Letter sent Home--Alarming Pestilence--Our Quarters
Changed--Rowdyism--Fairy Stories--Judge Baxter--Satanic
Strategy--Miller's History--An Exchange with a Dead Man--Effect of
Democratic Victories--Attempt to Make us Work--Digging out of a
Cell--Worse than the Inquisition--Unexpected Interference--List from
"Yankee Land"--Clothing Stolen--Paroled--A Night of Joy--Torch-light
March--On the Cars--The Boat--Reach Washington--Receive Medals, Money,
and Promotion--Home.
All of our party had repeatedly tried to send letters home to let our
friends know that we were still alive, but hitherto had failed. Now we
had a providential opportunity. Some of the prisoners who were
captured at the battle of Murfreesboro' were brought to Richmond, and
confined in the basement of our building. While they remained, I wrote
a note with a pencil, on the fly-leaf of a book, and when taken down
to wash in the morning, slipped around to the door of the Western
prisoners, and gave it to an Irishman. He concealed it until he was
exchanged, and then mailed it to my father. It produced a great
sensation among my friends, most of whom had long since given me up
for dead. It was the first that had been heard of our party since the
Atlanta escape, and was at once published in my county paper, and
copied in many others. The following is the note:
RICHMOND, VA., January 6th, 1863.
DEAR FATHER--I take the opportunity of writing by a paroled
prisoner, to let you know that I am well, and doing as well
as could be expected under the circumstances. I have seen
some rather hard times, but the worst is past. Our lives are
now safe, but we will be kept during the war, unless
something lucky turns up for us. There are six of our
original railroad party here yet. Seven were executed in
June, and eight escaped in October.
I stand the imprisonment pretty well. The worst of it is to
hear of our men getting whipped so often. I hear all the
news here; read three or four papers a day. I even know that
Bingham was beat in the last election, for which I am very
sorry.
The price of everything here is awful. It costs thirty cents
to send a letter. This will account for my not writing to
all my friends. Give my sincere love to them, and tell them
to write to me.
You may write by leaving the letter unsealed, putting in
nothing that will offend the Secesh, and directing to Castle
Thunder, Richmond, Virginia. I want to know the private
news--how many of my friends have fallen. Also tell who has
been drafted in our neighborhood, who married, and who like
to be. Also if you have a gold dollar at hand, slip it into
the letter--not more, as it might tempt the Secesh to _hook_
it. I have tried to send word through to you several times
before, but there is now a better chance of communicating
since we came from Atlanta to Richmond. Mother, (here
referring to religious experience.) * * * * * * *
No doubt you all would like to see me again, but let us have
patience; many a better man than I am has suffered more, and
many parents are mourning for their children without the
hope of seeing them again. So keep your courage up, and do
not be uneasy about me. Write as soon as you can, and tell
all my friends to do the same.
Ever yours,
WILLIAM PITTENGER.
To THOMAS PITTENGER,
New Somerset, Jefferson county, Ohio.
We remained in this prison, reading of the victories of Southern
rebels, and the doings of Northern traitors, until the first of
February. At that time they wanted our range of rooms for a hospital.
This range was not adapted to the purpose, but was at least as good as
the garret above, where all who went were sure of death.
Disease was now making fearful havoc. The small-pox prevailed to a
frightful extent, and the whole town was alarmed. Men were dying
around us every day; none of our party was infected, but many of the
Tennesseeans were. It was no wonder that they found it necessary to
extend their hospitals, for the treatment we received was well
calculated to make the hardiest men sink beneath their trials. But
these fearful ravages of pestilence did at least the good of securing
our removal from the pen in which we had been confined. At first we
were taken to the bedlam I have described before; and even this was
better than the loneliness and _ennui_ of our strict confinement.
It seemed like freedom by contrast. We now had a fire also--a luxury
which one who has been _freezing_ for two months knows well how to
appreciate. It is true it did not warm half the people around it, and
these had not the courtesy of our brethern in the Libby; yet it was a
great thing to be occasionally warm.
The amusements of our new friends were striking, if not elegant. When
a dense crowd would gather round the fire, some mischievous Irishman
would cry out, "Char-rge, me boys;" and, with his confederates, rush
against the mass, knocking men in all directions, upsetting pots,
skinning elbows, and spoiling tempers generally. Fights were of
frequent occurrence, and it only needed the addition of intoxicating
liquor to constitute a perfect pandemonium.
