USA > Ohio > In the 50th Ohio serving Uncle Sam : memoirs of one who wore the blue > Part 14
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).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18
stockade one night. I do not remember if they succeeded in getting away entirely or not.
Some of the prisoners got the guards interested in a trade, and that gave the two comrades a chance to climb the stockade and make a break for freedom.
This little incident created quite a stir among the Confederate officers and men for a short time, and the outcome was that they were a great deal stricter with us after that.
My third New Year while in the service was spent in Meridian prison. If the reader will take the pains to compare the three, he will find quite a contrast between them.
Some of the prisoners that were captured at Franklin were sent to Andersonville prison. I am very thankful that I escaped going to that awful den. Any of the prisons were bad enough, but some of them were more cruel than others.
While we remained at Meridian, we got along very well.
On the 9th of January, 1865, we were once more put aboard the cars and shipped to Castle Morgan, Cahaba, Alabama, where we arrived on the 12th. I think we went as far as Selma on the cars; remained over night, and then marched to Cahaba, the next morning being greeted by the cry of "Fresh fish!" as we entered the stockade.
CHAPTER XXI.
Description of Cahaba Prison-Cruel Treatment of Its Unfortunate Inmates.
Castle Morgan, the Cahaba prison, was a large double brick building, situated on the west side of the Alabama River, near where the Cahaba River empties into it.
The building was nearly two hundred feet long, and I would judge one hundred and twenty feet wide. It had double doors in the north or up-river end; the walls were fifteen feet high, and only partially covered, a place near the center being left open.
Bunks were placed around the walls that would accommodate six hundred men by tight squeezing ; the remaining two thousand five hundred men that were there that winter had to sleep on the ground,
Our water supply, I am glad to say, was abundant, and I thought pure. It came from an artesian well not far from the
137
IN THE FIFTIETH OHIO
prison, being led to the center of the building underground by covered wooden troughs. It came up in the prison into a large wooden trough, or rather box, that we used for drinking and cooking purposes. Then it passed out of that into another box, where we washed our hands and faces from. Thence it was led through our closet vaults, and then out into the river.
"The water, of course, when first dipped up was too warm to be palatable, but after setting in a vessel for a while, was very refreshing to one that was thirsty. It was delightful water to bathe the hands and face in on a cold morning.
A wrong impression has been made on the minds of many about our water supply. By reading a book published by a Dr. Hawes some years ago, in describing our water supply, he says that it came from an artesian well in the town of Cahaba, and was led to the prison through open gutters, thereby receiving on its way the filth of the streets. He seems to base his knowledge on the report of the Confederate surgeon, R. M. Whitfield, which was found in the Confederates' archives.
The report said that the water in its course to the prison was subjected to the washing of hands, feet, faces and heals of sol- diers, citizens and negroes, and in it were rinsed buckets, tubs and spittoons of groceries, offices and hospitals, and that in it could be found the filth from hogs, cows and horses, as well as from the streets and other sources.
But I have lately seen and conversed with Dr. Howard Hen- derson, who at this date, July, 1905, is living at Hartwell, Ohio. He contradicts the above statement, and tells me that there was a large artesian well in the town, but our water supply came from a smaller well, not far from the prison, and that it was led under- ground to the prison in covered wooden troughs, and I am willing to take General Henderson's word, as I don't think he is the man to wish to misrepresent the matter, but I give the reader both statements to choose from. That's the best I can do, as I never got out to see for myself.
While I was there, I was out of the stockade once during my imprisonment, but I went out for wood, and got no farther than the wood yard. But I will say that while I knew the water was warm, still while I was there I always supposed it to be free from impurity.
". Our rations consisted of about two-thirds of a pint of corn- . . meal ground, cob and all, and very coarse at that, and a small
138
SERVING UNCLE SAM
piece of bacon, or a small piece of fresh beef per man for a day, and at very rare intervals we would be given a few negro peas that were full of bugs. How would you like this fare, you well-to-do Americans ?- who call the veterans who saved this country for you, "Government paupers."
