FINAL ESCAPE FROM CAPTIVITY.
In jail.--White trash.--Yankees.--Off to Waynesboro.--No rations.
Calling the roll.--Sylvania.--Plan for escape.--Lieutenant John
W. Wright.--A desperate project.--Escaped!--Giving chase.--The
pursuers baffled.--Old Richard.--"Pooty hard case, massa."--Rebel
deserters.--The sound of cannon.--Personating a rebel
officer.--Mrs. Keyton.--Renewed hope.--A Confederate
outpost.--Bloodhounds.--Uncle Philip.--March Dasher.--Suspicion
disarmed.--"Now I'ze ready, gemmen."--Stars and
stripes.--Glorious freedom.--Home!
In obedience to orders, Glazier and his comrade were at once marched off
to the county jail at Springfield, Georgia, then in the hands of the
military authorities. They were the only military prisoners confined
there, and were allowed the privilege of leaving their cell and going
into the yard for fresh air. They were not a little amused by the crowds
of wondering citizens who visited the jail to view the "two live Yanks."
These worthy citizens were greatly exercised that the prisoners should
be permitted to leave their cells, and called on the jailer to remove
them from the yard or they would take the keys into their own hands; but
the officer in command told them that he was personally responsible for
their safe-custody, and refused to remove them. These white Georgians
were a very primitive class of people. Utterly illiterate and
uninformed, their mode of speech was as bad as that of the most ignorant
slaves on the plantations. The term "white trash," whatever its origin,
was a most appropriate designation. No care had been taken to educate
them--no school-houses built; education being confined to the few whose
wealth enabled them to send their children to Northern schools, or to
engage a private tutor. Discovering that the prisoners were harmless,
many of these people asked them questions of a curious and comical
nature. They thought Yankees were imps of darkness, possessed of horns
and hoof, and, seeing that the prisoners were formed not unlike
themselves, were with difficulty persuaded that they were "Yankees."
Their idea of the causes and character of the war was ludicrous in the
extreme, and will hardly bear description--the negroes themselves being
far better informed upon this, as they were upon most other subjects.
A very brief examination before a hastily convened board of officers
resulted in a finding that the captives were "escaped prisoners of war,"
and not "spies." They were accordingly asked, where they were captured,
where imprisoned, when they escaped, etc.; and then a strong guard from
the Second Georgia Cavalry was detailed to convey them, with fifteen
other prisoners from the Fourteenth Army Corps, to Waynesboro.
From the other prisoners Glazier gleaned much useful information
concerning the situation of the Union lines, and also learned where the
rebel troops were stationed in Sherman's rear. Should he attempt another
escape, this knowledge would be valuable. The rebel escort cared very
little for the wants of their prisoners, and issued no rations whatever
to them--they themselves being entirely dependent on foraging for their
own supplies. As the unfortunate prisoners could not forage for
themselves they had to go without, a condition of things that spoke
little for the soldierly feeling of the guard. All attempts to elude the
vigilance of the latter during the day had failed, and as darkness drew
on, Glazier and his friend felt in very low spirits. They came to a halt
a few minutes before dark, and were quartered in an old building for the
night.
In passing through a large swamp, just before halting, the water was so
deep that each man had to wade through as he best could. The guard
exerted themselves to their utmost to keep them together, but in spite
of their efforts to do so, one of the prisoners fell out, and his
absence was overlooked by the sergeant, although noticed by his
fellow-prisoners, who succeeded in convincing the sergeant that all were
present. The mode was this: Glazier found out the absent man's name, and
then volunteered to call the roll from a list in the sergeant's
possession. It being dark, a piece of pitch-pine was lighted, and the
list handed to Glazier, who proceeded to call the names. All answered,
except the absentee, when, according to previous arrangement, each
affirmed that no such man had been among them. The sergeant sapiently
concluded that the name had found its way upon the roster by some error,
and nothing further was said about it. Had this little ruse not been
resorted to, great efforts would have been made to recover the fugitive.