The evenings were a compensation. After the turmoil of the day was
over, and most of those who had blankets had retired to rest, a party
of the worst rowdies, who had been annoying us all day, would gather
around the stove, and appear in a new character--that of
story-tellers. I have spent the greater part of the night in listening
to them, and have heard some of the finest fairy tales, and most
romantic legends. But the approach of day put an end to all the
romantic disposition of my companions, and left them ill ruffians as
before.
We soon wearied of this perpetual ferment, and petitioned to be put
below in the room with the Union men. After some delay it was granted,
and then came a more pleasant part of my prison life. The room was
large, but dark, and the windows not only secured by crossing bars,
but woven over with wires. The refuse tobacco-stems of the manufactory
had been thrown in this room, till they covered the floor to a depth
of several inches.
But to compensate for these disagreeable accompaniments of our new
apartment, it had a stove, and was warm; so that the terrible
suffering with the cold, which none can appreciate but those who have
endured, was now at an end. There was also good society here--nearly a
hundred Union men from different parts of the South--all intensely
patriotic, and many of them possessing great intelligence. In talking
with these men, and hearing their adventures and opinions, I passed
many a pleasant hour, and gained a great insight into the views of
Southern Unionists.
One of these, who became an intimate friend, was a Scotchman, named
Miller. When the war commenced, he was residing in Texas, and
witnessed the manner in which that State was precipitated into
secession. The first part of the plan was to excite rumors of a
contemplated slave insurrection; then the conspirators would place
poison and weapons in certain localities, and find them, as if by
accident. This was continued till the public mind was in a perfect
ferment. The next step was to take some slaves, and whip them until
the torture made them confess their own guilt, and also implicate the
leading opponents of secession. This was enough. The slaves and
Unionists were hung together on the nearest tree, and all opposition
to the nefarious schemes brutally crushed. Thus has slavery furnished
the means of paving the way to treason!
Miller himself was taken, and after narrowly escaping the fate of his
friends, was sent eastward to be tried as a traitor. He twice made his
escape, once traveling over two hundred miles, and each time, when
captured, telling a different story. Finally, he represented himself
as a citizen from New York. When brought before Judge Baxter, the
magistrate of Castle Thunder, for examination, he merely said:
"I told you all about my case before."
The judge, who was considerably intoxicated, thought that he had
actually been examined before, and dismissed him without further
questioning. He was brought up several times after that, but always
gave them the same answer, thus keeping them completely deceived, and
was at length exchanged.
I here became acquainted with a young man of the Potomac army, whom I
shall call Charlie. He was employed to go near Richmond to fire a
bridge, and collect important information. While executing his
perilous mission, he was captured, with papers in his possession fully
proving his character as a spy, and was despatched with a sergeant as
escort, toward Richmond. While on the way, the sergeant, who was fond
of liquor, got a chance to indulge, and became very careless. Charlie,
watching his opportunity, slipped from the breast pocket of his guard
the packet of papers containing his charges, with the directions for
his disposal, and threw them into a pond by the wayside.
When he arrived at Richmond, the authorities did not know his
character, and put him into the large room with the other prisoners,
instead of confining him separately. When the evidence against him
arrived, the commanding officer entered with a guard, and inquired for
him. Now was his last chance for life, and well was it improved! It so
happened that a man had died in the prison the night before, and
Charlie at once responded:
"O! that fellow died last night," and pointed to the corpse.
"Died, has he! the rascal! We'd 'a hung him this week, and saved him
the trouble if he'd only held on!" growled the officer, and departed.
Charlie was shortly after exchanged under the _dead man's name_!
Just when the discouragement of all lovers of their country was the
greatest, resulting from the news of the rise and progress of the
peace party in the North, a Tennessee Congressman visited our prison.
He gathered the Tennesseeans around him, and urged them to return to
their allegiance; stating that the Union cause was now hopeless, as it
was abandoned even by the Northern States, which were in the hands of
the Democrats, who would make peace on any terms; closing by asking
them now to _do right_, take the oath of allegiance to the
Confederacy, and go into its army, promising that all their previous
obstinacy should be forgiven. The effect was wonderful! Listen, ye who
cavil at the government, and while opposing its policy, still think
you do no harm! These were loyal men, and had proved it by abandoning
all for the cherished cause--many of them spending weary months in
loathsome dungeons. Yet on hearing of the triumph of this faction,
which promises to restore the Union by conciliating and wooing back
the rebels, over one-half of them yielded, and gave that consent which
neither danger nor suffering had been able to force from them! Thus
were over twenty recruits from one room of one prison, obtained for
the rebel army by the triumphs of Northern Democracy!
