Our Return to Danville—Many Sick with Smallpox—Smallpox Hospital, and
Convalescent Camp.
On the morning of Dec. 9, 1863, the order came for us to go to
Danville, Va., located on the North Carolina line a distance from
Richmond of about 150 miles in a southwesterly direction. We started
before daylight in the morning, going by rail. I remember my surprise
as we marched out into the street. My limbs were very weak, and some
pain in my knee joints and other parts of the body caused me to
stagger a little as I walked. We were escorted to the railroad station
and crowded into freight cars, and arrived at Danville in the evening
of the same day. We were then unloaded and confined in a building
similar to the one we had left, received nearly the same kind of food,
and enjoyed about such privileges as we did in Richmond, being
continually hungry, filthy, crowded and chilly, and also irritated by
the industrious graybacks, which seemed determined to keep us company
without being invited, and which caused the most of us to be rather
ill-natured.
The smallpox made its appearance here about Dec. 13, but I was not
aware of it until about eight days later, when I became very sick, and
was lying upon the cold, bare floor for a number of days without any
attention whatever. On Dec. 24 a doctor came in, looked me over, and
informed me that I had smallpox, but I was feeling so very sick that
this information did not make much impression on me. I did not seem to
care what I had or what became of me. Late in the afternoon they came
with a two-wheeled dray, upon which I was loaded and hauled about a
mile to the smallpox hospital, while the wind was blowing almost a
gale from the northwest, and cold for that locality. On arriving at
the hospital, about sunset, I found it to be quite a comfortable place
compared to where I had been staying. It contained cots for the sick
such as we used in our own hospitals. I was placed upon one of these,
and on either side of me were those who appeared very sick. The one on
my right died the first night I was there.
This being Christmas eve, my thoughts were of course of home, and the
happy times we always enjoyed on such occasions. I felt very gloomy
when realizing my condition and the place in which I was confined,
hardly possessing the necessaries of life, and being a prisoner of
war, sick and in the hands of an enemy. This Christmas eve seemed very
long and tedious. The pustules were then beginning to break out on me
and my head seemed to me as large as a bushel basket. There were no
pit marks left upon me from the effects of the smallpox, as I had
previously been dieted, by the kindness of the Southern Confederacy,
which was expert at dieting its prisoners of war.
The days and nights wore slowly away, and in a few days I began to
feel better and was able to watch the proceedings about me in the
hospital. Some new patients were being brought in continually, while
others died and were carried out to the dead-house. This was a log
house near by, where the dead were stored until ready for burial, and
was generally well occupied, as many died and were buried here.
I had now been here a number of days, and to my surprise, one day Doc.
Davis, who was my chum in Richmond, came into the ward in which I was
confined, and told me that he had been detailed to be hospital steward
of the smallpox hospital. The news of Doc. Davis’ presence cheered me
up wonderfully. Of course he did all he could for us sick boys. The
weather for this latitude was extremely cold during the latter part of
1863 and the beginning of 1864, but of course not as severe as in the
northern States. Yet we suffered greatly on account of not being well
prepared for it. About two weeks had been spent by me in the hospital,
and my health was greatly improved. The authorities were talking of
putting us in the convalescent camp, which they did about the second
week in January.
This camp was very well located, and was composed of tents, having
chimneys made of mud and sticks, with a fireplace. We were quite
comfortably housed, and were allowed to have wood for fire if we
chopped it, and those who were able did so. Three of us convalescents
were quartered in one small tent. Here I became acquainted with my
tentmates, William Herrick, of Co. F, 30th Indiana, and Calvin W.
Hudson, of Co. D, 65th Ohio. We soon became quite intimate, and had
many friendly chats together about home and friends, and laying plans
for our escape from prison. We had bunks fixed up, made of boards, so
that our beds were not on the ground. We had now secured woolen
blankets from Uncle Sam, and had one apiece.
This camp was guarded by North Carolina troops. Their guard line, on
which the guards paced to and fro, was about ten or fifteen feet from
our row of tents. The cookhouse was located in the southeast corner of
the camp, in which the rations were cooked for the sick and
convalescent. By this time our appetites had become the largest part
of us. It seemed to me that I could eat anything, from a dog to a
sawhorse, which was an indication that my health was improving.
One day when outside our tent near the cookhouse window, I discovered
some turnip and potato parings lying on the ground, which had been
thrown out of the cookhouse window. I gathered them up, and while
doing so also discovered an old beef bone, which I picked up, and put
the bone parings and some water together in an old tin can. I placed
it over the fire and allowed the morsel to boil for quite a long time.
This formed a sort of soup, with a little grease from the bone
floating on the top. I stirred it well, and as soon as it was cool
enough ate it with great relish, thinking it the best soup that I had
ever tasted. I was extremely hungry, and could hardly refrain from
tasting it while stirring. I probably acted like some little child
would when there is a prospect for something good to eat. I ate the
soup and eagerly wished for more, and would have given a small fortune
(had I possessed one) for some more of the same kind. No man can
realize what a torture it is to be starving, unless he has had the
experience.
The days wore slowly away, and one day Doc. Davis came to our tent and
surprised me by saying: “Eby, there has been a small box received in
camp, addressed to H. H. Eby, Co. C, 7th Illinois Cavalry.” I was so
elated over the news that I could hardly be restrained, and of course
immediately set about to procure my box, which contained a loaf of
bread, some crackers, a small quantity of cheese, a few onions, a
small piece of pork, butter, pepper and salt. If I remember rightly
the box was brought to me by Doc. Davis. It was sent by my brother
Moses, who at that time lived near Mendota, Ill. He died at Freeport,
Ill., July 10, 1909. My receiving this box was a mere accident, as
thousands of them were sent to others which never reached their
destination. For a day or two my two comrades in my tent and myself
had quite a feast from the contents of this box. Oh, what a luxury it
was, as since our confinement we had had very little food that was
palatable.
We now began thinking seriously about making our escape from prison to
our lines, because the food in the box would furnish us with a few
days’ provisions to start with. William Herrick, of Co. F, 30th
Indiana, concluded to start with me. Hudson was too sick to make the
journey with us. Each of us possessed a haversack, which we filled
with some of the eatables from the box, and now our commissary stores
were ready for the journey. What eatables were left in the box were
given to Hudson, who remained in camp. A day or two previous to our
departure Doc. Davis came to our tent, and wanted to know if I would
divide some provisions with him, as he was going to attempt his escape
that night, and I replied in the affirmative. He returned to his tent,
and we learned the next day that he had made his escape. I never saw
him afterward, but heard after I returned to our lines that he finally
reached the Union lines in safety. Poor fellow, he was not well, and
had a hard time getting through to his regiment, and lived only a
short time afterward. I sincerely hope that he is receiving his
well-earned reward. The second night after Davis escaped, Herrick and
I passed the guard line and succeeded as far as getting out of the
clutches of the guards.