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 myselfback 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.
CHAPTER VI.
An "underground railway"—More paroles—Bloodhounds—Bribing the guard—Bloodhound steaks—Two hundred and fifty prisoners "short"—Back to Columbia—Building barracks—A good tunnel started.
An "underground railway"—More paroles—Bloodhounds—Bribing the guard—Bloodhound steaks—Two hundred and fifty prisoners "short"—Back to Columbia—Building barracks—A good tunnel started.
I was very secretly informed of an "underground railway," by means of which I could effect a speedy and safe exit to and through the Union lines, were I ever so fortunate as to get outside again. I was to go directly west for twenty miles, then inquire for Colonel —— of such negroes as I might see and they would take me to him; he would put me in charge of a guide, who would pilot me in a roundabout way four or five miles, then put me in charge of another guide to lead me to the next station; here guides would again be changed, each guide to lead me in the secret paths and byways as far as he was acquainted, then leave me with another colored friend and so on until I would be run in to the Union lines somewhere in Eastern Tennessee. Time dragged its weary length along, the commandant of the prison was still granting daily paroles to the men to go out after boughs and limbs until fourP.M., each man writing and signing his own parole. At four o'clock the parole was taken up, and the men turned back into theprison by the officer of the guard. But how those "dirty Yanks" were working the paroles. It was so done that every day about as many Yanks were released from the bastile as there were paroles granted.
I will illustrate how this was done: Captain Biggs, of the 147th R.I. Vol. Inft., gives his parole with four others to go out and spend the day; each man gives his parole separately, all to return at fourP.M.Now, Captain Biggs has a friend who is aware that he is out on parole with four others. Along about three o'clock a party presents itself at post number one; this post is allowed to speak to the guard. The party enquire for the officer of the guard, who is called, and he steps inside. Then the men approach him one at a time. The first says, "I am Captain Biggs, of the 147th R.I. Vol. Inft.; I gave my parole this morning to go out and spend the day, but we got hungry and came in after something to eat and to get a little rest; now we desire to go back and finish the day." The officer of the guard takes out his pencil and book, then and there takes each man's name, rank and regiment, and goes to the colonel's tent, compares the names with those signed on the paroles, finds them to be correct, goes back to post number one and passes them out. At four o'clockP.M.those who actually signed the paroles go to the colonel's tent, take up their paroles and are turned back into camp, all having been faithful to their pledges. The other five are now outside and left to their liberty. Of course this program is varied to suit the occasion, sometimes one man claiming the privilege, sometimes none, yet enough to average at least two men a day. But the absent men were always accounted for in the morning, by the plan before referred to, some one else counting in their place.
About this time there had been so many stragglers picked up and returned to the prison that bloodhounds were brought forth. Still this made no material difference, the desire for liberty being so strong it merely increased the caution of the men who escaped, without diminishing their numbers. All sorts of things happened in camp. One night a big hog came in and was at once dispatched by the fire of the guard. Another night a cow walked in and after five shots she was disposed of. Another night two men attempted to crawl out, and just as they passed the dead line a light was started in a sick man's quarters. They were instantly exposed to the guard. The story is that they paid the guard a ransom and then were deliberately murdered. I cannot vouch for this as I did not see the act, but I know such things did occur. Shots were often deliberately fired into camp, and no man was safe unless he was in a dug-out. Many of the guard was susceptible of bribery, however, and some of them carried out their contracts. The Yankees educated them, it is said, in this way: A prisoner would approach the guard with an offer to be passed out; the guard would reply, "That won't do, for you know what the consequences will be if I am caught." The Yankee replies, "I will fix that all right; I will give you this gold watch, also two gold rings; you can give the rings, one to each, to the guards on your right and left. When your relief comes on I will crawl out to you, give you the watch and rings, then continue to crawl on a few feet, jump up and run; then you three guards can shoot your guns in the air. I will be at liberty and you will have done all that could be expected of you." This plan is accepted, the prisoner tells a number of his associates, who have helped to make up the ransom, and they wait until the fire is drawn from the guns. Night comes, the relief is exchanged as expected, all crawl near the dead line, the instigator delivers up the treasures, jumps and runs; the guards fire, not only the three, but from other posts adjoining; now the guns are empty and a stampede ensues. The long roll beats, the cry is "Guards fall in," the cannoneers man the artillery, the camp is patrolled and all found to be quiet; the guard retires, and all await daylight. Then the hounds are sent out, the baying commences in the woods west of camp and can be heard for hours. A number of these men are captured and brought back. One man, whom I saw myself, had been bitten in the face, besides having one of his arms almost torn off.