A part remained faithful, and this excited the ire of the
secessionists. To punish them, Captain Alexander issued an order that
all the menial service of the prison should be performed by Union men.
Some obeyed the order, while others would not. But those who did the
work complained that unwilling ones were not made to help them. To
remedy this, a list was prepared, and the names taken in order. One of
the first called was a Tennesseean, named McCoy. He answered boldly:
"I'm not going."
"What's the matter, now?" demanded the sergeant.
"I didn't come here to work; and if you can't board me without, you
may send me home," replied the fearless man.
"Well! well! you'll be attended to," growled the sergeant, and
proceeded with the roll. Four others likewise refused, and were
reported to Captain Alexander, who at once ordered them to be put into
"the cell." This was a dark place beside the open court, and only
about four feet wide, by six or seven in length. It had no floor but
the damp earth, and was destitute of light. Here they were informed
that they should remain until they agreed to work.
We found another alternative for them.--There was a piece of file and
a scrap of stove-pipe in our room, which we took, and buying a candle
from the commissary, watched our opportunity, when taken out to wash,
to slip them into the cell. As soon as these necessaries were
received, the boys begun faithfully to dig their way out under the
wall. All day and night they worked, but did not get through. The next
day, we supplied them with another candle, and they labored on. Toward
morning, they broke upward through the crust of the ground outside.
The foremost one wormed his way out, and glided off. He was never
heard from, and no doubt reached the Union lines. The next man was
just under the wall, when the barking of a dog, that happened to be
prowling around, drew the attention of the guard that way, and
prevented his escape. But though the stampede was thus arrested, it
was a lesson that prevented the confinement of any more in the cell.
Yet they were not content to give up the idea of making us their
servants. I happened to be on the next list prepared. This time the
task was to dig in Captain Alexander's garden, which we would have
been obliged to perform with an armed guard standing over us.
Of course, we refused to go. As a punishment, we were ordered into the
yard, which was only a vacant corner of the building, enclosed by high
brick walls, on the top of which guards walked. It was a cold day in
February, and was raining. We were nearly naked, having only the
remnant of the rags that had already served for more than their time.
The bottoms were out of my shoes, and the water stood in the yard
several inches deep. The cold, wet wind, swept down with biting
sharpness, and almost robbed us of sensation. We paced the narrow
bounds, through the mud and water, until too weary to walk any more,
and then resigned ourselves to our misery!
Here we remained from early in the morning till in the evening. They
told us we would have to stay there till we agreed to work, or froze
to death! The first we resolved never to do. The latter was prevented
by relief from an unexpected source.
The old commissary, who had been so harsh to us when we first arrived,
now went to Captain Alexander, and remonstrated with him for his
cruelty.
Said he, "If you want to kill the men, and I know the rascals deserve
it, do it at once. Hanging is the best way. But don't keep them there
to die by inches, for it will disgrace us all over the world."
This logic produced a good effect, and the order was given to send us
back to our room, which, with its warm fire, never seemed more
pleasant. It was well they did not keep us out during the night, for
we had determined to scale the wall, if we lost half of our number in
the attempt.
The effects of that terrible day of freezing were soon visible. On
entering the room, the grateful warmth produced a stupor from which
most of us awoke, sick. Some died. I, myself, contracted a disease of
the lungs, which rendered me an invalid for months after regaining my
freedom.
One day we were ordered into line, and the names of all our railroad
party, with a few of the others, called over. One, whose name was
omitted, asked the reason of the omission. The officer answered:
"We can't tell, for this list came from Yankee land."
The mention of "Yankee land" started conjectures afloat thick and
fast. Why should a list be sent from the North? Could it be for the
purpose of exchange? The whole prison was in a ferment.
They soon discovered that a general exchange of political prisoners
was in contemplation. This added fuel to the flames. But as the
truce-boats went off one after another, and week after week passed by,
leaving us still in our dark and wearisome prison, hope again died
away. Every person who ventured to speak of exchange was laughed into
silence.
