by a piece of shell that came through the roof while he was eating dinner, making a flesh wound, smashing up the table, and passing on through the floor. In the evening we often watched the shells coming, and it was a beautiful sight. We first caught the flash of our guns; then, after waiting a few seconds, we could see the missile, which looked like a shooting star, climbing up higher and higher; and, when it reached its full hight, we could hear the report of the guns that sent it; by this time the shell was so near, that we could hear its sharp, shrill shriek; then it gradually descended, and approached until it was right over our heads, when it burst, most of the pieces going beyond us. The report of the explosion then reached us, as we heard the fragments rattle among the brick walls, or crash fearfully through the wooden tenements. Shells from Gilmore's batteries on Morris Island were continually making sad havoc in the city, killing and wounding from one to eight persons daily, and going through entire blocks. Sometimes a single percussion shell would blow up an entire building.

On October 2d, Major Pasco received a letter from Lieutenant Colonel Burnham, stating that he was once more a prisoner of war and confined at Wilmington. This was news that very much surprised us. It seems that after being exchanged at Charleston, he had been home and had got newly fitted out, and was on his way to the regiment. At this time Co. "H" and a few others of the regiment which had been gathered from different points were stationed at Roanoke Island, and this composed the 16th Connecticut Volunteers, on the Union side of the lines. Lieutenant Colonel Burnham took the steamer "Fawn" at Norfolk, and while passing Coinjock, on the Albemarle and Chesapeake canal, they were fired into by guerrillas, who lay concealed near the shore. One was killed outright and several wounded. The remainder were taken prisoners, and the steamer was burned. The prisoners were marched to Elizabeth City, and turned over to the rebel authorities. Colonel Burnham was soon after again paroled.

COLUMBIA.

On October 5th, we went to Columbia. Captains Morse, Burke, and Robinson escaped by jumping from the train, but were recaptured on the 11th, and rejoined us next day at Camp Sorghum.

That we might get wood the commandant allowed a certain number to be paroled each day. Their names were written on a piece of paper, handed to the officer of the day, who instructed the guard to pass them in and out at their pleasure till night. On the 3d of November, Captains Robinson, Dickerson, and Burke, took advantage of this, and successfully escaped, an account of which has been written by Captain Dickerson as follows:

"Upon the evening of the 3d of November, 1864, a large number of officers were paroled for the purpose of bringing wood for cooking and building purposes. Three of us,--Captains Burke, Robinson, and myself--finished getting wood, saw our paroles destroyed, returned to camp, and, after a short time, recrossed the guard-line, and, unsuspected, made our way to the woods. We kept slowly through the woods, until we were safely beyond the reach of the rebels. Night coming on, we traveled through the fields and woods, until we struck a road which ran parallel with the Congaree River; and traveled southward about twelve miles. We then left the public road, and traveled through the woods, toward the river, which was about eight miles distant. Upon the afternoon of the 4th, we fell in with five other of our escaped prisoners from the same camp, who escaped two nights previous to ourselves by bribing the guard. They had been in the swamp two days, and had made an arrangement with the negroes for provisions, and information where two boats could be found. We joined our parties, and in the evening the negroes met us, and furnished us with the promised necessaries. Proceeding to the river, which was about two miles distant, we found the boats which accommodated all of us. At about eleven o'clock, all things being ready we embarked in our boats, and paddled down the river. Early in the morning, we landed, having secured a hiding-place for our boats and ourselves, and devoted the day to cooking and sleep. Darkness again found us upon the river; and we soon passed the bridge of the South Carolina railroad, which was guarded by sentries; paddled all night; and again secured ourselves for the day.

"While engaged, some in cooking, others in sleep, our attention was attracted by loud talking; and soon we discovered a boat below us, upon the river, being poled up the river by negroes. One of our party posted himself upon the bank of the river, where he could hail the boat without discovering the presence of the rest of the party, and, hailing the negro in charge of the boat, informed him that he was in want of provisions. The negro replied that he had no time to stop, and persisted in keeping on his course. When all entreaty failed, the captain told him he was a 'Yankee' officer, escaped from rebel prison, making his way north and needed provisions, and information regarding obstructions in the river. The negro no sooner learned his true character than he immediately landed, secured his boat, staid with us all day, cooking rations, and giving very valuable information. He claimed in return for his service, a sight of the rest of the party, whom he had instinctive shrewdness to know were concealed close by. Night again found us upon the river; and after a few hours' sail we landed at a farm, of which we had been informed by the negroes, where we succeeded in capturing a goat, which supplied us with meat to our journey's end.

