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[Illustration: Portraits of Fellow Officers in Prison
Left to right--Top line: Capt. Cook, Capt. Burrage
Middle line: Adj't. Gardner, Col. Sprague, Capt. Howe
Lower line: Lieut. Estabrooks, Adj't. Putnam]
_"Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit"_
Lights and Shadows in
Confederate Prisons
A Personal Experience
1864-5
By
Homer B. Sprague, Ph.D.
Bvt.-Colonel 13th Conn. Vols.
Sometime Professor in Cornell and President of the University
of North Dakota
Author of "History of the 13th Conn. Inf. Vols.," "Right
and Wrong in our War between the States," and
"The European War, Its Cause and Cure"
_With Portraits_
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York and London
The Knickerbocker Press
1915
COPYRIGHT, 1915
BY
HOMER B. SPRAGUE
The Knickerbocker Press, New York
Transcriber's Note:
Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note, whilst
more significant amendments have been listed at the end of the text.
Dialect and archaic spellings have been retained. The letter 'e'
with a macron has been transcribed as [=e].
TO
THE ALUMNI OF
THE UNIVERSITIES OF
YALE, CORNELL, AND NORTH DAKOTA
IN WHICH RESPECTIVELY THE AUTHOR WAS
STUDENT, PROFESSOR, PRESIDENT;
TO
THOUSANDS OF HIS PUPILS YET LIVING;
TO
HIS COMPANIONS OF THE LOYAL LEGION,
COMRADES OF THE GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC,
ALL SURVIVING OFFICERS AND SOLDIERS
UNION OR CONFEDERATE;
ALL WHO CHERISH THE MEMORY OF THE PATRIOT DEAD
AND ALL WHO HATE WAR,
THIS RECORD IS AFFECTIONATELY
DEDICATED
PREFACE
This narrative of prison life differs from all others that I have seen,
in that it is careful to put the best possible construction upon the
treatment of Union prisoners by the Confederates, and to state and
emphasize kindnesses and courtesies received by us from them.
For the accuracy of the facts stated I am indebted to a diary kept from
day to day during the whole of my imprisonment, and to the best
obtainable records. The exact language of conversations cannot of course
always be remembered, but I aim always to give correctly the substance.
I am aware that the opinions I express in regard to Sheridan's strategy
at the Battle of Winchester are not those generally entertained. But I
give reasons. His own account of the battle is sadly imperfect. To
capture but five guns and nine battle flags at a cost of four thousand
six hundred and eighty killed and wounded, and leave almost the entire
rebel army in shape to fight two great battles within a month, was not
the programme he had planned. Early said "Sheridan should have been
cashiered."
I shall be blamed more for venturing to question Lincoln's policy of
subjugation. He had proclaimed with great power and in the most
unmistakable language in Congress that "any portion of any people had a
perfect right to throw off their old government and establish a new
one." But now, instead of standing strictly on the defensive, or
attempting by diplomacy to settle the conflict which had become
virtually international, he entered upon a war of conquest.
I do not blame him for refusing to exchange prisoners, nor President
Davis for allowing them to starve and freeze. Both were right, _if war
is right_. It was expedient that thirty, fifty, or a hundred thousand of
us should perish, or be rendered physically incapable of bearing arms
again. The "deep damnation of the taking off" was due not to individual
depravity but to military necessity.
H. B. S.
BRIGHTON, MASS., U. S. A.,
_1915_.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PREFACE v
CHAPTER I
The First, or Forenoon, Battle of Winchester, Indecisive--Sheridan's
and Early's Mistakes--The Capture 1
CHAPTER II
At Winchester--On the Road thence to Tom's Brook, New Market, and
Staunton 17
CHAPTER III
At Staunton--Thence to Waynesboro, Meacham's, and Richmond 32
CHAPTER IV
At Libby--Thence to Clover, Danville, Greensboro, and
Salisbury--Effort to Pledge us not to Attempt Escape 43
CHAPTER V
At Salisbury--Great Plot to Escape--How Frustrated 60
CHAPTER VI
From Salisbury to Danville--The Forlorn Situation--Effort to
"Extract Sunshine from Cucumbers"--The Vermin--The Prison
Commandant a Yale Man--Proposed Theatricals--Rules
Adopted--Studies--Vote in Prison for Lincoln and
McClellan--Killing Time 77
CHAPTER VII
Exact Record of Rations in Danville--Opportunity to Cook--Daily
Routine of Proceedings from Early Dawn till Late at Night 93
CHAPTER VIII
Continual Hope of Exchange of Prisoners--"Flag-of-Truce
Fever!"--Attempted Escape by Tunneling--Repeated Escapes by
Members of Water Parties, and how we Made the Roll-Call
Sergeant's Count Come Out all Right every Time--Plot to Break
Out by Violence, and its Tragic End 106
CHAPTER IX
Kind Clergymen Visit us and Preach Excellent Discourses--Colonel
Smith's Personal Good Will to me--His Offer--John F. Ficklin's
Charity--My Good Fortune--Supplies of Clothing
Distributed--Deaths in Prison 120
CHAPTER X
Results and Reflections--The Right and the Wrong of it All 138
APPENDIX 153
INDEX 157
Lights and Shadows in Confederate Prisons
Lights and Shadows in Confederate Prisons
CHAPTER I
The First, or Forenoon, Battle of Winchester, Indecisive--Sheridan's
and Early's Mistakes--The Capture.
