Sherman devastates Northern Georgia--Columbia "Camp Sorghum"--A
"dug-out"--I get away--Free--An unexpected plunge--Trouble
ahead--Recaptured--A meal--The "debtor's cell" at Abbeville--Back to
"Sorghum."
It was now reported that Sherman was on our track, devastating Northern
Georgia. Accordingly, on the first of October, the guard was marched
in and we were surrounded in the yard behind the hospital. The parole
which we had signed was then produced, torn to pieces before our eyes,
and declared at an end. We were then marched out, taken to the depot,
put into some old dirty cars and transported to Columbia. Here we were
unloaded, marched across Broad River, over a long, covered bridge, to
an old pasture of about three acres, around which had been ploughed two
furrows. One of these was designated the line for the guards beat; the
other (inside), the _dead_ line. Into this pasture we were herded like
so many sheep, without shade or shelter. Our rations were reduced, so
that each of us received but a little over a pint of dirty old corn
meal a day, and a little sorghum molasses. I had a quart cup and,
after washing my meal, had just enough left to make one quart of mush
with a sorghum dressing. Think of it, reader, you who have enough and
to spare, and have no taste for sorghum molasses, how you would have
relished this delightful fare; yet we were forced to accept it by the
demands of hunger, and because we were captives to Southern chevaliers.
We named our quarters (the prison) "Camp Sorghum." The commandant,
whose name I cannot now recall, was a colonel of the rebel army, and
really a kind-hearted man; and I really believe that, had he been
able, he would have made our circumstances comfortable; but he was
a creature of circumstances and could not control his superiors. He
was gentlemanly and courteous to us, and granted us privileges we had
never been allowed before; he permitted us to go out to the woods
under guard, and gather limbs and boughs from trees with which to make
some kind of shelter to protect us from the cold, fall rains. A second
lieutenant and myself dug a hole in the ground about three feet wide,
seven long and two feet deep, covered it over with limbs and dirt,
leaving a small hole at one end to serve as an entrance and exit. This
was not original with us, as many similar ones had been made before,
nor was it convenient to get in and out of, but by pulling our feet up
under us we could manage to keep partially dry and warm.
I was not satisfied, however, and was continually watching for a chance
to escape. Finally a long, drizzling rain came on and the colonel gave
a number of paroles to some favored, to go out and get limbs, poles and
boughs, with which to fix up their quarters, (if you could call their
dug-outs quarters). This squad was only allowed to carry its luggage
to the guards' beat, throw it over, then return to the woods for more.
Then another party was permitted to go out over the dead line, get the
truck and carry it back to quarters. I watched them for some time and
noticed that the guard did not seem to be very particular about the
mingling of those on the outside of the beat. The next time the squad
came from the woods I walked out, gathered up an armful of the stuff,
returned with the others, and carried the armful to their dug-out. I
then waited until they came again, and deliberately walked out with
those who went to the timber, the ones who had been paroled for the
purpose. I was now outside of the prison in open woods, in plain sight
of the pasture and only about three o'clock in the afternoon. This was
to be the last trip of the paroled men, so I crawled under the top of
a tree, which they had left partly trimmed, and got the men to cover
me over with boughs and limbs sufficient to conceal my view from "Camp
Sorghum," and there I had to lie on the cold, wet earth, without daring
to move, until night.
Night came and the rain still poured down in torrents. I could easily
see what few lights were visible in camp and, as I crawled out, turned
my back upon these. It was so dark that I had to feel my way, and as I
had my back to the camp I had nothing but the sense of feeling to guide
my footsteps; but as I supposed the long looked for time had come and
I was on my way to liberty, my way seemed easy, and my hopes beat high
with a desire to reach the Union lines, somewhere in East Tennessee.
In the course of a couple of hours I found an old road which I could
follow by means of the small puddles of water that were lying at
intervals all along. Then I began to lengthen the distance between
myself and camp as fast as my poor, weak limbs and empty stomach would
permit.
After an hour or so I began to warm up, but the storm seemed to be
increasing as well as the darkness, and finally I lost the road,
though still in the woods. I turned and tried to find the road and in
the search I soon heard water roaring and tumbling. A few feet ahead
I could see a white sheet of water and decided that it was the road.
I felt my way carefully along to the edge of the white sheet; there
seemed to be a black space between me and the streak of white, which I
took to be a ditch that I could jump, when I should find myself in the
road again. I made the jump, but alas, the white sheet proved to be a
mill pond, which had no bottom at the place where I struck the water,
yet I had enough presence of mind to swim for a ledge near the bank.
When I reached the ledge, the rocks proved so steep I could not climb
them, and I was forced to make my way by clinging to the rocks as best
I could along the edge of the water, until I came to a place where
some of the stone and earth had been taken away to build a dam. There
I crawled out, went up the bank and into the woods again. Then I saw
a light streak which I went to and, remembering my former experience,
merely followed along its edge until I came to what appeared to be a
bridge; this I crossed, and I soon found myself outside of the woods
and again in a road. On examination I found the road was fenced and on
each side were cultivated fields. The storm was clearing, and I could
begin to see. Presently I came to a cornfield; I entered, plucked a
few ears of corn and, by cracking a kernel at a time with my teeth,
managed to eat some of it; this in a measure appeased my intense
hunger. During the remainder of the night I passed a number of houses
but for obvious reasons did not seek admission. When daylight came I
saw an old log house near the center of a field, which on going to I
found to be well filled with unthreshed cow pease. I climbed up to the
gable, entered the hovel, dug a hole in the peas, crawled in, covered
myself up and there remained through the day, cracking corn and cow
peas with my teeth. About an hour after dark I resumed my way. The
stars were shining brightly, the road was good and I was leaving "Camp
Sorghum" far in the rear, all of which circumstances made me very
hopeful indeed. I continued my march through the night, and as soon as
daylight approached found a covey in a hedge near a small creek, where
I remained through the day with plenty of water to drink. The sun came
out quite warm and dried my clothing, and I washed my face and hands in
the clear water of the brook, and passed the day without any untoward
incident. As soon as it was dark enough I again ventured out and
continued my long anticipated journey, passing through what I called a
very good farming country.
