HOME GUARDS GOBBLE ME UP—WELL TREATED AND WELL FED—TAKEN TO
DOCTORTOWN AND FROM THENCE TO BLACKSHEAR—THE TWO BUCK BOYS AS
RUNAWAYS—RIDE ON A PASSENGER TRAIN—PROSPECTS AHEAD, ETC.
DOCTORTOWN STATION, NO. 5, Nov. 30.—Ha! Ha! My boy, you are a
prisoner of war again. Once more with a blasted rebel standing guard
over me, and it all happened in this wise: Just before dark I went
up to that house I spoke of in my writings yesterday. Walked boldly
up and rapped at the door; and what was my complete astonishment
when a white woman answered my rapping. Asked me what I wanted, and
I told her something to eat. Told me to come in and set down. She
was a dark looking woman and could easily be mistaken from my hiding
place of the day for a negro. Began asking me questions. Told her I
was a rebel soldier, had been in the hospital sick and was trying
to reach home in the adjoining county. Was very talkative; told how
her husband had been killed at Atlanta, &c. She would go out and in
from a shanty kitchen in her preparation of my supper. I looked out
through a window and saw a little darky riding away from the house,
a few minutes after I went inside. Thought I had walked into a trap,
and was very uneasy. Still the woman talked and worked, and I talked,
telling as smoothe lies as I knew how. For a full hour and a half sat
there, and she all the time getting supper. Made up my mind that I
was the same as captured, and so put on a bold face and made the best
of it. Was very well satisfied with my escapade anyway, if I could
only get a whack at that supper before the circus commenced. Well,
after a while heard some hounds coming through the woods and towards
the house. Looked at the woman and her face pleaded guilty, just as
if she had done something very mean. The back door of the house was
open and pretty soon half a dozen large blood hounds bounded into the
room and began snuffing me over; about this time the woman began to
cry. Told her I understood the whole thing and she need not make a
scene over it. Said she knew I was a yankee and had sent for some men
at Doctortown. Then five horsemen surrounded the house, dismounted
and four of them came in with guns cocked prepared for a desperate
encounter. I said: “good evening, gentlemen.” “Good evening,” said
the foremost, “we are looking for a runaway yankee prowling around
here.” “Well,” says I, “you needn’t look any farther, you have found
him.” “Yes, I see,” was the answer. They all sat down, and just then
the woman said “supper is ready and to draw nigh.” Drawed as nigh as
I could to that supper and proceeded to take vengeance on the woman.
The fellows proved to be home guards stationed here at Doctortown.
The woman had mounted the negro boy on a horse just as soon as I
made my appearance at the house and sent for them. They proved to be
good fellows. Talked there at the house a full hour on the fortunes
of war, &c. Told them of my long imprisonment and escape and all
about myself. After a while we got ready to start for this place.
One rebel rode in front, one on each side and two in the rear of me.
Was informed that if I tried to run they would shoot me. Told them
no danger of my running, as I could hardly walk. They soon saw that
such was the case after going a little way, and sent back one of
the men to borrow the woman’s horse. Was put on the animal’s back
and we reached Doctortown not far from midnight. As we were leaving
the house the woman gave me a bundle; said in it was a shirt and
stockings. Told her she had injured me enough and I would take them.
No false delicy will prevent my taking a shirt. And so my adventure
has ended and have enjoyed it hugely. Had plenty to eat with the
exception of the two days, and at the last had a horseback ride. How
well I was reminded of my last ride when first taken prisoner and at
the time I got the coverlid. In the bundle was a good white shirt,
pair of stockings, and a chunk of dried beef of two pounds or so.
One of the captors gave me ten dollars in Confederate money. Now am
in an old vacant building and guarded and it is the middle of the
afternoon. Many citizens have visited me and I tell the guard he
ought to charge admission; money in it. Some of the callers bring
food and are allowed to give it to me, and am stocked with more than
can conveniently carry. Have had a good wash up, put on my clean
white shirt with standing collar, and new stockings and am happy.
Doctortown is a small village with probably six or eight hundred
population, and nigger young ones by the scores. Am treated kindly
and well, and judge from conversations that I hear, that the battles
are very disastrous to the rebels and that the war is pretty well
over. All the negroes are hard pressed, fortifying every available
point to contest the advance of the Union Army. This is cheering news
to me. My escape has given me confidence in myself, and I shall try
it again the first opportunity. A woman has just given me a bottle of
milk and two dollars in money. Thanked her with my heart in my mouth.
