EXCHANGE ON THE BRAIN.
Many of the prisoners were afflicted to a greater or less extent, with
what was termed exchange on the brain.
This disease would manifest itself in various ways, and different persons
would be differently affected by it.
I remember numerous cases of this malady, (for it really was a malady) in
the different prisons. Persons thus afflicted, would improve every
opportunity to inform themselves of the prospects of there being an
exchange of prisoners, and every paper they got hold of would be carefully
scanned for exchange news, and whenever they came across an article on
this subject ever so vague and unsatisfactory, they would pore over it,
and try to construe it as an evidence that an exchange would soon take
place.
If papers were not to be had they would stroll around the camp, stopping
to talk with any one that could be induced to listen to them, about what
they had heard on this subject, and try to hear something that they could
console themselves with, and in their perambulations about the grounds,
their whole and only theme was "Exchange." Should those they met commence
talking upon any other subject, they were uninterested and would, as soon
as possible, change the subject to the prospects for exchange.
The first question they would ask upon meeting an acquaintance would be,
"Do you hear anything about exchange?" Should they find two or three
officers talking together, especially if they seemed to be talking rather
earnestly, they would get up near enough to find out whether the subject
under discussion was exchange.
It was the subject of all their thoughts and conversation by day, and of
their dreams by night.
The most improbable rumors would be started in camp in regard to exchange,
just to play upon the credulity of those who were afflicted with exchange
on the brain, and they would believe them too, and would excitedly
circulate the rumors.
One officer in Savannah, Captain Johnson, was afflicted badly with this
malady, and could never see two or three officers together talking,
without trying to ascertain if there was anything being said about
exchange. We used to play upon his credulity to an extent that was really
cruel.
While at Savannah, Col. F. C. Miller, 147th N. Y., was detailed as senior
officer of the camp, and all communications to the commandant of the
prison had to be forwarded through him, and all orders from the
commandant to us were received through him.
Being very intimate with Col. Miller, I was supposed, next to him, to be
the most probable one to know what was going on. The Colonel had made a
backgammon board, and we used to sit in his tent and play a good deal of
the time.
Captain Johnson and I both belonged to the same squad, which was
designated as No. 9. One evening, I had been up to Colonel Miller's tent
until quite late, and when I returned, the squad had all retired. As I
came to my tent, which was just opposite Capt. Johnson's, I said to my
tent-mates somewhat excitedly, and in a tone loud enough for Johnson to
hear: "Well, boys, I have now got some news that is reliable. I just came
from Col. Miller's tent, and the Colonel told me that Col. Smith told
him--" here I dropped my voice so that Johnson could not hear. In a second
Johnson jumped out of bed and came across the street, minus everything but
his night clothes, and asked excitedly: "What did Col. Miller tell you?"
"Well," said I, "Col. Miller told me that No. 9 squad would be detailed to
police the camp to-morrow."
Johnson, without saying a word, returned to his bunk amid the roars of
laughter from the whole squad. I know it was cruel, to laugh at, and play
jokes upon men who were half insane upon the subject. There were those
who were clearly insane upon the subject of exchange, and were really to
be pitied.
A Captain, whose name I have forgotten, became perfectly insane while we
were at Savannah, and I think he died while in prison. At first those who
noticed his peculiar actions thought he was playing a dodge to get paroled
and sent North, but we were all soon convinced that the poor fellow had
brooded over his imprisonment until his mind had completely lost its
balance.
His mind seemed to be continually dwelling upon exchange, and for days and
weeks he could not be induced to talk upon an other subject. He would tell
the most improbable stories, that no one else had heard, about a general
exchange of prisoners that was soon to take place, but as such stories
were continually floating around the camp, not much attention was paid to
him, and if any one thought upon them at all, they looked upon his stories
as silly canards, gotten up to fool some one with.
His mind finally seemed to run to sumptuous dinners, and he would invite
eight or ten of his prison companions to dine with him at a certain hour,
and upon their arrival, they would find perhaps a half baked corn meal
pome, that had been cooked in a dirty old wash basin, over a smoky fire,
having been mixed up without salt or rising of any kind, to be the
princely spread he had invited them to.
He would do the honors in a courteous and dignified manner and seem to
think he was at home entertaining some distinguished guests in a royal
manner, to a regal feast.
Of course his comrades would excuse themselves on one pretext and another,
and would leave him to enjoy his dinner alone.
He would eat his pome with all the apparent relish, with which he would
have partaken of a dinner such as he seemed to imagine he was indulging
in.
Of course, in its half-cooked condition, it would be not only perfectly
unpalatable, but injurious to the health as well. When it is remembered
that rumors of exchange were being almost weekly circulated through our
camp, sometimes by the reb authorities in order to keep us from trying to
escape, and sometimes I believe for very cussedness, the only wonder is
that the majority of the prisoners were not driven to insanity. I have
seen men sit moping for hours with a look of utter dejection, their elbow
upon their knee, and their chin resting upon their hand, their eyes having
a vacant far-away look, brooding over the cruel fate that placed them in
the prison pen, and wondering why an exchange of prisoners was not made,
and whether they would ever be released.