"War is Hell," said our great strategist, General W. T. Sherman.
According to its latest code, with few or no exceptions, the end
justifies the means, and, if necessary to success, it is right to do
wrong.
Fifty years ago one of the fairest regions on earth was that portion of
Virginia extending southwesterly about a hundred and twenty miles from
Harper's Ferry to the divide beyond Staunton, where rise the headwaters
of the James. Walled in by the Blue Ridge on the southeast and parallel
ranges of the Alleghanies on the northwest, it takes its name from the
beautiful river which winds along its length, and which the Indians
poetically christened Shenandoah (Daughter of the Stars!). When some
three hundred of us prisoners of war walked wearily a hundred miles from
Winchester to Staunton in September, 1864, it was still rich and lovely.
A few weeks later, the necessities of war made it a scene of utter
desolation.
Grant had rightly concluded [says Sheridan[1]], that it was time to
bring the war home to a people engaged in raising crops from a
prolific soil to feed the country's enemies, and devoting to the
Confederacy its best youth. I endorsed the program in all its parts;
for the stores of meat and grain that the valley provided, and the
men it furnished for Lee's depleted regiments, were the strongest
auxiliaries he possessed.
Accordingly Grant issued orders with increasing emphasis, particularly
in August and September, to make the whole region "a barren waste," to
destroy or carry off the crops and animals; do all possible damage
to railroads; seize stock of every description; take away all negro
laborers so as to prevent further planting; hold as prisoners of
war, if sympathizing with the rebellion, all male citizens under
fifty years of age capable of bearing arms, etc.
In obedience to these commands, Sheridan engaged with alacrity in the
work of destruction. In a few weeks he reported as follows:
I have destroyed 2000 barns filled with wheat, hay, and farming
implements; over 70 mills filled with flour and wheat; and driven in
front of my army 4000 head of stock.
Said one of his officers who knew whereof he was speaking, "A crow
flying through the valley would have to carry his own rations, for he
could pick up nothing!"
At Winchester, the principal town in the Shenandoah Valley, one hundred
and fifty miles N. N. W. of Richmond, with a population of about four
thousand, the 19th of that September was a day of glory but also of
sorrow. Four thousand six hundred and eighty of the Union Army, killed
and wounded, told how dearly Sheridan's first great victory was gained.
The battle was fought over three, four, or five square miles, east and
north from Winchester, for the most part near the Opequon Creek, from
which it is sometimes called the "Battle of the Opequon." To reach the
field, the bulk of Sheridan's army, starting at three o'clock in the
morning from Berryville ten miles east, had to pass through a gorge in
which for a considerable distance the turnpike extends towards
Winchester. Sheridan's plan at first was to bring his army, except
Merritt's and Averell's Divisions of Torbert's Cavalry, through the
defile, post the Sixth Corps on the left, the Nineteenth on the right,
throw Crook's Army of West Virginia across the Staunton turnpike
(leading southwest from Winchester), and so cut off all retreat up the
valley. Meanwhile those two cavalry divisions were to make a long detour
on our right to the north from Berryville, and close in upon the
Confederate left. Sheridan felt sure of victory, for we outnumbered the
enemy nearly two to one. Had our army got into position early in the
morning, we should have captured or destroyed the whole of them.
At early dawn McIntosh's Brigade of Wilson's Division of Torbert's
Cavalry dashed through the ravine, closely followed by Chapman's Brigade
and five batteries of horse artillery. Sheridan and his staff followed.