A stockade of heavy planks or timbers was built around the prison, being set in the ground three or four feet, and reaching above ground twelve or fifteen feet. A walk was placed on the . outside of the stockade near the top, where guards paced day and night. This stockade was far enough away from the building on. the north side to afford us room for a cook yard; while, if I remember rightly, on the south and east sides, the stockade was only about ten or twelve feet from the building.
There was a door or gateway near the northwest corner of the stockade, and on the north side two pieces of artillery standing ready to carry death and destruction into our ranks if we should make a break for freedom.
Six feet from the stockade inside was the dead line, so called from the fact that if a prisoner stepped across it the guards had orders to kill him.
About every ten or twelve men had a skillet issued to them, in. which to cook their scant rations. One man out of ten would be allowed to pass out after wood once in ten days, and what he could carry in his arms, or on his shoulder. This one trip would have to run his squad the ten days.
Such is a brief description of the vile den that we turned into that 12th day of January, 1865. Truly our misery now commenced in dead earnest.
General Howard Henderson had been in charge of the prison the summer before we came in, but he had been promoted to General and Commissioner of Exchange, and now Major or Colonel Jones was in command.
There was a wide difference in the two men. General Hen- derson was kind, and did what he could to better the condition of the prisoners, while Jones was heartless and brutal, and did not let an opportunity pass to show his bitter hatred of the poor prisoners who were so unfortunate as to come under his charge.
It has been told of him that he said on one occasion: "I am sorry that the damned blue-bellied Yankees are so tough. They don't die fast enough. If I could have my way, I would hang every devil of them."
139
IN THE FIFTIETH OHIO
I have never met a Cahaba prisoner but what spoke well of General Henderson, but were very bitter against Major Jones.
Before we entered Cahaba, we were all searched, and had to give up all moneys, watches or other valuables we had; they told us that all those things would be put in a safe and when we left there everything would be returned to us again. I never learned whether they kept their promise or not.
I had a five-dollar Confederate bill that I turned over to them, but I got that back in checks a few days afterwards, and specu- lated on it, buying bread from the prison sutler and selling it to the prisoners again at a profit, thus making my own bread free.
. There were so many little smoky fires in our cook yard that some of the men were almost blind from the smoke. No axes were given us to chop up our wood ; a railroad spike had to fill the place of ax and wedge, and a billet of wood did service as a mall.
So a request that we often heard was: "Partner, will you loan me your spike to split up some wood?" A spike was prized very highly, and they were kept brightly polished by their constant use.
The wood we got was mostly green pine, and made more smoke than it did fire, and required some one to continually fan it with an old hat to cause it to make heat enough to cook our corn- bread.
A number of the prisoners made mush out of their meal and ate it that way, but the five of us Company "K" boys had man- aged some way (I can not remember how at this late date) to get possession of a smoothing iron heater, and that we used to bake our bread in.
Here is where our three-quart bucket came in good play. We used it to mix our cornmeal in, and also to make mush in. We did not pretend to eat only once a day, and that could not be called a meal; it was only a mere taste.
We would bake a cake in our iron heater, and then I would cut it into five equal parts, and then one of the five would turn his back, and the cook would point to a piece and ask whose it was, and the comrade with his back turned would call out the name, and this was repeated until each one got his share. This plan generally gave satisfaction.
The rations were so very scant that we had to use great care in order that each one would get his portion.
My mess of five agreed to be kind of saving with our meal and try to get enough ahead, so we could cook two meals a day,
140
SERVING UNCLE SAM
and about the time we were ready for that luxury some thief stole our meal, so that put an end to that plan.
There was stealing going on all the time; the thieves in there would steal anything that was loose. They would steal blankets off of each other at nights, and would almost steal the shoes off your feet ; in fact, if you wished to keep what little you had you were compelled to make it fast to your body, or have some one watch it night and day.
We were all given warning of the dead line before we passed into the stockade, and as a general thing we gave it a wide berth, but one evening just before dark I got permission with two or three others to cross it, and pull some dry slivers off the stockade.
But the' guard must have seen some of his officers coming, for just as we got busy getting our slivers he yelled out at us, and wanted to know what we were doing there. We made one jump back on our own side, and I never tried to cross it any more.
