USA > West Virginia > History of the Fifth West Virginia Cavalry > Part 31
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was not half so wild and dangerous as the focs behind them, so they plunged into the cold, dashing stream and were soon safe on the other side. They had no fear of the enemy crossing after them, and when about 300 yards away, they saw their pursuers coming, who galloped down to the stream, but concluded not to attempt to swim it. They fired at the scouts, when the latter waved their hats and cheered their discomfited foes, but saved their ammunition for the future, not re- turning the fire. They rode over Cheat Mountain to Huttonville, where they met union troops from Beverly, and the next day Averell's belated and worn troopers, rode into the place, safe again within our own lines.
In the winter of 1864, while Averell's command was in camp at Mar- tinsburg, Mosby's cavalry caused considerable trouble, picking up every straggling soldier they could find and capturing our horses. The gen- eral received information that they were encamped at Winchester, but to be sure of it, he sent out six of his scouts, to ascertain the truth. It was a bitter cold evening when they went out, and they got as far as Bunker Hill, where they stopped with a family with whom they were acquainted. It was now snowing, and they concluded to wait until it ceased. After while Gaddis and Sharer concluded to go ahead, and when within four miles of Winchester, stopped at the house of an Irishman, who pretend- ed to be a union man. He built a fire, put the horses in the stable and fed them, and said Mosby's men were in Winchester the previous day. About five o'clock in the morning the two scouts started for Winchester, rode up over breastworks that were on their side of the town, and saw enough to convince them that there were confederates there in plenty. They returned to Bunker Hill, the other scouts having left with the loss of their horses. Upon the return of the party to camp, there was a good deal of chaffing about it, but the General was in no pleasant humor over it. Gaddis, Sharer and Mooney determined to get even with Mosby's bold rangers, so on the next Sunday night the three started for Bunker Hill, intending to stop at the house where there was a young lady, the house being watched by the confederates, to capture any of the union horses that might be hitched at the place. The scouts reached there about 9 o'clock at night, tied their horses to the portico in front of the house, made the family go up stairs, while they watched below. They kept a good look-out, and about three o'clock in the morning they saw three horsemen ride up to a white church, which stood off to the left a short distance, going behind the building, where two of the men dis- mounted, while the third held the horses. The scouts had had the house entirely darkened, so they could not be seen. In the room where they were watching, was a front door and one window. Their plan was for Mooney to stand at the window, Sharer was to hold the knob of the door in his hand and keep it slightly ajar, while Mooney was to keep his hand on Sharer's shoulder. Out of this room on the north side of the
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house stood another small porch, and in the dark corner of it Gaddis was to crouch close, as the confederates had to pass within ten feet of where he was. It was bitter cold and starlight, and Gaddis had taken off his boots so as to be able to give a lively chase, and his position was a rather uncomfortable one. Mooney was to watch through the window, and as they came up to cut the horses loose, he was to give Sharer a push, who was to throw open the door and fire, and then Gaddis was to jump out and shoot also. The plan worked well. The two men ap- proached on tip toe, cach having a knife in one hand and a revolver in the other, passing close by where Gaddis stood. Just as they got to the horses ready to cut them loose, Mooney shoved Sharer, who threw open the door and fired at the men, and Gaddis jumped out also and fired. They fired in turn, when the whole five engaged in the lively fusilade for a few minutes, but no one was hit, though Sharer had a very close call. 'The horses broke loose and ran away, and the confederates took to their heels to get away. One was a lieutenant, who was followed by Mooney and Sharer, and the other an orderly sergeant, who was pursued by Gaddis. The lieutenant was soon killed and the horse holder escaped, but Gaddis had a serious time with his man. Both were very rapid run- ners, the advantage being with Gaddis, and as they ran a running fire was kept up, Gaddis firing all his loads but one. The race was kept up for about 300 yards, when Gaddis overtook his man, grabbed him, and a scuffle followed. The sergeant turned and fired at Gaddis, the ball grazing his temple, but not severe enough to draw blood, but he was stunned and fell to his knees, still holding to his man. The sergeant put the muzzle of his revolver under Gaddis' right eye, pulled the trigger, but the cap snapped, and no explosion followed. This aroused Gaddis, whose vigor returned, and the scuffle was resumed. The sergeant drew his knife, but before he could use it Gaddis' revolver went off, and the man begged Gaddis not to shoot again, as he would surrender. Just then Mooney came running up, and thinking it was a struggle for life, he fired into the man, and he fell dead to the ground. The fight over, they now turned their attention to their horses, but they were nowhere to be found, until they returned to the house, where they stopped, when the young lady, Miss Amy White, rode up with the three horses, which she had gone after and secured. The scouts found $25 in greenbacks on the dead men, which they presented to Miss White for her daring and heroism. The parents of the sergeant requested his body, which was given them.