Picked men would have been detailed, hounds called out from the nearest
plantation, and a very short time would have convinced the unfortunate
victim how little hope there was for him who sought to shun the horrors
of prison-life by an escape.
[Illustration: The Escape From Sylvania, Georgia--running The Guard.]
We do not propose entering into any detail of this march into captivity,
more especially as our hero has himself fully and graphically described
it in his "Capture, Prison-Pen and Escape," compiled from a diary kept
during the whole period of his adventurous career, and published in
1865. We will merely state here that on Monday, December nineteenth,
1864, after a dreary march of twenty-five miles, the captives found
themselves encamped for the night at the little village of Sylvania,
Georgia; half-way between the point of their departure and that of their
destination, Waynesboro.
Glazier's mind, during the whole of the day, had been preoccupied with
but one subject--_how to escape!_--this problem excluding every other
thought or consideration of himself or his surroundings.
Early in the evening the prisoners were stationed on the porch of a
large unoccupied building, and here it was determined they should pass
the night. The villagers of Sylvania knew little of the sad realities of
war, having hitherto happily escaped the visits of the armed hosts. They
surrounded the men of the escort, and plied them with many curious
questions, which were good-naturedly answered with as much, or as little
exaggeration as good soldiers usually indulge in when confronted with
greenhorns. Their attention, thus agreeably occupied by the
simple-minded villagers, was in some degree removed from their charge,
and this little circumstance seemed propitious to Glazier, who was
watching intently his opportunity.
The sergeant had notified the prisoners that his foragers had returned
with a quantity of sweet potatoes and some corn-bread; that the former
would be issued to the "Yanks," and the latter to the guard. Orders
also were given to place all the food at one end of the porch, where a
fire had been kindled of rail fence; and the potatoes were to be served
to the prisoners from that point.
Glazier, under the pretence of desiring to use the fire for the purpose
of roasting the potatoes, obtained leave for all to remain outside on
the porch until after supper. This concession reluctantly granted, hope
sprang in his breast that the opportunity he so ardently sought was now
at hand. Quickly he determined upon his plan of operation, and seeing
Lieutenant John W. Wright, of the Tenth Iowa Volunteers, near him,
whispered in his ear an outline of his desperate project, and invited
the latter to join in putting it into execution. To this proposition,
without a moment's consideration, Wright consented.
The two candidates for freedom then sauntered towards the end of the
porch, conversing loudly and cheerfully upon general topics, and thus
excited no suspicion of their intentions. The hungry prisoners gathered
around the ration-board, when Glazier covertly signaled his companion,
and each suddenly clutched a good handful of the corn-bread. Under cover
of the increasing darkness, and screened from observation by the men who
stood between them and the guard, they quietly but rapidly, in a
stooping position, stole away, making for the edge of a neighboring
wood. Not a word was spoken, and in less time than it takes to record
it, they were concealed among the foliage and undergrowth; and,
befriended by the darkness, were completely masked from the observation
of the enemy.
Fortunately their flight was unobserved until after the distribution of
the rations, when the guard missed their corn-bread. This seemed to be
felt more than the loss of their prisoners, the sergeant exclaiming, in
euphemistic southern (according to Glazier), "By dog on't! the d----d
Yankee officers have done gone and took all our corn-bread. I'll have
them, if it costs me a horse!"
Calling out a corporal and four men, he quickly ordered them to go to
the nearest plantation for hounds, and to "bring back the two Yanks dead
or alive," adding that he "guessed they had taken the Springfield road,"
which was the nearest route to the Federal lines.
It happened, however, that the peremptory orders of the sergeant were
overheard by Glazier and Wright, who were hidden not many yards away in
the wood. Instead, therefore, of proceeding on the direct road by way of
Springfield, they retraced their steps in the dark, and by this means
baffled their pursuers. Having reached the Middle Ground Road, over
which they had lately passed, they bounded over it to avoid leaving
their foot-prints, and thus broke the trail. They were now in a large
and densely-wooded swamp, and, effectually concealed by the umbrageous
covering, sat down to a council of war.
