Chapter IV: Part 4

We were about thirty-five miles away the last night of our travel, and we had got very hungry. I had slipped ahead of the boys to see if I could not get some hoecake before the rest of them came up. I had advanced ahead about three miles, and had come to a large block house, about half a mile south of the railroad. I went up to the door and looked in an old stile window. In the east end of the house was a fireplace, and close to this was a half dozen pairs of boots, while in the corner sat as many guns. I stood there a short time, when I knocked on the door. Presently there was a gruff voice which demanded to know who was there. I told him I wanted some hoecake. He again demanded a knowledge of me as to who was there. I told him that I was a friend. Soon he told the men who were on the floor to get up in haste, and when I saw that they were all getting up, I ran about seventy rods in the direction of the railroad. Here I waited until the boys came up and I told them what had happened. The old pilot concluded to try and make them all surrender, but in this we were mistaken, for we could not make them do so. They seemed to be desperate in regard to giving up their arms, so we had to abandon the idea of taking them. We all started on again to finish up our journey.

There was nothing of any importance which occurred the balance of the way. The next day we arrived at the Knoxville river. Here we found the railroad bridge was gone, and there were ferry boats to take the people over the river. When I saw the stars and stripes once more I shed tears of joy to think I had arrived into our lines, and I had great reasons to thank God for His deliverance from worse than death in those prison hells.

Here I was taken to the commander’s headquarters, and I told him something of the privations I had gone through, and after I had been given some dinner I was taken to the sanitary commission department. Here I found an old man by the name of David Scott. He was assistant surgeon of the Hastings hospital of Knoxville. This old man took me to the sanitary commission where I was given a fine suit of navy blue clothes and a hat with an eagle on one side. Oh, how grand this made me feel to get a good warm suit of clothes on once more and to be free.

The next day I was given a pass to go to Washington, and how glad I was to take the train in the direction of home. I started and every eastern bound train that I could get on to without asking any questions I would get on, until I finally found myself in New York City.

Then the next place I found myself was in Pittsburg Pennsylvania, within ninety miles of home. Here I was accosted by a provost marshal, who asked me where I was from. I told him. Well he concluded that I had been taking a very good pleasure trip at the government’s expense. He put me aboard the train and started me for Harrisburg, and when I arrived there I met my old colonel, Chauncey Rodgers, whom I found at the Soldiers’ Rest. He induced me to go to the state capitol at Harrisburg. Here he introduced me to Maribee Lowery, a state senator of Pennsylvania. Here I was seated above all of the leading senators and related the story of my escape, while a shorthand writer wrote it down as fast as I could tell it.

After I had sat and told the story of my escape for nearly three hours a doctor came to me and felt of my pulse and told Mr. Lowery that if he intended to do anything for me he must do it soon, for he told him I was coming down with some fever. Now Mr. Lowery gave me a letter of introduction to the adjutant general of the war department, and the next day after I got to Washington I received a thirty-five days’ furlough to go home.

Mr. Lowery told me when I came back by the way of Baltimore and completed the tale of my escape that he would give me five hundred dollars in gold. Now when I started from Washington and got on the train I found an old man who had been at the Howard hospital at Washington, and who had buried a son and had just started for home. I told him where I lived when at home, and found that he lived about thirty miles from Waterford, Erie county, Pennsylvania. This old man took care of me until I reached home.

When I got to Harrisburg I was so sick that I did not know what was going on around me, and when I arrived at the station at Waterford it was along about the last days of January. The snow was about two feet deep and drifted for a distance of some two miles from the station to a depth of ten feet. I got into a box car and remained in my old friend’s care some two hours, while an old lady went two miles over some terribly deep drifts to notify the stage driver of the condition I was in.

During this time the good old man had tried to get me into some Irish shanties near the station, but without any success. I still remained in this cold car until my feet were badly frozen, and when the stage did come there came with it a man by the name of Clifford Stafford, a distant relative, if any, who had been discharged on account of wounds received in the Battle of Gainsey’s Mill or Hall’s Hill. Now when I got home I never knew my own folks for five long weeks, and when I did bring myself through I did not have a spear of hair on my head, nor did I have hardly any soles on my feet, so badly were they frozen while escaping and being exposed to so much snow and frost.

This tale may not be so interesting to many on account of its being so long since the close of the war, but nevertheless it is a true story.

Oh, how sad is the memory of the past! If my faith was all I had in this world I should consider myself most miserable, but I thank God that while I still continue to suffer, my faith is in Him.

When I got well I learned that my folks had made ready to have funeral services for me, as Comrade Ledierer had sent word to them that I was killed way back there at the negro shanty, at which place we were separated from each other.

Now the time had come for me to return to Washington. General Lee’s army had surrendered, and my time of service had nearly expired and my furlough also.

At last the day came when I bid my kind old mother and friends good bye and once more started to join the army.

My desire now was to continue the tale of my escape from prison to the Senator from Pennsylvania, and get the gold he had promised to give me, but when I got to Harrisburg, I found that he had been taken ill and had been sent to an insane asylum, and while there had died, at least that was the report at that time.

Soon after I got to Washington we were all mustered out of service and sent home.

While I was on my way to Washington, and while in Baltimore waiting for a train to go to Washington, there was a guard who attempted to arrest me. I had been home three months, under a doctor’s care, and of course my furlough of thirty-five days had expired, but I had a sworn certificate from the doctor and a pass from the provost marshal of the place where I lived, but this did not suit the guard, who was bent on taking me for desertion.

After twenty-five years had expired I got my ransom money from Uncle Sam on account of that guard at Baltimore keeping my furlough.

Now this ends the tale of my escape from rebel prisons, and since all of this prison suffering I have lived in Oceana county, Michigan, and have reared up a family of five children, one boy dying at the age of thirteen years. I have had both shoulders broken, my right shoulder blade, right arm and left hip misplaced and broken, and also my left leg below the knee, and am now left almost a total cripple.

This ends the short tale of suffering, but suffering not ended until this life is closed.

Transcriber’s Note:

The following changes have been made to the original publication:

Page 6
rebels had very strong foritfications _changed to_
rebels had very strong fortifications

Page 52
crevises of the rocks _changed to_
crevices of the rocks

Page 72
on small abuttments _changed to_
on small abutments

Page 77
through the crevises _changed to_
through the crevices

Page 85
to thank God for His deliverence _changed to_
to thank God for His deliverance

End of Project Gutenberg's In Defense of the Flag, by David W. Stafford