"Monday and Tuesday nights nothing occurred to delay our progress toward the desired goal. Wednesday evening, we had been going down the river but a short time, when we reached a ferry, where we made the acquaintance of four negroes, who furnished us with a large quantity of sweet-potatoes, salt, and meat. Upon parting with them, they bade us God-speed and a safe journey. Elated and happy with our success, we kept steadily forward; and soon after we landed to again consult the negroes, who told us we were but five miles from a battery, mounting two pieces, upon the right bank of the river, guarded by rebel soldiers. After receiving other information and provisions, we parted company with the last of our negro friends, and proceeded down the river, passed the battery in safety, and, landing, waited for the darkness of the night to finish our journey to the coast. Thursday night, full of hope, we again took to our boats, and meeting no interference, reached the coast safely.

"The light of Friday morning, November 11th, revealed to us the spars of a ship, which we soon made out to be one of the United States blockade. It was the Canandaigua, Captain Harrison; and after sundry attempts we succeeded in getting safe on board, under the protection of the star-spangled banner. We came north on the Fulton."

Of the many devices for escape, all were not as successful as the above, as our major will testify.

Major Pasco had become possessed of two gold dollars which had been sent him in cans of solidified milk from the north. He had bribed a guard to permit Captains Morse, Turner, and himself, to pass out that evening between the hours of eight and ten, for the two gold dollars and a jack knife. At the appointed time, and all three officers being ready, they approached the dead line, and Captain Morse going first gave the booty to the guard who allowed him to pass and also Captain Turner. At this point an officer who was lying on the ground and trying to escape on his own hook in another manner, jumped up and passed out. The guard had passed out three according to agreement. Major Pasco came along and was halted by the guard, and the following conversation took place:

Major. You agreed to pass out three of us.

Guard. Well I have let out three. You must go back.

Major. That last man you let pass didn't belong to my party.

Guard. Can't help it, I have let out three and you must go back.

The Major undertook to explain matters, but the sentinels along the line commenced to fire at him and he beat a hasty retreat into camp, where he dreamed all night of the officer who euchred him out of an escape.

But the Major was not to be foiled out of a successful escape. He made a second attempt to reach the Union lines by writing out a false sick certificate to pass to the hospital, but he was recaptured after seven days absence. The third time he succeeded. Shortly after the train left Columbia, while we were going to Charlotte, N.C., he jumped off the train and was overtaken by Sherman's army. Lieutenant Bruns also escaped from this prison, but was recaptured and brought back after an absence of ten days. Captains Morse and Turner were returned to prison, having been absent a month. There were so many escapes from this prison that on the 12th of December, the rebels marched us into the city and confined us in the yard of the Insane Asylum with a brick wall around it eight or ten feet high, and eighteen inches thick.

CHARLOTTE, RALEIGH, GOLDSBORO, WILMINGTON.

The month of February was full of rumors in regard to our exchange, but it was an old story to us given out to prevent our trying to escape. On the 14th and 15th we were moved to Charlotte. General Sherman had by this time arrived within two miles of the city and was posting his artillery on the hill, (Camp Sorghum[3]) where we had been imprisoned a few weeks before.

As the train started. General Sherman opened his batteries on the city. Lieutenant Landon and a party of sixteen had managed to hide themselves between the rafters under the floor of the second story of the Hospital building, where they stayed with little or no food for forty-eight hours and fell into the hands of Sherman. Major Pasco, Captains Morse and Turner, who jumped from the first train that left Columbia, secreted themselves in the woods and General Sherman overtook them on his way north. The remaining officers of the 16th were sent to Charlotte with the rest of the prisoners, arriving there on the evening of the 16th, having been delayed some hours at a point 40 miles from Columbia by running into a drove of cattle which the rebels were driving ahead of Sherman's course. The engine, tender, and one car was thrown from the track, killing three beef creatures. This was issued to us, being the first meat of any kind that we had tasted for four months and ten days.