As he was the one that gave us the permission to cross it, he either wanted to see us jump, or saw some officers coming, was the way I accounted for his action.
There was no one shot for crossing the line after our arrival there that winter, but I learned there had been several shot the summer and fall before our coming.
The guards we had that winter were mostly old men and boys. I imagine that some of them were just as strong Union men as we were; it seemed that some of them wished to be humane, and were as far as they dared be; they were simply caught in the trap, and could not help themselves.
One of the guards by the name of Daniel Boone (I don't know whether he was related to the famous Kentucky trapper or not) said that he was placed on guard one morning on a beat that, ran from the doors to the stockade on the river side.
:" A short time afterwards, as he returned to retrace his beat he found one of the prisoners walking the same beat behind him. He drove him off, and in a short time found the same man walking behind him again, and he said this was repeated three of four times.
Boone said this was the only instance that he felt like shooting a prisoner, but he said he was quite provoked at the time to think the man would act that way, and the only way he could account for the man's actions was that he was discouraged, and had given
141
IN THE FIFTIETH OHIO
up all hopes, and wanted Boone to end his misery with a shot from his musket, and I judge that was the true reason.
In the daytime we were allowed out in the cook yard, but at nights we all had to stay inside the old building and two sets of guards were thrown around us, one set inside the building and the other on top of the stockade outside, and it almost seems as though I can hear the familiar call yet of : "Post No. 4, half past two o'clock, and all is well."
The early morning occupation of all who had ambition enough to try to care for themselves was to strip off their clothes and skirmish for graybacks, for in this way only could we manage to keep the little pest from literally eating our bodies raw, for the very dust of old Cahaba was alive with them, and they did not believe in race suicide either, for they were all married and had large families, and they appeared to thrive on Yankee blood, for some of them were large and robust enough to have carried good-sized knapsacks.
The Confederates counted us every morning to see if any of us had gotten away in the night. None escaped that I heard of through the winter.
A great pastime among some of the prisoners was "chuck- aluck." They would commence the game soon after daylight and keep it up as long as they could in the evening, and although the Confederate's tried hard to get all the money out of the prison, yet I saw quite a number of greenbacks handled by the chuckaluck players, and if I am not badly mistaken there were some fifty and one hundred dollar bills among them.
Those that had no money played for buttons and other trinkets.
The only spot that my squad of five could find to sleep at nights, when it was raining, was used as a path or passway through the day, and black, filthy mud would be worked up to the depth of three or four inches, so that when it came time to lie down one of us would take a chip or something of that kind and scrape away the black ooze down to the solid ground, and then thrown down our old rags and lie down, all facing one way, and lie that way till our hip bones felt as though ready to come through the skin.
And then one of us would hollow "Spoon !" and then the five of us would flop over on the other side, and thus we would wear the long nights away.
When the weather was fair and no rain falling, we slept out in the open, where there was no roof over us but the sky. Here
142
SERVING UNCLE SAM
we had more room, but when it rained, of course we would try to crowd in under shelter.
I don't think we had any snow there that winter, but a great deal of rain fell, and some nights were cold, and we suffered, for a great many of the poor men and boys had no covering.
I think the last prisoners sent there were in a worse condition than were those before us; it looked to me like those that had the bunks were better off, but God knows we all suffered enough.
It has been said that Cahaba was the best prison in the South. Well, if it was, God pity the worst, for I consider that Cahaba was the ragged end of misery, whittled off to a sharp point.
We were permitted to write letters to our friends, but of course they had to be read by those in charge, and if there was nothing contraband in them they were forwarded to their destination. I sent two letters to my people while there, and in order that the reader may know my condition and feelings at that time I shall copy the letters here in full. There is not much news in them, but I was compelled to make them brief and to the point.
While my parents were in deep trouble because I was a pris- oner, yet it filled their hearts with joy that they could receive word from me in my own handwriting, and in a measure they were comforted by my apparent cheerfulness.
"Military Prison, Cahaba, Alabama, "January 14th, 1865. "My Dear Parents, Brothers and Sisters :
"I seat myself this beautiful day to write you a few lines to let you know where I am at the present time. I suppose you know ere this that I am a prisoner of war.