One day two of the hounds took the back track and came into the camp. They only lived long enough to be dragged into one of the quarters, where their throats were cut, their bodies skinned and their flesh cooked and eaten by their captors.
The officials by this time began to think they were not using proper vigilance, and that their method of taking account of the prisoners was not sufficient. So they came in with a strong guard, drove all the men to one end, established a line across the center, and then passed us back over the line, single file, counting us one at a time, as they did at Libby. I was told afterwards thatthey found themselves short two hundred and fifty men. They searched and probed for tunnels, but in vain; the "parole plan" beat a tunnel all to pieces. Night came on, the guard was doubled, but all was quiet; no attempts were made that night. Next morning we were ordered to get ready to move as soon as possible, and after a few minutes we were marched out and back to Columbia. There we were put into one end of the asylum yard. This was about the first of January, 1865. This yard was inclosed with a brick wall, ten or twelve feet high, and they had made a high board fence across the south end, cutting off about three acres, which was to be our next prison, and into which we were marched. The location was good, with a nice green sod and plenty of good clear water.
The authorities promised to furnish nails, tools and lumber to build barracks with if we would do the work; they to send a mechanic to superintend the first building, which was to be a model for all others. A call was made for carpenters from our number. I was one of many who answered the call. This gave me the first responsibility of any enterprise during my long confinement. The nails and lumber came, also the tools and boss mechanic, who gave us the dimensions of the first house. It was to be 26x26 feet square, eight feet high, with double board crotch roof, a partition in the center and a double fireplace in the partition; the building was to hold thirty-six occupants.
A good, comfortable house was built in short order, and as soon as the outside was done, nails and lumber being plenty, bunks were made, also tables, benches andstools. While this work was progressing I made a scuttle hole to serve as the commencement of a tunnel. It was put down below the surface of the ground about two inches and in the center of the fireplace. Another of the party made a little sled about eight inches wide and sixteen long, the runners rounded at both ends, to be used to draw out the dirt from the tunnel. We surrendered our tools to the next gang which was to build the next house like ours, but before it was completed the lumber and nails gave out and that was the end of the building of the promised barracks. Like all other promises which had been made to us since our captivity there was no fulfillment. So the thirty-six that were housed, including myself, concluded that we would do our part toward aiding the rest, and we very quietly and secretly began digging the tunnel we had started under the fireplace.
One of our party, who was quite an artist with the pencil, obtained permission to go out and make a sketch of the camp, but his real object was to find out where and how long the tunnel was to be. He made the discovery that by crossing under the street, which was about fifty feet, we would open it into a ditch six feet deep, and by going down that a few yards we would come to a draw, with timber on the opposite side, consequently the tunnel would have to be about seventy-five feet long.
The earth was good, solid clay, very hard to dig, but made a good secure tunnel. Our progress was slow, only about four feet a day, and after we had dug about twenty feet a big rain came and the tunnel partly filledwith water, but we bailed it out, scattered it over with dry ashes inside, and went to work again. I have seen the guard time and time again come in with picks and shovels and probe the earth right over that hole, but without success. We had dug straight down from the fireplace ten or twelve feet, then began the horizontal part, and for this reason no ordinary probing could possibly detect the tunnel. But that tunnel was not destined to be completed.
CHAPTER VII.
Five of us have a narrow escape from the train—Friendly negroes—A good old "shakedown."
Five of us have a narrow escape from the train—Friendly negroes—A good old "shakedown."
On the afternoon of February 14th we were ordered out, and put aboard the cars, which held seventy-five men each besides the guard. Three men sat in the door with their feet hanging out and others on top.
I now determined to make another effort to escape. I happened to have in my possession a long, wide, thin bladed bread knife, which had been given to me by Lieutenant Dingly of Rhode Island, while I was in Libby prison, and while we were in the Marine Hospital at Charleston I had found an old file. I now took the file and made saw teeth in the back of the bread knife. As soon as we got under headway and outside of the city I got down on the floor and, working the point of my knife through one of the cracks, began sawing a hole through which to escape when a good opportunity should present itself.
