Part 1

Table of Contents added by the transcriber:

Introductory 7 War Memories 9 Appendix: How and Where I Was Captured 58 Addenda 59 List of Captured 60

ESCAPE

FROM THE

CONFEDERACY

OVERPOWERING THE GUARDS--MIDNIGHT LEAP FROM A MOVING TRAIN--THROUGH SWAMPS AND FOREST--BLOOD HOUNDS-- THRILLING EVENTS.

B. F. HASSON, Late Lieut. Ringgold Battalion (22d. Pa. Vol. Cav.)

Entered according to Act of Congress.

_Sept 26, 1900_

_To the comrades of the Ringgold Cavalry and the relatives and friends of the boys who suffered and died at Richmond and Andersonville, this booklet is dedicated._

_"Across the years, full rounded to many score, Since advancing peace, with her olive wand, Returns the sunshine to our desolate land, Come thronging back memories of the war. Again the drum's beat and the cannon's roar, And patriot fires by every breeze are fanned, And pulses quicken with a purpose grand, As manhood's forces swell to larger store. Again the camp, the field, the march, the strife, The joy of victory, the bitter pain Of wounds or sore defeat; the anguish rife, And tears that fall for the unnumbered slain, And homes, where darkened is the light of life, All these the echoing bugle brings again."_

_INTRODUCTORY._

I have been so often urged by old army comrades, as well as other friends, to publish the facts contained in the following pages in a convenient shape for preservation, that I have concluded to comply with their wishes, and now present them in this form. Many of the less important details have been omitted, as well with a view of preventing the story from becoming tiresome as of getting it within the limits of space it was intended it should occupy. While the experience was attended with trials and suffering, I wish to assure the reader that it was nothing more than was endured by hundreds of other boys who saw service in the War of the Great Rebellion. I would not go through it again for all the world, and yet I would not like to lose the satisfaction I enjoy in the knowledge of my success in overcoming so many seemingly insurmountable difficulties. It is a plain narration of facts, and is written without any effort to overdraw or embellish. I hand it over to the friends and comrades who have been urging me to publish it, in the hope that it will help to fill up an idle moment.

B. F. HASSON.

War Memories

"Flank out Frank, and go with us to-morrow."

We were squatted on the sandy ground--vermin-ladened sand--inside the prison stockade on Belle Island, discussing the probable destination of the prisoners then being daily removed from that place. Joseph Morton and Peter Deems of my own regiment and myself were of the party and the above remark was made by Morton and addressed to me. It was early in the month of March, 1864, and just after that famous raid to the vicinity of Richmond by Gen. Kilpatrick and Col. Ulrich Dahlgren. The daring troopers had even penetrated the defences of the city and thoroughly alarmed the Rebel authorities. Immediately steps were taken to remove the prisoners from Richmond to Andersonville, Ga., and other remote points in the South out of the reach of rescue by Federal raiders.

The prisoners on the Island were divided off into hundreds. The first hundred was composed of those first put into the stockade; and then, as new or fresh prisoners arrived the second and other hundreds were added. One member of each hundred was chosen to see to the welfare of the men in securing rations, etc. The hundreds were subdivided into messes of twenty-five each, and a man was selected from among them whose duty it was to cut up the loaves of corn-bread into twenty-five equal sized pieces, and see that they were impartially issued to the men. This was done by placing a man with his back to the pieces of bread, and the sergeant pointing to one piece at a time and asking, "Whose is this?" The answer would be, "That goes to No. 1," and so on through the list of twenty-five. The men were called by number instead of name. This was made necessary by reason of frequent changes on account of deaths.

This rather full explanation is given here because it answers questions often asked me. This stockade, or inclosure, within which prisoners were confined, comprised several acres on the lower end of the Island, around which piles were driven, close together, leaving perhaps four to six feet projecting above ground. A little below the top of these logs or piles a platform was erected, and on this platform the guards marched and countermarched. It is not my intention to enter into a description of the condition of the prison camps. Their histories have been written and all are doubtless more or less familiar with them.