"I am at present at Cahaba, Alabama; am treated as well, I suppose, as a prisoner can expect to be treated.
"Andrew J. Pouder, son of Leonard Pouder, is with me. We are getting along first rate. We are both in good health and spirits. "I feel that God is with me, and I have that strong faith that teaches me that He will bring me out all right.
"Tell the folks where I am, and tell them to write me. .
"Direct 'Military Prison, Cahaba, Alabama.' Write only on one page. I have filled my limits, and will close with love to all.
"Your affectionate son and brother,
"ERASTUS WINTERS."
"Military Prison, Cahaba, Alabama, "February 10th, 1865.
"Beloved Parents, Brothers and Sisters :
143
IN THE FIFTIETH OHIO
"I take the present time to pencil you a few words to let you know I am still on the land, and among the living, for which I return my sincere thanks to God, who is the maker and giver of all good gifts.
"I have written you once before since I came here, but have received no answer, but of course can put up with it; at least, I have to whether I want to or not. I am still in good health and spirits, and able for my cornbread and sow belly.
"Today the sun shines warm and pleasant. I would love to be out to enjoy the free air of heaven, but it seems to be ordained otherwise.
"I stand ready at all times to be ready to submit to the will of God, knowing He doeth all things well.
"Should you see Leonard Pouder, tell him his son Andrew is with me, and is in good health and spirits.
"Be sure to write, and direct by 'Military Prison, Cahaba, Alabama, by way of Vicksburg, by flag of truce, in care of Colonel Howard Henderson.'
"Tell the folks to write and tell me all the news.
"This leaves me well. May it hasten to those who wait for tidings.
"With love and good wishes for all, I am as ever, "Your loving son and brother,
"ERASTUS WINTERS."
When those letters had been inspected by the proper officers they were enclosed in an envelope made of brown wrapping paper and addressed to my father at Ludlow, Kentucky, and also the words, "Prisoner's letter," were written on upper left-hand corner, then turned over. and the following was written on the flap of the envelope: "Examined and approved, H. O. M. Henderson, Capt. and Acting Com. of Exchange, C. S. A."
They were not sealed, but forwarded and came through O. K. to my father at Ludlow, Ky. I have one of the envelopes yet, and it is quite a relic of the lost cause.
The reader can see by those letters that I kept up my nerve and tried to appear cheerful to the folks at home, while at the same time I was suffering, but being stout and healthy and full of Yankee grit and pluck I would not give way to despair.
It would have been much better for the poor boys if they could all have kept up their courage like this, but, alas! many of them would give away to grief, and did not have the courage to try to better their condition, but would sit down or lie down and not even try to hunt the vermin off themselves, but would allow them to multiply and increase on their bodies until they became so
144
ยท SERVING UNCLE SAM
numerous they would suck the very life-blood from their poor, emaciated frames, and they would become weak and sick, be taken to the hospital, where death would soon end their misery.
Reader, you may doubt the truth of this statement, but I affirm before high Heaven that it is the truth. I saw men in Cahaba prison whose backs were eaten raw by the vermin, and the hair of their heads was stiff with them.
These were exceptional case, of course, where the men had given away to despair, and hope had long ago taken its flight from their breast. Ah! these were the days and scenes that tried men's souls. Someone has called this prison "Cruel Cahaba," and no word in the English language could better describe it.
CHAPTER XXII.
Cahaba Prison (Continued)
Odd Characters-The Insurrection-The Flood-A Break in the Dark Clouds at Last.
Among three thousand men there are always some odd charac- ters, and we had a few of them in Cahaba.
There was one I remember who could imitate a dog in some ways to perfection. If the boys would toss him a piece of bread he would snap it into his mouth the same as a dog. It was quite interesting and laughable to watch him.
: Then there was a big, hearty, jolly Sergeant that was always seemingly in a good humor, who kept his mess in pretty fair shape, as he always tried to keep something of a laughable nature before their minds, and did not allow them to become discouraged and hopeless. .
