History of Livingston County, Michigan, with illustrations and biographical sketches, Part 21

Author:
Publication date:
Publisher:
Number of Pages: 617

USA > Michigan > Livingston County > History of Livingston County, Michigan, with illustrations and biographical sketches > Part 21

Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).

was a thick forest of pines, the space occupied by the camp having been cleared away for the pur- pose of its location.

"A crowd of several hundred men, mostly wounded, went into the stockade on the twelfth of July, 1864. [This was the party of which Mr. Kirk was one,-having come there, by wearying and painful stages, from the place of his capture, on the battle-field of Spottsylvania.] We were weak from wounds, and tired and jaded from a ride of more than a thousand miles in crowded cattle- cars ; but we were thrust in among thirty thousand prisoners, and left to our fate. The scene within I have not words to describe. It is true that over the gates were not written in so many words 'abandon hope all ye who enter here,' but it was a fact that a fearfully large proportion of those who did enter never passed out alive. The first inquiries of the prisoners were in regard to the cause they loved so well, and for which they were suffering and dying. What of its victories and defeats ? Does Father Abraham still live? Does the old flag yet wave ? And as listening thousands gathered round, and the stories of the successes and triumphs of the Union arms were repeated, shouts ascended from gladdened hearts, and they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. They suddenly remembered that they were Union soldiers, with higher aims than that of starving and dying in Andersonville. Many had been there for long months. No letters had been received or sent, and they were intensely anxious for news from home. Letters were the soldier's life in our own camps; what joy they would have brought to suffering hearts here ! Our detachment of several hundreds was directed to a certain part of the stockade --- the northeast corner-where we would find some vacant ground. After a long search we found the point indicated, and proceeded to spread our blankets, but there was hardly room enough for all to lie down at night. After this, I went to the creek for water, and when I returned I could not find my place. The ground was all covered with sleepers, and all looked alike to me. I roused one and another, hoping to find my comrade and blanket, but had to give up the search, and finally camping on an unoccupied corner lot, two feet by six, went to sleep. The next morning I found the object of my search about twenty feet from me. The more I explored this place, the more I dis- liked it. The tales told of its unhealthfulness were not encouraging to a sickly person, and reports as to the bill of fare were not satisfactory to a delicate one, and-I wanted to go home. But thousands had died with that same cry upon their lips, and my request was not granted.

103

TWENTY-SIXTH INFANTRY.

"During July the weather became hotter and hotter ; at midday the sand burned the feet; the skin blistered under the sun's rays, and cracked open, and the flies were then a cruel torment. The loathsome swamp grew in offensiveness with every hour, and disease struck down its miserable victims on every side. During these months of July, August, and September, one could see in every direction numbers of men in the last stages of rotting death. The entire lack of vegetable food caused the scurvy to rage among the men in a frightful manner. The gums would become dis- eased and rot away, and men with strong, healthy teeth could pull them out with their fingers. The limbs would swell to twice their natural size and become red as blood and almost putrid; yet, in cases as bad as these, I have known a half- bushel of sweet potatoes, eaten raw, to effect almost an entire cure. If we could have had the precious privilege of picking out from the refuse of the kitchen at home the potato-parings, apple- cores, and crusts of bread, hundreds of lives would have been saved to their country and their friends. I knew there in the stockade a German watch- maker from Philadelphia. Knowing that among the rebels were hundreds of old watches that re- quired constant tinkering to keep them in motion, he made for himself some rude tools, and started a shop. His price for cleaning and repairing a watch was twenty dollars, and he took his pay in sweet potatoes at twenty dollars a bushel, Con- federate money. He was constantly at work. Watches came to him from every quarter, and sweet potatoes followed. Aside from his own ne- cessities, they were distributed among the suffer- ing, and doubtless hundreds were relieved, and many lives saved, by his industry, skill, and hu- manity. I had the pleasure of meeting him after- wards in 'God's Country,' and of congratulating him on the good work he was permitted to ac- complish.