Disembarking from the cars on the morning of the 17th, we marched three-quarters of a mile to a little pine grove, which we called Camp Necessity or Camp Bacon, by reason of some bacon having been issued,--the only meat rations for over four months. The fact that we were soon to be exchanged was now confirmed by the rebels taking off part of the guard and allowing them to use unloaded muskets. Still[4] "old fish" turned away and would not believe it, and a good many escaped, as it was a very easy matter. Captain Hintz and Lieutenant Bruns immediately left, and Lieutenant Johnson with Lieutenant Eli P. Alexander, (Co. H. 26th Mich.,) went out about noon, and nothing has ever been heard from them. It is supposed that they were murdered by guerrillas. On the 20th, we signed a parole not to serve against the Confederate States until regularly exchanged, and that evening we left for Raleigh, where we stayed a few days and thence proceeded to Goldsboro, where we were quartered in the Court House. On the 27th we signed the following parole.

We, the undersigned, prisoners of war, do give our Parole of
Honor, that we will not take up arms again, nor serve as
Military Police or Constabulary force in any fort, garrison, or
fieldwork, nor as guards of prisoners, depots or stores, nor to
discharge any duty usually performed by soldiers: until
exchanged under the provisions of the cartel entered into July
22d, 1862.

About six o'clock in the evening of the 28th, we left Goldsboro by cars crowded both in and outside, amid cheers and songs, bound for Wilmington, which was now in our possession. Riding all night, daylight found us standing on the track at Rocky Point, a few miles from Northeast Bridge, and fourteen miles from Wilmington. This was the picket line and out-post of the rebels. At nine o'clock Colonel Hatch on a special train arrived and proceeded ahead with a flag of truce on the engine. We soon started and reached neutral ground about ten o'clock. About a mile past Marlboro, we came in sight of the "Boys in Blue." Three cheers were immediately given. As the train came to a stand still, all were silent, and we quietly disembarked and were counted through the ranks of twenty Union soldiers, they presenting arms. As soon as we were able clearly to comprehend that there was not somebody at our side with a loaded musket, cheer upon cheer was given, caps were thrown high in the air, some were hugging and kissing each other, and others cried. Whilst some sang, others were laughing and rolling on the ground. Finally our old pans, kettles, bags of meal, and bundles of all sorts were flung high in the air. Cheer upon cheer was given for Lincoln, Grant, Sherman, and _General Exchange_. Some hugged the horse of a Colonel, who seemed to have command over us, but tried in vain to get us into line. Taking up the line of march, a mile brought us to Cape Fear River, and in sight of the United States flag. Cheer after cheer ran the whole length of the line. The 6th Connecticut was encamped on the bank of the river, and at the end of the pontoon bridge which we had to cross, they had erected a handsome arbor decked with flags. In the center of the arch, surrounded with a wreath of evergreens, were the words

"WELCOME, BROTHERS."

A band was placed here, and played "Hail to the Chief who in Triumph Advances." Some few cheered but more were moved to tears, and kissed that dear old flag which they had so long suffered for, and all marched under with uncovered heads. Arriving at the top of the hill, we found the whole division of troops in line to receive us. On reaching camp we partook of a breakfast of United States rations, the first full meal which we had had for a long time. At noon those that were able walked to Wilmington, a distance of nine miles. We were here met by officers who provided us with another meal, and then we were quartered in churches and private residences. The next day (March 2d,) we took the steamer "General Sedgwick" for Annapolis, Md., where we remained a week, receiving two months pay and a leave of absence for 30 days, at the end of which time we were to report at Camp Parole, Annapolis, Md.

Extracts from a statement made in 1867 by Lieut. B.F. Blakeslee, to a "Congressional Committee on the Treatment of Prisoners of War and Union Citizens;" John P.C. Shanks of Indiana, Chairman.

