USA > Pennsylvania > Martial deeds of Pennsylvania, Vol. 2 > Part 48
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In September, to keep us out of the hands of Sherman, we were removed by rail to Charleston and placed in a pen upon the race- course. Here we were treated better, as far as food was con- cerned, as ladies from the city brought us many things; but the ground was very low, so that when we got up in the morning we were wet and covered with mud. We remained here until the stockade at Florence was finished, which was early in November, when we were removed thither. The nights were now getting quite cold and damp on account of heavy fogs. By this time we were almost without clothing, and with not more than one blanket of any kind to six men. It was almost impossible to get a stick of wood, as those who had been first turned in had appro-
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priated all. Among men suffering as we were, the claims of friendship had little weight, and those who had fuel would see their destitute companions die rather than give up an article of such priceless value. Here Sergeant Joshua E. Dyer died. Poor fellow ! Starvation and cold were too much for him, and after giving a message to his mother, he expired in a hole which we had dug into the earth, and covered with dirt. In this we had lived, and here he died, so changed with starvation and pine smoke that his mother would not have known him. Sergeant Bryan also died here after suffering over two months. I do not think he would have weighed more than seventy-five pounds, although he, had been a large man. Privates Garrett, Lenney, Kelly, Wood, and Moran expired after long suffering.
In November there was a special exchange for those who were considered so near dead that they would be of no further use to our army as soldiers. None of my company were included in this exchange, although many of the regiment were. About this time I came near dying with the typhoid fever, having no one to give me so much as a drink of water until a young man, Charles Carpenter, became acquainted with me. To him I no doubt owe my life. At this time the average deaths per day were about fifty, as the fever was very fatal amongst us.
In January the nights became severely cold, and hundreds of poor fellows had their toes frozen off, and you may imagine how they must have suffered, as they had not so much as a rag to put around them. This in many cases led to gangrene, which almost invariably ended in the loss of both legs, a result not favorable to further service, but entirely satisfactory to our keepers. About the middle of January the prisoners on the east side of the creek were moved across to the west, to bring the whole body more together. By this change hundreds, who had made themselves in a measure comfortable, were thrown out of shelter, when they suffered terribly, and died by thousands.
In February we were removed to Wilmington, North Carolina, for exchange. But as General Terry had attacked the place, we were hurried on to Goldsboro, out of the way. We were trans- ported on platform cars at night, with nothing to lie on, and no covering except it was a rag that had once been a horse-blanket.
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It is impossible to describe our sufferings on these cars, as seventy- five or eighty were forced on to each, rendering it wholly impos- sible to lie down, and almost certain death to stand up. Every time the train stopped to take wood or water, some half dozen frozen bodies were thrown off by the roadside, and it may seem past belief when I state that those bodies still remained where they had been thrown, three weeks afterward, when we returned to Wilmington. At Goldsboro we fared much better than at any previous place in the matter of a supply of food, as we had sufficient corned beef and crackers to satisfy hunger; but we suf- fered terribly from the inclement weather, as we lay in the woods without any shelter. On the night of the 28th of February we were crowded on the cars and started towards Wilmington, and although it rained steadily on us all day we were comparatively happy, as we knew we were on the way to be exchanged. I can never forget my feelings when I first caught sight of our flag, as we drew near our lines after an imprisonment of nine months. I. do not think a man can feel the joy I felt but once in a lifetime, as I heard myself counted an exchanged man, and walked between the United States and rebel officers who stood to receive us and pass us from slavery to freedom. This ended our prison life, but not our suffering, for we were crowded in our passage to Annapolis almost beyond endurance. So much reduced was I when I reached the hospital that I only weighed ninety-four pounds ; but I thanked God for the deliverance and was happy.
