A CONFEDERATE COURT-MARTIAL.
Before describing the adventures of Wollam--Andrews' companion in flight
from the Chattanooga prison--we will turn towards the twelve prisoners
destined for Knoxville, where a yet more fearful tragedy was in
preparation.
On parting from our comrades we were escorted to the cars by Colonel
Cleiburne, where we found, much to our gratification, that we were to be
guarded by a party of Morgan's guerrillas, whose exploits were then
greatly celebrated. Cleiburne recommended us to the humane care of these
partisans, saying, "These prisoners are men, like other men, and
gentlemen too, and I want them treated as such." This charge from the
generous Irishman, for such he was, did much to secure courteous
treatment from our guard. Indeed, the position of the irregular soldiers
who served under the guerrilla chief was such as to make them admire
rather than blame the bold enterprise that led to our capture. They were
themselves in citizen's dress, and were not always careful to provide
uniforms before penetrating into the Federal lines. A considerable
number of their comrades had been captured under such circumstances, and
were, by every rule of right, equally liable with ourselves to be
treated as criminals. Indeed, the position of some of their captured
comrades was still more questionable, for they had assumed the United
States uniform whenever they found it to their advantage. The
inconsistency of the rebel government in treating our party so harshly
is conclusively shown by the fact that they had passed laws for the
encouragement of just such irregular warfare.
But we have no complaint to make of these dashing guerrillas. They were
very indignant to see us in irons, and offered to be responsible for our
safe-keeping if these were removed; but this was not allowed.
As was common in our removals from prison to prison, we had been started
without any rations,--not so much, I presume, from wanton cruelty as
because it was no one's especial business to furnish provisions. As the
journey occupied twenty-four hours (and we were hungry to begin with),
our privation would have been considerable but for the generosity of
Morgan's men. They bought pies and whatever else they could find at the
station eating-houses, and literally feasted us. From the time of our
capture we had not experienced such treatment, and only hoped that these
generous enemies might have charge of us as long as we remained in
Confederate territory,--a hope which was not realized. We never met them
again.
We arrived in Knoxville shortly after noon, having spent the night on
the cars, and were marched through the hot, dusty streets to the city
jail,--an old building of peculiar architecture,--solid, square, and
massive, presenting quite an imposing appearance. It was used as a
military prison, and was filled from top to bottom with ragged,
dirty-looking prisoners. Some Union men, and several rebel soldiers who
had been captured while attempting to desert, were with them. These
constituted the less-valued class of prisoners, and were permitted to
range over most of the building, which, however, was completely
encircled outside, and watched in every passage-way, by a strong guard.
The class of prisoners whose offences were considered of a more
aggravated character were shut up in cages. There were five of these
cages, two of which were at once cleared for our reception. The smaller
was seven by nine feet, and four of us were put in it. The larger was
perhaps ten by twelve, and held the remaining eight.
We arrived at Knoxville in the latter part of May, and remained until
June 10. Outside, the weather was intensely warm, but the enormous mass
of iron and stone in the walls of the prison made it comparatively cool
within. The days here spent were not altogether unpleasant. Our food was
scanty and of indifferent quality, but as long as we were allowed hope I
did not feel much disposed to complain of this. Besides, many of the
Union men of Knoxville, who visited us, were liberal in the gift of
money, and by employing the services of those prisoners who were less
strictly guarded, we were able to get many an extra loaf of bread.
We here became acquainted with some Tennesseeans who were long our
companions. One of the most remarkable was an old man named Pierce. He
presented a most peculiar appearance, having at some period of his
history received a terrible blow with a gun-barrel, which left a
permanent gash more than an inch deep clear across the forehead from the
nose to his hair. From this circumstance he was variously known in the
prison as "Forked Head," "Old Gun-barrel," etc. He presented the
singular combination of great piety and great profanity, singing hymns
and cursing the Confederacy with equal zeal. But his friendship for
Union soldiers knew no bounds, and, being very bold, he was able to
render us many valuable services.