When Gen. Sigel assumed command of the forces in the Shenandoah valley, in the spring of 1864, Smitley's scouts were ordered to report to his headquarters for duty. They did so, when Smitley as chief, and Willhide, Bailey, Lock, and E. F. Smitley were retained, the rest going with General Averell to the Kanawha valley. To these General Sigel added others, among whom were two brothers from the First West Vir-
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ginia Cavalry, named Harris, familiarly known as "Spike" and " Lasses." The scouts were placed under the direction of Gen. Julius Stahel. On May 10, 1864, they were ordered to report to Gen. Sigel's headquarters in Winchester. The general told Smitley he had sent 500 cavalry to Moorefield, and it being long past the time they should be heard from, and having sent several other scouts for information without any of them returning, the general felt considerable anxiety about them and inquired of him if he had a scout suitable for the emergency. .All members of the old Second Virginia would understand the situation. Sending 500 cavalry over there at that time, with green scouts, meant their capture or a bad defeat; to send green scouts to see about them, meant for Mc- Neil or Moseby to pick them up as soon as outside our lines. Smitley's scouts, that were suitable, being overworked, he offered his services. The general demurred at first, then asked how many men he wanted with him, and how soon he could make the trip. Smitley told him if the cavalry were not captured he could go to them and return in about thirty hours; if captured, he could get reliable information and return in twelve hours, and would go alone. But the general decided he must have a lieutenant and twenty-five cavalry with him. Scout " Spike" Harris had, a few hours previously, complained to Smitley of fancicd partiality to the old Second scouts in his details, and requested to go along the next time and he would prove he was true blue. So Smitley hunted the poor fellow up, taking him to what proved his grave. About II P. M., May roth, Smitley and Harris, a lieutenant and twenty-five cavalry left Winchester, the lieutenant with written dispatches and Smitley with oral, in case the written ones failed to go through. They were nearly all night getting outside our lines, and a little after daylight they passed through Wardenville. Soon after, coming to a stream of water, along the shore of which their road led, a short bend disclosed to them about fifteen or twenty rebel cavalry approaching, not more than 150 yards off. Harris was riding close by Smitley's side. Smitley turned, and anticipating his question, Harris said, with a sup- pressed oath, "we will go through them quicker than croton oil." Smitley led and sent Harris to keep the rear closed up. The enemy in sight proved a very small obstruction, as they, no doubt, felt secure in their backing. Close to their rear was a regiment of cavalry, into the midst of which the scouts plunged, horses at full speed. To say the rebels were thunder struck would be very weak language, as they liter- ally rode some of them down, and the little squad they first met was simply whirled by them into the midst of their friends. The reader can imagine the confusion. Harris proved to be a prodigy of strength, valor and ingenuity in eluding the grasp of the enemy. In the shock, friend and foe were mixed indiscriminately. Harris, whose suit of blue was covered with one of grey, coming in contact with rebels in blue, cursed them for Yankees, and in tones of thunder, would call on them to
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surrender, at the same time knocking them right and left; this did not turn back or stop the fight, but they cleared their way in any manner they could, and, singular to relate, escaped in the confusion without a scratch, although pursuit was immediately instituted by the enemy. Smitley and Harris were the only ones to escape capture and they were now inside the enemy's lines; and if the reader will picture to himself a ring hunt for game, he will have the best description that could be given of their condition. Having made up their minds to return to camp with such information as they had been able to glean during the day, they halted at a farm house for supper and horse feed, so much needed. They fed their horses on the ground close to the door. En- tering the room they found a bright fire in the old-fashioned fire place and sat down to wait a few moments for supper. Having carried a brace of heavy revolvers about his waist twenty-four hours, Smitley loosed his belt and placed them on the floor by his chair. In a moment he was asleep. Harris must have remained awake, as it appeared but a moment till he, in a loud voice, called out, "the rebels are coming." Smitley was startled, and, half awake, thought Harris was hurrying him to supper, when the report of a revolver brought him to a realization of his surroundings. There was a door and window on each side of the room, and three rebels had entered the room. Harris had escaped through a door on the opposite side. As Smitley was rising from his chair, a rebel picking up his revolver off the floor, he was grazed on the temple by a bullet fired by Harris through the window. Harris made things lively until his revolvers were emptied, and then ran from the house, when he was shot through the heart and instantly killed, while Smitley was a prisoner.
