USA > Ohio > Franklin County > Columbus > The story of Camp Chase; a history of the prison and its cemetery, together with other cemeteries where Confederate prisoners are buried, etc > Part 23
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Retreat found tis in our quarters, and at 10 P.M. taps extin- guished our lights. I have heard that for a violation of this rule the guards would often fire into the block. Believing this to be true, I can vouch for its having happened at least once during my stay. It was during the evening that we gathered around the stove or the long table and discussed matters of interest (the war and the absorbing question of exchange). swapped varns (some of the number being exceptionally good raconteurs), or listened while some "Truthful James" taxed our credulity to the verge of courtesy.
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And here, lest I forget it, I desire to apologize in behalf of our stove. I have known it, when doing its best, to fail to melt the frost on the window panes, less than eight feet away.
"Taps" sent us to our bunks, except such night owls as grouped together and conversed in undertones. Sometimes a voice would . start in song, another and another would join, and though neither voices nor execution were of a high order, the wet eyelids of many a homesick "Reb" would pay tribute to "Home, Sweet Home" or "Only Waiting." It was at night, alone with our thoughts, that we carried our heaviest load, when fancy bridged the distance that separated us from the homes that had been silent to us for many months.
I do not know how nostalgia ranks as a separate and specific disease, but I do know that it handicaps a man terribly in his struggle for life. Later on, during my convalescence in the hospital, one of my command lay near me, and I could hear him murmur to himself, "I shall never see home again ;" and, steadily sinking, Lieutenant Starns turned his face to the wall and died.
During the earlier portion of our stay we constantly looked forward to exchange, and it was this hope that served in a measure to mitigate the ills of our prison life. The "grapevine" spoke to us of little else.
The main feature of this prison telegraph was its complete unreliability. As I remember, it was never correct, even by ac- cident ; but it sang songs of exchange and release, and, while feel- ing the notes to be false, we yet liked the music and hoped it true.
It was toward the fall of 1864 that I began to give up all hope of exchange, and could see no prospect of release save the close of the war or death. I looked the matter squarely in the face, and could see no rational reason why the North should either de- sire or consent to an exchange. The Southern army, unable to recruit its losses, was being depleted; for every man killed. wounded, or missing made a permanent vacancy. With grim humor it was said that our conscript officers had been ordered to take every man not over two weeks dead. Why, then, should the North make the mistake of recruiting the Southern army with fifty thousand veteran soldiers, and they with experience enough of prison life to justify extra exertions in avoiding a second visit ? I could then see no reason for it; and though I have since read much concerning the reasons for a nonexchange, I am satisfied that the above is about the correct solution of the problem.
Were I to write only the experience of the first four months of our imprisonment, I could have little to say in the way of com- plaint aside from the ills which necessarily attend confinement and form a part of every prisoner's lot. It was not heaven, but as: yet it did not represent the other extreme.
Our treatment by the officers of Hoffman's Battalion was, as
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far as I know, courteous enough ; and as to the enlisted men who guarded us, my principal objection, aside from their propensity to shoot, lay in the fact that most of them could not address us as "Rebels" without qualifying the term with the adjective "damned."
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Our food was abundant, owing to our ability to purchase from the Post sutler and the hucksters who came into the prison daily. besides which many were in receipt of supplies from friends and relatives in the North, and hence were entirely independent of the prison rations and fed on dainties not found on the prison menu. The men looked well and strong, and in marked contrast with their appearance later on. Just when the change took place I do not remember, but it came suddenly. I connect it in some way with the spring of 1864. We bade a final adieu to sutler and purveyors of every kind, and realized that a limited ration would hereafter be our only supply, that we must content ourselves as best we could with such quantity as the government saw fit to give.
Money could buy nothing in the way of food; and, speaking for myself, I reached at last that stage when, were it in my power. I would have bartered gold for bread ounce for ounce. We were forbidden to write for food, and it was only by strategy that, if written. such letters reached their destination.
It sometimes happened that the Post surgeon would allow such packages as reached the Island to be delivered to their owners. He evidently had a professional dislike to sickness and suffering.