After sawing off two planks I began to saw at the other end, but on getting through the first one, I dropped both plank and knife and again I was without means of finishing my work. I sat down over the hole made by the fallen plank and in that manner kept it covered.Before dark it began to rain, night came on and the darkness became very intense. The train came to a stop and I thought I would test the capacity of the hole to let me through. I found I could squeeze through and I dropped to the ground. I then got from under the car to the opposite side from where the guard sat, but found that we were in a cut about four feet high, on the bank of which was a wood pile which I could not climb. Our car was number three, near the light. I at once took in the situation and got back under the car, where I found six others who had followed me out.
We arranged ourselves under the side of the car, just outside of the rails, on the opposite side from where the guard sat. Just then a guard cried out, "The Yanks are a-trying to escape from car number four" (the car directly behind the one we were under). Lighting another torch, a detail of the guard came down the track and we had to get out of sight. Two of the men got back into the car, but the remaining five of us were compelled to crawl under the trucks and lie there. The guard came on, stopped and looked into our car, also number four and, apparently satisfied, reported, "All's well." The bell rang and the train moved on, going directly over us, as we had no opportunity to get from under without discovery, owing to the light from the burning torch; so we hugged the earth while the entire train passed over us. One of the party had his clothing somewhat torn, another lost part of his coat sleeve, but otherwise we were uninjured. The train being now gone, we began to search for some blankets which we thought had been lost in the melee, but while doing thiswe discovered three men, who probably saw us at the time and, not knowing who we were, ran north; we ran south. We got away from the station, which was called Ridgeway, as fast as we could, and finally stopped to hold a consultation. We decided to go into the woods and stay there until it cleared up enough for us to use the stars to act as a guide, then we would make for the coast north of Wilmington Bay. We, therefore, went into the woods and laid down, but it was so cold we could not stay there, so we got up and began to move to keep from freezing. We went back to the track, then struck the wagon road by the side of the railroad and turned south, one in the advance as a vanguard, the other four following cautiously in the rear. We took turns at being vanguard. When my turn came to go ahead, I had not gone far before I heard voices very plainly off from the road on the leeward side. We came to the conclusion that the road was picketed and that the voices came from the support. It was decided that I must approach the reserve but must not follow the road. So I left the others under a big tree and made a reconnaissance. I started straight for the voices, which were singing; soon I could see lights, which came from three houses now within close distance. I went to each house very quietly, constantly on my guard, and peeped in; I made the discovery that the occupants were all negroes, sitting in front of a big fire that was burning in an old-fashioned fireplace. I knew they were friends, and it looked so warm and comfortable I concluded to go in. I gave a rap on the door, the answer was "Come in," and in I went. They gave me a seat by the fire,and we talked a little about the weather, then I turned the subject and spoke of the war.
They seemed to be pretty well posted and I was convinced their loyalty to President Lincoln could be depended upon. I then told them that I was not a Reb but a Yank. They asked me how I came there. I told them how I jumped from a train load of prisoners, upon which they became very much interested. I began to question them in regard to my safety and as to the danger of betrayal, at which they gave me the assurance that I never would be betrayed by a negro or colored person; and, further, they would both feed and secrete me as far as laid in their power.
Then I told them that I was not alone but had four companions up in the road, who were cold, wet and hungry. Some offered themselves as an escort to go for my companions, and others said they would cook the best they had for us. I accepted their offer and with two of their number went after my comrades, whom I found where I had left them. We all returned to the house again, where they furnished us a supper of hoecake and bacon. We dried our clothes by the fire and, being furnished blankets, lay down in front of the fire for a good night's sleep. Next morning it was still storming, so we could not resume our journey. We were then told that about half a mile from us was a plantation whose occupants were gone from home, and we had better go there to spend the day in the cotton house. They promised to look after our interests. We went and they went with us, but when we arrived there were informed that the master was expected back at noonand it would not be safe for us to remain. Consequently we returned and secreted ourselves under some brush piles where they were at work. Their master lived about twelve miles north, but owned this land and they had come there to spend the winter, cutting cord wood, splitting rails, and piling brush and limbs.
They further stated that the master came there at eleven o'clock on a train which slowed down for him to jump off; that he would stay about one hour, when another train would come along on which he would return home. There were about forty of these negroes, of all ages and sizes from eleven to forty-five years of age. All worked at the slashing, the older ones with the axe, wedge and beetle, the younger ones at piling the heaps.