Another East Tennesseean, more widely known, was Captain Fry, of
Greenville, a town near the Virginia boundary. He was confined in a
cage, and considered by our guards almost equally criminal with
ourselves. Early in the war he had gathered a number of his neighbors,
and, running the gauntlet of guarded roads, succeeded in reaching our
army in Kentucky. Here he was appointed captain of his recruits, and
remained for some time. When an advance into East Tennessee through
Cumberland Gap was contemplated, the Union general asked him to return
to his home, organize the loyal citizens of that vicinity, burn the
bridges on the Richmond and Knoxville Railroad, and then to keep
possession of the mountainous region till our forces could arrive. With
the most explicit assurances of speedy aid, he departed on his perilous
mission. Success on his part was rapid and complete. He raised fifteen
hundred men, obstructed all communications, burned the bridges, and
seriously threatened Knoxville itself. A very small Union reinforcement
could then have rendered invaluable services, and all the men needed for
the work were assembled not far from Cumberland Gap. But the attention
of the military authorities was then turned in another direction, and
the plan of advancing into East Tennessee was accordingly abandoned. No
word of the change reached Fry, who struggled on alone. But the odds
were too great. An overwhelming force of the enemy was thrown upon him,
and after several contests he and his brave men were forced to disperse.
A few succeeded in reaching the loyal lines, and these mostly enlisted
in our army. Others were captured, and many of them hanged as rebels!
General Leadbetter was very conspicuous in this savage work. Fry himself
passed the whole winter in hiding among the wild mountains of that
section, and in the spring mustered several hundred of those who were
fugitives like himself, and tried to reach the Union lines. Near the
border he was overtaken by a superior rebel force, and after a severe
contest he was defeated, wounded, and taken prisoner. This was on the
5th of March, 1862, and he was kept in solitary confinement until placed
with us on the 11th of June following. Captain Fry's subsequent fortunes
were closely united with those of our party--indeed, with my own--and
will be related in due time.
When I bring back in memory the minute impressions of those eventful
days, I feel surprise that so many hours of comparative pleasure were
found. We had here many persons to converse with. We had light and air,
which we had not at Chattanooga. We procured newspapers with frequency,
no attempt being made to prevent this as in other prisons, and were able
to form some idea of the gigantic contest in which we were so deeply
interested, and which at that time progressed hopefully. We had become
most intimate with each other, and would not allow despondency or
brooding over trouble to take hold upon any one of our number. We also
provided employment for each waking hour, and until those tragic events
occurred which deepened the gloom around us we were comparatively
hopeful and happy. I even managed to take up the thread of my law
studies and prosecute them vigorously. I sent word through a visitor to
a law firm--Baxter & Temple--that I wanted to borrow "Greenleaf on
Evidence," and almost as much to my surprise as pleasure the volumes
were promptly sent. The prison made quite a good study, and the
spectacle of a man reading law in an iron cage seemed to guards and
visitors alike an excellent jest. But I could afford to let them laugh,
for mine was the gain, not only in the knowledge acquired, but in
causing the prison days to pass less wearily.
Before we had been long at Knoxville we were visited by an officer, whom
we had seen frequently in Chattanooga, and who told us that he was
judge-advocate of a court-martial about to convene, and notified us to
prepare for trial. Neither this intelligence nor his manner in giving it
was at all alarming. We knew that we had been ordered to Knoxville for
this very purpose, and were only anxious to have the trial soon over,
that we might be formally declared prisoners of war, and thus be placed
in position to be exchanged, if an opportunity should occur. To this end
we asked the judge-advocate if we would all be put on trial at once, and
when he answered in the negative, we urged the expediency and justice of
that course, assuring him that the cases of all were precisely alike.