At Macon, for quarters we had merely a roof which sheltered us
from rain; but no protection from the cold damp nights. Rations
consisted per diem of a pint to a pint and a half of corn-meal;
from poor to fair in quality, and occasionally in lieu thereof
baked corn-bread from one to two inches thick, three inches long
and three inches in width, containing a large quantity of water
and very hard; rice half a tea-cupful, or in lieu thereof the
same quantity of beans; salt, a teaspoonful; bacon, from three
to four ounces; invariably decayed and maggoty, with only two
exceptions, two issues of soap were made and that was the end of
trying to keep clean; meat of any kind except the bacon above
mentioned we never saw. No cooking utensils were issued. The
rations of wood were not sufficient to do our cooking. From the
11th to the 18th of July, none whatever was issued, and rations
had to be eaten raw.

This caused much hunger, suffering, and misery, as the beans and
rice could not be eaten. The quality of the water in this prison
was good and usually plenty, though some days the supply was
short. Our treatment here was generally bad. The length of
confinement was three months.

At Savannah we were better treated in every respect than in any
other prison, provided with tents, and cooking utensils, and a
good supply of rations of good quality. Fresh beef was issued
nearly every day. The water though, was very poor; having a
fetid smell, and unpleasant taste, and could only be used for
drinking purposes by filtering through charcoal; or burnt rice
or meal steeped in it. The length of confinement was six weeks.

At Charleston Jail Yard, only a part were provided with shelter;
and in rainy weather the yard was flooded with water, so we
could neither lie down nor do any cooking. In pleasant weather,
it was as hot as an oven. Little or no fresh air could come
within those walls which were twelve feet high, and in addition
surrounded by buildings. When there was a breeze, there were
whirlwinds of dust which would almost suffocate us. The water
was very poor, making a great many sick. The rations consisted
of small quantities of corn-meal and rice, and one ounce of
bacon per day; but after a week or so the bacon was dispensed
with. There were no utensils for cooking, and but little salt
was issued. In addition to our deplorable condition we were
under fire from Gilmore's batteries, whose shells were
continually bursting around us, occasionally coming amongst us
and twice tearing the wall away. On one occasion for sixty hours
we had not a morsel to eat.

At Roper Hospital Prison, in Charleston, our exact rations were
for ten days, two and a third quarts of corn-meal, two quarts of
rice, three pints of black beans (including bugs,) and four
ounces (daily) of fresh beef, or in lieu thereof, two ounces of
bacon. No cooking utensils were to be had. We certainly should
have starved to death here, had it not been for an arrangement
made for obtaining money which enabled us to purchase food of
the citizens. The authorities gave us Confederate money in
exchange for our drafts (in gold) on the North.

At Columbia we were turned into an open field like a drove of
cattle to pass the winter months, without any shelter whatever,
neither cooking utensils, axes, spades or anything were issued
that would enable us to make ourselves comfortable. With scanty
clothing, but few blankets, some without shoes, we were left
here to pass the winter as best we could. Rations consisted of
corn-meal and rice. Twelve days rations of rice made one meal.
Salt was issued in small quantities, and for four consecutive
days we had none at all. On September 26th and 27th, we had
nothing to eat. One or two issues of flour were made, but no
meat of any kind was provided.

While on our way to Charlotte, the train ran into a drove of
cattle, killing three, which were issued to us, making the only
meat rations we had had for four months and ten days. At Raleigh
we met several trains loaded with enlisted men going north to be
paroled. Nearly all were sick and very dirty and black; no soap
having been issued to them for six months. Nineteen out of one
train had died since leaving Salisbury, a distance of 132 miles,
mostly of starvation, though some who were on the top of the
cars were frozen to death. On Monday morning they had half a
loaf of bread, weighing not over five ounces issued to them,
since which time the rebels had issued _not a particle of food_.
It was then Thursday noon. How soon thereafter rations were
issued to them I am unable to state.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] So named, because that was the principal ration we received
while there.

[4] The first six months of prison life one is called a "fresh
fish," the next four months a "sucker," the next two a "dry cod,"
and the balance of his time a "dried herring," or "old fish."
After exchange he becomes a "pickled sardine."

As soon as a new prisoner made his appearance at the gate, the cry
of "fresh-fish," by each one ran through the prison, and a general
rush was made for the gate. An eager group surrounded him, and
while some would be seriously asking questions concerning his
capture and listening to his pitiful story others would call out
"Take your hands out of his haversack;" "Give him air;" "Keep that
louse off him;" "Don't take his clothes;" etc. All this affected
them strangely at first, and produced a hearty laugh for us.