When they drew their rations they paired off like so many ducks and drakes to prepare and cook the same, each pair composing a mess by itself. After they had eaten their suppers they would have a good time generally, then before retiring they would cook breakfast and dinner for the next day. On the fifteenth, we still lay concealed in the brush piles, each one separate from the other so as not to make a camp that was liable to discovery. The party consisted of Captain Underdown, Lieutenant Moore of an East Tennessee regiment, Captain Ewen, Lieutenant Morgan, and myself from Wisconsin.
When night came we went to the house as arranged and there found the darkies in one of the huts, dancing. After taking a peep through the chinks we entered the large house and were seated. They told us there was a dance in another hut where they were having a mightyfine time. They had a dance every week, but generally came to this house, as it had a floor and was larger, but on account of being afraid they would annoy us they had gone to the other house and were dancing on the ground. We assured them that we would prefer that they would come over to our house that we might see them dance. They dispatched a messenger and in a few minutes they all came swarming in, taking their places on the floor for a quadrille; then an old six-foot darky began to jerk the bow, the old fiddle began to squeal, the caller began his duty, and the dance was on, all keeping time gracefully, and dancing correctly to the call.
Joy was unconfined. After they had danced a few changes Morgan spoke to me and said:
"Prutsman, if you will take a lady and go on the floor and dance, I will."
My answer was:
"Lead out."
He at once presented his arm to "Rachel," a little mulatto of about thirteen years of age, while I followed with one of medium size, about eighteen years of age, so dark that she never had blushed. Lieutenant Moore took third choice, while Captain Ewen closed up the cotillion by leading a large, dusky damsel known as "Rhina Dinah." The set was full and the dance commenced; not to end, however, with a couple of changes, as is the custom now. The changes kept coming; my limbs trembled, and how I longed for the call, "To your seats," that I might get a drink; but those damsels of color proposed to have all the enjoyment possible outof the "Lincum boys," and the caller stood in with them. Finally the cotillion closed with a jig and we seated our partners. The colored folks then took possession of the floor and after a couple of quadrilles invited us to dance again. The invitation was accepted on condition that there were to be but three changes and we again tripped the "fantastic" to the best of our ability. The dance was then at an end, but not the party, for immediately a couple took the floor, facing each other, then another couple took position behind the first; then the lady said to the gentleman: "Can't you catch, can't you catch, can't you catch a squirrel?" This was repeated once or twice, after which the damsel scampered off with the partner after her in a race for life "or a kiss," but it ended in the female being caught and kissed. This was followed up by the other couples in the same manner. I nudged Morgan and told him to lead out again, but he excused himself, saying that he "never would kiss a lady that could not blush." After the kissing party broke up we took our positions on the floor in front of the fireplace to get some sleep.
At daylight on the morning of the sixteenth we were again under cover in our brush piles. The sun broke out from the clouds and sent its rays down upon us. The negroes were chopping and singing as if bedlam had broken loose, and all nature seemed to be having a share in the general jubilee. Soon we heard the booming of cannon and learned that General Sherman was about twenty-five miles south making an attack on the city of Columbia. The negroes took in the situation, and would come to us as they could and tell us that a big battlewas in progress at Columbia. At eleven o'clock their master came as usual, but this time he took the whole outfit away with him. One of them got a chance to slip around and let us know that they had to go, but said that if they could they would leave us some bacon and meal in the house.
Night came and two of us went down to the house in hopes of finding something to eat, but there was nothing there. In all probability too close a watch was kept on the darkies, our army now being within hearing. All talk of a trip to the coast was abandoned, but the question was—would the army come to us or must we go to it?
CHAPTER VIII.
Surrounded by rebel forces—Undiscovered—Skirmishing for food—Sambo—Sambo's schemes—Sambo brings succor—At headquarters—Sambo's reward.
Surrounded by rebel forces—Undiscovered—Skirmishing for food—Sambo—Sambo's schemes—Sambo brings succor—At headquarters—Sambo's reward.
The seventeenth came and found us alone and hungry. The brush piles were secure and we spent another quiet day. When night came we could see the city of Columbia burning and we felt that our forces had been victorious. But we were hungry and something had to be done. It was finally decided that Lieutenant Morgan should cross the main road and the railroad, go to the house on the plantation where we had previously been, and seek aid of the negroes there; at the same time Captain Underdown should take a westerly course to a place where we had heard dogs barking and roosters crowing. They both started on their missions. When Morgan got to the road the first thing that caught his eye was the vanguard of the rebel army standing still, but fortunately he escaped discovery and hid where he could hear some rebel officers talking. He gathered from their conversation that they expected to have a big battle at Winsboro, about fifteen miles north of us, but the orders were to camp where they were for the night. Morganthen hustled himself back with the report of his discovery. The rebel army then began to move around on the little flat that lay between us and the road, not over a hundred and twenty-five yards from us, and prepare for camp. In a very short time the little flat along the sides of that little creek was ablaze with fires of an army cooking their hoecakes, while the mules brayed and the drums sounded the tattoo of the drummers. We were in close quarters, but as long as they did not come any closer we were safe.
