MOVING INTO THE STOCKADE--SKIRMISHING--MR. CASHMEYER'S SUTLER
WAGON--CAPTAIN IRSH BUCKED AND GAGGED BY ORDER OF TABB--CAPTAIN TABB
RELIEVED--HOW WE PASSED THE TIME--THE MEETINGS--GAMBLING HOUSES--SOCIAL
AND SINGING CIRCLES.
On the 17th of May the stockade was completed and we were moved inside,
where we were joined by eight hundred other officers, who had been
confined in Richmond, among whom were Brigadier Generals Wessels and
Scammon. Twenty-one others, who had been confined in jail in the city of
Macon, were also added to our number. Most of the Richmond prisoners had
been there a long time and were out of money and nearly destitute of
clothing. We had up to this time been comparatively free from vermin,
having thus far been in an open field with only a guard around us and with
some facilities for cleanliness. But contact with these old "salt cod," as
they were called (we being designated as fresh fish), soon brought us to
the daily skirmish line, and we thereafter found plenty to do to keep the
graybacks in any kind of subjection. At first it was with a good deal of
embarrassment and attempted concealment that this necessary duty was
performed.
I shall never forget my first efforts in this new duty. All day I had been
annoyed by something tickling my leg at a certain spot, and had tried all
sorts of ways to rid myself of the annoyance, but though for a moment
relieved, it would every time return to pester me. I more than half
suspected the cause, but did not dare to let my companions see that there
was anything the matter, lest they should drive me out of the tent and
refuse to associate with me. I finally managed to be left alone in the
tent, and quickly taking off my pants and drawers proceeded to investigate
the affair. I was nervous and excited, fearing while I was prosecuting the
investigation one or both of them might return and discover what I was
doing. I felt like a culprit and blushed like a school girl at the sound
of approaching footsteps. A sense of guiltiness took possession of me, and
I felt as though I was committing some terrible crime. I know I should
have fled most ignominiously had either of them come back, while I was
thus employed, for such a thing had not been thought of as possible to us,
and it would forever disgrace me to be the one who should bring such a
filthy plague into our hitherto tidy and carefully-kept tent. It did not
take long to solve the mystery, and to say that I was thoroughly disgusted
and overcome to find my worst fears realized, in discovering two good,
fat, healthy-looking graybacks under the seams of my drawers, would but
faintly express the sensations I experienced.
[Illustration: SKIRMISHING AT MACON, GA.]
After assuring myself that there were no more I hastily resumed my
apparel, and tried to look as though nothing had occurred when my comrades
again returned. But that guilty feeling would not forsake me, and I was
really ashamed to look them in the face, and though I tried hard to appear
natural, I thought they looked at me suspiciously.
"Conscience makes cowards of us all."
I know I was gloomy and dejected all the balance of the evening. This was
noticed by my tent mates, but was attributed to a far different cause.
They thought I was homesick, while the discovery had only made me sick at
the stomach. It was not many weeks, however, before I could set down with
my pipe in my mouth, in company with half a dozen others, and go through
the same operations with the nonchalance that the same number of old
ladies would gossip over their KNITTING WORK.
Before our prison life was over, it was no uncommon occurrence to receive
a morning call from some old comrade, who would do as these old ladies
used to do when they went a visiting, bring his k--nitting work along, and
in passing one another's quarters such dialogues as this would frequently
be heard: "Hello, Johnny! on the skirmish line, what luck?" "Oh I ain't
doing much this morning, kind er drivin' in the pickets, git a stray shot
now and then, but I keep annoying them so they don't get a chance to
form."
It is astonishing how quickly we became accustomed to things of this sort.
The Brigadier General, who in garrison or field seemed so reserved and
dignified, was here on the level with the Lieutenant in the company. And
while rank in prison, as in the field, was respected, and genius was
honored, on the skirmish line all met on an equality. In other words rank
was waived in the presence of a common enemy--and the officer who
neglected to daily inspect his clothing, was unmindful both of his own
comfort, and the respect of his comrades. Our facilities for washing and
boiling our clothing was very limited, and nothing but boiling them would
have any effect in exterminating these troublesome pests; soap was a
scarce commodity, and kettles for heating water were difficult to obtain,
so the only way to rid ourselves of vermin, was to strip off our woolen
shirt, (white shirts were seldom seen in prison) set down and carefully
scrutinize the seams, where they would be found hid away; for it is a
singular fact, that although while the shirt was on we could feel them
roaming around all over the body, no sooner was it doffed than with a
celerity that is perfectly unaccountable, they would all be found securely
hid away under the seams of the garment, where they would leave an
innumerable number of eggs, which were soon to be hatched out and become
almost full, grown by the next morning. Having thoroughly exterminated the
living, and destroyed as many of the still inanimate as possible, we would
resume our shirt, and removing our pants and drawers, repeat the
operation on these garments, and would then be comfortable the balance of
the day.