"Inside the stockade, parallel with the lines, and about sixteen feet distant, was the 'dead-line,' marked by strips of boards nailed upon upright posts which were planted in the ground at regular intervals. It was rightly named-the line of death ; to pass it, to encroach upon the fatal spot beyond, brought the penalty of death to all, without dis- tinction. The purpose of its establishment was to guard the stockade against the approach of the prisoners, either singly or in numbers; and the violation of the rule brought instant punishment. Many a soldier, weary of his wretched life, crazed with hunger, and despairing of release, deliberately crossed the dead line, and from the bullet of the guard met the death he sought. Day by day we

heard the crack of the deadly rifle, and the remark would pass along the line that another soldier had received his discharge. But the greatest number met their death at the point where the dead-line crossed the creek on the west side. Those wanting water would go to this spot and reach as far up the stream as possible, to get the least filthy water, and as they could reach nearly to the dead-line, this furnished an excuse to such of the guards as were murderously inclined to fire upon them. I think I am not out of the way in saying that for many weeks at least one man a day was killed at this place. The murders became monotonous ; we could hear the crack of the gun, and the piercing shriek of the victim, and hundreds of throats would yell out curses and cry, 'Oh, give the rebel a fur- lough !' It was our firm belief that any guard who shot a prisoner got a thirty days' furlough. Pris- oners whose tents were near this point-this fact giving them a good opportunity for observation- have stated to me that after a soldier had been shot, the particular guard who did it would not be seen on duty again for some weeks.

" I was at the creek one day for water, and two soldiers, each eager to get the best place for filling their canteens, began crowding and pushing each other. In the scuffle they came near the dead-line (or where it would have been had it been continued across the creek), and in a moment the sound of the rifle was heard, and the poor victim paid a fearful penalty for his thoughtlessness. Most of the guards were very young boys or old men. The more able-bodied were in Lee's or Johnston's army, and the cradle and the grave had been robbed in forming these home regiments. Their ignorance was simply wonderful; they could hardly comprehend that it was any more harm to kill a Yankee than a deer of their own forests. Their minds had been so worked upon by those who wished to create just such impressions, that they believed it was a meritorious act to extermi- nate them as fast as possible. It seemed to be the aim of those who inaugurated this system of things to use every available means to diminish the num- ber of Union soldiers. The condition of prisoners here was well known to those in high authority, as well as the extreme cruelty of those who had charge of them. When the rebel general Winder left the scene of his crimes at Richmond, to take charge of Andersonville, the Richmond Examiner, a paper never suspected of any partiality for Yan- kees, exclaimed, 'Thank God that Richmond has at last got rid of old Winder ! May God have mercy upon those to whom he is sent !'

" The life we were compelled to live here was barely endurable. Multitudes died because they

Hosted by because theye

104

HISTORY OF LIVINGSTON COUNTY, MICHIGAN.

had nothing to do, nothing to read, nothing to en- gage their attention but misery and death. Many yielded to the long strain of privations and ex- posure. Their faculties shrunk under this waiting and longing, until they forgot their companions and regiments, the date of their capture, and finally their very names. Many sunk into this imbecile condition, and had to be carefully guarded by their comrades from running into danger. To our minds the world contained but two grand divisions : the space over which our flag floated we called ' God's Country ;' that covered by the Confederate flag was designated by the strongest epithets at the speaker's command. To get from the latter to the former was the highest object of our desires; bet- ter be engaged in the most menial services under the Stripes and Stars, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness under the hateful Southern Cross. To take the lowest place in the field would now be a delightful change. We did not care to go home ; we would not ask for furloughs, if we could only get to that blessed place within our own lines; once there, there would be no more grumbling at guard duty, no more fault-finding about rations. We would endure cheerfully all the privations that soldier's flesh was heir to. To thousands, hang- ing on the verge of eternity, this question meant life or death.

"Between July Ist and November Ist, twelve thousand men died, the most of whom would doubtless have lived had they been able to reach our lines. There were only two ways by which this object could be accomplished,-escape and exchange. And there were so many perils attend- ing the former, and so many failures connected with it, that our hopes were mainly centered on the latter. Every day there came something to build up the hope that exchange was near at hand, and every day brought something to extinguish the hope of the preceding one. Hope deferred maketh the heart sick, and the desponding and sickly sank down and died under these repeated discouragements. We had rumors, from time to time, of Sherman breaking loose from Atlanta, and of his march eastward; and we prayed that his route might take in Andersonville. Our ears were constantly open for the faintest sound that might indicate his approach. There was hardly an hour of the night passed without some one fancying he heard the sound of distant firing. One would jump up and say, 'Now, if I ever heard musketry firing in my life, there's a heavy skirmish line at work, and not more than two or three miles away, either.' Then another would say, 'I don't ever want to get out of here, if that don't sound just like the skirmishing at the Wilderness the

first day of the fight; it rattled exactly as that does now.' One night there came two short, sharp peals of thunder, sounding almost precisely like the reports of rifled field-pieces. We sprang up in a frenzy of excitement, but the next peal went off in the usual rumble, and the excitement gradually subsided.