We may here state that Lieutenant Lemon, the late faithful companion of
our hero, had been prevented from participating in the plan of escape,
and was eventually taken back to be re-tortured in his old quarters at
Columbia. Wright was also an escaped prisoner from Columbia, whom
Glazier had often met during his imprisonment there. He escaped from
"Camp Sorghum" a few days after Lemon and Glazier, but unfortunately was
recaptured just when he felt that he was about to bid adieu to his
captivity.
Lieutenant Wright possessed one advantage for the dangerous and
desperate enterprise they had now re-entered upon--he knew the country.
By his advice, therefore, it was agreed to remain quietly concealed in
the swamp until night, when he would lead the way to the hut of a negro
who had befriended him during his previous attempt to escape.
About midnight he piloted Glazier to the hut of "Old Richard," a worthy
and kind-hearted negro, who had supplied him with hoe-cake and bacon
just before his recapture. Richard was in ecstasies on beholding his
friend, Massa Wright, again, whom he knew to have been retaken, and with
due formality, our hero was introduced. On being asked for some bacon
and sweet potatoes to put with their corn-bread, he replied: "Pooty hard
case, massa; but dis yer darkey'll do de best he can. Can't get nuffin'
on this plantation, but reckon I can buy some 'tatoes down at Massa
Smith's, three miles from yer, and will go down thar after I finish my
task to-morrer. As to meat," he said, "you know, massa, dat in the Souf
de slave takes what de white folks frows away, and I reckon you all
couldn't eat a tainted ham dat ole massa gib me t'other day; but if you
can, God knows dis chile gibs it to you wid all his heart." Having
become, from long fasting, almost entirely indifferent to the sense of
taste, our friends gave Old Richard to understand that the ham would be
welcome.
The important question of rations having been thus satisfactorily
arranged, Richard was asked to guide the fugitives to some place of
hiding, where no rebel could find them. Accordingly, they were conducted
to a swamp, and soon discovered a secure place of concealment for the
day. "The whippoorwill and turtle-dove," Captain Glazier writes,
"enlivened the hours with their inspiring notes, and as night began to
approach, the gloomy owl, from the tree-tops, uttered his solemn warning
cry. The pine and cypress, swayed by the breeze, moaned a perpetual
chorus, and under their teaching we learned, during the long, dreary
hours, how much we were indebted to these dismal wilds, that concealed
both friend and foe.
"Here the rebel deserter concealed himself from his pursuers. Here the
loyalist found a hiding-place from the rebel conscripting officer. Here
the trembling negro had his first taste of freedom. Here the escaped
Union prisoner was enabled to baffle blood-hounds and human-hounds, and
make his way to the Federal lines."
The day wore away at length, and as darkness was approaching, Old
Richard, true to his promise, was on hand with the supplies. He gave the
fugitives all he had been able to purchase with his small means, and
they, after asking God to bless him for his kindness, departed. Our
friends trudged away, rejoicing, notwithstanding their fatigue, and the
bodily weakness of Glazier. For the latter had by this time been reduced
in weight to not more than ninety pounds, his usual weight having been
about one hundred and forty-five. He was still, however, filled with
indomitable "pluck," and a determination to conquer the situation, with
all its dread horrors, and return to his colors. Wright, on the other
hand, had a splendid physique, and cared little for hardships that would
have intimidated, or perhaps killed, an ordinary man. On several
occasions he picked Glazier up and generously bore him upon his broad
shoulders over the worst parts of the swamp, the latter being too weak
to make his way alone without falling into the slough-holes.
They were startled, in the course of this night, on seeing two men, who,
by their conversation, which was overheard, proved to be rebel deserters
from Wheeler's command. Our friends deemed it the wisest plan to secrete
themselves behind a log until the men had passed.
At break of day they again concealed themselves, and rested between the
roots of an ancient cypress. Their ears were now greeted with the
distant boom of heavy cannon, which came from the direction of Savannah.
This helped in directing their course for the following night, and also
announced to them in plain language that they were not very far from the
friends they longed to meet.
