TO CAMP FORD AND JOY.
While we were in Shreveport my regiment was exchanged, and marched
through on its way home. I tried very hard to be allowed to go with
them, but Captain Burchard, who was in charge, refused to allow it. I
had quite a row with him after pleadings and diplomacy had failed, but
nothing did any good. It was decided that I must go back to Tyler on
account of my two attempts to escape.
Shortly after this bitter disappointment the stockade got too full, and
a lot of us were sent to Tyler under a heavy guard, Captain Rummel being
left behind on account of sickness. These guards had special orders to
shoot me if I tried to escape, evidently the result of my row with
Captain Burchard. This fact was told to me by one of the guards, but I
joked about it and professed not to believe it.
One of the guards was a boy, who seemed more inclined to general
conversation than the rest. He walked and talked with me a good deal. In
one of our talks he mentioned that he was from "Kasseder," in Davis
county. As I knew several people in the place, having stopped there on
my former return to Tyler, I at once surprised him by airing my
knowledge. As I desired to amuse myself by quizzing him, I was
mysterious and non-committal. He was puzzled considerably, and went off
and told his captain.
The officer rode up to my side a little later and entered into a
conversation. I treated him the same as I had treated the boy, and when
he left me he was almost overpowered with curiosity.
I now discovered that one of the guards was the man whom I had met with
a wagon when we crossed the Sulphur Fork of Red River. We talked
together, but he did not recognize me. At first I claimed to have seen
him before, but he thought not. After bothering him to my heart's
content, I reminded him of our having crossed Sulphur Fork together,
when he said that he had been suspicious of us at the time. This was so
much of the "I-told-you-so" order that I had a good laugh at him for his
"hindsight."
The other officers kept dropping back to interview me, and I got their
curiosity inflamed to a high degree by talking familiarly of different
places and of an imaginary plan of an underground railroad. This caused
the officers to become agitated, and I saw that they suspected me of
something serious. When a detail was finally sent to take me before the
officer in command I concluded that the matter had gone far enough, and,
when questioned, I explained how I had become acquainted, on a previous
runaway trip, with the people and places spoken of so familiarly. The
matter ended in much laughter and some jokes.
During the rest of the march I talked negro suffrage and equality, at
times nearly driving our captors wild by picturing the pleasures to come
to them when these liberties should prevail. They got mad at times, but
seemed to like hearing me talk, and evidently saw that I said more than
I meant in some ways; yet I told many truths--which made them mad--about
the actual practice by Southern whites of equality with negroes, as
evidenced by the thousands of mulattoes among them.
Another source of amusement to me was to bother the guard at night by
sleeping away from my companions and as near the guard line as I could.
The guards would remonstrate and get mad, but I would blarney them a
little and say that I had money on my person which I was afraid my
companions would steal, and that I wanted to keep close to them for
protection. They could not reasonably object to this, but it made them
keep an eye on me in particular, and the various characteristics of the
different men were a constant source of study and amusement.
My feelings on this journey were of a kind that kept me constantly on
the "_qui vive_" for something to divert my mind from reflections. To
have escaped twice and been recaptured each time was bad enough,
especially when one venture had been so nearly a success, and the
failure through treachery of the last attempt to get away had seemed to
cap the climax at the time; but to see all my regimental comrades file
before me on their way to home and friends, while I was sent back to
confinement, was the proverbial last straw--only, in this case, it did
not break the camel's back; but it was a close call.
I had no interests in Camp Ford that I was not entirely willing to
sacrifice for the sake of being at home or with my men, and the
Confederacy was welcome to my rations if they would dispense with my
presence; but, while my residence in Texas, with free board and lodging,
was insisted upon so strongly as being necessary for the good of the
country, I really could not leave the good people, not even for the sake
of personal pleasures.
Talking to myself in this way when reflections crowded upon me, and by
seizing every opportunity to amuse myself at the expense of the guards,
I got the camel's back in pretty fair shape again, and resigned myself
to the inevitable.