This duty was usually performed just after breakfast, while we were
enjoying our pipes, and talking over plans for the day, and would occupy
about an hour. After coming off of duty on the skirmish line, it would be
about time to fall in for roll call, or more properly speaking, for count.
We were made up into squads of ninety each, and one of our comrades chosen
as commandant, who would, at a signal, fall in his squad in two ranks,
when each squad would be counted to make sure that none had escaped. This
counting was always done by a reb sergeant, who would be accompanied by an
armed guard of twenty-five or thirty soldiers. When the count was
completed, we would break ranks and separate, to pass the day as best
suited each individual. Usually the first thing to be thought of was the
purchases for the day, or as we would call it here at home, marketing.
These purchases were generally made of a reb sutler named Cashmeyer, who
was allowed to come into the enclosure, accompanied by a guard and
attended by a negro, driving a mule hitched to a cart. The cart would be
loaded with beef, bacon, potatoes, onions, cabbage, tobacco, cigars, soap,
etc., which had been ordered the day previous. We also had two or three
sutlers of our own number, who bought of the reb sutler in large
quantities, and then retailed it out at a small profit, say about two
hundred per cent, to those whose means were too limited to buy at
wholesale.
Our mess, consisting of Capt. R. B. Hock, 12th New York Cavalry, Capt.
Cady, 24th New York Independent Battery, and myself, was probably as well
supplied with funds as any in the camp; and as I was caterer and cook, and
unrestricted in my expenditures by Capt. Hock, who supplied most of the
funds, our table was usually as well supplied as the scanty market would
allow. I would send out by this reb sutler for fifty or seventy-five
dollars' worth of provisions at a time, and by thus buying in large
quantities, get the lowest rates. I have spoken about buying our
provisions in large quantities--I mean by this a half peck of potatoes, a
dozen eggs, a couple of loaves of soft bread, a whole ham which down there
would weigh, perhaps, ten or twelve pounds, a quart of onions, etc. Now a
small quantity as sold by our sutler inside would mean a couple of
potatoes, an onion, a pint of corn meal, and half a pound of meat of some
kind. This, in addition to the rations we drew, would suffice for a day
very well. We drew three or four days' rations at a time. These rations
consisted of two ounces of bacon, half a pint of rice, a pint of corn
meal, and a teaspoonful of salt a day per man; but when Capt. W. Kemp Tabb
took command of the prison camp he at once cut these down one-third. Capt.
Tabb took command the 18th of May, relieving Major Turner (not Dick
Turner), who was a gentleman and a soldier, and who seemed to try to make
our imprisonment as endurable as possible. On the other hand, Tabb was a
cowardly rascal, who seemed to delight in nothing so much as in adding
to our discomfort and annoyance.
[Illustration: CAPT. IRSH BUCKED AND GAGGED BY CAPT. TABB, AT MACON, GA.]
He did not hesitate to plunder or rob the prisoners under his charge, and
if any one reposed confidence enough in him, to let him have anything of
value to sell for them, they were just out that amount. Captain Francis
Irsh, of the 45th New York, let Tabb take his watch and chain to see if he
could sell it to some jeweler for $400, and after having been put off on
one excuse and another for several days, threatened to report Tabb for
swindling him, when he was bucked and gagged for three hours, setting in
the hot sun, as a punishment for his offence. His watch and chain was
subsequently returned, Tabb being afraid that keeping it would get him
into trouble. The next day, he having heard that I had a good field glass,
tried by soft talk about buying it, to get it into his possession, but
learning from one of my comrades that he was aware that I owned one, and
was trying to buy it, I took it apart and divided it up among half a dozen
of my friends, and when he came I told him I had disposed of it, which was
true, for I had done so most effectually. He succeeded, however, by
pretending to wish to buy, in inducing Doctor McPherson to show his, and
when he got it into his possession, claimed it as a contraband article,
and confiscated it to himself. I find in my diary of the same day (June
second), this note: Captain Tabb was relieved to-day by Captain Gibb, and
started for Richmond. MAY HE GET SHOT.