Having been captured and brought to this place, am here waiting for
them to get instructions as to what they shall do with me. They say I
will probably be sent to the prison at Blackshear, which is forty or
fifty miles away. Think I should be content to stay here with plenty
to eat. Am in a good clean room in a dwelling. Can talk with any one
who chooses to come and see me. The room was locked during the night,
and this morning was thrown open, and I can wander through three
rooms. Guard is off a few rods where he can see all around the house.
Occasionally I go out doors and am having a good time. LATER.—Have
seen a Savannah paper which says Sherman and his hosts are marching
toward that city, and for the citizens to rally to repel the invader.
My swollen ankle is being rubbed to-day with ointment furnished by
an old darky. I tell you there are humane people the world over, who
will not see even an enemy suffer if they can help it. While I have
seen some of the worst people in the South, I have also seen some of
the very best, and those, too, who were purely southern people and
rebels. There are many pleasant associations connected with my prison
life, as well as some directly to the opposite.
Dec. 1.—Still at Doctortown, and the town is doctoring me up “right
smart.” There is also a joke to this, but a weak one. The whole
town are exercised over the coming of the Yankee army, and I laugh
in my sleeve. Once in a while some poor ignorant and bigoted fellow
amuses himself cursing me and the whole U. S. army. Don’t talk back
much, having too much regard for my bodily comfort. Orders have
come to put me on a train for Blackshear. Have made quite a number
of friends here, who slyly talk to me encouragingly. There are many
Union people all through the South, although they have not dared to
express themselves as such, but now they are more decided in their
expressions and actions. Had a canteen of milk, and many other
luxuries. Darkys are profuse in their gifts of small things. Have now
a comb, good jack knife, and many little nicknacks. One old negress
brought me a chicken nicely roasted. Think of that, prisoners of war,
roast chicken! Shall jump off the cars every twenty rods hereafter.
Tried to get a paper of the guard, who was reading the latest, but
he wouldn’t let me see it. Looks rather blue himself, and I surmise
there is something in it which he don’t like. All right, old fellow,
my turn will come some day. Young darky brought me a cane, which is
an improvement on my old one. Walk now the length of my limit with an
old fashioned crook cane and feel quite proud. LATER.—Got all ready
to take a train due at 3:30, and it didn’t stop. Must wait until
morning. Hope they won’t stop for a month.
BLACKSHEAR, GA., Dec. 2.—In with the same men whom I deserted on the
cars. We are near the Florida line. Was put in a passenger train at
Doctortown and rode in style to this place. On the train were two
more Yanks named David and Eli S. Buck, who are Michigan men. They
were runaways who had been out in the woods nearly three months
and were in sight of our gunboats when recaptured. Belong to the
6th Michigan Cavalry. David Buck was one of Kilpatrick’s scouts; a
very smart and brave fellow, understands living in the woods, and
thoroughly posted. We have mutually agreed to get away the first
chance, and shall get to our lines. David Buck used to attend school
at Leoni, Mich., and was educated for a preacher. They are cousins.
We three Yankees were quite a curiosity to the passengers on the
train that brought us to this place. Some of them had evidently never
seen a Yankee before, and we were stared at for all we were worth.
Some smarties were anxious to argue the point with us in a rather “we
have got you” style. David Buck is a good talker, and satisfactorily
held up our end of the war question; in fact, I thought talked them
all out on their own grounds. The ladies in particular sneered and
stared at us. Occasionally we saw some faces which looked as if they
were Union, and we often got a kind word from some of them. The
railroads are in a broken down condition, out of decent repair, and
trains run very slow. The Confederacy is most assuredly hard up,
and will go to pieces some of these days. My out-door life of the
few days I roamed through the woods, was just jolly. Being out from
under rebel guard made me the happiest chap imaginable. Knew that I
couldn’t escape to our lines, as I was not able to travel much, and
my sole business was to remain a tramp as long as possible, and to
get enough to eat, which I did. The negroes, and especially the field
hands, are all Union darkys, and fed me all I wanted as a general
thing. Made a mistake in going to the house of a white woman for food.
Dec. 3.—Blackshear is an out-of-the-way place, and shouldn’t think
the Yankee army would ever find us here. The climate is delightful.
Here it is December and at the North right in the middle of winter,
and probably good sleighing, and cold; while here it is actually
warm during the day time, and at night not uncomfortably cold. The
Buck boys are jolly good fellows, and full of fun. Seem to have
taken a new lease of life myself. Both of them are in good health
and fleshy, and open for an escape any hour. And we don’t stay here
but a few days, the guards say. Why not keep us on the cars and run
us around the country all the time? There is no wall or anything
around us here, only guards. Encamped right in the open air. Have
food once a day, just whatever they have to give us. Last night had
sweet potatoes. I am getting considerably heavier in weight, and must
weigh one hundred and forty pounds or more. Still lame, however, and
I fear permanently so. Teeth are firm in my mouth now, and can eat as
well as ever, and oh! such an appetite. Would like to see the pile of
food that I couldn’t eat. Found Rowe and Bullock, and Hub Dakin. They
are well, and all live in jolly expectancy of the next move. The old
coverlid still protects my person. The Bucks have also each a good
blanket, and we are comfortable. Some fresh beef given us to-day; not
much, but suppose all they have got. Guard said he wished to God he
was one of us prisoners instead of guarding us.
