Part 3

There were about twelve hundred old Libby prisoners in this pen when we arrived, and with the accession of our squad it was crowded to its fullest capacity. It was easy by the expression of their faces alone, to distinguish the "Fresh fish" from the old prisoners. Those of the latter had a starved, hopeless look, that must have been seen to be realized. Long confinement and starvation have the effect of deadening all the finer feelings. They are brutalizing. All the selfish propensities are developed. The mind becomes gangrened. Long brooding over the deplorable situation, with hunger constantly gnawing at the vitals, gradually saps away all that is noble and God-like, leaving active only the animal nature.

I saw two Lieutenants belonging to the regular army, snap, snarl, and actually fight over the distribution of a tablespoonful of corn meal; yet these men were educated gentlemen, and under ordinary circumstances would have resented as an insult the imputation that they could ever be guilty of such conduct. I looked at them, and wondered if we too would become like the pitiable objects around us.

With these thoughts came visions of the longing, waiting hearts at the North. These men represented homes, scattered through every loyal State, in which sat the patient wife or mother, anxiously watching for tidings of husband or son. In the reports she had read with sinking heart the fearful words, "missing in action," or "wounded and missing," and the cry had gone up from quivering lips, "Oh God, let me not be left a widow and my children fatherless!" Then had commenced the long agony of suspense, of waiting, waiting, waiting--how drear an ordeal, only those who have passed through it can tell.

I thought of a certain little cottage home, wherein was gathered my own little flock, and pictured to myself the anguish they were then enduring. I had been reported killed, as I had ascertained from an officer captured later. For the first time I realized the full horror of the situation.

Appetite was already clamorous, and we began to make inquiries about rations. We were told that these would be issued in the morning. That would be twenty-four hours without food.

Slowly the first long night in our new prison passed away. Early in the morning we were turned out for roll call. Captain Tabb had appeared with his guard, a line was formed across the centre of the yard, and we were all driven to one side of it, and then commenced the roll call, or rather the count. One by one we were passed through a particular part of the line and counted, Tabb making a practice of heaping upon us every insult his debased mind could invent. How our fingers itched to get hold of him as we passed!

The count over, came the issuing of rations. These consisted of a pint of corn meal and a teaspoonful of salt to each man, and once in two or three days a slice of bacon, or a handful of black peas in lieu of the bacon. This was to last us twenty-four hours. Ought we not to feel grateful to our Southern brethren for the sumptuous manner in which they entertained us? We no longer wondered at the starved, cadaverous look of the old prisoners; we only wondered that they were alive.

Our former prisons had been comfortable, in comparison with this. We realized that long confinement in this situation meant slow but certain death by starvation and exposure, and we began to cast about us to see if there were no hope of speedy release.

An exchange became the topic of conversation. It was last in our thoughts at night, and first in the morning. Every morsel of news with reference to it was eagerly discussed and repeated; but with us, as with the old Libby prisoners, came the conviction that a speedy exchange was not to be hoped for. We were tauntingly told by Tabb that our government would not exchange us unless their government would exchange the negro troops, and that we were thus placed on a level with the niggers by our own government, and that this was all that stood in the way of exchange.

I thank God that I can truthfully say, that not a corporal's guard of these starving men could be found, who did not say that if that were the case, and we could by our own votes determine the question, rather than that the government should abandon to their fate any of her soldiers who had worn the blue and fought under the stars and stripes, be they black or white, they would stay there and starve.

_Tunneling_

With the death to our hope of exchange, was born the hope of escape. Various plans were discussed and abandoned. An organization was attempted to revolt--overpower the guard, and fight our way through to our lines with such weapons as we could capture from the guards. But when we came coolly to reflect upon the project, and considered the desperateness of the attempt on the part of fifteen hundred unarmed, unorganized men, to overpower about an equal number, well-armed and supported by a battery, we abandoned the project.

Then we planned to escape by tunneling out. We found that prior to our arrival a party had been organized for this very purpose, and that a tunnel had already been started. After considerable finesse, a few of us were admitted to the confidence of the conspirators, and permitted to participate in the digging.

The greatest secrecy was observed in this enterprise. Not more than twenty or thirty of the prisoners knew of the tunnel's existence, and they were by a solemn oath bound not to reveal their knowledge. One would suppose that there could have been no danger from the prisoners themselves; but subsequent events proved that these precautions were only too necessary.

This tunnel was started in one of the sheds, under a bank, about twenty feet from the Dead Line, and it had progressed about ten feet when I first transformed myself into a woodchuck.