But he refused with some curtness. We next asked that he would select
one of our number to be tried, whose award might determine the position
of the whole party, and offering to sign a paper agreeing to this
course. This he also refused, with the declaration that the court knew
its own business, and that every one of us should be tried on his own
merits. The only reason I have ever been able to imagine for this course
is that the intentions towards us were much more serious than we had
been allowed to conjecture, and that it would have looked too absurd to
arraign so large a band of private soldiers from one brigade on the
charge of being spies. We asked him for the charge on which the trial
was to take place, and with some apparent hesitation he gave it,--the
same against all. It was charged, in substance, that we were enemies who
were lurking in and around Confederate camps _as spies_ for the purpose
of obtaining military information. Not one word was said about seizing
the cars or anything that we did or tried to do. Wilson spoke out
boldly, and said, "But you know we are not spies, and have yourself told
us that we cannot be held as such." Then, with what I cannot but
consider as deep deception, he replied that their expectation now was to
obtain a negative verdict, which would justify them in exchanging us. He
further advised us to employ counsel and put our cause in good shape,
but not to make ourselves uneasy. The whole conversation left some
apprehension upon our minds, but in the case of most of us the inherent
hopefulness of youth soon banished it.
Our plan of defence has been partly indicated before. It was to tell
just who we were and what we had done, and to claim that we were United
States soldiers, detailed on a military expedition without our own
consent or knowledge, and simply obeying orders. We were to deny in the
strongest terms that we had been lurking about any camps, or that we had
sought or obtained any military information. No question was to be
answered that would lead to the discovery of the engineer or tend to
show that any one had volunteered for this service. As to evidence
against us, we knew that our recorded confessions, made when we were
first brought to Chattanooga, could be used, and possibly the evidence
of those who first captured us. But no one could say anything about our
lurking around Confederate camps. We had been within the guard-lines at
Big Shanty, but we were no more "lurking" there than a body of cavalry
who might charge into a camp. Indeed, we felt sure that the charge, in
the form it bore, could not be sustained. To make the greatest
impression of candor, our story was sketched in brief, with the approval
of the whole number, and, at a subsequent visit of the judge-advocate,
handed to him. He took our signatures to it, and it was read on the
trials as our confession. It saved our enemies some trouble in the
matter of witnesses, and put our case in what we judged the most
favorable light.
Baxter & Temple, who had so kindly accommodated me with books, were
willing to act as our counsel. They stipulated that, as fast as tried,
we should give them our notes for one hundred and fifty dollars each.
They did not care for the money, and, indeed, the prospect of obtaining
it was not very favorable. But their own safety required that their help
should appear to be purely professional. They assured me privately that
they were loyal to our government and would do us any favor they dared.
They did promote our comfort by the secret gift of some money.
The story of the trials may soon be told. The charges and specifications
of William Campbell were first handed in. He was a citizen of Kentucky
in reality, but claimed to be a member of Company K, Second Ohio, and we
were careful to endorse his statement. It was never suspected that he
stood in any different relation from his comrades. After the overthrow
of the Confederacy the writer obtained copies of these charges and
specifications, together with many other papers from the rebel archives.
They are still on file at Washington. With the exception of the change
of names and position in the army, the charges were precisely alike in
all the cases.
"_Charge._--Violation of Section 2d of the 101st Article of the
Rules and Articles of War.
"_Specification 1st._--In that the said William Campbell,
private Company 'K,' Second Ohio Regiment, U.S.A., not owing
allegiance to the Confederate States of America, and being in
the service and army of the United States, then and now at war
with the Confederate States of America, did, on or about the
7th day of April, 1862, leave the army of the United States,
then lying near Shelbyville, Tennessee, and with a company of
about twenty other soldiers of the United States army, all
dressed in citizen's clothes, repair to Chattanooga, Tennessee,
entering covertly within the lines of the Confederate forces at
that post, and did thus, on or about the 11th day of April,
1862, lurk as a spy in and about the encampment of said forces,
representing himself as a citizen of Kentucky going to join the
Southern army.
"_Specification 2d._--And the said William Campbell, private
Company 'K,' Second Ohio Regiment, U.S.A., thus dressed in
citizen's clothes, and representing himself as a citizen of
Kentucky going to join the Southern army, did proceed by
railroad to Marietta, Georgia,--thus covertly pass through the
lines of the Confederate forces stationed at Chattanooga,
Dalton, and Camp McDonald, and did thus, on or about the 11th
day of April, 1862, lurk as a spy in and about the said
encampments of the Confederate forces at the places stated
aforesaid."