The vital question with us was the victuals question. As to the daily ration, I remember that it consisted of a loaf of bread and a small piece of fresh meat. Its actual weight I do not remember, if I ever knew. I do know that it was not sufficient to satisfy the cravings of hunger, and left us each day with a little less life and strength with which to fight the battle of the day to follow.
I heard that our surgeons (Confederate) furnished a protest, in which they asserted that the quantity of food furnished each man was not more than sufficient to sustain life. Coffee was un- known, and I remember on several occasions, far apart, receiving two potatoes and an onion. If these were given medicinally, the dose was homeopathic, and it was certainly scurvy treatment.
As the months passed on a marked change was noticeable in the appearance of the men. They became depressed and listless, and unsuspected traits of disposition cropped to the surface. The parade ground was dotted with gaunt, cadaverous men, with a far-away look in their eyes, and with hunger and privation show- ing in every line of their emaciated bodies. It was believed by many of us that this mode of treatment was enforced as a re- taliatory measure; and this belief certainly received strong sup- port when, looking across the bay, we saw a city whose waste alone would have supplied our wants.
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" I have seen a hungry "Reb" plunge his hand into the swill barrel of some mess and, letting the water drain through his fin- gers, greedily devour what chance liad given him, if anything. Speaking for myself-and well aware of what I state-I assert that for months I was not free from the cravings of hunger. One-half of my loaf and the meat portion of my ration were eaten for dinner. I supped on the remaining piece of bread and breakfasted with "Duke Humphrey." I sometimes dreamed of food, but cannot remember in my dreams ever to have eaten it, becoming, as it were, a sort of "Johnson's Island Tantalus."
When we arrived on the Island the rats were so numerous that they were common sights on the parade ground. Later on they disappeared. Many of the prisoners ate them. If asked if I myself have ever eaten one, I answer no, because to cook a rat properly (like Mrs. Glasse's hare) you must first catch him. I have sat half frozen in our mess kitchen armed with a stick spiked with a nail, but was never fortunate enough to secure the game. A dog would have served the purpose better, but the chances were that some hungry "Reb" would have eaten the dog.
One of the Northern illustrated papers published a picture of one of the Belle Isle prisoners which certainly showed an extreme state of emaciation. Some of the mess suggested that I compete with him, kindly offering to back the Confederate entry.
I think they would have won their bets; for, though regretting that I must acknowledge the fact, I am confident that I was the worse-looking specimen of the two. I had entered the prison weighing over one hundred and forty pounds, and then weighed less than one hundred. To a demonstrator of anatomy I would have been invaluable as a living osteological text-book. The pro- longed confinement had told severely on us, and the men could not but yield to its depressing influence. There was but little to vary the dreary monotony that made each day the repetition of the day before and the type of the day to follow. This alone would have been sufficient ; but when scant food and cold were thrown into the scale, it is little wonder that both mind and body should yield under the constant strain. Many of us were far into the second winter of our confinement, and with all hope of release gone. we had nothing left to wait for but the end, whatever that end might be; and it was weary waiting.
It was generally known among us that some mitigation of our condition would be afforded such as took the oath of allegiance : and as this meant increased food and better clothing, some few availed themselves of the offer. But one case came under my notice-that of a member of the mess. He. I presume, could not help it, as it was with him simply a question of endurance, and he gave it up. It was said of him that he froze up early in the first of
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November and did not thaw out until the following June. The prospect of a repetition was too much for him.
It is small wonder, then, that many found their way into the prison hospital (then managed by Confederate physicians, pris- oners like ourselves), and thence to the prison graveyard. . Thanks to the generosity of a Louisiana officer (Col. J. O. Nixon, I think), who furnished the lumber, headboards were placed at the graves of our dead ; and as very many of these were carved in our room, I have some personal knowledge as to their being numerous, though I cannot speak with certainty as to the actual number of deaths or the percentage of mortality. I would here state incidentally that the only occasion on which I passed beyond the limits of the inclosure was when, with two or three others, I assisted in placing these boards in the graveyard. I met and con- versed'with a couple of ladies, the first with whom I had spoken for more than a year. Our appearance aroused their womanly sympathy and, being Rebel prisoners, we excited their feminine curiosity. I waited, and at last it came: "Do you think you are right?" Seated on a grave, I told of Reginald and Rebecca for the last time, the application all the more apropos for the extra year of imprisonment and what it brought.