Our mining tools consisted of a strap hinge, fastened to a stick about two feet long, a tin dipper, and some sacks. The manner of digging was to lie upon the side, and with the hinge work out the hard clay. This was loaded into the sacks by means of the cup. A confederate, holding a cord attached to the sack, would draw it back and empty it, and then crawl back to the digger, who by this time would have another sack of dirt ready.

After getting about thirty feet from the mouth of the tunnel, the air became so bad that a candle would not burn for a second, and the number of diggers who could endure this atmosphere was reduced to two or three. The sensation on first getting back to the mouth end of the tunnel, was that of suffocation; the perspiration would start from every pore; but after a few moments this would partially pass away. It was, however, nothing unusual for the digger, after his work in the tunnel, to faint away upon getting to fresh air.

The natural inquiry will arise: What became of the dirt? The negroes took care of it for us. Every morning the ground in the pen was nicely swept up, and the dirt hauled away by negroes. We piled up the dirt taken from the tunnel, and when the negroes came with their cart, they would take great pains to put the red dirt on the bottom of the cart, and cover it with the black. They knew what we were doing, by the appearance of this fresh earth; but when they came to one of our red piles, it was only by a wink of the eye or a broad grin that they indicated their knowledge.

We had progressed about ninety feet with our tunnel, and were outside the guards. We only needed to make thirty feet more to come out behind a brick wall across the street.

_Betrayed_

We had then been working on it for about a month but at this juncture we were betrayed by one of our own men, a Lieutenant of a cavalry regiment, by the name of Silver.

The first intimation we had of our betrayal, was one morning at roll call. I think it was on the first day of July, after we had been driven to one end of the pen, after the custom I have described. We saw the Confederate officer and a guard inspecting the ground in the vicinity of the tunnel. This they did by stabbing a bayonet into the ground, as no one could detect the existence of the tunnel by the eye, the mouth being covered and dirt swept over it, so as to make it resemble the surface.

Imagine our feelings as we saw them approach the mouth of the hole. That tunnel, to us, was the door to liberty. It was the telescope through which we could see wife, children, and friends. Men who never prayed before, prayed now that it might not be discovered.

But alas! these prayers were vain. All our labor and our suffering in this direction had been for naught, and I am not ashamed to say that some of us wept like children over our disappointment. We did not then know by what means the enemy had discovered our plan of escape, for we could not imagine that we had been betrayed. At first we were disposed to lay the blame upon ourselves, believing that in some way the guard had discovered something suspicious from the fact that a day or two before unusual excitement had, for the following reason been manifested by those interested in the scheme.

It had been agreed between the parties engaged in digging, that while engaged in work during the daytime, we would submit to the follow regulations: Each should perform an equal amount of labor in the tunnel, and in case the authorities came into the yard, or if from any cause there should be danger of discovery, the watchman should immediately _cover the mouth of the tunnel_. The person digging should submit to this necessity, and take his chance for life. What that chance was, may readily be inferred, from the fact that with the mouth of the tunnel open, air of any kind was a scarce commodity, and the quality nothing to boast of.

It so happened that while I was busily engaged at work in the tunnel that day, the air was suddenly darkened, and a rattle at the mouth end notified me that the emergency had arrived, upon which we had agreed to risk life itself. I was buried alive.

To attempt to describe the sensations of a person at such a moment, is simply impossible. Within a minute from the time the mouth of the tunnel was closed, the air was exhausted. And here let me describe the manner of closing it: First, about four inches from the surface, a flange or offset received a covering of boards; over this an old shirt was spread, to prevent the dirt from sifting through the cracks, and over this about three inches of dirt were placed. Then a few whisks of the brush broom, and the eye could detect nothing to denote the existence of a cavity beneath.

It is said that necessity is the mother of invention. I was not ready to die just then; to live, I must have air. To attempt to get back to the mouth and open it, even could I succeed in doing so, would betray the existence of the tunnel, and forfeit a solemn pledge.

All this flashed through my mind with the rapidity of lightning. As by an inspiration, the means of preserving my life was suggested to me. Rolling upon my back, I commenced boring for air. Inserting the point of the hinge in the roof of the tunnel, and turning and pushing it with the energy of despair, I worked at the hard clay two feet or more above my head. Slowly but gradually, inch by inch, the improvised drill worked its way to the air and life. Just as I thought my very last energy expended, and when the handle of the drill lacked an inch of being inserted its entire length, the end broke the surface of the ground over my head, and air, blessed air, came rushing into the aperture. Withdrawing the drill I placed my mouth to the hole, and breathed. Oh, the ecstacy, the supreme comfort of that moment is indescribable! I was saved.