Now we will follow Captain Underdown: He was an East Tennessean, the oldest of our party, dressed in butternut and thoroughly at home with the Southern dialect. On arriving at the plantation (Gwyn's) he found a man standing by the roadside holding some saddled horses. After watching him for a few moments and being convinced that he was a negro, he approached him. He told him who he was and what he wanted, which was something for five men to eat. The negro at once fell in with the idea, and told him as soon as he could dispose of the horses he would see to obeying the order and request.
In a few moments a man came out of the house with a lantern, which he gave to the negro and ordered him to put the horses, which belonged to some rebel officers, in the barn. The horses were taken care of as ordered, after which the negro took the lantern back to the main house, then went to his own hut, where he stated the case to his "old woman." He then returned to Underdown with the information that there were five rebel soldiers at his house and three rebel officers at the master's.The wife would bake us something as soon as she could, but would have to supply the rebel soldiers first, for as soon as she got a hoecake baked a soldier would take it and put it in his haversack. The rebel soldiers were finally satisfied and took their departure.
The old lady then baked some hoecake and yams and fried some bacon for us. Sambo fetched it out, gave it to Underdown and told him to come back the next night, when he would get something better, as they would cook some chickens for us during the day. Captain Underdown returned to us with the warm "snack," which relieved us very materially from our two days' fasting. We remained outside, watching, the remainder of the night, while the rebel army slept. As soon as daylight appeared we crawled into our hiding places, leaving the field to the enemy, who soon packed up and started off. All day the road was full of marching soldiers, and when night came the banks of the little stream were again occupied with the camp fires of the rebel army.
As soon as it grew dark both Underdown and Morgan went after the promised chicken from Sambo, but there was no Sambo there. His wife came out, however, filled the baskets and delivered them over, saying that if God spared her another day she would cook more and for them to come again; but her heart was full of grief for she said they had taken her Sambo and all the rest of the boys up to Winsboro to work on the fortifications, and that she never expected to see her Sambo again. Underdown and Morgan returned safely to us after passing a number of rebs in the old road;their baskets were full, so after eating a good hearty meal of chicken and other delicacies prepared by the good old darky woman, we promoted Captain Underdown to brevet colonel and quartermaster.
The next morning the rebel army continued to pass along the road and kept it up during the day. We could plainly hear the tramp and talk of the passing column, but kept ourselves carefully concealed. When night came the campers were few in number, and we started our foraging party out again. When they arrived at Master Gwyn's they found that old Sambo had returned. He said that they took him with the rest to Winsboro to work on the fortifications, and, while they were detained in an old warehouse over night, he managed to crawl up through the chimney, out on the roof, then down to another roof, and finally to the ground, after which he took the long walk home and "was mighty tired." Master Gwyn told him he was very glad to see him back, as he needed him, that he had always been a faithful servant and he wanted to keep him as long as he lived.
I will try to give the rest of Sambo's story in his own language. He said:
"Massa telled me dat de Yankee awmy would soon be heah and dat I must take de boys dat am left down in de field and dig some holes in de groun', and dat we mus' bury all de hams and de bacon and de flowah and de groceries and covah dem ovah wid de dirt fust, den wid old dirty straw, den when dey got heah I mus' take de mules and de boys down in de old sage field, wheah de brush is mighty thick down dare. Now, Itells ye, gemmen, when Captain Sherman gets here dese yer niggahs and his boys and dem mules will come out of dem brush; and next dem hams and dat bacon and dat flowah will come out of dat groun' and I tell ye, gemmen, dere will be a great resurwection heah on dat day, ho! ho! ho! ho! haw! haw! haw! haw!" and the poor old slave laughed until the tears streamed down his black cheeks at the thought of this wonderful scheme to outwit his master.
