The Other Five Escaped Officers
The Other Five Escaped Officers
We were received most kindly. The sheriff asked many questions and said: "I will be very glad to care for you as well as I can until I can find a way for you to go on," but added that it would not be safe for us to remain at the house; that we should eat then and he would take us to a place in the woods for the night; that we should come in before daylight in the morning, eat and return and the same at night. He said: "There is a terrible state of affairs here so near the border, so much worse than it is in the North. My neighbors, some of them, are Confederates and others good Union men. They do not mind going out and shooting each other. Some of the Union men who do not wish to abandon everything and go north, but will not enter the Southern army, stay in the woods in the mountains. Some of them have been there for two years. You see my boy there," pointing to a boy six or eight years old. "We haveendeavored to bring him up to be a good religious, strictly honest and truthful boy, yet if anyone should come here tomorrow and ask him if there had been any strangers here, no matter what they did to him they could not get a word out of him. Isn't that a terrible way to bring up children?" We were taken to the woods. After two or three days one afternoon we saw some men coming toward us through the woods. We supposed they were after us, but as they came nearer we saw that one of them was the sheriff. He had five other prisoners who had escaped from Columbia. All officers, of course. Three of them were from the 101st and 103rd Pennsylvania regiments, which were in our brigade. So our force was doubled.
After three or four days the sheriff told us: "I have arranged for you to go ahead in the morning. A good guide, who has been several times to the Union lines, will go with you and a few who wish to go north. Which of you officers is in command?" he asked. "No one," we answered. "Is that the way you do? What is your military rule when you meet in this way? Who is in command?" "The ranking officer," we told him. "Who is your ranking officer?"he inquired. "Captain Langworthy," they replied. "Then Captain Langworthy is in command," he said, "and all of you, of course, will obey orders. I sincerely hope you will not have any trouble, but you all know there is no telling what you may run into and you cannot be too well prepared. You leave here in the morning, go to such a place in the mountains, which you will reach about night, where some other parties will join you."
We left in the morning. There was the guide and three or four other men and one colored man. The guide had a rifle, one of the others a revolver, which was all the arms we had. I went ahead with the guide. We got on nicely most of the day. Near night, while in the woods walking by the side of a small stream a volley of rifle shots from the other side of the stream startled us. We rushed up the mountainside. When a little way up we looked ourselves over and found we were all there except one of the refugees. We never knew whether he was shot or went in some other direction. I looked across the little valley and saw a small village on the other side and a company of Confederate soldiers marching down the streetwith their rifles on their shoulders. By and by the guide said to me: "You all get behind that large rock. I think there are but two men near us. Joe and I will get behind this and see if we cannot bluff them." They got behind the rock, showing their arms, and as the two men came in sight, halted them. "What do you want?" they asked. "Who are you?" was the reply. Our guide told them they could never find out, for if they came any nearer they would be shot dead; that being only two men it would be worse than foolish to follow us.
After a little more parleying we started on. It was getting dark and began to rain hard. We went over a ridge of the mountains, down the other side and across a small stream, when the guide said to me: "There is no use in our trying to go ahead now; we cannot see anything to tell in what direction we are going and are just as apt to go into trouble as away from it. They will not attempt to follow us tonight; dogs could not follow our trail through this rain. We had better stay here until we can see where we go. What do you want me to do?" "Get us out of this muss and to the Union lines," I replied. "We must have been givenaway." "Yes," he said, "we have been given away, but how shall we get out of this muss?" "By a way they would not expect us to," I said. "They doubtless know that we have started for the Union lines, hence will have every pass over the mountains guarded. We want to go where no one would be expected to go, over the highest, roughest and worst peak of the Allegheny Mountains." "That is easy," he replied. "That is Mount Pisga. We can see that when we can see anything." "All right for Pisga then," I said.