One day an officer came into the room, and ordered a sergeant to take
the name of every man who claimed United States protection, in order
to obtain clothes for him. Soon the clothing came. It did not
comprise a complete suit, but was extremely welcome. Never did I see a
peacock strut with more ostentation than did some of the prisoners on
donning the uniform. And it was worthy of pride. It was a token that
we were not forsaken, but that a great nation was extending its
protection over us. The ragged guards around, clad in their miserable
butternut suits, growled many uncomplimentary allusions to the
penuriousness of their own government, in contrast with the
munificence of ours.
There were only about one hundred _parts_ of suits distributed, though
the papers, the next day, stated the number at _five_ hundred! and
this I afterward found was actually the number sent from Washington.
The entire four hundred, and part of the last hundred, was kept by the
officers as a compensation for their trouble in distributing them! But
they certainly acted with more than their ordinary honesty in giving
us any at all!
On the evening of the 17th of March, when we were sitting around the
fire, lazily, but not indifferently, discussing the siege of
Vicksburg, and laying many infallible plans by which it might be at
once reduced, an officer entered, and gave the strange order for all
"who wanted to go to the _United States_ to come to the office!"
When I obeyed, it was with very little hope that there was really a
chance once more to stand beneath the folds of our loved banner. Even
when part of our room-mates had gone in, and signed the oath of
parole, I feared that the good news was _only_ for them. To test the
matter, I went forward, and as I gave my name, fully expected to
hear--"The engine-thieves can't go"--but no objection was made. For a
moment a delicious hope thrilled through my veins--a vision of
happiness and home, dazzling as a flash of summer lightning, shone
before my eyes--but it instantly faded before the remembrance of our
Atlanta deception.
It was announced that we were to start at four o'clock the next
morning. The evening, as might be expected, was one of wild
excitement. Nearly all acted like men bereft of reason. Their
joyousness found vent in vociferous cheers--in dancing and bounding
over the floor--in embracing each other, and pledging kind
remembrances. But there were a few who were not permitted to go, and I
pitied them. I remembered when we had been left by our comrades on our
first arrival in Richmond, and my heart bled for these forsaken ones,
as they sat cheerless and alone, seeming to feel even more wretched
than ever, amid the general joy.
It was near midnight before we became calm enough to offer up our
usual evening devotions. But when all were at length still, wearied
out by the very excess of joy, and when the quietness that ever
follows overwhelming emotions had settled down upon us, we knelt in
prayer--a prayer of deep, strong, fervent thankfulness; and we
implored that we might not be deceived in our bright and vivid hopes,
and dashed back from our anticipated paradise; yet if such should be
His high and mysterious will, and we should see these hopes fade, as
others faded before them, we asked for strength to bear the trial.
Thus composed, we laid down to sleep, and await the event.
Few eyes closed during the entire night. Fancy was too busy peopling
her fairy landscapes--picturing the groups that awaited us beyond that
boundary which, for nearly a year, frowned before us, gloomy and
impassable as the silent river of death! But even as we muse, what
unbidden fears spring up to darken the prospect, and stain the
brightness of our joy! How many of those friends whose love was as our
life, may be no more! For a year, not a whisper had been heard, and we
trembled as we thought of the ravages of time and of battle. These
and other thoughts whirled through our throbbing brains during that
ever-memorable night, and were only broken by the summons of the
commanding officer, who, long ere morning light, gave the thrilling
order to--_prepare for our journey_!
Hurriedly we thronged to our feet. It was true! Freedom once more! Our
terrible captivity was passed! O joy! JOY!--almost too wild and
delirious for earth!
There was a hurrying around in the darkness illumined by the flashing
of torch-lights--a discordant calling of names--a careful inspection
to see that none went but those allowed; then, forming two lines in
the courtyard, and with bounding hearts, we passed _outward_ through
the dreaded portals of Castle Thunder--the same portals we had passed
_inward_ more than three months before! passed out into the cool, but
_free_ night air!
We next marched through the muddy, unlighted streets for many squares.
There were with us a number of sick, who were not willing to be left
behind; and as the rebels refused to provide conveyances, we helped
them--encircling them in our arms, and supporting their tottering
steps during the weary distance. Some had to be carried altogether,
but the burden was light, upborne, as we were, on the wings of hope
and exultation.