He was well known to all to be an unprincipled coward, and on two
different occasions at least, he was most effectually snubbed. On one
occasion it was by Chaplain White, of the 5th Rhode Island H. A., who was
an earnest christian, and in connection with Chaplain Dixon, 16th
Connecticut, regularly held divine service every Sunday, and prayer
meetings once or twice during the week. In these services it was his
custom to pray for the President of the United States.
One Sunday morning Tabb came in at roll call, and notified the Chaplain
that he would not hereafter be allowed to offer prayer for the President.
Chaplain White told him that while he retained his power of speech, his
prayers should be dictated only by his conscience and his sense of duty.
Chaplain Dixon opened the service that morning and made in his prayer an
eloquent appeal, not only for the President of the United States, but for
the success of our army, and for every Union soldier, whether in hospital,
in prison, or in the field, and was not interrupted or interfered with by
Tabb, who could hear every word from his quarters.
On another occasion he told Col. Lagrange, who was in command of number
nine squad, to which I belonged, that he should hold him responsible for
any tunnelling, or attempted escape of the men in his squad, who haughtily
replied that he was not placed there as a spy or detective, and that he
should not betray the secrets of his comrades, but would, to the utmost of
his ability, render them any assistance they needed. This speech was
cheered by the squad in the most hearty manner.
We always found that our treatment was fair whenever we were guarded by
old soldiers who had seen service at the front; but when the _new issue_,
who were a cowardly lot of home guards, were placed over us, there was no
extremity of cruelty and meanness that they would not resort to, to render
our condition more miserable and unbearable, even to shooting an officer
who was quietly attending to his own business. A case of this kind
occurred on the 11th of June, when Lieut. Gerson of the 45th New York
Volunteers, who was returning from the sink about 8 o'clock in the
evening, was shot and killed by one of the guards named Belger, of the
27th Georgia Battalion (Co. E). This was a BRUTAL AND DELIBERATE MURDER,
as the officer was not within ten feet of the dead line and was coming
from it towards his quarters, besides the full moon was shining brightly,
and the sentry could not have thought he was trying to escape. The truth
is, he had told his girl when he left home, that he would shoot a Yankee
before he returned, and was too cowardly to attempt to kill one who was
armed. This fellow was promoted to a Sergeant and given thirty days' leave
for his cowardly act. Of course, in a prison like Macon, where none but
officers were confined, the indignities and abuses were less frequent and
severe than in Andersonville, where the enlisted men were held. Officers
of intelligence were less liable to submit tamely to these indignities
than were the men, who had been schooled to obey orders, and could and
did, command more respect; besides, there were less of us, and our prison
was more roomy and better kept.
A certain number were detailed every morning from each squad, to
thoroughly police the quarters, and keep them in a good, clean, healthy
condition. Then, officers were usually possessed of more money and
valuables than the enlisted men, and were better prepared to subsist
themselves, when rations were cut down to starvation points. The wonder is
not with me, that so many of our boys died in prison, but that any of them
got out alive. When I saw officers reduced to skeletons, and driven to
insanity by the treatment they received, and then think of the poor
fellows whose sufferings were a thousand fold greater, the only wonder is
that human nature could endure it all. But I started to tell how we passed
the time.
After doing our marketing, which, by the way, was happily illustrated by a
reb, who said he used to go to market with his money in his vest pocket,
and carry a basket on his arm to bring home his purchases in; but now, he
was obliged to take his money in the basket, and could almost carry home
his purchases in his vest pocket.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN ALBAN ON POLICE DUTY.]
We amused ourselves by reading, playing cards, chess, checkers, and other
games, while those wishing exercise played cricket or practiced the sabre
exercise or fencing, to keep our muscles up, and perfect ourselves in
the use of arms. Sabres and foils were whittled out of pine or ash sticks,
with which we supplied ourselves. One German whose name I failed to take
down, gave daily lessons in fencing, and he was not only an excellent
teacher, but an expert swordsman. I have seen him allow three of his most
advanced pupils come at him at once, and tell them to go at him as though
they meant to kill him, and he would successfully defend himself against
them all. One thing I distinctly remember was that he could not speak very
plain English, and when he would give the order, "On guard en carte," in
his quick way of speaking it, a person who did not know what he intended
to say, thought he said "Cut-a-gut," and he was known in prison as "Old
Cut-a-Gut" always after.