ARTIN L. SHOCK, Adjutant of the Fifty-first regiment, relates the following incident illustrative of coolness and fortitude while suffering from a most horrible wound : At Spottsylvania, on the 12th of May, 1864, the brigade to which I belonged while charging on the rebel works was defeated and driven. followed by a large force of the enemy, who in their turn were sent whirling back to their lines. After the battle I was ordered upon the field with a small squad in search of our wounded. Near the edge of the woods where the charge had been made, I found an old man, one of the enemy, sitting on the ground leaning against a tree and smoking a short clay-pipe. On examination I discovered that his entire left hip had been carried away by a grape shot. He seemed
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entirely unconcerned, puffing away at his pipe. As he saw that I was moving off, he asked me whether we could not take him to the hospital. I must confess I was out of humor on account of our defeat, and am sorry to say that I answered the poor old man gruffly that we had to take care of our own wounded first. He then requested me to get him a hat, as he was bareheaded and the sun was sending its slanting rays full in his face. I soon found a large-brimmed straw hat, belonging to a dead rebel Lieutenant, which I placed on his head. Hle thanked me and I left him to search for our own men. The last I saw of him he was still smoking. The next day I went to find the old man. He was sitting in the same position, the straw hat on his head, the pipe in his mouth-dead.
Shock himself was afterwards severely wounded. He was making a charge with his regiment on the enemy's works at Cold Harbor early on the morning of the 3d of June, when he received a Minie ball in the left shoulder, cutting the shoulder-blade. For- tunately he had still the power of locomotion, and could leave the field ; but for two years his wound was open. He had originally enlisted in the Fourth, and afterwards in the Fifty-first, with which he served in North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, Kentucky, Mississippi, and Georgia, and in the campaign for the reduction of Richmond until he received his wound.
PRIVATE of the Sixty-ninth Pennsylvania regiment was on the picket line on the night of the 3d of July, 1863, at Gettysburg. His attention was attracted by the cries and piteous moans of a wounded rebel in his front. For some time he heard the calls and passed them in silence, well knowing that he could not leave his post without forfeiting his honor, and that the instant he advanced he might be fired on by the rebel pickets on his front. Filled with a soldier's generous sympathy he could not hear those groans unmoved. Finally his manhood got the better of his discretion as he exclaimed to his companion, "I cannot stand this," and taking a canteen of water, and a little cordial which he had in a vial, he determined to go to the assistance of the suffering man. Crawling stealthily along on the ground, he had advanced over a third of the distance when a flash in front
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told that he was discovered, and the next instant the hot blood was coursing down his body. Staunching the flow as he best could, he lay quietly for a while, and then began to move back and reached his post. He was found on the following morning, cold in death, but still grasping his musket.
HE most famous of the numerous batteries built upon and around Morris Island was the Swamp Angel, a name now historic. Between Morris and James Islands are about two miles of intervening swamp. Grown over with a tall coarse grass, furrowed and netted in all directions by the daily flow and reces- sion of the tides, it is next to impenetrable, and the bed of mud, beneath, bottomless. . From the centre of this swamp, with long- range guns, the streets of Charleston might be reached. No stretch of audacity was too great for Yankee ingenuity, and this was tried. Colonel Sorrell, of the New York Volunteer Engineers, gave the necessary orders to his Lieutenant. The latter, upon being shown the field of this new evangelism for spreading the gospel of the Union, declared the work impossible. The Colonel knew no such word, and told him to make his requisition for what he needed. It was promptly made upon the proper officer for " one hundred men, eighteen feet high, to wade in mud six- teen feet deep." He further requested his Surgeon " to splice the eighteen men as they were furnished." His humor cost the Lieutenant a temporary arrest. But the work was commenced and went bravely on. Night by night, floats bearing timber, sand-bags, and all manner of material, were carried out through the tide-filled channels or the mud, almost as fluid. The bottom was finally reached by the sinking mass of timber, brush, and sand-bags. The latter were filled nearly two miles distant. The whole work was executed under the eye of the gunners, and the range of rebel guns which swept it from a semi-circle round about.