It was early in January, 1865, that the writer fortunately found himself occupying a cot in the hospital and slowly recovering from an attack of fever. I use the term "fortunately" advisedly. since convalescence brought with it comforts in the way of food. to which we had long since been strangers.
Like Little Dorrit's protégée, Maggy, I have pleasant recollec- tions of the hospital. Not "such d'licious broth and wine," per- haps, nor yet "chicking," but I renewed my acquaintance with the almost forgotten taste of coffee; and while a slice of fat pork would scarcely rank now as a sick room dainty, the surroundings were different, and I regretted the improvement that sent me back to the old life.
Sickness proved a blessing in disguise, for orders came that the sick should parade for inspection, the worst cases to be sent South on parole. Many succeeded in passing muster, and one day in February the big gate swung open and a number of us took up our line of march across the frozen bay-homeward bound-and bade a final adieu to a spot unmarked by a single pleasant recollection.
We left Sandusky knowing nothing, caring nothing, of our route, so long as our course pointed toward "Dixie." The passen- ger coaches which brought some of us sixteen months before were replaced by box cars, which we warmed by packing the floors with earth, on which we built a fire : which afforded a minimum of heat with a maximum of smoke. It was at Grafton, W. Va., that we sidetracked long enough to enable us to sit regularly at table and.
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indulge in the novelty of a first-class meal. It was table d'hote, and I fear the landlord realized but scant profit at so much a stomach and they such chronic cases of vacuum.
One of our men stated that he felt the first mouthful of food swallowed by him strike on the sole of his foot ; but as this state- ment has its foundation on an anatomical impossibility, I give it no credence.
It was here or at some neighboring station that we met a batch of Federal soldiers returning from the South. We learned that they were from Andersonville, and, as usual, we mingled together. comparing notes and indulging in the usual chaff which was gen- erally a feature of such meetings. As we separated they ex- pressed their intention of again visiting us, and in turn were so- licited to bring their guns with them. This practice of poking fun, in spite of its frequency, was rarely carried beyond the bounds of good temper.
In this connection I would mention an incident which occurred on the Island, in which the "Reb" came out second-best.
A regiment of hundred days' men was in camp outside the "pen," and when Morgan was on one of his raids this regiment was sent out to meet him. As they marched by, one of their number sang out: "Boys, we're going to bring John Morgan to keep you company !" In due time they returned. . They had met Morgan and had exchanged their accouterments for a parole. As they went by, one of our number shouted: "Boys, where's your guns?" And quickly came back the retort: "Morgan's got them ; where's yours?" . No reply was made to this. Under the circumstances there was none to make, and the rest of us wished the fellow had kept quiet.
A slow, fatiguing, and uncomfortable trip brought us, via the outskirts of Baltimore, to Fort Henry, and thence to Point Look- out, where we were turned loose in that "pen." Thinking that we had exhausted the capacity of prison life for harm, we were little prepared for the sight which met our eyes as we entered this place ; but, seeing these unfortunates, we felt that we stood in the presence of men who had touched depths of suffering that we had not reached. All along the route we were fearful lest some evil chance should turn us back again to the old life ; but that fear became secondary to the dread lest we should call a permanent halt at this point, and we drew a long breath of relief when we marched out of the place.
There was little need to ask questions. It was entirely unneces- sary to mine for information-the nuggets of misery lay scat- tered on the surface and told the pitiful story without assistance from human tongue. Since that time I have conversed and compared notes with men who had a story of imprisonment to tell. and I am satisfied that, as compared with the enlisted men at
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Point Lookout, Elmira, Rock Island, Camps Morton, Chase, and Douglas, the officers at Johnson's Island merely tasted purgatory ; the men went beyond that.
A few hours too many, and we were checked and counted and loaded on the steamer that was to carry us to .City Point, the last stage of our journey, and for that reason the most satisfac- tory portion of our trip.