We finally reached the familiar stockade at Tyler, and about 250 of us
were in line when we fell in for roll-call. Each man entered the
stockade alone as his name was called.
As before described, the entrance of prisoners was a noisy occasion,
and one scene was very much like another; but, when I stepped into the
enclosure, there was a movement of surprise and then a dead silence.
Most of the men knew me, and their knowledge was communicated quickly to
the rest. Seeing me come in after my long absence, and after my regiment
had been exchanged, caused a sympathy that brought about silence almost
as if by command.
I was not feeling particularly joyful anyway, and had had hard work to
keep up my spirits on the road, so that this evidence of sympathy nearly
caused me to break down altogether.
Soon after my return to the stockade I gained the title of Exchange
Commissioner. I was familiar with the forms of all passes, furloughs,
etc., and, as before stated, I could imitate almost any handwriting. As
the new men in the place became acquainted with me and my
accomplishments I was besieged with requests for different papers that
would facilitate egress or escape.
The older prisoners were not as anxious for escape as the younger, or,
rather, newer ones, as they had seen so many failures and punishments
that they wanted a pretty sure thing before they risked an attempt.
Men even went so far as to ask me to get them out of the stockade, but I
told them that I would give any papers they wanted, leaving to them the
getting out.
My exchange or furlough business was conducted about as follows:
A man would come to me for the means of escape, or, rather, the means of
avoiding recapture after escape. I would make out a written application
from him to his captain for a leave of ten, twenty or thirty days, in
which was stated the necessity for his going home to Upshur county,
Texas, to procure clothing, which all Confederate soldiers then needed.
On the back of this application would appear the approval of his
captain, colonel and brigade commander, as well as the final and
effective endorsement of Kirby Smith's adjutant, General Boggs, all the
endorsements being made by me, except that of General Boggs, which was
completely counterfeited by the adjutant of the 77th Ohio. Thus being
fortified with legal authority to return to his regiment on an expired
furlough, the prisoner would endeavor to appear as a dutiful Confederate
soldier going to the front, get out as best he could, after receiving
careful instructions as to his route and actions, and take his chances
of success.
My escapes and experiences were talked over, and the men seemed to think
that I could do most anything desired, the accidental character of our
captures not being regarded as any reflection upon my ability in the
attempts to escape.
A Colonel Jamison was now the commander of the stockade, and the officer
who brought us in related to him some of my talks about negro suffrage
and equality, which amused him very much.
One day he sent for me to come to him in order that he might hear some
of my talk on these subjects. I evaded the topics as well as I could,
but made so good an impression upon him that he gave me a pass to go in
and out at will, with twenty men, upon my promise that I would not take
advantage of it to escape myself or let any of my companions do so. My
excuse for asking it was that we wanted to swim in the stream near by,
gather wild greens and take proper exercise.
A few days later, as ten men and myself were in swimming under this pass
in a creek about half a mile from the stockade we saw a couple of young
negro boys watching us. I told the men to go ahead with their fun while
I talked with the boys. One of these youngsters was about fourteen years
old and the other nineteen. They knew who I was and all about my
escapes, and were anxious to see me get away, urging me to break away
right then, as there was no guard around, but I told them that I was out
on parole and could not. They then told me that they had charge of the
horses of the major at headquarters, and that I could at any time have a
horse and uniform to help me get away, showing me the cabin where they
lived and where I could come for this assistance.
I told the boys that I would take the first chance I had to get out
without breaking parole, and they left me. I was greatly excited at the
prospect, for I now knew the country so well that I had little fear of
not being able to make my way to Little Rock with such assistance as I
knew I could get along the road.
When we went back to the stockade I prepared some despatches from Kirby
Smith to Gano, and planned the whole route and system which I would
follow in general. My plan was simply to get out at night, get my
uniform and horse, and ride for Dooley's Ferry despatch-bearer, taking
my chances on my presence of mind being sufficient to carry me through
in any emergency.
Recollecting all that had been said to me by Captain Payne--the guard
who had let me ride his horse just after leaving Arkadelphia on the
return trip--I figured that I could make Little Rock in about five days
by hard riding, stopping here and there on the way to feed and rest, and
having an easy time after reaching Dooley's Ferry.
