An "underground railway"--More paroles--Bloodhounds--Bribing
the guard--Bloodhound steaks--Two hundred and fifty prisoners
"short"--Back to Columbia--Building barracks--A good tunnel started.
I was very secretly informed of an "underground railway," by means of
which I could effect a speedy and safe exit to and through the Union
lines, were I ever so fortunate as to get outside again. I was to go
directly west for twenty miles, then inquire for Colonel ---- of such
negroes as I might see and they would take me to him; he would put me
in charge of a guide, who would pilot me in a roundabout way four or
five miles, then put me in charge of another guide to lead me to the
next station; here guides would again be changed, each guide to lead me
in the secret paths and byways as far as he was acquainted, then leave
me with another colored friend and so on until I would be run in to
the Union lines somewhere in Eastern Tennessee. Time dragged its weary
length along, the commandant of the prison was still granting daily
paroles to the men to go out after boughs and limbs until four P.M.,
each man writing and signing his own parole. At four o'clock the parole
was taken up, and the men turned back into the prison by the officer
of the guard. But how those "dirty Yanks" were working the paroles. It
was so done that every day about as many Yanks were released from the
bastile as there were paroles granted.
I will illustrate how this was done: Captain Biggs, of the 147th R.I.
Vol. Inft., gives his parole with four others to go out and spend the
day; each man gives his parole separately, all to return at four P.M.
Now, Captain Biggs has a friend who is aware that he is out on parole
with four others. Along about three o'clock a party presents itself
at post number one; this post is allowed to speak to the guard. The
party enquire for the officer of the guard, who is called, and he steps
inside. Then the men approach him one at a time. The first says, "I
am Captain Biggs, of the 147th R.I. Vol. Inft.; I gave my parole this
morning to go out and spend the day, but we got hungry and came in
after something to eat and to get a little rest; now we desire to go
back and finish the day." The officer of the guard takes out his pencil
and book, then and there takes each man's name, rank and regiment, and
goes to the colonel's tent, compares the names with those signed on
the paroles, finds them to be correct, goes back to post number one
and passes them out. At four o'clock P.M. those who actually signed
the paroles go to the colonel's tent, take up their paroles and are
turned back into camp, all having been faithful to their pledges. The
other five are now outside and left to their liberty. Of course this
program is varied to suit the occasion, sometimes one man claiming the
privilege, sometimes none, yet enough to average at least two men a
day. But the absent men were always accounted for in the morning, by
the plan before referred to, some one else counting in their place.
About this time there had been so many stragglers picked up and
returned to the prison that bloodhounds were brought forth. Still
this made no material difference, the desire for liberty being so
strong it merely increased the caution of the men who escaped, without
diminishing their numbers. All sorts of things happened in camp. One
night a big hog came in and was at once dispatched by the fire of
the guard. Another night a cow walked in and after five shots she
was disposed of. Another night two men attempted to crawl out, and
just as they passed the dead line a light was started in a sick man's
quarters. They were instantly exposed to the guard. The story is that
they paid the guard a ransom and then were deliberately murdered. I
cannot vouch for this as I did not see the act, but I know such things
did occur. Shots were often deliberately fired into camp, and no man
was safe unless he was in a dug-out. Many of the guard was susceptible
of bribery, however, and some of them carried out their contracts.
The Yankees educated them, it is said, in this way: A prisoner would
approach the guard with an offer to be passed out; the guard would
reply, "That won't do, for you know what the consequences will be
if I am caught." The Yankee replies, "I will fix that all right; I
will give you this gold watch, also two gold rings; you can give
the rings, one to each, to the guards on your right and left. When
your relief comes on I will crawl out to you, give you the watch and
rings, then continue to crawl on a few feet, jump up and run; then
you three guards can shoot your guns in the air. I will be at liberty
and you will have done all that could be expected of you." This plan
is accepted, the prisoner tells a number of his associates, who have
helped to make up the ransom, and they wait until the fire is drawn
from the guns. Night comes, the relief is exchanged as expected, all
crawl near the dead line, the instigator delivers up the treasures,
jumps and runs; the guards fire, not only the three, but from other
posts adjoining; now the guns are empty and a stampede ensues. The
long roll beats, the cry is "Guards fall in," the cannoneers man the
artillery, the camp is patrolled and all found to be quiet; the guard
retires, and all await daylight. Then the hounds are sent out, the
baying commences in the woods west of camp and can be heard for hours.