As we came alongside the vessel a voice hailed us with, "Have you fellows ever had the smallpox?" and then gave the cheering information that there was plenty of it aboard. He was correct in his statement: but in view of what had already fallen to our share, I think we looked upon smallpox as one of the lesser evils and scarcely gave the matter a thought. It remembered me, however.
We were placed in the lower hold of the vessel, the space be- tween decks being occupied by the sick, and it required skillful maneuvering to mount by the ladders up the hatchway and avoid the filth that trickled down. The contrast between this steamer and the Evening Star was much more marked than the distance · between the passenger coach and the box car ; but our journey was so near an end that a few extra discomforts scarcely added to the already heavy load which was to drop from our shoulders in a few days.
After the "James River," City Point, the flag of truce, the usual formalities. and the march to Richmond. the late inmate of Block 11. Mess 3, drew his forced accumulations of pay and reg- istered at the Spottswood Hotel, paying sixty dollars per diem- not an exorbitant price when we consider that at the time a cord of wood on the lower Mississippi might without much exaggera- tion have been said to be the equivalent of a cord of Confederate money.
Still the pay of a modest lieutenant would not justify a pro- longed stay at these figures; and, finding myself seriously ill. without in the least suspecting the cause, I left by rail, going as far as Charlotte, N. C., where that mode of transportation came to an abrupt termination.
Blazing with fever and dazed from its effects, in company with several others who were bound for the extreme South, I took the tedious walk which slowly carried me through the State of South Carolina ; and it was when nearing Milledgeville, Ga., that I thought for the first time that the eruption which had made its appearance on my body was in some manner connected with the smallpox on the steamer, and all doubts, if any existed, were dis- pelled when, on reaching Montgomery, Ala., I was ordered to the pesthouse.
It was in April, 1865, that General Wilson captured the place ; but, thanks to the pesthouse, backed by a parole, I was unmo-
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lested, and once more started for home. I was indeed a veritable tramp-walking or having an occasional lift on a wagon and wholly dependent for food on the bounty of such as lived on my line of march, often scanty, for the South had been raided until it seemed as though all had been swept away. It was when near- ing Jackson, Miss., that I learned of Appomattox, and that our service had been in vain ; that the voluntary contribution of death and suffering had been given to a "Lost Cause." We were all prisoners of war.
Two years to the month had passed since I was locked up in Port Hudson, and during that period I had heard actually nothing from my home. I opened the gate and, walking up the lane that led to the house. could see the female portion of the family sit- ting on the gallery, none missing. In fact, there was a little niece that had put in an appearance since my departure. Soldiers were too common a sight to excite curiosity ; but a half look of recognition swept over their faces, and as they rose from their seats to get a better view I dropped my valise and sang out : "Come on ; it's me!" I know I should have said, "It is I." but I didn't.
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Then followed a rush and a hugging match, in which the odds were four to one against me.
This happened over twenty-five years ago, and I am not ex- changed yet.
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1
CHAPTER XIX:
PERSONAL STORIES OF CAMP CHASE.
Diary of Capt. A. S. McNeil-Nine Months a Prisoner at Camp Chase -- An Unbiased Story of Prison Life-Going Home at Last-Story of R. H. Strother in Prison at the Same Time as Captain McNeil-Shooting at Prisoners-The Narrative of Lieutenant Mitchell -- He Tells of Lieu- tenant Grasty's Escape-How Captain Herbert Came to Camp Chase -- A Pleasant Deputy Sheriff-The Effects of Overeating.
THE goodly town of Bristol lies in Tennessee and Virginia. One of the well-known business men of the place is Capt. A. S. McNeil, who in 1864 was a prisoner at Camp Chase. The Cap- tain was a member of the Forty-Fifth Virginia Regiment. This regiment was at Cloyd's farm, near Dublin, Va., on May 9, 1864, where it met a heavy force of Federals in an engagement, and Captain McNeil was made a prisoner, as were sixty-one of his regiment. In all, two hundred and seventy-five prisoners made a long and weary march of ten days, during which time twenty made their escape.
The Captain placed at the disposal of the author the diary kept during his imprisonment at Camp Chase, with a brief account of the trip to the prison.