At length, rising above the tall marsh grass, it began to present a suspicious appearance, and the rebels opened on it with their mortars; but mortar shells were of no account to Morris Island troops. It was begun on the 4th and finished on the 19th of August. In due time the Angel lit upon its perch. It was in
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the form of a two-hundred-pounder Parrott, a species sui generis. To transport and mount this gun cost an amount of patience, muscle, and brain, that can with difficulty be appreciated. It was put in position at last, charged with a due portion of gospel, opened its mouth, and sent its message into the streets of Charleston, spanning a distance of 8800 yards. Standing, as the Angel did, down upon a level with the city, it could only carry a shot over, at the great and trying elevation of 36°. A dozen or two of such shots finished its mission. It burst, jumped from its trunnions, leaped the parapet, and sank in the fathomless depths of Charleston mud. The Greek Fire, which Beauregard reported to have been rained upon the city, was a myth. No suc- cessful use of it was ever made during the war.
The battery was afterwards repaired, mounted with mortars, and used as a picket post. The sand-bags alone, employed in its construction, cost the Government $5000. Sergeant Felter, of the New York Volunteer Engineers, suggested the novel name which the battery bore.
T HILE my regiment, says a Pennsylvania Colonel, was on picket duty at Hazel river, with Stuart's rebel cavalry on the opposite shore, one evening a man, who lived five miles in the rebel rear, came to the bank of the stream, and calling across inquired if we had a surgeon in camp. Being answered in the affirmative, he entreated that he be sent across, as his wife was mortally sick, and the surgeon of Stuart's command having gone to Richmond, there was not a doctor within twenty-five miles. Moved by the earnestness of his manner, and being assured that an escort would be furnished, I consented. When the surgeon arrived, he found a houseful of women, all curious to behold a Yankee doctor. The proper remedies were administered, and relief obtained; and as the surgeon was about to return, the hus- band, his heart overflowing with gratitude, asked how he could render a suitable reward for the great boon bestowed. "I ask," said the surgeon, "no pecuniary compensation. I am only too happy to have relieved suffering; but there is one request which I have to make." "Present it," said the husband, "and it shall be joyfully accorded." "Name this fine boy Abraham Lincoln."
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Holding up his hands in horror, he exclaimed, "My God! I would willingly do it, but the rebels would kill the baby and me too!" Since the war he has called upon the doctor in the city, the most grateful of men.
B. LOWER, a private in the Twenty-third Ohio regiment, having received a wound at Antietam, was sent to a hospital in New York, but, deserting, returned to his regiment, and having served until April, 1863, when his wound proved troublesome, he was discharged. Not satisfied with home life, he enlisted in the Old Bucktail regiment and fought with it to the close of its service, receiving wounds at Mine Run and the Wilder- ness. On the very last day of its term, after fighting heroically, he was, towards evening, struck on the head by a flying brick hurled by a solid shot, and severely injured, falling into the enemy's hands. We were sent, he says, to Libby Prison, where we remained till June 9th, when we were moved to Andersonville; and now comes the most trying part of my military life. About twenty-five members of the Bucktails were captured with me, among them Sergeant Thompson, and while at Libby we had elected him Captain, and laid a plan for escaping from the cars while on the way to Andersonville. . We were to overcome the guard, bind and gag them at a concerted signal and leap from the car. I had stationed myself near the door after leaving Burks- ville, just beside one of the guards, with courage screwed up and nerves strung, ready to do my part. Just after dark it was an- nounced to me that the enterprise had for some reason been abandoned.
I then made up my mind to escape alone. The weather was warm and the guard permitted the door of the car, a box, to stand open. His gun rested across it. I stood for more than an hour by his side just on the point of springing out, but still held back by the dread of what might be the result. I cannot describe my feelings at that time. I knew that in a moment I might be a mangled corpse, or I might be alive and free; or, what was more likely, I might be disabled from travelling, recaptured, and sub- jected to the punishment that I knew would follow. I took out my watch, which, through some unaccountable oversight on the
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part of the rebels, had not been taken from me, and in the dark- ness felt the hands, and found that it was eleven o'clock. I con- cluded that we must be about fifty miles beyond Burksville, and that whatever I did must be done at once. So, only waiting for a favorable moment, I caught hold of the gun, thrust it to one side, and leaped out into the darkness. The next moment I felt myself tumbling and rolling down an embankment. I heard the cry of the guard, trying to raise an alarm, as with a rush and a roar the train swept out of sight and hearing, and I was left alone and free, but far in the heart of the Confederacy. I got upon my feet and felt to see if I was all right. I found that I was slightly bruised, somewhat scratched, and that I was terribly scared; but, with the exception of breaking open the wound I had received in the Wilderness, I was not much hurt.