Refreshed and hopeful they started as the shades of evening fell,
determined, if possible, to accomplish a good march before daylight.
They had not, however, proceeded far, when a large plantation became
visible, the white mansion gleaming through the trees. Wright
recognizing the place, suggested that Glazier might procure a good
supper, and something for the haversack, if he would boldly call and
personate a rebel officer, trusting to his face and ready wit to carry
him through. He had heard from some negroes that the only occupant was a
Mrs. Keyton and some young children, the wife and family of the planter,
who was an officer in the rebel army; and further that there were no
hounds about the place.
Glazier, with characteristic promptness, acquiesced; and the following
is a description of the interview, extracted from the diary, which amid
all his wanderings and trials he never failed to keep regularly written
up:
"After hearing Wright's description, and having agreed upon signals of
danger, should any occur, I started on my foraging expedition, with a
good degree of assurance.
"Stepping up to the door of the mansion, I rapped, and the lady soon
made her appearance. She seemed both refined and intelligent. I asked,
'Can you give this rebel a supper?' She replied, 'You shall have the
best the house affords,' and invited me to step in and take a seat by
the fire. I did so, saying, as I took my seat, 'Madam, I am shocked at
the dastardly conduct of General Sherman in his march through Georgia.
It has been characterized by nothing but what should excite revenge, and
move to action, every man possessing a true Southern spirit. Our aged
citizens, who have banded together for mutual protection, have been
treated as bushwackers--have been driven from their homes, and their
property confiscated. Our hounds, always true to the interests of the
South, have been shot down by the road-side for no other reason than
that they were used in tracking escaped prisoners--'
"Interrupting me here, the lady remarked, much to my surprise, that she
could not see that the Yankees were much worse than the Confederates,
after all. She added: "'When the Yankee army passed through this State,
they took from the rich the supplies necessary for their sustenance; and
when our cavalry followed they took nearly all that was left, seeming to
care but little for our wants, and often depriving defenceless women
and children of their last morsel of bread.'
"'I regret, madam, that the conduct of our troops has been such as to
give you reason for complaint.'
"'I, too, regret that our men have not proved themselves worthy of a
cause which they appear so willing to defend.'
"'Remember,' I continued, 'that our commissary department has been
completely wrecked, and that we are entirely dependent upon the people
for the subsistence of a large army.'
"By the sad expression of her countenance, which accompanied and
followed this remark, I saw clearly that she felt we had reached a
crisis in the war, when Providence was turning the tables, and she
accordingly interrogated:
"'And what do you think of present prospects?'
"I quickly responded, 'Our future looks dark--our cause appears almost
hopeless, but the sacrifices of our gallant dead remain unavenged.
Therefore, we must fight while there is a man left, and die in the last
ditch.'
"'If there be no longer any hope of success, sir, I should say that it
would be better to lay down our arms at once, and go back under the old
flag.'
"'Madam, we must fight, we _must fight_!'
"'But it is wickedness and worse than madness to continue this awful
massacre of human beings, without some prospect of ultimate success.'
"'Very true; but we have lost all in this struggle, and must sell our
lives as dearly as possible.'
"By this time the good lady seemed to have waxed enthusiastic, and
warm as the fire over which the servant was preparing my supper, and she
answered:
"'My husband is a captain in the Twenty-fifth Georgia Infantry. He is
the father of these children, and is very dear to both them and me. Long
have I prayed that he might be spared to return to his family, but fear
that we shall never be permitted to see him again. When he entered the
army, I admired his patriotism, and was glad to see him go in defence of
what I supposed to be the true interests of the southern people; but _we
have been deceived from the beginning by our military and political
leaders_. It is time to open our eyes, and see what obstinacy has
brought us. We are conquered. Let us return to the rule of the Federal
government, ere we are ruined.'
"Madam, your sympathies appear to be largely with the Yankees.'
"'It is not strange, sir; I was born and educated in New England;--and
your speech would indicate that you too are not a native of the South.'
"'You are right; I am a New Yorker by birth, but have been for a
considerable time in South Carolina.'