Dec. 4.—Another delightfully cool morning. There are not a great
many guards here to watch over us, and it would be possible for all
to break away without much trouble. The men, however, are so sure of
liberty that they prefer to wait until given legitimately. Would like
to have seen this guard hold us last summer at Andersonville. Fresh
meat again to-day. Rebels go out to neighboring plantations and take
cattle, drive them here, and butcher for us to eat. Rice is also
given us to eat. Have plenty of wood to cook with. Have traded off
the old missmated pair of brogans for a smaller and good pair, and
feel quite like a dandy. Have some money to buy extras. Have plenty
of food yet from that given me at Doctortown. Divide with the Bucks,
or rather, it is all one common mess, and what any one owns belongs
equally to the others. Rebels glum, and cross, and sometimes we laugh
at them, and then they swear and tell us to shut up or they will blow
our heads off. Blackshear is a funny name and it is a funny town, if
there is any, for as yet I haven’t been able to see it. Probably a
barn and a hen-coop comprise the place. Cars go thundering by as if
the Yanks were after them. About every train loaded with troops. Go
first one way and then the other. Think they are trying to keep out
of the way themselves.
Dec. 5.—Guard said that orders were not to talk with any of the
prisoners, and above all not to let us get hold of any newspapers.
No citizens are allowed to come near us. That shows which way the
wind blows. Half a dozen got away from here last night, and guards
more strict to-day, with an increased force. Going to be moved, it is
said, in a few days. Why don’t they run us right into the ocean? That
wouldn’t do though, our gunboats are there. Well, keep us then, that
is punishment enough. Do what you are a mind to. You dare not starve
us now, for we would break away. In fact, although under guard, we
are masters of the situation. Can see an old darky with an ox hitched
to a cart with harness on, the cart loaded with sugar cane. This is
quite a sugar country, it is said. On the road here saw the famous
palmetto tree in groves. Live-oaks are scattered all over, and are
a funny affair. Persimmon and pecan trees also abound here. We are
pretty well south now, spending the winter. But few die now; no more
than would naturally die in any camp with the same numbers. It is
said that some men get away every night, and it is probably so.
Dec. 6.—Thirteen months ago to-day captured—one year and one month.
Must be something due me from Uncle Sam in wages, by this time. All
come in a lump when it does come. No great loss without small gain,
and while I have been suffering the long imprisonment my wages have
been accumulating. Believe that we are also entitled to ration money
while in prison. Pile it on, you can’t pay us any too much for this
business. This is the land of the blood hound. Are as common as the
ordinary cur at the North. Are a noble looking dog except when they
are after you, and then they are beastly. Should think that any one
of them could whip a man; are very large, strong, and savage looking.
Should think it would be hard for the negro to run away. See no
horses about here at all—all mules and oxen, and even cows hitched up
to draw loads. I walk the prison over forty times a day. Everybody
knows me, and I hail and am hailed as I walk around, and am asked
what I think of the situation. Tell them of my escape and the good
time I had, which incites them to do likewise the first opportunity.
Occasionally a man here who growls and grumbles, and says and thinks
we will never get away, &c. Some would find fault if they were going
to be hung. Should think they would compare their condition with that
of six months ago and be contented.
Dec. 7.—Another day of smiling weather. Still call our mess the
“Astor House Mess.” It is composed of only three—the Bucks and
myself. I am the only one of the original mess here, and it is still
the most prosperous and best fed of any. We are all the time at
work at something. Have a good piece of soap, and have washed our
clothing throughout, and are clean and neat for prisoners of war.
Eli S. Buck is a large fellow, and a farmer when at home. Both are
young, and from the same neighborhood. As I have said before, are
cousins, and think a great deal of one another, which is good to see.
Relatives rarely get along together in prison as well as those who
are not related. There were brothers in Andersonville who would not
mess together. Seems funny, but such is the case. Should like to see
myself throwing over a brother for any one else. Guards denounce Jeff
Davis as the author of their misfortunes. We also denounce him as the
author of ours, so we are agreed on one point. Going to move. The
“mess” will escape _en masse_ at the first move, just for the sake
of roaming the woods. With the Bucks in company with me, shall have
a good time, and we can undoubtedly soon reach our troops in as much
as they are raiding through the South. Dave Buck is the acknowledged
leader of us. He prays; think of that.