They surprised and captured a small earthwork, and, though fiercely
assaulted, held it till the van of the Sixth Corps relieved them.
The narrow pass of the Berryville pike was so obstructed by artillery,
ambulances, ammunition wagons, etc., that it was nearly eight o'clock
before the Sixth Corps, which should have been in position with Wilson's
Cavalry at sunrise, began to arrive; and it was fully two hours later
when the Nineteenth Corps debouched and deployed. Here was
miscalculation or bad management or both.
This long delay, which the quick-moving cavalry leader Sheridan had not
foreseen nor provided for, gave time for Early to call in the strong
divisions of Generals Gordon, Breckenridge, and Rodes, from the vicinity
of Stephenson's Depot several miles away. They left Patton's Brigade of
Infantry, and a part of Fitzhugh Lee's Cavalry to oppose Torbert.
Hearing nothing from Torbert, who had now been gone seven or eight hours
on his circuitous route, Sheridan suddenly changed his whole plan of
action, a perilous maneuver in the face of an active enemy while the
battle is already raging intermittently. Instead of flinging Crook's
Army of West Virginia, 17 regiments and 3 batteries, across the Staunton
pike, to front northeasterly and cut off all possible retreat of the
Confederates, he determined to move it to our right and deploy it in
line with the Nineteenth. Doubtless this was best under the
circumstances, though it left to the enemy the broad smooth highway as a
line of retreat up the valley.
Grover's Division (2d of the Nineteenth Corps) in four brigades formed
line of battle in front and to the right of the gorge. In touch on the
left was Ricketts' Division of the Sixth Corps, and resting on Ricketts'
left was Getty's Division of the same corps. Getty had 16 regiments in
line; Ricketts, 12 with 6 batteries; Grover, 20 with 3 batteries.
Had Sheridan been able to strike Early by half-past eight with the Sixth
and Nineteenth, he would have crushed him in detail. Had Early massed
the divisions of Gordon, Breckenridge, and Rodes, and hurled them at the
mouth of the canyon at ten o'clock while half of the Nineteenth was
still entangled in it, he would probably have split our army into three
parts, and destroyed those already arrived.
It was now eleven o'clock, and the Army of West Virginia at last emerged
from the defile. To make room for its movement in our rear behind
Grover's Division, and to hold the enemy in play until it should have
taken its place on the right of the Nineteenth, and perhaps to await
there the appearance of Torbert's Cavalry, it was desirable that Grover
should advance. Sheridan of course meant the whole front of the Sixth
and Nineteenth to keep in a continuous line. At first it seemed to me
that the regiments of the Nineteenth overlapped; but the lines of
advance were slightly divergent, and wide breaks began to appear between
battalions. Especially on the left of the Nineteenth a large and
widening gap appeared; for Ricketts had been instructed to guide on the
Berryville pike, and that bore away to the left and south.
My battalion, the veteran Thirteenth Conn. Infantry, should have been
led by my Colonel, C. D. Blinn: but he was sick the night before, and in
the morning, at the crossing of the Opequon, he fell out, and left the
command to me. He had no part in the battle. Our Thirteenth deserves a
passing notice. It was the favorite regiment of General Birge, its first
colonel.[2] When he was made brigadier, the regiment entered the brigade
commanded by Colonel E. L. Molineux. Birge was never so happy as when
riding into action, and Molineux, who had been severely wounded in the
same battle with me, was not over-cautious. My regiment and both
brigades, the first and second of Grover's Division, had caught the
spirit of those two commanders. Quite generally they mistook the
forward movement for an immediate charge.
We had been under an intermittent fire for some time, but now the
advance intensified the conflict. The chief anxiety of good soldiers at
such a time, as I often noticed, is to get at the enemy as soon as
possible, and cease to be mere targets. Their enthusiasm now accelerated
their pace to a double-quick, and was carrying them too far to the
front. Birge and Molineux endeavored in vain to check their rapidity. My
battalion, I think, was nearest the rebel line.
Between eleven and twelve the divisions of Getty, Ricketts, and Grover,
forty-eight regiments in all, to which were attached eight light
batteries with reserve artillery, began to move forward. It was a grand
spectacle. At first the movement was steady, and we thought of Scott's
lines,
The host moves like a deep-sea wave,
Where rise no rocks its pride to brave,
High-swelling, dark, and slow.