They then gave Sambo a few instructions which were to the effect that, as soon as our army arrived and he could see the Stars and Stripes, he must fetch some of the Union soldiers over to where we were; that he would find us secreted near the middle of the slashing, under the big piles of brush. They then bade Sambo good-night and returned to us. It was now the evening of the twentieth. We could see Sherman's campfires and hear the beat of the drums for retreat, as well as the taps.
The rebs were few in number, but on the alert. Morning came and found us still under the brush piles, but everything outside was amazingly quiet; after an hour or so we could hear a heavy rumbling noise in the air, which became more and more distinguishable, until finally we could hear the talking of a moving army. Morgan crawled close to me, put his mouth to my ear and said:
"Prutsman, we are inside of the Union lines, you can't fool me on that dialect." After listening another moment he said: "I am going out there to see."
My reply was:
"I object; if you cross that flat and it is not our army we will all be sold within two miles of the Stars and Stripes."
He left me to consult with Captain Underdown, saying that if he agreed, he should go. He came back, however, admitting that Underdown had protested, saying he must keep quiet and wait for Sambo to come and deliver us to our friends. In a few minutes more we heard mounted men near us, urging their horses over limb and bush and finally came to a halt. Then a voice could be heard in a sort of a prolonged: "O-o-o-o-o-o-o! O-ho-o-o-o-o-o!"
Then one of the mounted men said:
"Halloo again, they will hear you next time."
Then the voice again resounded, this time as follows:
"O-ho-o-o-o! you five men dat am hid in dat ar brush dare. Why don't you come out? Here am friends; dey have come to protect you."
That voice was familiar, and with a great sigh of relief we came out. There was Sambo with a broad grin on his phiz, and, with him were four of our own men, all mounted on mules. Well, no words of mine can describe the emotion that was exhibited at this sight. We were too overjoyed to express our feelings in words just then. Near by was a squad of Sherman's bummers in command of a lieutenant, whose name I cannot now recall. We gave him our names, rank and regiments, then all went back to Master Gwyn's plantation, where we found a span of mules hitched to a light carry-all. Sambo did not forget the "resurrection," so, after dividing the groceries, hams and flour with Master Gwyn,he packed a good share in the wagon with his family and drove off. We all went to the railroad, where the bluecoats were engaged in tearing up the track, heating the rails and twisting them into knots. We went directly to the headquarters of the Thirty-second Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry, in command of Colonel De Grotte, with whom both Lieutenant Morgan and Captain Ewen were acquainted, and, under the grand old flag of that regiment, we were again breathing the free air of heaven, on soil protected by the Stars and Stripes, and after an imprisonment of sixteen months in the bastiles of a traitorous and revengeful enemy. What a change! We could scarcely realize it. I looked at Old Glory, as she swung to the breeze, and I remembered our feeble attempt to celebrate the Fourth of July on that fateful day when we were charged by the rebel guard and told that we would all be blown to kingdom come if we did not desist at once. How grand that little flag looked then! Now, I could gaze upon the banner of the free, as she waved in the breeze, knowing that this time its full meaning was a reality. Tears ran down my emaciated cheeks, my tongue was paralyzed and my poor weak limbs could scarcely support my body. My mind, so long inured to the hardships of confinement, seemed to be giving away and to be scarcely strong enough to endure the realization of such a sudden and happy change. But, God be praised! we were no longer under the surveillance of those who were trying to destroy the significance of Old Glory, and we felt that time and good food would soon restore us to our normal condition.
While we were still at Colonel De Grotte's headquarters an orderly rode up, presented the colonel with an invitation to Colonel Tilton, commanding First Brigade, First Division, of the 17th Army Corps, inviting himself, his staff, and the escaped prisoners to visit his headquarters. The invitation was at once accepted and we went over, followed by many soldiers and contrabands. After being presented to Colonel Tilton, who received us with great cordiality, and giving our experience very briefly we were again invited to visit the division headquarters, in command of Brigadier General Morrow. Here we were presented to the general and his staff and here we related our experience in the brush piles, and how we were fed by the negroes there and afterwards relieved by Sambo. General Morrow then wanted to know what had become of Sambo and his family. On being informed that they were at Colonel De Grotte's headquarters he at once dispatched an orderly for them (Sambo and family) to come to him. In a few moments Sambo drove up, when the following dialogue took place:
Gen. Morrow—"What is your name?"
Sambo—"Sambo-Sambo Gwyn, sah."
Gen. Morrow—"Did you feed and care for these escaped prisoners?"
Sambo—"Yes, sah, I did, sah, de best I could, sah."
Gen. Morrow—"Where are you going now?"