All mention of the capture of the train, with the terrible chase that
followed, is entirely omitted from this paper. Could this be for any
other reason than that this sequel would disprove the fact of "lurking
as a spy," on which the whole charge is made to turn, and make the whole
expedition appear of a distinctive military character? The whole charge
of "lurking as a spy" was constructive--not real. No evidence could be
adduced to show that any one of us had lingered for a single hour at any
one of the three Confederate encampments mentioned. Neither was there
any evidence that our false stories were told inside of any encampment.
With charges which were simply a recital of a small part of our own
admissions and some inference from them, the trials were very simple and
brief. William Campbell was taken out first, the above paper read to
him, and he responded, "Not true, so far as lurking in any camp or being
a spy is concerned." The plea of "not guilty" was then entered for him,
our own confession read, one or two minor witnesses called, and he
returned to prison. The next day another man was taken to the court and
the same story rehearsed. Thus each day one trial only took place, and
no pleadings were heard by the prisoner, either for or against himself,
and no sentence was given. The time occupied in each session of the
court was not much more than an hour. The table around which the court
sat was covered with bottles, newspapers, and novels, and the members
occupied themselves during the proceedings in discussing these. All this
was very well if the object was, as they assured us, merely to put
formally on record our true character as prisoners of war; but it was
most heartless if the trial was in earnest, and a matter of life or
death.
Wilson related to me a ludicrous incident that occurred when he was on
trial. No instance of his being anywhere within the guard-lines was
proved. A young lieutenant requested to be placed on the witness-stand
to testify of one occasion when he knew that the prisoner had passed
their picket-lines. His offer was gladly accepted. On being sworn, he
stated that he had commanded a picket-post which included the
Chattanooga ferry, and this ferry the prisoner admitted passing.
Immediately the president of the court arose and said that the young
gentleman was mistaken, as he himself commanded the guard that day, and
that _no guard was placed at the ferry_. The whole court was thrown into
a roar of laughter, and the confusion of our would-be convictor may be
imagined.
Our lawyers visited us frequently in the prison for the purpose of
consultation, and expressed themselves as delighted with the turn
matters were taking. No evidence had been found to discredit or go
beyond our own statements. They said that all the plans of the
prosecution had been deranged, and that if convicted now, it would be
through mere prejudice and perjury on the part of the court.
There was one feature of the trial, however, which I did not like, and
against which we protested with all our power. No one who was tried was
allowed to be present to hear the pleading of counsel on either side. We
could neither hear what the judge-advocate urged against us nor what our
lawyers said in our favor. Even at the trial of Andrews, in Chattanooga,
he had not been debarred this privilege. But in this, and one other
particular to be narrated later, the rebels used our soldiers with less
show of justice than had been accorded to Andrews himself.
After three or four of our number had been tried, one of our lawyers
read to us the plea, which he said he had read after the trial of each
man, and would continue to read. It appeared to me to be a paper of
great ability, and I cannot conceive how it could be successfully
answered. Judge-Advocate-General Holt officially speaks of it as "This
just and unanswerable presentation of the case." It was contended that
our being dressed in citizen's clothes instead of Federal uniforms,
which was the only unmilitary incident in the whole history, ought not
to weigh against us, because this was nothing more than the Confederate
government had expressly authorized in the case of their own soldiers,
and that making war without uniform was practised by all the guerrillas
in the Confederate service,--by some from necessity, and by others
because they were thus able better to escape detection, and inflict more
damage upon the enemy. A special instance was cited in which General
Morgan had dressed a detachment of his partisans in Federal uniform, and
passed them off as belonging to the Eighth Pennsylvania Cavalry, by
which means he had succeeded in reaching and damaging a railroad within
the Federal lines. Some of these very men were captured by the Federal
government, and were, up to the present, held as prisoners of war. To
decide that we were spies because we were captured without our uniform
would not only provoke retaliation, but establish a principle far more
dangerous to the Confederate than to the Federal forces. It was urged
that we had stated the object of our expedition, which was a purely
military one, and as such entirely within the laws of war. No evidence
had been adduced to show that we were other than what we claimed. The
plea closed by asking what good purpose could be served by sacrificing
ignominiously the lives of so many brave men on a charge which had been
conclusively disproved by the evidence, and which every member of the
court knew to be really untrue. We were not spies in fact, and to call
us such against their own convictions, and on merely technical and
constructive grounds, would be as unwise as it was cruel. The plea did
_not_ embrace one argument which added very much to our hopefulness,
and which our lawyers considered likely to have a great weight with the
court, though they dared not formally state it. McClellan had not yet
been repulsed before Richmond, and the collapse of the Rebellion seemed
imminent. The same rigid construction which was necessary to make us
spies would assuredly render them all liable to the punishment of
treason, and they were not in a position to make it prudent to invoke
the utmost severities and extreme penalties of the laws of war. As I
glance back over the lapse of twenty years it still seems to me strange
that the decision of the court-martial in our favor could have been for
a moment doubtful. But, alas! reason and sound judgment do not always
rule in human affairs. Though we knew it not then, the life of every man
in that Knoxville prison was trembling in the balance.