"A few days later, in the evening of September 6th, the rebel sergeant who called the roll entered the stockade, and addressed the prisoners about as follows: 'I am instructed by General Winder to inform you that a general exchange has been agreed upon; twenty thousand men will be sent immediately to Savannah, where your vessels await you; detachments one to ten will be ready to march early to-morrow morning.' I was in my tent when I first heard the cheering, and hastened over to where the crowd had gathered. The excitement was simply indescribable, and it increased in volume as the crowd increased in numbers. The prisoners had endured their sufferings with manly firmness, but the emotions which sickness and pain could not develop, joy could; and the boys sang and shouted and danced and cried as if in delirium. God's country, fairer than the promised land of Canaan appeared to the rapt vision of the Hebrew prophet, was spread out in the far vista before the mind's eye of every one. It had come !- that which we had dreamed of, longed for, prayed for, schemed, planned, and toiled for, and for which had gone up the last, earnest, dying wish of the thousands of our comrades who would now know no exchange, save into that eternal God's country to which they had gone.

" In the morning of September 7th several thousands passed out, but our enemies were such measureless liars that many believed that they were only being sent to another stockade, to be out of the way of Sherman's threatened march. On the seventh, eighth, and ninth of September about ten thousand were sent away ; and this gave us more room, so that we could have some exer- cise. We fervently hoped that our comrades had really been exchanged; that they had carried to our friends in the North some news of our where- abouts and condition; but knowing so well the character of those people we were not greatly surprised when we found our friends in the stock- ade at Millen, Georgia, about two months later.

" As hopes of exchange declined activity in tun- neling increased. Escape was a perpetual allure- ment to those who had some health and strength left; it afforded an opportunity for active possibil- ities. Far better to die in making the attempt than to starve and rot in inactivity ; but we could not but acknowledge that their plans to guard

105

TWENTY-SIXTH INFANTRY.

against our escape were well-nigh perfect, as was attested by the fact that out of the fifty thousand prisoners who were, from first to last, at Ander- sonville, only about three hundred and twenty- eight succeeded in getting to our own lines. . . . There were hundreds of patrols, pickets, and guards passing around at all times, watching and guarding every avenue. Several packs of hounds also formed an important part of the establish- ment of the prison-keepers. The human rebel might be escaped, but it was not so easy a matter to get clear of their canine assistants. One man now living in this county has told me that on one occasion three prisoners (of whom he was one), accompanied by a single guard, went out for wood, when they seized and gagged the guard, and bound him so that he could not give the alarm ; then ran for life and liberty, keeping as much as possible along the stream, where the hounds could not follow the scent. After some hours the guard succeeded in getting free, and gave the alarm ; the hounds were immediately put upon their track, and when they heard them in close pursuit they separated and took to the trees; but the hounds followed by their masters, soon came up, and the men were brought down. This man was just on the point of getting down from the tree and join- ing the others, when he thought he would wait until invited to come down. To his great surprise the entire party turned about and retraced their way to the prison camp. As soon as they were out of sight he pursued his way to freedom, and finally succeeded, with much assistance from the colored men, in reaching our lines. We always found the colored people true friends, and there was no corner of the Southern Confederacy so re- mote but that they had heard of ' Massa Linkum' and his 'mancipation proclamation.

" In September an event happened which brought to the minds of all familiar with Bible history the narrative of Moses bringing water from the rock. The stockade was very much crowded, and as there was considerable ground covered by the marsh along the creek that could not be occupied, some of the men asked and ob- tained permission from the rebel officers to dig down the hill along the dead-line and wheel the dirt down into the marsh, thereby gaining an acre or two of ground, which was afterwards used to very good advantage. They were busily engaged in this work when, deep in the hillside, they struck a fine spring of water, as cool and refresh- ing to the parched lips of the sick and dying of the prison as the waters of Meribah to the Israel- ites of the wilderness. The news spread that the waters were bursting forth, and as the maimed and

sick crowded round the healing pool of Bethesda in Christ's time, so did these sick and dying ones come here for a draught of pure, cold water. So great was the crowd that a police force was or- ganized, and the last who came were obliged to fall in the rear of the line. But there was no need of hurrying, for the water poured forth in a steady, constant, endless flow,-fit emblem of the blessings that should flow from the liberties which men were dying to perpetuate.