In the meantime, on the outside, I had a friend--not in name only, but a friend in deed--one of the noblest men the sun ever shone upon: L. G. Billings, Paymaster in the United States Navy. Billings and I were among the very few who could bear the bad air in the tunnel. He knew I was in there when the mouth was closed, and it took the united efforts of the initiated to keep him away from it. As soon as the investigating officer had left the yard, he tore open the mouth of the tunnel and plunged in.

I heard my name called, but I kept quiet, thinking I would see what he would do. Hearing no response, and believing me dead, I heard him groan, "My God, he is dead!" and then he commenced crawling to where I was. I waited until he had nearly reached me, but when I heard him sobbing like a child, I could hold out no longer.

"Billings, my friend," I said, "I am all right, thank God."

"Thank God!" he rejoined; "but how did you live?"

"Look here," I said, pointing to the hole I had drilled.

Therefore, when our tunnel was discovered we thought that the excitement caused by my imprisonment in the ground had led to our detection. But the following morning one of the negroes, while loading the dump cart, informed us that "Massa Lieutenant Silver told Massa Captain all about it." We immediately organized ourselves into a detective force for the purpose of ascertaining the facts, and in a short time became convinced of the truth of this statement. But while we were contriving ways and means to procure a rope, the Confederate authorities intervened and took Silver out of prison, and that is the last we ever saw or heard of him. What price was paid for his treachery we never knew. We realized only the fact that we were again hopeless prisoners.

_Prison Life_

By this time our clothing was ragged, and it was only by the greatest care that it could be kept even tolerably clean.

Our rations I have before described. Oh, ye epicures, think of it! A pint of corn meal to last you twenty-four hours! As you sit down to your tables, covered with substantial food, imagine it swept away, and in its place a pint of mush, or in lieu of that a corn dodger, but little larger than your two hands, to last you twenty-four hours. There were at this time about fifteen hundred officers confined in this pen, literally starving. It was only a question of time. The result was as certain death, eventually, as it would have been had we been entirely deprived of food.

One day, by some means, a cat got into the yard, and caught a rat. When I saw the feline, she had the rat, and the idea immediately struck me that there was no great difference between a rat and a squirrel. I remembered also the customs of the antipodal Chinese, as related and illustrated in old school geographies, and immediately gave chase. As good fortune would have it, I succeeded in capturing the cat and the rat before my companions in misery had got the idea through their heads that rats were fresh meat. Like a fool, I let the cat go, and commenced skinning the rat.

A hungry officer, looking on, instantly caught the idea, and made for the cat. Good gracious, how foolish I felt! The cat was so much larger than the rat, and although poor and skinny was much the more valuable, for there was more meat there. But I was too late.

I felt fortunate in securing my share of the spoils, and immediately cast about for the best method of serving my dainty dish, so as to make it go the furthest. After long consideration I determined to have a soup. I looked over my stock of peas and found I had about two-thirds of a cupful. Many of them, probably about a half, were wormy. If I threw these away, there would not be enough left, so I concluded that if the worms could stand it I could. I then recollected seeing a beef bone that had been thrown away by some officer who was so fortunate as to have enough money to purchase it and had used it once. I picked it up, and found, on close inspection, that the marrow was still left almost intact. I washed the bone and cracked it. I also found some dried onion peelings, and with these, the peas, the bone, and the rat, I made my soup. Oh, ye gods! How I feasted!

But rats were scarce. We were starving. We must be exchanged, escape, or die. We had lost all hopes of the first. The most of us did not feel prepared for the last, and so a few of us concluded to start another tunnel. This time we decided to limit the membership of the tunneling party to a select few, and these were sworn to secrecy. We started operations under the bunk of Colonel O. H. La Grange,[3] and succeeded in sinking a shaft to a depth of about five feet, whereupon we commenced tunneling.

FOOTNOTE:

[3] Afterwards General. In after years General La Grange became the Superintendent of the San Francisco Mint, and died in California in 188-, universally mourned by the community in which he lived, and to which he had endeared himself by his high character and winning personality.

_Removed to Charleston_

Before we had progressed more than six feet, we were informed that six hundred of our number were to be sent to Charleston, to be placed under the fire of our own guns. This news at once changed our plans of operations. A secret society was started, called the "Council of Ten," the object of which was to capture the train when we arrived at the Pocotaligo River, and to make our way to our lines at Port Royal.

Our leader was Captain David McKibbin, of the Fourteenth Wisconsin Infantry, a good, cool-headed man. Although the scheme was a failure, it was through no fault of his, as subsequent events demonstrated.

While we were perfecting our plans for the capture of the train, and awaiting the order for our removal, time, which waits for no man, again brought around the anniversary of our National Independence. The Fourth day of July, 1864, is a day that will never be forgotten by the inmates of that prison yard.