But all is quickly changed.
Looking back upon that scene after the lapse of more than fifty years,
its magnificence has not yet faded. I see as in a dream our long bending
wave of blue rolling slowly at first but with increasing speed,
foam-tipped with flags here and there and steel-crested with Birge's
bayonets yonder; glimpses of cavalry in the distance moving as if on
wings with the lightness of innumerable twinkling feet; numberless jets
of smoke across the fields marking the first line of Confederate
infantry, their musketry rattling precisely like exploding bunches of
firecrackers; batteries galloping to position, the thunder of a dozen
smiting the ear more rapidly than one could count; the buzz, hiss,
whistle, shriek, crash, hurricane of projectiles; the big shot from
batteries in front and from Braxton's artillery on our right ripping up
the ground and bounding away to the rear and the left; horses and riders
disappearing in the smoke of exploding shells; the constant shouting of
our officers indistinctly heard, and now and then the peculiar
well-known "rebel yell"; and finally the command, HALT! LIE DOWN!
Molineux and Birge were too far to the front, and the line must be
rectified. Ricketts, as we pressed forward, had thrown Keifer's Brigade
(2d of Third Division, Sixth Corps), seven regiments, into the
broadening interval directly in front of the mouth of the gorge; but it
was not sufficient.
It was now Early's opportunity; but he was hours too late, just as
Sheridan had been. He had seen our Sixth Corps and Nineteenth emerge
and deploy, had beheld our rapid and somewhat disorderly approach, had
noted the widening spaces between our battalions and divisions, had
observed the havoc wrought by his artillery and musketry, ten thousand
of our soldiers seeming to sink under it; had had time to mass his
forces; and now it was "up to him" to hurl them against our centre. It
was the strategy inaugurated by Epaminondas at Leuctra and perfected by
Napoleon in many a hard battle, breaking the enemy's centre by an
irresistible charge, dividing and conquering. Rodes had been killed at a
battery in front of our brigade. His veterans and Gordon's, six thousand
strong[3] constituted the charging column. Neither Sheridan nor any
other Federal historian appears to have done justice to this charge.
Pickett's at Gettysburg was not more brilliant.
With yells distinctly heard above the roar they advanced. The batteries
on each side redoubled their discharges. From our irregular line of
infantry extending more than a mile blazed incessant sheets and spurts
of flame, the smoke at times hiding the combatants. Gordon was heading
toward the now nearly empty ravine. My horse had just been shot under
me. I lost two in that fight. Dismounted I walked from the right of my
battalion to the left, cautioning my men against wasting their
ammunition, bidding them take sure aim, pick out the rebel officers, and
not fire too high. They were shooting from a recumbent position, or
resting on one knee; lying flat on their backs to reload. As I reached
the left, I glanced to the right and saw several of them starting to
their feet, and a little further on, two or three began to run back. I
rushed to the spot shouting, "Back to your places!" I saw the cause: the
regiments on our right were retreating. I was astounded, for we were
expecting an order to advance instantly. At that moment Lieutenant
Handy, an aide of our brigade commander, rode up, pale, excited, his
hands flung up as if in despair. My men were springing to their feet.
"What are those orders?" I demanded.
"Retreat, retreat! get to the rear as fast as possible," he replied.
"Battalion, rise up; shoulder arms--" I commanded. Before I could finish
the order, one of Sheridan's staff came on a swift gallop, his horse
white with foam.
"For God's sake, what does this mean?" said he; "this retreat must be
stopped!"
"Battalion, lie down," I shouted; "our brigade commander ordered
retreat!"
"It's all wrong. If this position's lost, all's lost. Here you have some
cover. Hold it to the last. I'll bring supports immediately." Striking
spurs into his steed, he vanished in the direction of the retreating
regiments.
Except the few who had heard my command and remained in position,
perhaps seventy-five or a hundred, who kept blazing away at the
Confederates, rising a little to kneel and fire, Grover's Division, and
all we could see of that of Ricketts, had gone to pieces, swept away
like chaff before a whirlwind. Not a Union flag now in sight, but plenty
of the "Stars and Bars!" Our sputtering fire checked some directly in
front; but most of the on-rushing masses were deflected by the nature of
the ground.
Out of our view and about half a mile in our rear was Dwight's Division,
the First of the Nineteenth Corps. It had been left in reserve. It was
in line of battle and ready for the onset. The confused fragments of
Grover were rallied behind it. Had the ground been favorable, and had no
unexpected opposition been encountered, Gordon would have crushed
Dwight.