For one whole week--seven days--the trials went on, the same forms being
used in the case of each man, who was taken out for an hour and
returned, knowing nothing of his sentence, having heard no pleading
against himself, and being treated in no sense differently after his
trial. On the seventh day we read that General Mitchel had advanced to
Chattanooga and was shelling the town across the river, and also, that
the Federal General Morgan was advancing from Cumberland Gap, and
threatening Knoxville. We fervently hoped that the latter would settle
the question of our fate by capturing the town while we were still in
it. This would have done away with all further perplexity as to the
decision of the court-martial!
This advance did prevent all further trials. The officers of the court
were hurried off to their regiments to resist the enemy. From the
newspapers, which some prisoners managed to obtain every day, and then
loaned or read to all the others, we were kept well informed as to the
progress of events. Some of the intelligence they brought thrilled us to
our souls. More than a week before this we read of the escape of
Andrews and Wollam from the Chattanooga prison. We greatly rejoiced,
believing firmly that our leader would be sure to get to our lines, and
then use all his influence to secure some form of help for us. The news
of his recapture overthrew all these hopes and filled us with anxious
apprehension, although we were ignorant of his being sentenced to death.
Of the fate of Wollam nothing was stated.
But a more terrible blow was in store. One day a newspaper was silently
passed up to our cage by some friend outside, and, glancing at it, the
first thing that arrested our attention was an account of _the execution
of Andrews_! With equal silence we sent it into the other cage. Just
before this deadly intelligence came we had been engaged in
story-telling and in various games, for we were always merry, refusing
to indulge in gloomy forebodings. But this was the sudden opening of an
awful gulf at our feet. All noise and merriment were suspended, and we
passed the whole day in mourning. We could not talk to our guards as
lightly as we had done before, for there was now blood between us. We
all loved Andrews, and would have undergone any peril to save him, but
there was no possibility now even of vengeance. And, although his fate
was governed by different principles from ours, we could not help
feeling more distrustful of our own position.
An extra guard, bearing a great number of ropes, came in the morning
after the last trial, and we were called out of our cages. This was
startling, as we had no hint of their purpose, and the word was even
passed around that we were all to be taken out and hanged immediately.
But one of the outside prisoners found an opportunity to inform us that
he had overheard the commander saying that he was to remove us to
prevent our capture in case of a sudden Federal dash upon Knoxville.
This convinced us that we were only to have another of our frequent
changes of prisons.
In our cages here we had not been ironed, and, as our fetters had been
used on some prisoners sent to Richmond, we were now obliged to content
ourselves with a most liberal allowance of cotton rope. It was this
provision for tying us which at first excited our apprehensions.
While we were being securely bound I had an amusing passage-at-words
with the adjutant, who was superintending that operation. I said to him,
as politely as I could,--
"I suppose, sir, our destination is not known?"
"It is not known to you at any rate, sir," was the gruff rejoinder.
This was noticed by the whole party, and I felt rather beaten; but a
moment later came my chance for revenge. He turned again to me, and
said, in a dictatorial manner,--
"Who was it that run your engine through?"
I bowed, and returned in the blandest tone, "_That is not known to you
at any rate, sir_."
All the prisoners around roared with laughter, and the adjutant,
reddening to the eyes, turned away, muttering that he believed I was the
engineer myself!