"For me, this long period of hoping and watch- ing and waiting finally came to an end early in November. An order came that every man must be at his tent, as the doctors were going to exam- ine and send to our own lines those who would not be fit for future service. The doctors soon came in, and were quickly surrounded by maimed and wounded men, with wounds full of gangrene and limbs swollen almost to bursting with scurvy and dropsy, all of them imploring and beseeching the doctors to send them home before they died. From such a sight I turned away. I thought I had no chance in that crowd, but the sergeant of our ward insisted on the doctors seeing my wounds, and to my great surprise they put my name down for exchange. The next morning the bugle sounded for us to fall in. Our names were called and we were marched out of the stockade and again crowded into the cars. As our train left the depot we could see through the trees the fields where more than thirteen thousand of our soldiers were buried,-victims, not of necessity, but of the in- humanity of those who had them in charge.

"Our train ran to Macon, and then turned on the road leading to Savannah. We arrived at that city on Sunday morning, November 20, 1864, and were soon drawn up in line on the dock, to sign articles of parole not to take up arms again until duly exchanged. These preliminaries duly ar- ranged, we got on board a small tug and started down the Savannah River to the point where our vessel lay. As we rounded a point in the river we came in sight of a fort over which our flag floated. Our men, almost frantic with the sight of the stars and stripes, rushed to that side in such numbers that the vessel almost capsized, and the rebel officer drove them back with his sword. We finally arrived in the bay, where we saw our own steamers, laden with clothing for the naked, food for the famishing ones, medicine for the sick and dying, and waiting to convey all to home and friends again. We sprang over the narrow plank that separated the vessels, and were at home. What a night we passed on board that vessel! Men shouted and prayed and sang as if in delirium, and some died, from very joy. Whenever I awoke Hosted by

106

HISTORY OF LIVINGSTON COUNTY, MICHIGAN.

during the night, the voice of singing came to my ear, and my heart joined in the melody. What a delightful sense of comfort and rest we experi- enced for a few days! Food was given us spar- ingly, but we knew there was plenty in reserve when we were able to bear it. The day after we came on board we threw our rags into the ocean, and received a new suit of blue. We were then transferred to another vessel and started North. The very elements were propitious, and we had a delightful voyage, singing with glad hearts ' Home- ward Bound.' Very few were sea-sick, and about dark on Saturday, November 26, 1864, we reached Annapolis, where our wants were all provided for, and we received everything that our condition re- quired."

MEMBERS OF THE TWENTY-SIXTH INFANTRY FROM LIVINGSTON COUNTY.

Field and Staff.

Adjutant Charles E. Grisson, Hamburg, April 15, 1864; wounded in battle of Spottsylvania, Virginia, May 12, 1864; promoted to captain, Company A, July 29, 1864.

Adjutant Harris H. Hickock, Howell, first lieutenant and adjutant, July 29, 1864 ; captain, June 9, 1865; mustered out as adjutant, June 4, 1865.

Non-Commissioned Staff.

Sergeant-Major Herman Preston, Howell, enlisted September 6, 1862; promoted to second lieutenant, Company H, March 20, 1863.

Sergeant-Major William G. Smith, Hartland, promoted to second lieutenant, Company E, May 24, 1863.

Sergeant-Major Lupton C. Culver, Hamburg, discharged for dis- ability, May 4, 1864.

Sergeant-Major Charles S. Fall, Hamburg, honorably discharged June 4, 1865.

Principal Musician Valdmer Grisson, Hamburg, honorably dis- charged June 4, 1865.

Company A.

Captain Charles E. Grisson, Hamburg, July 29, 1864; brevet major United States Volunteers for gallant and meritorious services in the field; mustered out April 19, 1866.

Company B.

Captain Stephen B. Burch, Pinckney, August 27, 1862; discharged for disability, April 15, 1864.

Captain Lucius H. Ives, Unadilla, April 26, 1864; promoted to major, March 7, 1865 ; mustered out as captain, June 4, 1865. First Lieutenant Washington W. Burch, Pinckney, August 13, 1862; died at Alexandria, Virginia, February 7, 1863.

First Lieutenant Lucius H. Ives, Unadilla, February 7, 1863; promoted to captain, April 26, 1864, Company B.

First Lieutenant Thomas C. Chase, Iosco, June 26, 1864; pro- moted to captain; mustered out as first lieutenant, June 4, 1865.

Second Lieutenant Lucius H. Ives, Unadilla, August 22, 1862; promoted to first lieutenant, February 7, 1863.

Second Lieutenant Thomas C. Chase, Iosco, February 7, 1863; promoted to first lieutenant, June 26, 1864.

Sergeant Thomas C. Chase, Iosco.