We remained where we were until it began to grow light, then started for Pisga, climbing up its side, much of the time over and around rocks, arriving at the peak a little before night. We went down the other side a short distance and stopped for the night. Down the mountain we could see a valley, with houses and clearings, etc. It was still raining as it had been doing all the day. We ten prisoners were bunched by ourselves and the others in another group, a little way from us. Before lying down I went over where the others were. They had gotten some dry pieces of wood and were whittling as if about to start a fire. "What are yougoing to do?" I asked. "We are very wet and cold," they said; "it would be so nice to have a little fire." "Yes," I said, "but what would it do to you? You can see those lights down there; they can see one here better than we can see those in the valley. They know no one lives here. A light here would bring them to investigate, perhaps before morning, and they would be sure to get us. Would it pay? Now, you must understand fully that there shall not be any light made here. The first one who even strikes a match is a dead man." The guide said: "That's all right, Captain. You may be sure we will not do anything of the kind. We should have known better."
In the morning we went on and got along fairly well up and down the ridges of the mountains until one afternoon the guide said: "Now we are all right; while we are not at the Union lines, we are near enough to be safe. The people here are all right. Down below here are some friends of mine, a man and his wife, who will help us." We all felt gay and skipped along much like school boys, arriving at the friend's house about nightfall. "You wait out here," said the guide, "and I will go in and tell them who we are." He soon returned andsaid there was something wrong, as there was no one in the house, that they had just left, as supper was on the table and partially eaten. Near the house was a slashing. We told him to go there and look for his friends, announcing who he was. He did so and returned with the wife. She said there was a bad company of guerrillas there who were making much trouble and had killed several people. We suggested that the guide and the wife try again to find the husband, which they did and brought him in. He said we were in a bad fix, but he would try to help us on the next morning. We were fed and decided to stay outside. We established a guard and lay down in the yard. In the morning we started out with this gentleman as a guide, going carefully through the woods. We had not gone very far before our guide was called by name by someone in the woods who said: "Where are you going?" "A piece with some friends," he replied. "You are taking a very great risk," he was told. At one place the guide said: "See that large plantation over there and those men digging a grave—the man who lived there was shot by the guerrillas yesterday."
We kept on till, late in the afternoon, we came to a road. The guide said: "I will leave you here. You go up this road a little ways and you will come to a cross road and a store. That is about forty-five miles from my home. Go straight past the store until you come to the river, then cross in a row boat. If there is not one there, swing your handkerchiefs or something and they will come."
The road was lined on both sides with trees and plenty of brush. The guide and I went ahead. Someone spoke to us. Looking toward the side of the road we saw two soldiers sitting on the ground holding their horses. We supposed they belonged to the guerrillas. Our comrades came up, we talked a little and went on to the river, where we got a boat. I asked one of the oarsmen where their ferry boat was. He said: "This is it." "I mean one that will take a team or horses or cattle," I said. "The only way they can take horses across is to go in the boat themselves, lead their horses and let them swim. We used to have such a ferry, but they took it way," he said. "How far up or down the river is there such a ferry?" I inquired. "I do not think there is one within twenty-fivemiles." That information of course relieved our anxiety somewhat. It was about the middle of November. I inquired if they had heard from the election in the North. They said they had and I asked who was elected president. "Abraham Lincoln," was the reply. We hurrahed, although we were yet in the Confederacy.
When we got across it was dark and we were all very tired. Most of our company stopped at the first houses. I started up the road with my four comrades. They said: "How far are you going?" "I don't know," I replied. "We are all very tired, yet I think we do not want to take any chances which we can avoid. If the two guerrillas with some of their associates come over to look after us, either with or without their horses, they will look in the houses. I do not care to be in the first house they search." "All right," they said, "go ahead."
After going about a mile we came to a good looking house and decided to see if we could get something to eat. We rapped at the door and inquired if we could get something to eat if we would pay for it and were told to come in. While at the table I asked how far it was to the Union lines. "Fifteen miles straight upthe road which comes from the river," was the reply. "How will we know when we get there?" I inquired. "Go ahead until you come to a flour mill with a large water wheel," was the reply. "That is practically there. The guards are beyond, but so near that no one will go to the mill who is afraid of the guard. The man who owns the mill is a bachelor and sleeps there, a good Union man. Call him up, he will care for you and in the morning will show you the guards."
We started on. The moon was shining brightly. Soon one or two who were ahead were rolling a small animal around which was lying in the road and apparently dead. Captain Aldrich came up and said, "He is not dead. If you think he is feel of him, it is a possum. We came to him suddenly and he is playing possum. Go on a little ways and then look at him." We did so and he soon raised his head, looked around and scooted out of sight.