"After partaking of the frugal meal set before me, which consisted of
corn-bread and sweet potatoes, I thanked the lady for her kindness, and
told her that I regretted very deeply that I was not in a situation to
remunerate her for so much trouble. Noticing my blue pants as I arose
from the table, she remarked:
"'It is impossible for me to know our men from the Yankees by the
uniform; but a few days since, two soldiers asked me to get them some
supper, claiming to be scouts to General Wheeler; they told many very
plausible stories, and the next day, to my astonishment, I was charged
with harboring Yankee spies.'
"'I do not wonder that you find it difficult to distinguish the Yankee
from the Confederate soldier, for in these trying times a poor rebel is
compelled to wear anything he can get. The dead are always stripped, and
at this season of the year, we find the Federal uniform far more
comfortable than our own.'
"'It must be an awful extremity that could tempt men to strip the dying
and the dead!'
"'We have become so much accustomed to such practices, that we are
unmoved by scenes which might appall and sicken those who have never
served in our ranks.'
"'I sincerely hope that these murderous practices will soon be at an
end.'
"Feeling that I had been absent from my comrade long enough, and that it
was time to make my departure, I arose, saying,
"'I must go, madam; may I know to whom I am so much indebted for my
supper and kind entertainment this evening?'
"'Mrs. James Keyton. And what may I call your name?'
"'Willard Glazier, Fifty-third Alabama Mounted Infantry.'
"'Should you chance to meet the Twenty-fifth Georgia, please inquire for
Captain Keyton, and say to him that his wife and children are well, and
send their love.'
"'He shall certainly have your message if it is my good fortune to meet
him. Good-night.'"
Leaving Mrs. Keyton with her fears for the rebel cause in general, and
her husband in particular, Glazier hurried out to find his friend Wright
pacing up and down the road in a bad humor at having been kept so long
waiting; but setting their faces in the direction of Springfield, they
at once started on their march. They soon found themselves approaching
the rebel forces in General Sherman's rear, and determined at all risks
to obtain information of the two armies. They were at General Iverson's
headquarters, and at one time were within fifteen paces of the house he
occupied.
Cautiously concealing themselves behind trees they reached a spot within
earshot of the provost-guard, and overheard their conversation. The
prospects of the war were freely discussed, and the fall of Savannah.
The conclusion forced on the minds of our friends was that the
Confederate cause was losing ground, and its armies would soon be
compelled to surrender to the Union force.
Glazier and his comrade left the spot inspired with renewed courage.
Six miles on their road to Springfield found daylight approaching, and
the fugitives hurriedly secreted themselves among some tall swamp grass.
They were suddenly aroused by the baying of a blood-hound, and
immediately sprang to their feet.
"We are followed!" exclaimed Wright.
"What do you propose to do?" quickly asked Glazier.
"I am undecided," was the unsatisfactory reply.
"It is my opinion," said Glazier, promptly, "that if we are not off at
once we shall be prisoners."
"Well, off it is!" spoke Wright; and both struck off in a southeasterly
direction in double quick time. Fences and ditches were leaped, and
streams forded, the hounds approaching so nearly that their baying could
be distinctly heard by the fugitives; but fortunately, or
providentially, they came to a large creek, and jumping in, waded along
its course for a distance of some sixty rods, then emerging, pursued
their journey in the direction they had intended. About one o'clock they
concluded they had out-generaled the bushwhackers and their hounds.
Elated by success they became less cautious and did not halt. About two
o'clock Glazier was startled by seeing his companion drop suddenly and
silently behind a tree. Glazier followed, watching the movements of
Wright, and presently saw that they were within a few rods of a
Confederate picket. Before they had time to move a cavalry patrol came
up to the post with instructions, and, as soon as he had passed, our
friends crawled upon their hands and knees into the friendly swamp, and
thus screened themselves from their enemy.
The _hounds_, however, were a source of greater danger to the fugitives
than the rebel pickets; the training and scent of the former having been
so perfected and developed by long and cruel use in the recapture of
fugitive slaves, that, to evade them, was almost an impossibility. Hence
the sense of caution was strained to the utmost both by night and day on
the part of our friends.