Alone, unarmed, I was in the midst of an enemy s country. Above me to the north I could see the pole star, which was to be the beacon to guide my footsteps by night. To attempt to go by the seaboard I knew would be to invite certain capture. Hence I shaped my course to the north, intending to travel until I had crossed the East Tennessee Railroad, and then to strike west till I reached New River, which I meant to follow down to the Kan- awha. My first purpose was to get something to eat, for which I felt ready to make any desperate attempt. I travelled through woods and fields for three hours, before I came to a house. By that time I was nearly famished, having had nothing to eat for fourteen hours, and then only a small piece of corn-bread. At last I came upon a large Virginia mansion, and having thought of a plausible story to tell, walked boldly up and knocked at the door. Two large dogs answered my summons by rushing out and barking at me furiously, but I stood my ground, and soon an upper window was thrown open from which a man asked, " Who's there ?" Without answering his question I said, "Quiet these dogs or I will shoot them." This he did, and I then told him to come to the door, that I was a friend, had command of a scouting party of Confederate soldiers, that we were out of rations and wanted something to cat. Hle at once came down and proceeded to get what I wanted, all the time talking to me and asking the news. I invented some stories which made him think that the
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war would soon be over, and that Southern independence was an accomplished fact. He gave me a large piece of corn-bread and about a pound of boiled pork. Thanking him, I bade him good- night and hurried away. Secing him follow me, I got into the woods as quickly as I could, and in a tone of command I called out, "All right, boys! Fall in! Forward ! march !" and being afraid that my little ruse would be discovered, I was not long in putting a considerable distance between me and that house, after which I sat down and ate a hearty meal, and then securing a comfortable bed among some dense undergrowth, I lay down and slept till daylight, which was not more than two hours.
During the next five days and nights I travelled as fast as I could in the direction I had determined to pursue, meeting with many adventures, making several very narrow escapes from cap- ture, and getting my food as best I could, mostly from the negroes, whom I could trust at all times and under every circum- stance. On the morning of the sixth day I heard from a woman, at whose house I had stopped to get something to eat, that the Yankees were at Buckhannon, twenty-five miles across the Blue Ridge. I afterwards learned that it was General Hunter, on his disastrous raid to Lynchburg. I determined to reach his lines; so I pushed ahead, keeping in the woods as much as possible. During the day I passed over the Great Otter Mountain (Big Peak), and in the evening, about an hour before sundown, came down into a valley, and then there was nothing between me and Hunter's forces but the Blue Ridge, which I determined to cross, if possible, during the night. In the valley I saw a log-cabin, and it being the only one I could see, I thought I would go to it and try to get some food before I commenced the ascent of the mountain; so I went into the house and asked the woman who was there if I could get something to eat, and, being told that I could, sat down to wait till it was ready. Of course I had to give an account of myself at every place I stopped, and I was always prepared with some plausible story. Sometimes I was a rebel soldier, going home on furlough ; at others I was a scout on · important business pertaining to the government. It was only to the negroes that I revealed my true character. To this woman I concluded to tell the truth. So I said I was an escaped prisoner
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and trying to make my way north. While talking and waiting, I was startled to see coming round the corner of the house, with musket in hand, a genuine rebel guerilla. There was no escape. He walked straight up to the door, cocked his musket, and said, " You surrender!" I cannot describe my feelings on hearing that word as he repeated it, "You surrender!" Instead of the bright vision, which had almost come to be a reality, of reaching the Union lines, I saw before me the prospect of probable death by hanging, or, upon the least provocation or pretext, by the hand of my captor; and if I escaped immediate death, then starvation at Andersonville. A heavy weight seemed resting upon my heart. I could feel my lips quiver. I could not control my voice, and for a moment my feelings were those of complete despair. But in another moment I was myself again and my eyes took in the situation exactly. It did not take me many