Sergeant Albert W. Messenger, Iosco.

Sergeant Enos S. Steadman, Unadilla, enlisted August 6, 1862; taken prisoner in action at Deep Bottom, Virginia, August

16, 1864; died of starvation in Salisbury prison-pen, Decem- ber 12, 1864.

Sergeant C. Henry Smith, Putnam, enlisted August 6, 1862; died at Washington, May 27, 1864, of wounds received at Spott- sylvania, Virginia, May 12, 1864.

Corporal Samuel H. Martin, Putnam, promoted to sergeant; hon- orably discharged June 4, 1865.

Corporal Charles R. Dutton, Iosco, killed in action near Peters- burg, Virginia, June 17, 1864.

Corporal Andrew J. Rounds, Marion, discharged October 14, 1863.

Corporal Thomas J. Hayes, Unadilla, died of disease at home, March 16, 1864.

Corporal Henry Arnold, Putnam, discharged for disability, Octo- ber 27, 1863.

Privates.

Ira P. Annis, Putnam, enlisted August 3, 1862 ; died at Alexan- dria, Virginia, March 17, 1863, of disease.

Henry A. Kay, Putnam, enlisted August 3, 1862; honorably dis- charged May 22, 1865.

William Anderson, Putnam, enlisted August 3, 1862; discharged for disability, June 19, 1863.

Burdick J. Abbott, Iosco, enlisted August 3, 1862 ; honorably dis- charged June 4, 1865.

George W. Barton, Unadilla, enlisted August 3, 1862; transferred to Company G.

William E. Burns, Iosco, enlisted August 3, 1862 ; discharged for disability, June 2, 1863.

James D. Burger, Putnam, enlisted August 3, 1862; honorably discharged June 4, 1865.

Myron J. Chalker, Unadilla, enlisted August 16, 1862; died of disease at Stevensburg, Virginia, January 14, 1864.

George W. Chalker, Putnam, enlisted August 6, 1862 ; honorably discharged June 4, 1865.

John G. Chalker, Putnam, enlisted August 15, 1862 ; honorably discharged June 4, 1865.

William S. Chalker, Putnam, enlisted August 16, 1862 ; honorably discharged June 4, 1865.

And. J. Chovin, Iosco, enlisted August 11, 1862 ; died of disease at Yorktown, Virginia, July 16, 1863.

Edwin B. Easton, Unadilla, enlisted December 28, 1863; killed in action near Petersburg, Virginia, June 17, 1864.

George E. Farnham, Putnam, enlisted January 4, 1864; honorably discharged May 22, 1865.

George P. Foster, Iosco, enlisted August 9, 1862; died of disease at Alexandria, Virginia, March 16, 1863.

George R. Finch, Iosco, enlisted August 11, 1862; discharged for disability, October 27, 1863.

Wilkinson Green, Iosco, enlisted August 13, 1862; honorably dis- charged June 4, 1865.

Henry O. Green, Unadilla, enlisted August 6, 1862; honorably discharged June 4, 1865.

Orrin Green, Unadilla, enlisted August 6, 1862; mustered out July 13, 1865.

Richard B. Garrison, Unadilla, enlisted August 7, 1862; killed in action at North Anna, Virginia, May 24, 1864.

William S. Holmes, Unadilla, enlisted August 7, 1862 ; discharged by order, May 18, 1865.

Edward A. House, Handy, enlisted August 11, 1862; discharged by order, May 13, 1864.

Russell Hastings, Iosco, enlisted August 18, 1862; honorably dis- charged May 22, 1865.

John M. Kearney, Putnam, enlisted August 7, 1862; sergeant; honorably discharged June 4, 1865.

And. S. Lobdell, Putnam, enlisted August 20, 1862; discharged April 9, 1863.

Hiram D. Lee, Putnam, enlisted August 14, 1862; honorably dis- charged June 4, 1865.

Watson Lister, Iosco, enlisted August 13, 1862; honorably dis- charged June 4, 1865osted by

107

TWENTY-SIXTH INFANTRY.

Thomas Lister, Iosco, enlisted February 24, 1864: died August 7, 1864, of wounds received at Spottsylvania.

Francis J. Lincoln, Unadilla, enlisted August 21, 1862; transferred to Company G; died of disease at Hampton, Virginia, June 26, 1863.

Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.

History of Livingston County, Michigan, with illustrations and biographical sketches, Part 21

Author: Publication date: Publisher: Number of Pages: 617

Author:
Publication date:
Publisher:
Number of Pages: 617