A number of these men are captured and brought back. One man, whom I
saw myself, had been bitten in the face, besides having one of his arms
almost torn off.
One day two of the hounds took the back track and came into the camp.
They only lived long enough to be dragged into one of the quarters,
where their throats were cut, their bodies skinned and their flesh
cooked and eaten by their captors.
The officials by this time began to think they were not using proper
vigilance, and that their method of taking account of the prisoners
was not sufficient. So they came in with a strong guard, drove all the
men to one end, established a line across the center, and then passed
us back over the line, single file, counting us one at a time, as they
did at Libby. I was told afterwards that they found themselves short
two hundred and fifty men. They searched and probed for tunnels, but in
vain; the "parole plan" beat a tunnel all to pieces. Night came on, the
guard was doubled, but all was quiet; no attempts were made that night.
Next morning we were ordered to get ready to move as soon as possible,
and after a few minutes we were marched out and back to Columbia. There
we were put into one end of the asylum yard. This was about the first
of January, 1865. This yard was inclosed with a brick wall, ten or
twelve feet high, and they had made a high board fence across the south
end, cutting off about three acres, which was to be our next prison,
and into which we were marched. The location was good, with a nice
green sod and plenty of good clear water.
The authorities promised to furnish nails, tools and lumber to build
barracks with if we would do the work; they to send a mechanic to
superintend the first building, which was to be a model for all others.
A call was made for carpenters from our number. I was one of many
who answered the call. This gave me the first responsibility of any
enterprise during my long confinement. The nails and lumber came, also
the tools and boss mechanic, who gave us the dimensions of the first
house. It was to be 26x26 feet square, eight feet high, with double
board crotch roof, a partition in the center and a double fireplace in
the partition; the building was to hold thirty-six occupants.
A good, comfortable house was built in short order, and as soon as
the outside was done, nails and lumber being plenty, bunks were made,
also tables, benches and stools. While this work was progressing I
made a scuttle hole to serve as the commencement of a tunnel. It was
put down below the surface of the ground about two inches and in the
center of the fireplace. Another of the party made a little sled about
eight inches wide and sixteen long, the runners rounded at both ends,
to be used to draw out the dirt from the tunnel. We surrendered our
tools to the next gang which was to build the next house like ours, but
before it was completed the lumber and nails gave out and that was the
end of the building of the promised barracks. Like all other promises
which had been made to us since our captivity there was no fulfillment.
So the thirty-six that were housed, including myself, concluded that
we would do our part toward aiding the rest, and we very quietly and
secretly began digging the tunnel we had started under the fireplace.
One of our party, who was quite an artist with the pencil, obtained
permission to go out and make a sketch of the camp, but his real object
was to find out where and how long the tunnel was to be. He made the
discovery that by crossing under the street, which was about fifty
feet, we would open it into a ditch six feet deep, and by going down
that a few yards we would come to a draw, with timber on the opposite
side, consequently the tunnel would have to be about seventy-five feet
long.
The earth was good, solid clay, very hard to dig, but made a good
secure tunnel. Our progress was slow, only about four feet a day, and
after we had dug about twenty feet a big rain came and the tunnel
partly filled with water, but we bailed it out, scattered it over with
dry ashes inside, and went to work again. I have seen the guard time
and time again come in with picks and shovels and probe the earth right
over that hole, but without success. We had dug straight down from the
fireplace ten or twelve feet, then began the horizontal part, and for
this reason no ordinary probing could possibly detect the tunnel. But
that tunnel was not destined to be completed.