Sambo—"I am going to follow dat ar flag (pointing to the Stars and Stripes) till I get out ob dis rebel country, sah."
Gen. Morrow—"How are you and your family going to live?"
Sambo—"I have got something in dat ar wagon what we raised ourselves, sah."
General Morrow then sent for his quartermaster and told him to give Sambo a position in his headquarters' train; he then turned to Sambo, instructed him to follow that train and, if he needed any assistance, to at once report to the quartermaster. Sambo raised his hat, thanked him very politely and departed on his mission, a proud and happy man.
CHAPTER IX.
General Logan—General Sherman—Clean at last—General Hobart's hospitality—Luxurious ease—A ghastly reminder of horrors escaped—Washington "short"—Ordered back to my regiment—An honorable discharge.
General Logan—General Sherman—Clean at last—General Hobart's hospitality—Luxurious ease—A ghastly reminder of horrors escaped—Washington "short"—Ordered back to my regiment—An honorable discharge.
We were conducted to General Logan's Corps headquarters, were received by "Black Jack" with the same courtesy we had received at the other headquarters, and related some of our experience. Once more we were summoned; this time to see General Sherman. We found the hero seated by a good hot fire, composed of both rails and railroad ties. We were introduced to him and his staff and again made to review some of our late experience while effecting our escape. The general gave us a little talk, then instructed his adjutant general to give each of us a pass which would enable us to pass all guards and all patrols until further orders. The passes being written, General Sherman seated himself at a table, put his own signature to them and we had the pleasure of receiving them from his own hand.
After thanking him from the deepest sincerity of our hearts, we returned to the quarters of the 32d Wisconsin, where we found plenty of hot water and soap, also some extra clothing which had been found in some knapsacks, and right there and then we discarded our vermin filled garments, which had clung to us since our incarceration in old Libby, gave our bodies a thorough fumigating and scrubbing and arrayed ourselves in the new clothing given us, after which we looked and felt more like human beings.
On the morning of the twenty-second, while the regiment was standing in line waiting their turn to march in the passing column, a carriage drawn by a matched team of dapple-gray horses and driven by a soldier, approached and presented us (the Wisconsin escaped prisoners) with an invitation to come to Brigadier General Hobart's headquarters, First Brigade, First Division, Fourteenth Army Corps (The Acorn). We accepted the invitation, took possession of the carriage, and for the next twenty-four days we had the privilege and pleasure of holding down those seats on the line of march, which was almost a direct line northward. At the end of the first day we found General Hobart and bivouacked with his brigade at a place called Black Stock in North Carolina, nearly forty miles from Ridgeway Station. General Hobart, being an old Libbyite who had escaped through a tunnel from the prison in February, 1864, had a warm spot in his heart for us, and the reader may rest assured the welcome he gave us was no unmeaning affair; and the fact that he had furnished the carriage for us on this march gave emphatic evidence that he was fully aware of the hardships which we had been through.
The next morning the corps countermarched back into South Carolina, a distance of fifteen miles, then turnedeast, leaving the rebel army, which had been massing in our front, far in the rear. The remainder of my stay with that army was indeed pleasant, we were so comfortable in that carriage; besides, when meal time came, we enjoyed the luxuries of the quartermaster's table and every attention was shown to us which could in any way add to our interest and pleasure. At the end of the twenty-fourth day we reached Fayetteville, where we bid adieu to our carriage and those who had shown us so many courtesies. After a few preparations we took a boat for Wilmington.