The negro boy promised to keep the loss of the horse covered as long as
possible, by pretending that the animal had gotten loose and strayed
away, so that it was reasonable to assume that enough time would be
spent in hunting the animal to render futile any pursuit from the
stockade after my leave of absence became known to the guards. My
despatches should take care of any ordinary obstacle in my way to the
river, and, with my ability to "bluff" the average person or persons
likely to be met, I felt confident that only an accident or
extraordinary stoppage could upset my plans. Dooley would know me when I
referred to Captain Payne, and my passage of Red River was assured if I
reached that point, while he would also direct me to the captain's
place, some ten or fifteen miles away, where I would be certain of
concealment and assistance. The captain's neighbor, who had sons in the
Federal army, would find a way to get me within our lines, with the
assistance of horses from Payne's corral. Altogether, I could almost see
myself at home again.
The thing was feasible, and I was anxious to try it, scarcely being able
to sleep at nights for thinking about it.
The men about me all tried to dissuade me on account of the risk of
capture with a horse in my possession, and because Lee had surrendered
and the war could not last much longer, saying that I was foolish to
take any risks at such a time.
There was much talk at this time, among the rebels, of Kirby Smith's
holding out in the Southwest and being heavily reinforced by the
scattered remnants of other armies. This had an appearance of being
reasonable, as matters then looked to us, and I would listen to no
arguments against my proposed scheme; so a day was set for my
departure, and I fully intended to go.
When I was sufficiently well supplied with food and really ready to
start, my companions begged and pleaded with me so hard not to risk it
till we were more certain of continued imprisonment that I compromised
by postponing the date.
This thing went on for several weeks, I making postponement after
postponement, until I finally settled it decidedly that I would go on
such a day unless we got some favorable news.
Before the fixed time came around we saw Captain Burchard ride by the
stockade and go to headquarters. Knowing that he was after some more
prisoners for exchange, we sent out a man to learn who were to be the
favored ones. The messenger came back, all in a flutter of excitement,
and announced that all were to go.
The scene of confusion and excitement which ensued cannot be described.
The men simply went wild. For myself, I had to sit down to quiet my
nervousness.
The guards began to leave for home as soon as the news became known.
Twenty-four hours after Captain Burchard arrived there were no guards to
be seen anywhere, except the higher officers, and we could have broken
out any time after that. We were not silly enough to do this, however,
as it would have relieved the rebels too much, for they were bound to
feed and escort us if we stayed.
We were kept three days in the stockade, awaiting the arrival of
rations, and during this time we had no regular food, as the mill which
the rebels had used to grind grain had broken down just at a time when
they seemed to need it most.
The citizens flocked in to see us, and brought us food, or we should
have gone hungry during this interval. They came to trade for the things
which we would leave behind us, and we sold off the pots and kettles
belonging to the Confederacy, until the authorities learned the fact and
placed a guard at the gate to prevent any further depletion of their
stock of cooking utensils. As the prisoners now had nothing to cook,
they commenced to break up and throw into the cesspools all that was
left of the cooking outfit, and before long there was not a pot or
skillet to be found.
By this time the stockade was broken in several places, and we could
pass in and out at will, but it was more the desire to feel that we
could do so which prompted any egress than any desire to go anywhere, as
we were all anxious to get home, and did not want to go by ourselves
when all were going so soon.
An irrepressible Zouave prisoner got into the headquarters room one day,
and, filled with enthusiasm and the conviction that the Confederacy was
busted, nearly destroyed the records in the office before he was
discovered and kicked out.
Finally, the rations not coming, the rebels got an ox-team with which to
haul the sick men, and we made a start for Shreveport.
It is a matter of record that I was the last man to leave the stockade
on this occasion, and consequently the last prisoner confined in it. I
made it a point to see that every other human being was out of the
enclosure before I departed, and to have others know the fact. I will
not attempt to describe my feelings as the final exit was made; suffice
it to say that it was one of the happiest moments of my life.