On the 21st of June, 1864, a Catholic priest came into the prison at
Macon, and gave us such a harrowing picture of Andersonville, which place
he had visited the day before, that it made our own sufferings seem
insignificant.
He said that he passed up between two lines of Union dead, who had been
laid there that morning by their comrades to be carted off to the burying
ground, that must have numbered at least a hundred, and that he saw
thousands there that were scarcely able to walk, or in many cases even to
sit up.
Some to whom he administered the last rites of the Catholic church, showed
by the glassy expression of their lusterless eyes, that the grim visitor
already held them within his grasp.
The picture he drew of the sufferings, starvation and death he had
witnessed there, sent a chill of horror to the heart of his listeners, and
created a feeling of indignation that could scarcely find expression in
words.
The next day, upon the advice and recommendation of the Confederate
authorities, two from each squad met in the large hall that was used for
the field officers, and also as a sort of hospital, and drew up a petition
to the Rebel Secretary of War, for permission for Majors Marshal, Beatie
and Owen of the army, and Lieutenant Alexander, of the navy, to go to
Andersonville and examine into the condition of the enlisted men and then
proceed to Washington and urge upon the United States government a speedy
exchange of prisoners.
When it became known throughout the camp that such a scheme was on foot
and that the petition had been signed by this self-constituted delegation
and was about to be forwarded to Richmond, an indignation meeting was held
from the steps of this building, and was addressed by Captain Ives and
others, and the action of the Committee was denounced, as not being in
accordance with the sentiment of the prison camp.
The almost unanimous sense of the meeting was, that we had faith in our
government and believed it was doing all it could do, consistent with its
dignity to relieve and release us, and that we would rather suffer the
tortures of prison life, than to harass our government and thereby give
aid and comfort to their enemy. The meeting closed by our asserting our
confidence in the wisdom and ability of our friends at the North, to do
what was for the best interests of the country, and that if we could do
more or better service for the country in prison than in the field, as
good soldiers and true patriots it was our duty to submit to all the
indignities that were being heaped upon us, rather than even impliedly
stigmatize the U. S. government as being unmindful of our sufferings, and
screen the fiendish brutes who were heaping all of this suffering upon us.
While the meeting was in progress the petition was secretly taken out of
camp by a rebel officer, who had instigated their preparation, and as we
supposed, forwarded through to rebel Capt. Gibbs to Richmond. We never
heard anything from the petition, and the belief was that the rebel
authorities, seeing the indignation they had caused, concluded their
interests would not be advanced by complying with its provisions.
To show how the large majority of officers confined in Macon felt about
how the affairs of the government had been conducted under the
administration of President Lincoln, I quote from my diary of June 7th,
1864:
"This being the day upon which the Convention is to meet at Baltimore to
nominate a candidate for President, our camp went into convention and
nominated Abraham Lincoln by a vote of 533 out of a total vote cast of
625."
This was considered not only an endorsement of the policy pursued by the
President in the prosecution of the war, but also our approval of his
exchange policy.
We well understood that the cartel was suspended, because the South
refused to exchange the negroes taken in arms, but proposed to return such
soldiers to servitude, and we believed that as they were taken while
bearing arms in defence of the government, that government was in duty
bound to protect them in their rights and it was our duty as good soldiers
to suffer and even die, if need be, in prison or in field, to maintain the
dignity of the nation.
This is why such indignation was manifested when we were asked to lend
ourselves to the scheme of Jeff. Davis, to even impliedly stigmatize the
authorities at Washington, as being derelict in their duties towards us,
by demanding an immediate resumption of the exchange cartel, unless all
who wore the blue could be classed in the category of United States
soldiers. We believed that all whose loyalty to the flag, had led them to
risk their lives in its defence, whether their skin was white or black,
were entitled to protection beneath its folds.
While on the tramp with Captain Alban through the Confederacy, after our
escape, he told me an amusing story about his capture at Chicamauga. He
belonged to the 21st Ohio, and that regiment was armed with the Henry
rifle.
The portion of the line occupied by the 21st Ohio, was assaulted with
determined gallantry six or seven times, and was every time repulsed with
heavy loss.
The Johnnies would charge with an impetuosity that was wonderful, and
would advance until they received the sixth or seventh discharge from
those repeating rifles, which shoot sixteen times without reloading, when
they would break and fly in disorder; receiving as they went back two or
three more shots, before they would be out of range. They would again be
re-formed and make another gallant assault, only to again be broken and
driven back with fearful slaughter.
After having charged, as I have said, six or seven times, and each time
been repulsed with great loss, Captain Alban was taken prisoner and
hurried to the Confederate rear. One of the privates was taken at the same
time, and his rifle which he had just emptied, was examined with much
curiosity by the reb who had taken him, who, after looking it over
thoroughly, turned to Alban and said, "What kind of guns do youens use!
You load up Saturday night and shoot all the week, don't you?" After
having learned how to handle it he thought it would be a good one for him,
but as the soldier had exhausted his supply of ammunition, the piece would
be useless until they could get some to fit it.