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CHAPTER XIX.
PRISON LIFE.
HE FOLLOWING sketch of prison life is furnished by Jacob G. Matlick, of Company B, and it so well covers the horrors and incidents of life in two of the most noted of the southern pris- ons, that it is used in the history of the regiment, as representing the experiences of the many comrades of our regiment, who languished in prison, some of whom gave up their lives in this horrible manner. No pen is equal to the task of portraying the suffering, the depths of despair and the horror experienced in these infamous dens, and it will not be attempted here, but a plain recital of what actually occurred will be given.
"While returning off the Salem raid in December, 1863, a detail of four men was made from Company B for provost guard, composed of Joseph M. West, Edward B. Creel, William E. Stafford and Jacob G. Matlick, and it fell to our lot to guard the prisoners. The slow progress made by the prisoners on foot, made quite a gap between the advance and the provost guard, and the ambulances and wagon train also in therear. The confederates observing this weak point, and taking advantage of the dark- ness charged past our stragglers and ambulances, and the provost guard were fully apprised of their danger only when confronted with drawn sabers and revolvers. The four of Company B were in the rear of the line of prisoners, and were captured, though most of the others in front escaped with the prisoners in their charge. Just how many of our men were captured that night is not certainly known, but of the whole command not many beyond one hundred. The confederates took us about half a mile further down the river to an old shed, where we were kept until the morning of the 20th, and were then taken to a building near by and some raw beef and flour issued for our use. On the 22d we started in the direction of Staunton, arriving there the evening of the 24th, tired, hungry and foot sore. They marched us up southwest of the depot, on a high bleak knob, facing the northwest, and the wind
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was blowing very hard and cold from that direction. At this point there were several stables that their cavalry had quartered their horses in the previous winter, and we thought we would get to sleep in them that night out of the cold wind, but that was denied us. They let us lie on the bare, frozen ground, without fire, where we suffered most intensely. We endured the cold the best we could, and early on the morning of the 25th, we were put aboard the cars and sent to Richmond, the coaches being good ones. We arrived in Richmond about 8 p. M., and were put in Scott's old tobacco building. The week following they sent in the noted 'Majah Tunnah', to search us, who took from us everything he could find of value except our clothes. We were stripped naked and our clothes thoroughly overhauled. It was in that building that we had our introduction to the 'N' Yaarkers' or raiders, who infested every pri- son, and were almost as great a terror to the poor prisoners as their in- human keepers. We were kept here until January 1, 1864, when we were taken to Belle Isle, and turned loose in that miserable pen, which consisted of about four acres, with an embankment thrown up around ti, and a ditch on the inside which served as a dead line. We were counted off in hundreds and so numbered to draw rations. The island consisted of about ten acres opposite the upper end of Richmond. The prison was in command of one Lieut. Bossieux, a rather young man, a southerner by birth. He was assisted by two Sergeants Hight and Marks, who were very cruel, as also was the lieutenant, when angered. Outside the prison pen was a bakehouse, made of boards, the tents for the accommodation of the officers and guards, and a hospital also of tent cloth. Running from the pen was a lane enclosed by high boards, running to the water's edge. At night it was closed by a gate at the pen, and thrown open in the morning. About one half of the ten thousand prisoners there at that time had tents, and the remain- der slept and lived out of doors. That memorable New Year's night is remembered by many thousands to this day, on account of the extreme cold, and many succumbed to the grim monster that night. I was lucky enough to get in a tent by finding two comrades, James Cali- han and Kid Simpson, who were left to care for our wounded at Rocky Gap the 27th of August, and had a tent, but Stafford saved himself only by running all night up and down the street in the center of the camp. Next day we all got together and crowded into the tent, making nine in one little A tent. We had but little cover, lay on the ground, putting our feet under each other's arms to keep them from freezing. No lan- guage is adequate to convey the least conception of the awful misery and suffering endured on that island that fall and winter. We were on the island two months and eight days, and many who went on there when we did starved to death long before we left, and many were the insane cansed by hunger and exposure. Men, more ghastly than death itself, were stalking around the camp, not knowing where they were