seconds to make up my mind that at all hazards I would escape from my captor or lose my life in the attempt. I could not fore- cast my course, but determined to take advantage of any chance that should present itself. He directed me to pass out of the door and take the path up the mountain side leading to the highway. I started, but was stopped by the woman, who said, " Wait till I get you something to eat," and brought out two pieces of corn- bread, one of which she handed me which I put in my haversack, and the other to my captor, who was standing with his gun lying across his left arm. Just as he turned his eyes from me, and reached out his right hand, I sprang upon him, seized him by the throat, threw him over upon his back, and with both hands caught hold of his gun, knowing that if I once had possession of it, the tables would be turned. The situation was interesting, as, between the North and the South, the North so far seemed to have the best of the battle, the South being about to be captured with all his musketry. But to him unexpected reinforcements were advancing upon my rear, and in another moment I felt myself clasped in an embrace which, under other circumstances, would not have been regarded as a hostile manœuvre. That woman had me surrounded, and the only thing left for me to do was to beat a retreat and take the chances of a shot. I slipped my hand down the barrel, cocked the piece, and pulled the trigger, think-
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ing I could fire it off and get out of sight before my escort could reload; but it missed fire. So I tore myself away from those loving (?) embraces and fled. The rebel followed some distance, calling upon me to halt or he would shoot me, and when I was within a few rods of the woods I heard the cap snap; but again the gun missed fire, and in another moment I was over the fence, into the woods, and out of sight. I travelled all night and in the morning about daylight came upon General Hunter's pickets, and was soon in camp, safe at last. I went with the army to Lynch- burg, then back to Charleston, and thence home. After a short visit I rejoined my regiment in front of Petersburg, and had a part in every battle till the surrender of Lee. In the winter of 1865 I received a furlough, for meritorious conduct in making my escape from the enemy.
ILLIAM RICKARDS, Colonel of the Twenty-ninth regiment, received a terrible wound while leading the head of his brigade on the enemy's works at Pine Knob, Georgia, on the 15th of June, 1864. It was thought to be mortal, and his friends took a final leave of him. His three years' term of service had ex- pired a few days before, and to fulfil a pledge made to his family he had sent in his resignation. Before the battle occurred, how- ever, at his earnest solicitation, he had been released from his pledge, and had promptly recalled his resignation. But his letter of recall miscarried, and after rallying sufficiently to reach his home, though still in a critical condition, an event occurred which came near proving more painful than the wound itself. It was an order issued from General Thomas' head-quarters, in whose army he was, dishonorably dismissing him from the ser- vice. This intelligence, in his feeble state, cut to the quick. To a faithful soldier of three years standing, dying of wounds in- flicted while gallantly battling with the enemy, it was indeed a cruel blow. Fever was already preying upon his body, and now wounded pride was devouring his spirit. Constant wakefulness was fast leading to delirium. At this juncture the faithful wife started for Washington to endeavor, by a personal interview with the President, to have the order revoked. Arriving after the hours for receiving visitors, the President's ushers declined to
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admit her. But on presenting the case as vital, and refusing to leave the house, she was finally allowed to enter. After kindly and patiently hearing her statement, Mr. Lincoln said:
" Madam, there must be other charges against your husband, or else he has had great injustice done him."
She answered, "All my husband desires is an investigation."
Thereupon Mr. Lincoln wrote upon the discharge paper these words, to which he affixed his signature : " So far as I can under- stand, the order, dismissing this officer, should be immediately revoked. Will you examine into the case and report?" This he directed her to take to the War Department.
" Here," she says, "I did not meet with that benevolent, pleasant reception which our President gave me, and all who came to him with heavy hearts." After looking at the paper, Mr. Stanton said : " The Generals at the front know best what course to pursue. We cannot interfere with their action. I have full confidence in General Thomas."
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