The use of blood-hounds in warfare is considered _barbarous_ in every
country pretending to civilization, even if they are employed against a
foreign foe. How much more so, in a war waged between fellow-citizens of
one blood, one history, one language, and in numerous instances, bearing
domestic or family relations to each other; and this, in support of a
cause, the righteousness of which was doubted by many who found
themselves unwillingly compelled to give in their adherence at the
dictation of a few ambitious men. For this sin a righteous God has
judged them! A cause thus supported deserved defeat in the estimation of
just men of every nation, apart from all political considerations.
Captain Glazier and his friend congratulated themselves on having so far
eluded, by every expedient known to them, the sanguinary fangs of these
barbarous instruments of warfare; and after nightfall continued their
route, passing the picket in the darkness.
Soon after they encountered a colored friend, known among his people as
"Uncle Philip." This good darkey informed them that the Federal forces
had possession of Cherokee Hill, on the Savannah River Road, only eight
miles distant--news which afforded them inexpressible joy! Uncle Philip
was asked if he would guide them to the lines; and replied: "I'ze neber
ben down dar, massa, sense Massa Sherman's company went to Savannah; but
I reckon you-uns can git Massa Jones, a free cullered man, to take you
ober. He's a mighty bright pusson, and understands de swamps jest like a
book."
On reaching Jones' hut his wife informed them that her husband was out
scouting, but was expected back about eleven o'clock. She urged our
friends to enter and await his return, as he was always glad to do all
in his power for the Yankees. Fearing the rebel scouts might discover
them, they, at first, hesitated, but consented on Mrs. Jones promising
to be on the alert. She accordingly volunteered her two boys, one of
eight years and the other six, for out-post duty, charging them strictly
to notify her immediately if they saw any one approaching, so that she
might conceal the fugitives. Auntie then promptly placed before them a
bountiful supply of hoe-cake and parched corn, the best her humble cot
afforded, and most welcome to the famished men.
Jones returned at the appointed hour, but informed his guests that,
while very willing to guide them, he was not sufficiently acquainted
with the safest route to do so; and referred them to a friend of his,
who would accompany them, and whom he could strongly recommend as a
competent and safe guide. On visiting this man he also pleaded ignorance
of any _safe_ route; but mentioned the name of still another "friend of
the Yankees," who, he said, had come up from the Union lines that
morning and would willingly return with them. This friendly negro also
was found. He was a genuine negro, as black as ebony and very devout in
his mode of speech. His name was "March Dasher." "I'll do it, massa, if
God be my helper!" he answered to their eager inquiry.
Glazier and his comrade were impatient to start at once, but upon this
point Dasher was inexorable. "Dis chile knows whar de pickets is in de
day-time," he emphatically declared, "but knows nuffin 'bout 'em arter
dark;" and absolutely declined to take the risk of falling within the
Confederate lines--an act of prudence and firmness for which he was to
be much commended.
A fear of treachery was aroused when Dasher tried to induce them to
remain in his hut till morning, but this was immediately and entirely
removed when he and his household at a signal, fell on their knees, and
joined in simple but fervent prayer to the Almighty, as a friend of the
friendless--beseeching Him to protect and prosper them in their
efforts to flee from their enemies; and much more of a nature to disarm
any suspicion of their fidelity and good-will to the Union cause.
Our friends, however, declined to remain in the hut, fearing a surprise
from the outpost; and at the conclusion of the prayer, betook themselves
to a pine thicket with the joint resolution of giving their dark friend
no peace until he started with them to the Federal lines.
About one o'clock in the morning, Wright, impatient of delay, proceeded
to the hut, and arousing Dasher, told him that day had just begun to
break. He came to the door, and pointing to the stars in the unclouded
sky, remarked, with a good-tempered smile, "I reck'n it's good many
hours yet till break ob day, massa. Yer can't fool March on de time; his
clock neber breaks down. It's jest right ebery time." Wright returned to
his lair in the thicket, remarking irritably, as he threw himself down,
"Glazier, you might as well undertake to move a mountain, as to get the
start of that colored individual!"