But trouble was now ahead of me, in spite of all my hopes. As soon as
I could see signs of daylight I began to look about for a safe resting
place for the day. Seeing a piece of woods not far away I went to it,
but upon my arrival I found it to be surrounded by three houses, and
very open. Roosters began to crow, dogs to bark, pigs to squeal, and my
chances of hiding there without discovery were absolutely worthless.
Looking ahead I saw another piece of timber, which looked larger,
thicker and more secluded, so I made for it, when to my astonishment
I saw a boy approaching on a mule. I stepped behind a tree until he
passed, then I continued my way, crossed a road, but had only gone on
a few steps when a couple of men stepped out from behind a tree, armed
with shot guns, which were immediately stuck into my face, accompanied
with the command to "Halt!" Of course I obeyed. They took me in charge
and I found myself again a prisoner in the hands of the enemy. One of
my captors was a young man, a soldier home on a furlough; the other,
an old, nervous, gray-haired citizen, perhaps a neighbor. The soldier
walked by my side, was very pleasant and communicative, and the old
man walked in the rear with his old shot gun continually leveled at my
head, and a determined look, which meant that he would not hesitate
to shoot if I made any effort to escape. They conducted me to the
soldier's house, and, on reaching it, the young man told the old
gentleman that he could go, as he would see that I was taken care of.
This seemed to be satisfactory and the old man departed.
The soldier then led the way into the house and I followed. Everything
indicated a comfortable farmer's home. I was given a chair in front
of the fireplace, in which was burning a good, hot fire. The family
seemed to be a large one, and as one after another appeared, he or she
would extend a hand, which was grasped by mine in return, much as if we
had been old friends just meeting after a long absence. After getting
warmed, I asked for a chance to get washed, which was soon furnished,
after which I again took my seat by the warm, comfortable fire, but
with such a craving appetite that I began to fear I should have to tell
my hostess that if she would hold prisoners she must needs feed them,
but they had been so hospitable thus far I refrained and waited. Soon
after a negro woman brought in a large server on which was a bountiful
breakfast, which was placed on the table and I was invited to help
myself. You may be sure that I was not long accepting the invitation. I
took a chair at the table, the first table I had sat down to in over a
year, and enjoyed a clean, wholesome meal.
The lady of the house was a great talker, and while I was eating she
entertained me with her views. She told me that before the State of
South Carolina seceded they were all a happy, prosperous people; that
if they wished to go anywhere all they had to do was to pack their
trunks and go. But now they were in the Confederacy, ruled by old
"Jeff" Davis, and all the laws they had were laws to impress their
property and conscript the men; that all of the best men were being
killed off, the only ones left being either deserters or cripples, and
that God only knew what would become of them. Her ideas of the future
of the Confederacy were anything but flattering or optimistic.
After I had finished my breakfast the soldier told me he would have
to take me to Abbeville, and there deliver me over to the provost
marshal, the distance being about four miles; but he said that he
would not start until four o'clock in the afternoon; in the meantime I
could have the freedom of the house and yard by giving him my parole
verbally, which I readily did. This soldier and this family were true
representatives of Southern chivalry, and had I received the same
treatment at the hands of my other captors, all that I have heretofore
said in this little story against the false chivalry that prevailed
would have been left unsaid. But to proceed: Through the day the ladies
of the house repaired my torn clothing as far as they dared, and when
the hour of departure came, I was taken in a buggy and delivered over
to the custody of the provost marshal at Abbeville jail. Here I was
taken to a room called a "debtor's cell," and told to enter. I obeyed
the order. Imagine my astonishment on so doing, to behold six other
escaped prisoners from "Camp Sorghum." In figuring up the distance
which I had traveled in the three nights of my journey, I found that
I was sixty miles from Columbia and had traveled on foot and alone,
living on corn on the ear and raw cow peas, fifty-six miles, had rode
in a buggy four, and had had two good square meals. After remaining in
the debtors' room two nights and one day, we were taken out, loaded
into an old carry-all and taken to Lexington County court house, where
we were confined over night, then started out again next morning, with
an entirely different outfit, for Columbia, and there delivered to the
provost marshal, who conveyed us in a stylish rig to "Camp Sorghum."
The gate was thrown open and I found myself back again in the old
quarters, in spite of my ducking in the mill pond, my hard rations
of cow peas and raw corn and sixty miles travel. But such is the lot
of the soldier and I had to submit. When we entered the camp we were
greeted with the old familiar cry of "Fresh fish! Fresh fish!! Fresh
fish!!!" but our identity was soon discovered, and, after giving them
an account of our experiences, we retired to our various quarters.
I found my old dug-out just as I had left it, crawled in and got a
good night's rest and sleep, with a good prospect of another long
captivity--how long only the future would reveal.
At this time there were many absentees, but all were accounted for at
roll count, which we had gotten so systematized that the count was
kept correct in point of numbers (one man only was selected to look
after the count of the absentees), but the citizens in the country were
continually capturing and returning escaped prisoners.