The sun rose that morning, clear and bright. The leaves on the forest trees that lined our prison were sparkling with bright dewdrops, which, shaken by the morning breeze and falling to earth, seemed weeping over our misfortunes. The air resounded with the musical voices of feathered songsters, vying with each other in chanting their morning hymns of praise to the Great Giver of all Good. In imagination we could hear the church bells pealing at the North, calling the people as of yore, to celebrate the Nation's natal day. Suddenly the prison gates were thrown open, and the voice of a Confederate officer rudely awakened us from our pleasing day dreams, with "Turn out, Yanks, for the roll call!"

As we passed through the line of our jailors, we discovered a group of officers, seemingly a good deal excited. Upon approaching them we discovered that one had constructed a miniature national flag. It was only about four by six inches, but it was the stars and stripes, the national emblem. How dear that old flag is to every man who deserves to be called an American, can only be appreciated by one deprived of its protection. How the eye of a traveler in a foreign land will sparkle and his bosom heave, when the stars and stripes unexpectedly meet his eye, flaunting proudly to the breeze! To the soldier and sailor, that flag is the representative of his and his country's honor. On the battle field he will defend it with his life. When defeated and flying, at the sight of his ragged colors he will rally, and under its folds do and dare all, and even die for its protection.

To us that little flag was the emblem of the cause for which we were then suffering imprisonment and facing death, and for which our comrades were then struggling on the field of battle; and for which so many poor fellows had already rendered up their lives. As one by one we gathered around it, manly tears were dropped from eyes unused to the melting mood. With hands clasped we sang the "Star-spangled Banner," and then one of our number (a chaplain) raised his voice in prayer. A stillness, like that of the grave, settled down on the whole vast assemblage, broken only by the voice of the man of God, asking Heaven's blessing upon us and the flag.

When he had finished his prayer, all joined in singing "Rally 'round the Flag," ending with three times three cheers for the Union and the President of the United States. Speakers were called out and responded, and better speeches I never heard in my life.

The excitement became intense. The Confederates, alarmed by the unusual stir, doubled the guard, manned two pieces of artillery bearing upon the camp, and then advised us to desist from further demonstrations. But notwithstanding this order, we kept up our celebration until nearly dark, and as we composed ourselves to sleep that night, it was with intensified feelings of loyalty to our country.

A few days later six hundred of our number were selected to be sent to Charleston. Afterwards, all the Macon prisoners, myself included, were added to the number. It was amusing to see the anxiety displayed by the prisoners to go to Charleston, for the purpose for which we were sent was well understood. Any onlooker might have supposed from the eagerness exhibited by the prisoners, that they expected to be exchanged at once, rather than to become targets for our own gunners to shoot at. Yet in this anxiety I fully shared; not that I was particularly anxious to be shot, but because I had made up my mind that we would capture the train. I had full faith in our ability to do so; and still believe that we should have succeeded, had not our plans been suspected by or become positively known to our captors.

The plan was this: The means of transportation used, was common freight cars. From sixty to seventy of us were loaded into each. There were usually four guards stationed inside, and about five on the top of each car. We had it so arranged that from eight to ten of the Council of Ten should be apportioned to each car, under the command of an officer selected by ourselves. When the designated point should be reached, at a signal from Captain McKibbin, who was in the first car in the rear of the tender, we were to seize, gag, and bind the guard on the inside, while the party in the Captain's car would stave a hole through the end and uncouple it. When the train stopped, we were to rush from the train and overpower the guards on top of the cars, and with muskets force our way to the coast. But

"The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley."

Just before we reached the designated point, the guards were all withdrawn from inside the cars, and about thirty of them placed upon the top of the Captain's car, with instructions, at any unusual noise, to fire through the roof. By this arrangement we were deprived of the chance to capture four muskets inside each car, and besides incurred the certainty of having many men killed or wounded by the guards on top. Under these circumstances, our leader became convinced that the attempt would be a failure, and did not give the signal.

_Escape from the Train_

As soon as we became assured that our plan had failed, six of us determined to attempt to escape by leaping from the train. It required but a few moments to perfect our arrangements. The night was not quite so dark as we could have wished, there being a bright moon, only occasionally obscured by a passing cloud. But, waiting until the train was running on a down grade, at its maximum speed, we sprang from the car.

As good fortune would have it, we struck in a soft sand bank. The train passed on without our being observed by the guard, and none of us were injured. The place was near Adam's Run, about twelve or thirteen miles from Charleston. We were without compass or map. A council was called, and all the pros and cons of the situation discussed. We concluded that by traveling east, we would, at all events, strike the coast, and if we failed in finding our troops, we might possibly run across one of our vessels.