"By Mighty" was his by-word, and "By Mighty" was the name he was known by in the prison.
There was one squad that would get together of an evening and pass away an hour or so singing songs. Among their favorite songs was "The Yellow Rose of Texas," and another about some chap named Jimmie that had been drafted into the army. Some of the words, as I remember, run something like this :
145
IN THE FIFTIETH OHIO
"Here is the hat he used to wear,
The very same pants, the patch and the tear, But Uncle Sam gave him a brand-new pair When he drafted him into the army.
CHORUS
"So, Jimmie, farewell; Your brothers fell 'Way down in Alabama ;
I thought they would spare
The lone widow's heir, But they drafted him into the army."
It was well that we had some such characters with us. They put a little spirit into us and helped to brighten with their cheer- fulness some of the dark hours that dragged by so slowly in our gloomy, filthy den.
I do not remember of hearing or seeing any religious service that winter in the prison, but there may have been such services held, and I did not see or hear them. But I am sure there must have been many a silent and earnest prayer wafted up to a merciful God, asking that His protecting arms might be thrown around us, and that we might soon be liberated from this accursed den, and once more be permitted to bask in the free, bright warm sunlight of heaven.
I remember one day of seeing one of the prisoners with quite a lot of cornbread in his arms start through the prison to sell or trade it to the prisoners. I do not know how he came to possess such a supply of bread, but it is quite likely he had stolen the meal from other prisoners ; perhaps it was he who had stolen the meal from my mess. Be that as it may, there were others that looked on with suspicion, as well as myself, and they whispered the magic words : "Let's mug him." No sooner said than done. That corn- bread was scattered to the four winds, to be eagerly grabbed up by the half-famished men and greedily eaten.
Mr. Pedlar had sold out much more quickly than he expected to, but his profits were nit. If he stole the meal, they served him just right. He could not lay the blame on any certain one for his loss, for the boys butted into him from all directions, so he just had to grin and bear it.
This was one mode of "mugging," and the thieves and thugs in the prison practiced it on new prisoners that they thought had
146
SERVING UNCLE SAM
anything worth stealing. If any one in the prison had money he could purchase from some of the best-natured guards sweet pota- toes, cornbread, chickens and eggs. One dollar in greenbacks would buy as much as ten dollars in Confederate scrip.
There was a sutler in the prison part of the time that sold wheat bread and some few other notions, but there were very few of the prisoners had any money to buy anything with.
I noticed that those men that put on a bold front, kept up their courage and took what exercise they could each day seemed to hold their own a great deal better than those who, becoming discour- aged, gave up hope at once; but I must admit that it requires a pretty stiff backbone, backed up by a double amount of nerve, for one to keep up his courage and cheerfulness where they are not only deprived of their liberty, but day after day and night after night are made to suffer with the cold for the want of clothing and fire, with hunger gnawing at their vitals. And then add to this. suffering the creeping and crawling and biting of hundreds of vermin as they suck the life blood from the poor, emaciated bodies.
Surely one had to have nerves of steel and eyes of faith to see any silver lining behind as dark a cloud as this.
Small wonder then that under these distressing circumstances, with no ray of hope to lighten the gloom, that men would even court death by crossing the dead line, that the deadly bullet of the guard might put an end to their misery.
No commissioned officers were put in Cahaba prison with us privates, but among the batch of prisoners that arrived there in January was a Captain Hanchett. He was said to have belonged to the 16th Illinois Cavalry, and was Assistant Adjutant General to General Capron. He with about a dozen others had been cap- tured by General Forest in Tennessee, and among them was an E. C. Spencer of the 8th Michigan Cavalry. Those two agreed to work together in an attempt to escape.
Captain Hanchett was in disguise, having traded his uniform for a citizen's suit after his capture, so was not known as an officer by the Confederates at Cahaba.
He had not been in the prison many days till he had matured a plan in his mind to release all the prisoners at Cahaba. His plan, as I have since learned, was as follows:
With a few trusty men to disarm the inside guards at night, rush out and capture the guards and arms outside of the stockade ; then march to Selma some ten miles up the river, get arms, artillery
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.