As we went on Aldrich lagged behind. We waited for him and I said, "Aldrich, you are very tired. I know that you are a strict teetotaler, take a little medicine, some of this apple jack to brace you up." He said, "No, go ahead,I will keep in sight." We went on slowly, he well behind. By and by I heard a call, "Cap-t-a-i-n, Capt-a-i-n." We stopped. He came up and said, "Captain, where is that bottle?" I took it out, unscrewed the cover and said, "Now drink enough to brace you up. It will not hurt you if you drink it all." He took some and it helped him and we got to the flour mill. We were kindly received and in the morning were shown where the pickets were.
We went to the pickets and when they were relieved went with them to their camp at Strawberry Plains in East Tennessee. This was on Sunday. In the afternoon the rest of our crew came in. After dress parade we ten were furnished horses and escort and taken to a railroad station, the Quarter Master giving us transportation. While waiting for the train and talking with the officers there, we were asked if we had any money. Some had a little, others none. Those of us who had none were at once given $50 or $60 each and were told that when we drew our pay we could send the amounts to the men who had supplied us.
As we were changing cars one day, passing by a station, I saw a man who looked familiar.I went to him and asked when he came down from God's country. He said he had been there some time. "What is your business?" I asked. "An express agent," he told me. "Oh, yes," I said, "you used to be in Elmira, New York. That is where I used to see you. Who else is there down here from Elmira?" I inquired. "I do not know of anyone," he said, "except Major Diven; he is a paymaster at Louisville." "Where does he stop?" I asked. "At the Galt House," the man told me. "He has been recently married and he and his bride are at the Galt House."
We went on and were told we would arrive at Louisville at one o'clock the next morning, where we had planned to take a steamer to Cincinnati. Major Diven was a son of General Diven, who lived in Elmira, New York, near where my father-in-law lived. The two families were intimate and when I was married, the Divens, including the Major, were present.
My comrades asked me where I was going to stop when we got to Louisville. I said the Galt House. "Aren't you very tony? Do you suppose they will take us?" they asked. "That is where I am going," I said.
We arrived on time and went to the hotel, where we registered and were told they were very sorry but there had not been a vacant room in the house since eight o'clock the night before; the best they could do would be to give us cots in the parlor where several others were assigned. We took the cots and were soon asleep. In the morning, after breakfast, I went to the office and inquired if Major Diven was around yet and was told the major and his family had left about a week before and had taken a house. "Where is his office?" I inquired. They told me and I asked at what time in the morning he would be in his office. They thought at nine o'clock. I went to look for my comrades and found them in the waiting room. "Our boat does not leave until four o'clock this afternoon," I said. "We have the day to put in here. Come and take a little walk with me." "Where are you going?" they inquired. "To draw my pay," I told them. "To draw your pay!" they laughed. "There is a United States paymaster here," I said. "Why should we not draw our pay?" But, while they had nothing to do, I could not persuade one to go with me. So I went away alone and found a coloredman sweeping out the office. I inquired if Major Diven was in and was told that he was not, but would be soon and would I come in. I picked up the morning paper from the steps and went in. Soon the Major came. I said, "Major, I am an officer in the United States service, an escaped prisoner of war; I came to draw some pay." "What is your name, rank, regiment and where and when were you captured?" he asked. I told him. He said, "I suppose you know there is an order forbidding us to pay officers or men if they are away from their command?" "Yes," I said, "but how about prisoners of war and especially those who have made their escape? What provision is there for them?" "There certainly should be some," he replied, "but I must first talk it over with Colonel ——, my superior. Did you tell me your name was D. A. Langworthy, Captain of Company 'E', 85th New York?" he asked. "Yes," I replied. "Did you marry Belle Cooke last year?" he continued. "Yes," I said. "Why, I was at your wedding!" he exclaimed. "I will certainly pay you if I have to furnish the money myself, but let me go first and talk with the Colonel." "One minute first,Major," I said. "There are nine others with me, we are all alike, two of them are in the 85th and three others in our brigade." He left and soon returned saying he was told he could give us all one month's pay. I told him that would do nicely and I would go for the others. "Wait a minute," he said, "so that I can have your papers ready for you to sign. When were you paid last?" he inquired. "You will please say nothing about it, for I will take the liberty of paying you for six months." So my check was for something over $900.00.