They boarded a boat at Charleston on the 22d, and on the 23d arrived at Gallipolis. From there they went up the Ohio River to Wheeling. At this point the diary says : "We Rebels attracted a great deal of attention, and the wharf was lined with women, children, and old men, looking, probably, to see if some of their friends were among the prisoners."
From Wheeling they went down the river a few miles to Bel- laire, where they went aboard a train for Columbus.
Captain McNeil describes the appearance of the prison, which need not be repeated. The term used, both North and South, for a new prisoner was "fresh fish," and the diary says :
We "fresh fish" were put on Giddings Street. This prison con- tains some three acres, inclosed inside a plank wall, with sixty- four houses in it and twenty men to a house. My residence is
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Giddings Street, Mess 57, west end of prison, near the wall. Gave our money to Lieutenant Sankey, who gave receipts for same. I found, to my surprise, that many prisoners were called "razorbacks," men who were anxious to take the oath of alle- giance; but it seems that the privilege had played out, and I was glad of it.
Quoting from the diary, he states :
A man who will fight two, three, or four years and then leave his country is not to be depended upon. We have a house ser- geant and one street sergeant to superintend the street and draw the rations, make details, etc. I was appointed street sergeant, and soon grew familiar with my duties. The position is one that keeps me very busy, but one which helps pass the time away very well. I have one hundred and twenty-one on this street to look after and to draw rations, wood, and blankets for. When I draw these rations, etc., I divide the same with the house sergeants, and they give them to the men or arrange it to suit themselves. We are getting sugar, coffee, vinegar, beef, bacon, rice, hominy, one loaf of bread or ration of corn meal, and soap.
May 27 .- Only have one dollar in gold, twenty-five cents in silver, and seventy-five cents in greenbacks. Think I will try and learn to make rings, as we can buy buttons from the sutler, also files and sandpaper.
May 28 .- Roll call and a call for men who wish to take the oath, or "swallow the puppy," as the boys call it. There are men here who applied to take the oath six months ago. This surprised me, but out of such a number of men one might expect some "razorbacks." Some men have been here thirteen months and are still "bully" for Jeff.
May 29 .- Nice day ; the sun seems to rise when it ought to set. The days are very warm and the nights cool-drew fifty blankets to-day. Everything seems to go on very well. more so than one not in prison would think. Everything has to move like clock- work, and orders are very strict. Two Irishmen to-day, belong- ing to Mess 57. closed their door and fought for half an hour- neither one badly hurt.
I do not know what I will do when I get out of clothes and to- bacco. Money is very scarce and worth more than I ever real- ized before. No papers are allowed to come in the prison, but plenty of reports of various kinds are circulated.
In 1862 the prisoners bought papers whenever they desired of the sutler.
May 31 .- A lieutenant and a lady appeared on the parapet and walked around the prison. It seemed to amuse them to look at us Rebs and view our awful condition. Some of our men were bare-doing their washing, etc. They have a splendid band here,
M
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which plays every evening at sunset at the east end of the prison.
Thursday, June 2 .- Rained a nice shower, street muddy. Had a visit from an Alabama friend. Four "razorbacks" went out. A "razorback" came into my mess, cursing Jeff Davis and the government generally. Halterman, of the Sixty-Second Vir- ginia, and I politely put him out of the shanty.
Friday, the 3d .- Drew rations-no sugar, no coffee, no candles ; rations shorter than ever before.
Saturday, 4th .- A report is current that the "razorbacks" are to be moved out of this prison.
Sunday, 5th .- Cleaned the street and had inspection. There was another fight in Mess 57. between two Irishmen. Rooney cut the other one badly in several places with a knife. The Con- federate surgeon dressed the wounds.
Thursday, 9th .-- There is a call for volunteers to go into the gunboat service : good many joining : they get $500 bounty.
Wednesday. 15th .- Myself, J. Crockett, two men from Loui- siana, and two Irishmen began to dig a hole to escape: four men scaled the wall and got out. but were caught and brought back.
Saturday, 18th .- Report of an exchange : "razorbacks" reported our tunnel, and we had to fill it up. We had but ten feet to dig until we would have been outside the wall. Another tunnel was nearly completed from Mess 60. but the traitors reported it.
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