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wandering, with feet frozen hard. Yet we are told that we did all this for the money we got ; but in the face of all the suffering we endured, with death on every hand, we were offered plenty, and freedom, if we would but renounce the old flag and join the confederate army. We told them we would rot first, as many did. and as many more, perhaps, might as well have done, the way they have since suffered. 1 appeased somewhat the pangs of hunger by finding an old friend on the island, whom I knew as a former school teacher and class leader, and by the aid of the guard at the gate I got an interview with him. He visited me occasionally and brought me what he could that 1 needed most, and gave me some confederate money, which helped me through the prison. If any of the boys would commit any misdemeanor. Lieut. Bossieux would not give us any rations for that day, adding misery to want, for we received only a piece of corn bread about two inches square, each day, or a pint of field pea broth, and it covered with bugs, or about two spoonsful of rice for a day's rations, and no meat, except once or twice during our stay there. So strong became the craving for animal food, that the white bull terrier belonging to Lieut. Bossieux, round and fat, was one day decoyed into a tent, a blanket was thrown over him and his throat cut, within a rod of where his master stood, and then skinned and cooked into a savory meal for many hungry men. When the lieutenant learned the fate of his four footed friend, he raged and stormed with anger, and stopped our rations for a day, and meted such punishment as he could. One of the saddest scenes we saw on the island, was five poor fellows, reduced to skeletons, who burrowed under the hard crust of the sand on the southside, beside the ditch, where they could lie in the sun in day time, and at night could be out of the wind, as they had no covering. One cold morning they were found dead, and were carried out and laid to rest. We had no wood issued to us that would do any good toward warming us. the issue being about three sticks to a hundred men, and that was split up fine to do our little cooking in our quart cups, that we might chance to have to do. The sanitary commission sent a man through with some clothing, that was issued to us some time in January. I got a blanket. that did the nine much good; also a copy of the New Testament, which the boys eagerly read, and which I have yet in my possession, a priceless treas- ure to myself and family. We were so starved that when we tried to go to sleep at night, we dreamed of seeing great quantities of good things to eat, but when we were about to partake of them, we would awaken to find that it was merely a dream, and our hunger was intensi- fied. Thus we suffered and endured, until the last week in February, when they began to take out about five hundred prisoners at a time, and they told us they had agreed to exchange, so there was a rash to get out first, but our nine waited until the third call. On March 8th, about 10 A. M., we left the island, crossed into Richmond, and were taken to the
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Pemberton tobacco warehouse, where we were kept until about 4 A. M. of the roth, when we were taken to the southside of the city and put into a lot of box cars as close as we could stand, having no room to sit or lie down. We went through Petersburg, reaching that evening a station called Gaston, in the edge of North Carolina, where we were taken out and camped in a piece of woods, and, it being fairly warm, we enjoyed a clean place to sleep. They gave us some hard tack, about enough for one meal, and it was here that I bought some meat, the first we had eaten for over two months. On the morning of the rith we were again put into stock cars and started for the unknown to us, passing through Raleigh, thence to Charlotte, where they side-tracked us and locked us in the cars and kept us over one night. The next morning we continued our journey, passing through Columbia, S. C., to Augusta, where we were changed into box cars, and given an ear of corn to eat, and where some of the sick were sent to the hospital, one of whom had the small pox. We continued our advance until, on the night of March 15th, we reached a small station called Anderson, Sumpter county, Ga., sixty miles south of Macon, and were there taken out and marched about three-fourths of a mile southeast, and counted off into hundreds, and driven, as so many brutes, into what was known to the confederates as Camp Sumpter, and to us the hated Andersonville. We were so stiff and tired that we could scarcely walk, but when the gates of that prison closed upon us, we soon stretched ourselves on the bare ground and slept soundly. But when the fog had cleared away in the morning, we began to realize our terrible condition.