As They Appeared After Reaching the Union Lines
As They Appeared After Reaching the Union Lines
(From left to right)
Lieut. J. E. Terwilliger, 85th N. Y.Capt. C. S. Aldrich, 85th N. Y.Capt. D. A. Langworthy, 85th N. Y.Lieut. G. S. Hastings, 24th N. Y. Batt.Capt. George H. Starr, 104th N. Y.
I went for the others, they all got some pay and of course all felt better. We arrived at Cincinnati at about five o'clock in the morning. I was somewhat at home there, for in previous years I had been there for some time each year looking after my father's lumber interests. My chums were inquiring for the Quarter Master to get their transportation. I told them I should not trouble about the Quarter Master. "Why not?" they asked. "His office probably will not be open before nine o'clock," I said. "If I can get the six o'clock express at the little Miami station it will make about one day's difference in my getting home and I am getting ina hurry." "How about your railroad fare?" they inquired. "I will pay it and take the chance of getting it back," I said.
I got the train and went the rest of the way alone. When, in the latter part of March, 1864, I was returned to the front from detail duty in the North, I left my wife at my home in New York City. While in prison I learned that she had returned to her father in Elmira, New York. So of course I made for Elmira. Arrived there in the latter part of the night. I started to walk to father Cooke's. While I was in prison my wife had an illness which troubled her head and started her hair coming out. Hoping to save it, she had it cut short and the night before had put it up in curl papers. It chanced that she and one of her sisters were sleeping in a front chamber with the front window open and she was awake and heard someone coming. She recognized my step and shook her sister, saying, "Nell, Nell, get out of here quick, the Doctor is coming!" "There is no Doctor coming for you," said Nell. "I tell you he is. I know his step. Can't you hear it. There—he has opened the gate!" and she pushed her sister out of bed and told her to go.
I rapped on the door, was admitted and embraced by Father Cooke, who opened the stair door and said, "Belle." "Yes, father, I know who it is," she replied. "Send him up." When I entered the room she was sitting up in bed taking the curl papers out of her hair. That was the 20th of November. I had been six weeks on the trip.
That day or the next I noticed several wagons going past loaded with fresh meat, bread, vegetables and other articles of food. I inquired where all that food was going and was told, "To your old camp." "Have they got recruits there now?" I asked. "No," was the reply, "Confederate prisoners." It looked to me as though they were well cared for.
I certainly was well done up. For the first two weeks I did not do much but eat and sleep. It seemed as though I would never get filled up and rested. I would eat breakfast and, before I knew it, be asleep. After I had been there a week or more, one evening my wife's two sisters, young ladies, said, "Father, are you going to the hall this evening to hear the lecture?" "No," he said, "I had not intended to and do not know as I care to." "It will bea fine lecture," they told him, "Doctor so-and-so of New York City. We would like to go but have no one to escort us." I said, "Girls, why don't you invite me?" "We would be delighted to have you go, but fear you would go to sleep," they said. I promised to try to keep awake and we went.
While waiting for the lecture to begin I felt weary, leaned forward, put my forehead on the back of the seat in front and the next thing I knew they shook me up and said it was time to go home.
When I arrived in Elmira I of course reported to Washington that I had escaped, giving my whereabouts. After two or three weeks I received an order to proceed to Annapolis, Maryland, where the exchanged prisoners were received and cared for. After being there a few days I received an order to report to Lieutenant-Colonel Will W. Clark of the 85th New York, at Roanoke Island, North Carolina, who was there with a few of the 85th who were not at Plymouth at the time of the capture.
On arriving there on December 23rd, I found awaiting me Special Order Number 439 by which I was mustered out and discharged byreason of the expiration of my time of service; but which I suppose meant that I did not have any command. I then returned to my home in New York City and the war fortunately was soon over.
So far as I know Captain George H. Starr of Yonkers, New York, and myself are the only persons living of the ten who reached home together.
After arriving at our homes, and after the war had ended we all contributed to a financial remembrance to the "high sheriff" and endeavored to express to him our very great obligation for his remarkable kindness and efficient help to us when we were all in such a critical plight, near the boundary which divided the north from the south during our flight for freedom.