While waiting at Wilmington for the boat we learned there were about seven hundred ex-prisoners there, enlisted men who were too weak, from their long confinement and sufferings, to be moved north. I visited them, thinking that perhaps I might find some one among them who had been captured with me. On my arrival at the first large warehouse, where a number of the men were, I went in. And what a horrible sight greeted my eyes. Instead of men who should have been in the prime of life and in the full strength of noble manhood I beheld, stretched out on blankets laid over a little of hay, a number of emaciated forms, looking more like skeletons than living beings, their eyes sunk in their sockets, many with no hair on their heads,—all arranged in a circle around the room with their heads toward the wall. I looked with horror upon that scene. I searched for faces, or even one face that was familiar. Alas! they looked at me in utter blankness. I continued my search and in all that number I found but two who could tell me their names, and even those two couldgive me no definite answer or information other than to name their regiment. My mission was vain, I could not talk to them; and they could no more answer my questions, than if they had been six months' old babies. Some of them could and did laugh; but, oh, such a laugh! It reminded one more of the babbling of an idiot than that of a sentient, human being. They would roll up their eyes at me and stare, then turn them in their sockets until the white appeared, causing indescribable shudders to creep over my frame. And these beings, when taken into custody by the southern "chivalry," were the flower of the best blood and brains in the North. They went forth to do battle for their country and their flag, in all of the pride of intelligent manhood, many of them from the best schools and colleges in the land; others from homes of comfort and affluence, where wives, mothers and sisters ministered unto them with all the love and devotion incident to a sacred home and fireside. They went forth to battle in full command of their strong physical constitutions, only, by the misfortunes of war, to fall into the hands of a set of men who, by all the rights of the best Government the sun ever shone upon, should have been the humane protectors of the fallen foe, but instead thereof had been more brutal in the treatment of their own fellow-citizens, victims of the same misfortunes of war, than had ever been dealt out by the savage Indian tribes of North America, or the cannibal natives of the Sandwich Islands. What a sad commentary upon the teachings that had been inculcated into the minds of the youth of those States, to perpetrate which—the oppression of a down-troddenrace—they had rebelled against and attempted to destroy the Government which had been founded to provide homes for the poor and oppressed of all nations. No wonder that God in his wisdom finally overthrew the accursed institutions that were responsible for these atrocities.
After subduing my wrought-up feelings over the sights I had witnessed, I called at the quartermaster's office where I was given transportation on a Government transport to Baltimore and thence by rail to Washington; also an order to report to a certain officer on my arrival at the capital city. On reaching Washington I immediately reported as ordered, but I had to await my turn, being put off from day to day, as there were so many on the list who preceded me. Many of them were the same men with whom I had spent my prison life, who had been paroled and put through the lines and were now settling up their accounts, receiving their pay and getting their final discharge from the United States Government.
On reflection I concluded it would be better for me to see how my own account stood, so I went to the second auditor's office, and lost no time in having the clerks produce the books. I found that I was "short" as follows: "One cone wrench, 30 cents; one cap pouch, 35 cents; total, 65 cents." I produced the money to pay the shortage, but was informed by the clerk that the shortage could not be paid in that way. It then suddenly occurred to me that the aforesaid accoutrements had been lost in action, and I made an affidavit to that effect and my account was at once squared on the books.Since that time I have learned that many an officer was kept out of his pay for no more trifling thing than to be found short in the invoice of accoutrements for which he had receipted. Payment for the same was always rejected until their loss was fully explained. "Lost in action" was the best and easiest way out of the dilemma, and, fortunately for me, it let me out very nicely.
After I had reported to the officer every morning for two weeks, I finally received an envelope. I stepped aside to open it and found, inclosed, an order for me to report to my regiment within the next thirty days. As it happened, I had not been paroled, consequently I was still in the service of the army. The thirty days gave me ample opportunity to visit my friends, and I enjoyed my leave of absence very much. During that short period Lee had surrendered, Johnson was trying to dictate terms for capitulation and—the bloody contest was over.
When the thirty days were up I found my regiment at Burke's station, near Appomattox, from whence we immediately returned to Washington, where I marched with my regiment in review. After that, ten of the western regiments were cut out of the Army of the Potomac, organized into a separate division by themselves and placed under the command of Brigadier General John A. Morrill, formerly colonel of the 24th Michigan. My division reported to Major General John A. Logan, at Louisville, Ky., where we remained for a time, then went to Jeffersonville, Indiana, where I was mustered out of my regiment, July 3, 1865. We thenwent to Madison, Wisconsin, and on September 15th, I received my final parchment.
I had served three years and eleven months south of the Mason and Dixon line and worn a soldier's uniform for four years and two months. When our regiment was first equipped we were clothed in gray, but later, in common with all other soldiers under the Stars and Stripes, we were given the blue, and that was our color to the end of the service.
While with General Morrill I had the honor of being assigned to his staff and signing my name as A.A. D.C. (acting assistant aid-de-camp), serving in the saddle and on duty. I frequently visited General Logan's headquarters, at Louisville, Ky., and, had the war lasted two weeks longer than it did, I would have received a major's commission. As it was, when I received my final discharge I donned citizens' dress and returned again to the county and state which I had represented with pride and honor, believing that I had only done my duty as a soldier should. I had obeyed orders.
C.M. Prutsman.
Lexington, Nebraska, December 22, 1900.