Dec. 8.—There are many men of many minds here. That used to be a
favorite copy at writing school in Jackson, Mich. “Many men of many
minds, many birds of many kinds.” How a person’s thoughts go back
to the old boyhood days in such a place as this. Happiest times of
life are those of youth, but we didn’t know it. Everybody told us so,
but we didn’t believe it; but now it is plain. Every one, I think,
has that experience. We all see where we might have done different
if we only had our lives to live over, but alas, it is not to be. A
majority of the men here have about half enough to eat. Our mess has
enough to eat, thanks to our own ingenuity. Now expect to go away
from here every day. Have borrowed a needle, begged some thread, and
have been sewing up my clothing; am well fixed up, as are also the
Bucks. Am quite handy with the needle, and it is difficult to make
some of them believe I am not a tailor by trade. If I always keep my
ways mended as I do my clothes, I shall get along very well. Eli has
come with four large yams bought of a guard and we will proceed to
cook and eat a good supper, and then go to bed and perhaps dream of
something pleasant to remember the next day. Rumors of all kinds in
camp, and rebels say something is up that will interest us, but I can
get no satisfaction as to what it is. Drew cuts for the extra potato,
and Dave won, and he cut that article of food into three pieces and
we all had a share. Good boy.
Dec. 9.—Still in Blackshear, and quiet. Many incidents happened
when I was out in the wood, and I am just crazy to get there once
more. Look at the tall trees in sight, and could hug them. My long
sickness and the terrible place in which I was confined so long,
and my recovering health, and the hope now of getting entirely well
and recovering my liberty, has made a new man of me—a new lease of
life, as it were. The Bucks are the best of fellows, and having money
which they use for my benefit the same as their own, we get along
swimmingly. One of these days my Northern friends and relatives will
hear from me. Am getting over my lameness, and have an appetite for
more than my supply of food. Certainly had a good constitution to
stand all that has been passed through, during which time thousands
and thousands died, of apparently better health than myself. Of all
my many mess-mates and friends in prison, have lost track of them
all; some died, in fact nearly all, and the balance scattered, the
Lord only knows where. What stories we can talk over when we meet at
the North. This Blackshear country is rather a nice section. Warm and
pleasant, although rather low. Don’t know where we are located, but
must be not far from the coast.
Dec. 10.—The grand change has come and a car load of prisoners go
away from here to-day. Although the Bucks and myself were the last
in prison, we are determined to flank out and go with the first that
go. Our destination is probably Charleston, from what I can learn. We
three will escape on the road, or make a desperate effort to do so,
anyway. Can walk much better now than ten days ago, and feel equal to
the emergency. Fine weather and in good spirits, although many here
are tired of being moved from place to place. More guards have come
to take charge of us on the road, and it looks very discouraging for
getting away, although “Dave” says we will make it all right. Place
great reliance in him, as he has caution as well as the intention to
escape. So like Hendryx, and added to it has more practical quiet
common sense. Eli Buck and myself acknowledge him as leader in all
things. Now comes the tug of war.
Dec. 11.—We flanked out this morning, or rather paid three fellows
two dollars apiece for their turn to go. Are now thirty miles from
Blackshear; have been unloaded from the cars and are encamped by the
side of the railroad track for the night. Most dark. Rebel soldiers
going by on the trains, with hoots and yells. We are strongly
guarded, and it augurs not for us to get away to-night. Our best hold
is jumping from the cars. Ride on open platform cars with guards
standing and sitting on the sides, six guards to each car. About
sixty prisoners ride on each car, and there are thirty or forty
cars. Were given rations yesterday, but none to-day. It is said we
get nothing to eat to-night, which is bad; more so for the other
prisoners than ourselves. Low country we come through, and swampy.
Bucks think we may get away before morning, but I doubt it. Rebs
flying around lively, and Yanks going for them I guess.
Dec. 12.—Routed up at an early hour and loaded on to the cars, which
stood upon a side track, and after being loaded have been here for
six mortal hours. Small rations given us just before loading up. All
are cramped up and mad. We will more than jump the first opportunity.
We go to Charleston, via Savannah. Wish they would hurry up their old
vehicles for transportation. Being doubled up like a jack knife makes
my legs stiff and sore, and difficult to use my limbs from cramped
position. Worth four hundred dollars a day to see the rebel troops
fly around. Would give something to know the exact position now of
both armies. Guards are sleepy and tired out from doing double duty,
and I think we can get away if they move us by night, which I am
afraid they won’t do. Bucks jubilant and confident, consequently so
am I.