When the process of tying was completed to the adjutant's satisfaction,
we took our departure southward, and passed through Chattanooga once
more, but, to our satisfaction, did not stop there. We continued
southward, in the direction of Atlanta. No rations were taken for us, as
usual, and having on this occasion no guerrillas to buy us supplies, we
were obliged to fast the whole time. At various stations the populace
taunted us with Andrews' death, and charitably hoped we might soon meet
the same fate. The remark was often made that we were going to Atlanta
to be hanged there, as he had been! Captain Fry, Pierce, and a few other
of the East Tennesseeans were taken along with us. Before we reached
Chattanooga, we had, as I thought, an excellent chance to effect our
escape. The journey was so slow that night came on, and our guard,
wearied with the frequent delays, had relaxed their vigilance, and most
of them slept by our sides. They exceeded us in numbers, and were armed,
while we were tied. But our two months' experience had made us adepts in
some of the poor, pitiful arts prisoners soon learn. We could
communicate without exciting the suspicions of the soldiers, who were
sitting in the very seats with us, and scarcely one of our number had
failed to so "settle himself" in the cotton ropes that they could have
been thrown off at a moment's notice. To be ready at a signal, to dash
out the two lights that burned in our car, each of us to seize the
musket of the man nearest us while the train was in motion, to secure
the doors, and let no one get out, or make any alarm, seemed to me easy
enough. Then we could have uncoupled our car, and, _with the arms of our
guard_, have started across the country towards the Union lines, which
could not have been more than thirty or forty miles west of us. But
George D. Wilson opposed the project with all his energy. He thought we
might succeed, but some would probably be killed in the scuffle, and all
might be captured outside, and then our case be made much worse, while
by simply remaining quiet, we were sure of a speedy exchange. He had
talked for hours with the captain of our guard, who was certain that our
case had been virtually decided in our favor. He encouraged Wilson by
saying that he had heard officers high in authority say that it had been
necessary to execute Mr. Andrews, as he was a Confederate citizen, and
as an example; but that this was enough, and that no other would suffer
anything worse than possibly, if no favorable exchange could be
arranged, the penalty of being kept to the close of the war. This, in
Wilson's opinion, was not far distant. Wilson's opposition made us
regretfully yield the attempt. Could the future have been foreseen our
decision would undoubtedly have been reversed.
Atlanta, we found, was our destination. Here, almost in the centre of
the rebel States, the Confederates were as yet free from interruption by
Union armies. Andrews had already perished in this city, and here our
own fate was to be determined. As we marched, with ropes bound tightly
round our hands and pinioning our arms, from the depot to the Atlanta
city jail, a crowd gathered around us, as usual, and a man, calling
himself the mayor of the city, addressed himself first to Captain Fry,
telling him that he knew his history and would soon have the pleasure of
hanging him. Then turning to us, he boasted that he had put the rope
around Andrews' neck and was waiting and anxious to do the same for us!
The city prison was much smaller than that at Knoxville, but was quite a
large edifice. The lower story was occupied by the jailer and family.
The upper story contained four rooms, two on each side of an entry, into
which the staircase from below led. We, in company with Captain Fry,
were given one of these rooms. The other Tennesseeans brought from
Knoxville with us were put into another, just across the entry from us.
Our comrades, who had been left behind at Chattanooga, had been in this
building ever since the death of Andrews, and in the third room. The
fourth room was on the same side as our own, and had a succession of
occupants,--frequently negroes who had been in search of the North Star.
This jail was to be our home for many eventful months.
For some days our food was comparatively good and abundant. Turner, the
jailer, was a kind man, and, in a mild way, of Union sentiments. He
showed us all the favor in his power, and, indeed, became so much
suspected that an odious old man named Thoer was sent to watch him. The
change in our condition was at once manifest. Our fare became worse and
more scanty than in any former prison. The constant vigilance of this
spy kept the jailer from doing anything to mitigate our sufferings. But
in this prison we had one great relief. Our ropes were removed and no
chains or handcuffs put upon us. Within our prison-cell we were free.
Here we remained in quiet for a week, thinking the worst of our trials
now over. Little did we imagine how fearful a storm was about to burst
over us.