After we had exercised sufficiently we would lay down in the shade and
read or sleep during the hottest portion of the day. A number of us formed
a literary association, each subscribing toward the purchase of a library
that a citizen of Macon had to sell. He said he had a library of about one
hundred books, that he would sell for $500, as he was destitute and was
obliged to part with them to buy provisions for his family. So twenty of
us chipped in $25 apiece around and started a circulating library,
appointed one of our number librarian, and in this way we were well
supplied with reading matter for a long time.
I do not remember all, or any considerable number of the titles of these
books, but what interested me most were some old Harper's magazines, in
the reading of which I found days and weeks of profitable enjoyment. I do
not think I ever fully appreciated until then, how much real comfort it
was possible to extract from those old literary productions. Our reading
was usually done during the hottest part of the day while lying in our
quarters, when out of door exercise was too uncomfortable, and when we got
tired of reading we would take a nap or go visiting to some of our friends
in other portions of the camp, and there sit and talk over affairs,
discussing the prospects of exchange, spinning yarns, cracking jokes, or
singing old war songs to cheer each other up and pass away the time.
Others would resort to the gambling tent, where there was always a game of
cards going on; sometimes it was three card loo and sometimes poker; but
they would sit there from early morning until dark and play for money,
and, as is always the case, some would come away happy and some broke. But
somehow or other the same gang would be there the next day, anxious to
retrieve their broken fortunes of the previous day, or add to their gains.
Men would there as here, sell the last button off their coat to raise
money to continue the game, with a hope that luck would come their way.
Thus, some who came into prison with enough to subsist them for quite a
long time, would soon be obliged to live on the rations they drew, while
others, who were nearly destitute when they came in, would live like
fighting cocks. I could rehearse incidents of this kind that came under my
personal observation, but as I could not do so without giving names, as
the boys say, I won't give it away.
All sorts of games were played, some for money, and some for pastime.
Cribbage, back gammon, euchre, seven up, and sometimes we would play poker
for the beans we drew for our rations. When the bean ration was given out,
each man would have perhaps a good tablespoonful, then five or six would
sit down and play until one would have the whole, which would make him
quite a respectable dinner, and the rest would have to go without. Thus it
will be seen that our prison camp was a village, where all kinds of
business was carried on, and all sorts of characters were to be found. We
had our church, our prayer meetings, our social circles, our singing, our
visiting, and our gambling houses, all in a space of four or five acres of
ground.
We had some excellent singers, and were frequently entertained during the
long evenings with solos, quartettes, and choruses, patriotic, sentimental
and pathetic.
Among the patriotic songs oftenest heard, were "The Star Spangled Banner,"
"The Red, White and Blue," "The Sword of Bunker Hill," and "Rally 'Round
the Flag;" but the one that touched a tender chord in every prisoner's
heart, and that even the rebs used to call for, was this which I quote
entire:
In the prison pen I sit, thinking mother most of you,
And the bright and happy home so far away,
While the tears they fill my eyes, spite of all that I can do,
Though I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.
CHORUS.--Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching,
Cheer up, comrades, they will come,
And beneath the starry flag, we shall breathe the air again,
Of the freeland, in our own beloved home.
In the battle front we stood, when their fiercest charge was made,
And they swept us off, a hundred men or more,
But before we reached their lines, they were driven back dismayed,
And we heard the shout of victory o'er and o'er.
CHORUS.--Tramp, tramp, etc.
So within the prison pen, we are waiting for the day,
That shall come and open wide the iron door,
And the hollow eye grows bright, and the poor heart almost gay,
As we think of seeing friends and home once more.
Then there was another, the chorus of which I can only remember, that the
boys used to sing. The chorus was this:
Hurrah, boys, hurrah! Shout glory and sing;
For the rebels look sad and forsaken.
Our glorious old eagle is still on the wing,
And Vicksburg is taken, boys, taken.
Among the beautiful singers who were in the habit of entertaining us, I
distinctly remember Capt. Palmer, who had a good voice, and to whose
singing I was delighted to listen. I do not know to what regiment he
belonged, but I do know that he afforded me a great amount of pleasure by
his sweet songs.
Not being much of a singer myself, I nevertheless enjoy listening to
others, and as I once heard a noted preacher say, it depends as much on a
good listener as a good talker to have an enjoyable meeting, I thought
that I contributed as much as any one towards the entertainments.
Whenever there was any singing going on, there was always a good audience
of appreciative listeners, and among eighteen hundred officers, I need not
say there was plenty of talent to select from, and these evening
entertainments were a source of great enjoyment to all, even though the
same songs were sung over and over again by the same persons.