ANDERSONVILLE PRISON.
This place was one of the stations on a rudely constructed, rickety railroad, that runs from Macon to Albany, the head of navigation on the Flint river, which is 106 miles from Macon and 250 from the Gulf of Mexico. Andersonville was about sixty miles from Macon and about 300 miles from the Gulf. The camp was simply a hole cut in the wil- derness. It was as remote a point from our armies then, as the confed- cracy could give. The place was an immense pen about one thousand feet long by eight hundred wide, and contained about sixteen acres. The walls were formed by pine logs twenty-five feet long, two to three feet in diameter, hewn square, which were set in the ground five feet, leaving the walls twenty feet high. The logs were placed so close together as to leave no crack to see the outside world. The pen was divided in the center by a creek about three feet wide and ten inches deep, running west to east, on each side of which was a bog of slimy ooze about one hundred and fifty feet wide, in which one would sink to the waist. From this swamp the sandhills sloped north and south to the stockade. There were two entrances to the stockade, one on each side of the creek, mid- way between it and the ends, called the 'north gate' and the 'south gate.' These were constructed double, by building smaller stockades
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around them on the outside, with another set of gates. AAt regular inter- vals of about fifty feet along the top of the stockades, little perches were built on the outside, in which were the sentries, who overlooked the whole inside of the prison. When we first went there the prison was commanded by one Col. Piersons, who would nearly every day ride in and talk to us, and the guards were reasonably good, much unlike the cruel wretches that guarded us from Richmond to Augusta, who would rather run a bayonet through a Yank than cat. We received about a pint of meal per day and about two ounces of bacon. At that time there was plenty of wood in the camp, cut from the tops of the timber and hewn from the logs, which we used to make fires to cook by. With the large area of the prison and plenty of wood, we were having a fairly good time for prisoners, but the water was bad, as the stream from which we obtained it was at best but a swamp and the drainage of swamps, with all the confederate camps on it above, and afterwards our cook house was located on it immediately above the prison.
But our good time was fast disappearing, for about March 25th Col. Pier- sons, with his command, was ordered to the front, and for guards they robbed both the cradle and the grave, and worse than all, they sent that frenzied old Swiss, Capt. Henry Wirz, to command us. He was a small brained, small souled, incompetent fellow, and as cowardly and crue! as he was small in all the elements of manhood. He had the respect of no one, and had the intense hatred of every prisoner. By the roth of April our wood was exhausted and it began to get very warm in the day time, and in consequence of the heavy fogs at night, it would get very cold, so as to chill even those who were well dressed and had blankets. The diarrhoea and scurvy began to be much worse, exhausting the men very fast, causing a score or more of deaths per day, out of the 12,000 prisoners then in the pen. To make our condition still worse, the raiders were robbing indiscriminately, and taking money. rations, blankets, clothing, or anything they wanted. They managed to get plenty to eat and have good clothing and blankets, so that they were strong, and being armed with clubs, could do about as they pleased. with but little resistance on the part of their victims, who were so much worn down that they were unable to cope with the scoundrels. On the 3d of July a lot of new prisoners came in, when the raiders cried out, ' fresh fish,' and attacked them. The prisoners were mostly West Virginians, and gave them a hard fight, but as usual the cut throats ran to each other's rescue and came out ahead. Complaints were made to the quartermaster about the outrages, and while he was coming in the South gate on the afternoon of the 3d, with a load of rations, a man was car. ried out whose head had been beaten into a jelly by the raiders. Tak- ing in the situation, being aware of the conduct of the raiders in the past, he ordered the wagon out and said we should not have another ration, until we got the raiders out, saying he would furnish a guard to
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