At the first peep of dawn, punctual to his promise, Dasher thrust his
black, good-humored face into the thicket, and announced:
"Now I'ze ready, gemmen, to take you right plum into Mr. Sherman's
company by 'sun-up;'" and as Sol began to gild the tree-tops and the
distant eastern hills, the trio came within sight of the Federal camp,
and witnessed the "Stars and Stripes," floating triumphantly in the
breeze!
What pen can describe their emotions, when--after more than fourteen
long months' suffering from imprisonment, starvation, nakedness, bodily
and mental prostration, and every inhumanity short of being murdered,
like many of their imprisoned comrades, in cold blood--they again hailed
_friends_ and found _freedom_ at last within their grasp! Words would
fail to tell their joy. Let us leave it to the reader to imagine.
On first approaching the camp they were supposed, by their motley
attire, to be deserters from the enemy; and, as true soldiers and
deserters never fraternize, no signal of welcome was offered by the
"boys in blue." The suspicions of the latter, however, were allayed on
seeing Glazier and his companion wave their caps: then they were
beckoned to come forward. And when it was discovered that they were
_escaped prisoners_, an enthusiastic grip was given to each by every
soldier present, accompanied by cordial congratulations on their
successful escape from the barbarous enemy who had had them in custody.
"Each man," writes Glazier, "took us by the hand, congratulating us on
our eventful and successful escape, while we cheered the boys for the
glorious work they had accomplished for the Union. Haversacks were
opened and placed at our disposal. There was a great demand for
hard-tack and coffee; but the beauty of it all was, Major Turner was not
there, to say what he often repeated, 'Reduce their rations; I'll teach
the d----d scoundrels not to attempt to escape!'
"I cannot forget," he adds, "the sea of emotion that well-nigh
overwhelmed me, as soon as I could realize the fact that I was no longer
a prisoner, and especially when I beheld the starry banner floating
triumphantly over the invincibles who had followed their great General
down to the sea."
Our hero and his friend became objects of much curiosity, while their
eventful escape was the subject of general conversation and comment by
the brave boys who pressed around them, and who proved to be a
detachment of the One Hundred and First Illinois Volunteers, Twentieth
Army Corps. Their most intimate friends would have failed to recognize
them. Glazier was clad in an old gray jacket and blue pants, with a
venerable and dilapidated hat which had seen a prodigious amount of
service of a nondescript kind; while a tattered gray blanket that had
done duty for many a month as a bed by day and a cloak by night, and was
now in the last stage of dissolution from age and general infirmity,
completed his unmilitary and unpretentious toilet. Having at first no
one to identify them, Glazier and his companion were as strangers among
friends, and necessarily without official recognition. At length,
however, after much searching, they found Lieutenant Wright's old
company, and thus the refugees became officially identified and
recognized as Federal officers.
In company with Lieutenant E. H. Fales, who had been his fellow-prisoner
at Charleston, and effected his escape, Glazier proceeded on horseback
to the headquarters of General Kilpatrick. The General, cordially
welcoming and congratulating Glazier on his happy escape, at once
furnished him with the documents necessary to secure his transportation
to the North. His term of service having expired, he was anxious to
revisit his family, who thought him dead, and bidding an affectionate
adieu to his friend Wright, he and Lieutenant Fales embarked on a
steamship on December twenty-ninth for home. After experiencing the
effects of a severe storm at sea, the vessel arrived at the wharf of
the metropolitan city, and our hero adds: "I awoke to the glorious
realization that I was again breathing the air of my native State. There
was exhilaration and rapture in the thought, which I could not repress,
and that moment is fixed as a golden era in my memory. I hope never to
become so hardened that that patriotic and Christian exultation will be
an unpleasant recollection."
There have probably been few hearts that beat higher with martial ardor,
than that of Willard Glazier; but at that moment the thought of
"Battle's red carnival" was merged in the gentler recollection of
kindred and friends, rest and home.