After we were seated in the cars, we found in some Richmond papers the
intelligence that "a large number of engine-thieves, bridge-burners,
murderers, robbers, and traitors will leave this morning for the
United States," also congratulating themselves on the riddance. Our
congratulations were not less fervid!
We glided slowly along, passing fortifications and rifle-pits, till we
arrived at Petersburg; then onward to City Point, the place of general
exchange. Here, for the first time in eleven months, we saw the "flag
of the free," floating in proud beauty from the truce-boat "State of
Maine." It was a glad sight! Her undulating stars were fairer to us
than the brightest constellations that ever sparkled in the azure
fields above.
The grossest frauds are often practised by the unscrupulous
secessionists in these exchanges. I will give a case that occurred at
this time.
A rebel soldier was wounded in the head at the first battle of
Manassas. It affected his brain, and disordered his intellect, so that
even after he had recovered physically, he was mentally unable to
perform the duties of a soldier. He was confined a short time in
Castle Thunder, and then sent to Camp Lee, to try him again. But he
was no better than before, and they gave up the attempt in despair.
Then they exchanged him to us, and got a _sound man_ in his place!
When the boat rounded out from the shore on its homeward way, our joy
knew no bounds. It seemed as if we had awakened from a hideous
nightmare dream to find that all its shapes of horror and grinning
fiends had passed away, and left us standing in the free sunlight once
more. Our hearts beat glad music to the thresh of the wheels on the
water, knowing that each ponderous stroke was placing a greater
distance between us and our hated enemies.
Then, too, the happy welcome with which we were greeted; and the good
cheer, so different from our miserable prison fare, and the kind
faces, smiling all around, showed in living colors that we were
freemen again.
Down the river we went, passing the historic ground of the James, as
in a delirious dream of rapture! We were scarcely conscious of passing
events. No emotion on earth has the same sweep and intensity as the
wild, throbbing sensations that rush thick and fast through the bosom
of the liberated captive!
On we went--reached the gunboats that ply up and down the river, like
giant sentinels, guarding the avenue to rebellion--reached the river's
mouth, passed onward up the bay to Washington! As we came in sight, we
thronged tumultuously to the vessel's side, and bent eager, loving
eyes on the snowy marble front, and white towering steeple of our
nation's Capitol.
On our arrival, we were requested by the Secretary of War to give our
depositions before Hon. Joseph Holt, Judge Advocate General, that the
world at large might know on the surest foundation the truth of our
narrative. We were received by the Judge himself, and Major-General
Hitchcock, who was present, with the most marked cordiality. This
interview was merely a friendly one, and was passed in familiar
conversation.
On our second visit, we found a justice of the peace in waiting to
administer the necessary oath, and also a phonographer to write our
testimony. We were examined separately, and the result published
officially in the _Army and Naval Gazette_, and also in most of the
newspapers of the day.
We then called on the Secretary of War, accompanied by our kind
friends, Major-General Hitchcock and J. C. Wetmore, Ohio State Agent.
Generals Sigel and Stahl, with many other distinguished personages,
were in waiting, but we were given the preference, and at once
admitted.
The Secretary conversed with us most affably for some time. Then going
into another room, he brought out _six medals_, (see engraving--all
are similar,) and presented them to us, saying that they were the
first ever given to private soldiers. Jacob Parrott, the boy who
endured the terrible beating, received, as he well deserved, the first
one.
[Illustration: THE MEDAL--(_reduced size._)]
[Illustration: REVERSE OF MEDAL.]
He next presented us with one hundred dollars each, and ordered all
arrearages to be paid, and the money and the value of the arms taken
from us to be refunded.
This was not all. He requested Governor Todd to promote each of us to
first lieutenants in the Ohio troops; and, if he failed to do so,
promised to give us that grade in the regular army. We then received
furloughs to visit our homes, and left his presence profoundly
convinced that "republics are" not always "ungrateful."
We were then escorted by our friends to the Executive mansion, and had
a most pleasing interview with our noble President. His kindness was
equal to that of the Secretary. After relating to him some incidents
of prison experience, and receiving his sympathizing comments, we took
our leave.
And now--safe in a land of freedom--with the consciousness of having
performed our duty--surrounded by fathers and mothers, brothers and
sisters, wives and children, who had long mourned us as dead--our
dangers past, and our sufferings rewarded--I drop the vail.
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's Daring and Suffering:, by William Pittenger