But in fewer minutes than we have occupied in describing this charge, a
tremendous and prolonged roar and rattle told us that the battle was on
behind us more than in front. Amid the din arose a quick succession of
deafening crashes, and shot and shell came singing and howling over us
from the left. Russell's Division (First of the Sixth Corps) comprising
eleven infantry regiments and one of heavy artillery, behind which the
broken battalions of Ricketts had been reassembling, was now smiting the
right flank of Gordon's six thousand. Although the charge came too late
we cannot but admire the strategy that directed it, and the bravery of
the infantry of Gordon, Rodes, and Ramseur, as well as that of the
cavalry of Lomax, Jackson, and Johnson, and of Fitzhugh Lee who fell
severely wounded. But they had not foreseen the terrible cross-fire from
Russell, who died at the head of his division, a bullet piercing his
breast and a piece of shell tearing through his heart. Nor had they
calculated on confronting the long line of Dwight, nine regiments with
the Fifth New York Battery, all of which stood like a stone breakwater.
Against it Gordon's masses, broken by the irregularities of the ground,
dashed in vain. Under the ceaseless fire of iron and lead the refluent
waves came pouring back. Our army was saved.
But we few, who, in obedience to explicit orders from headquarters, had
held our position stiffly farthest to the front when all the rest of
Grover's and Ricketts' thousands had retreated--we were lost. A column
behind a rebel flag was advancing straight upon us unchecked by our
vigorous fire. Seeing that they meant business, I commanded, "Fix
Bayonets!" At that instant the gray surges converged upon us right and
left and especially in our rear. We seemed in the middle of the rebel
army. In the crater of such a volcano, fine-spun theories, poetic
resolves to die rather than be captured--these are point-lace in a
furnace. A Union officer, Capt. W. Frank Tiemann of the 159th N. Y.,
Molineux's Brigade, was showing fight, and half a dozen Confederates
with clubbed muskets were rushing upon him. I leaped to the spot, sword
in hand, and shouted with all the semblance I could assume of fierce
authority,
"Down with those muskets! Stop! I command you." They lowered them.
"Who the hell are you?" they asked.
"I'll let you know." Turning instantly to four or five Confederate
officers, I demanded: "Do you mean to massacre my men?"
Two or three replied: "No. By G--! You've shown yourselves brave, and
you shall be respected. Yes, you fought d--d well, seein' you had the
d--dest brigade to fight against in the whole Confederate Army."
"What brigade are you?" I asked.
"Ramseur's old brigade; and there's nothin' this side o' hell can lick
it."
"You're brave enough," said another; "but damn you, you've killed our
best general."
"Who's that?" I asked.
"Rodes; killed right in front of you."
"I thought Early was your best General."
"Not by a d-- sight. Old Jubal's drunk--drunk as a fool."
I was never more highly complimented than at this moment; but the
stunning consciousness of being a prisoner, the bitterest experience of
my life, the unspeakable disappointment, the intense mortification--these
are even to this day poorly mitigated, much less compensated, by the
excessive praises heaped upon me by those Confederate officers for my
supposed bravery. That they were sincere I cannot doubt; for it was
customary on the battle-field for the rebels to strip prisoners of all
valuables, but no one of the fifty or one hundred near me was robbed.
Tiemann, whose life I had perhaps saved, was even privileged to keep his
canteen of whiskey, of which he gave me a drink by and by to keep me in
good spirits! I realized the truth of Burns's lines:
Inspiring bold _John Barleycorn_!
What dangers thou canst make us scorn!
Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil;
Wi' usquebaugh, we'll face the devil!
FOOTNOTES:
[1] _Personal Memoirs_, vol. i., p. 487.
[2] In New Orleans it was known as "Butler's Dandy Regiment"; for it was
then better dressed than any other. It wore dark blue, which Birge had
procured through his uncle, Buckingham, the war governor of Connecticut.
At the siege of Port Hudson it had distinguished itself above all other
regiments by furnishing as volunteers nearly one-fourth of the
celebrated "Storming Column" of one thousand men called for by General
N. P. Banks the second day after the disastrous assault on that fortress
(June 14, 1863). Birge was selected by Banks to lead the forlorn hope.
[3] Six thousand is Gordon's statement in his _Reminiscences_, page 320.