At this time there were about 9500 (ninety-five hundreds) in the stockade. Up to and including the sixteenth hundred had already been taken away. Morton and Deems were in the eighteenth hundred, and I was in the twenty-second hundred. It was expected that the next day more would be taken, and fearful that my squad would not be reached I was asked by Morton to "flank out" and go along. It was a violation of the rules to go from one squad to another, but on account of the many deaths occurring every night it could be managed in an emergency like this.

Having been on the Island for six months I was glad to make a change of residence. A change of any kind was desirable even if it was not an improvement. To walk around the stockade another day, over the same well-beaten path, looking into the same pale, haggard faces, listening to the groans of the dying and witnessing the miserable condition of the living, was no longer tolerable, so that, "rather than suffer the ills we had we were willing to flee to others we knew not of."

I did flank out that night and the next morning quietly slipped into the eighteenth hundred with Morton and Deems, and marched with them out of the inclosure and over the bridge to the city of Richmond. We were put into the building called "The Pemberton" and remained there until the following morning, when we crowded into freight cars, forty to sixty in a car, and started southward.

While crossing the bridge on our way from the Island to the city I was marching by the side of a prisoner whom I had not met before. He was yet in apparently vigorous condition--evidently not having been a prisoner very long. He asked me in a suppressed tone if I intended to try to escape in case we were taken further south. I replied that I did, and we there and then entered into a contract to go together. He was enthusiastic about the matter and gave me his hand as a pledge of his sincerity.

Studying means of escape, and efforts to rid themselves of the tormenting vermin, were the chief occupations of prisoners of war while awake. In their fitful and uneasy slumbers they were dreaming that they were at home sitting at the most abundantly supplied tables and enjoying all the comforts which the word home implies.

Long continued exposure and lack of food had engendered diseases and reduced the poor creatures to the most pitiable condition. Of course some were worse off than others, but all looked miserable enough.

After passing through Petersburg we were satisfied that a longer term of imprisonment awaited us, for, had it been the purpose to exchange us, we should have stopped at Petersburg and from there been taken to City Point. When the fact was made known there were loud murmurings. The bronzed and starved faces were pictures of the most abject wretchedness and despair. Reaching Gaston, North Carolina, we were transferred to another train, taking the Gaston and Raleigh road from that point.

Morton was very sick when we started from Richmond, and the jolting received in the cars had tended to increase his trouble. I endeavored to keep as close to him as possible on the way, so as to render him all the assistance I could. When changing cars at Gaston he was quite feeble, and required assistance to get from one train to the other.

"Do you intend to escape, Lieutenant?" was whispered in my ear as we were getting off the train. On looking around I found Peter Deems at my elbow.

"To-night," I as quietly replied.

"All right, I'm with you," said he. Those who will remember Mr. Deems, (and doubtless many of his old friends in Pike Run township, and all his surviving comrades in Co. F will) must be amused, as I was, at such a proposition coming from him. Although he was considerably reduced in flesh by his long confinement, he was yet large and clumsy, and to jump from a running train would, to my mind, have resulted disastrously. The whistle of the locomotive notified us that all was ready, and it was not long until we were speeding southward. On looking around for Deems I found he had in some way failed to get into that car. I never saw him after. His name, together with poor Morton's, appeared in a list of prisoners who answered the last great roll call at Andersonville, Georgia. Night came on as we approached Franklinton station, Franklin County, North Carolina. Here the train stopped for some time for the purpose of taking on wood and water, and while doing this the guards in the car were relieved. That is, those stationed there during the day were taken away and other men put in their places. I kept careful watch of everything going on and all the while keeping in view my purpose to get out of that car at the very earliest opportunity. While placing the guards the officer in charge renewed the instructions for the night. They were emphatically ordered not to allow a prisoner to get near the door. As is well known, the doors on a freight car slide along the side of the car. The door on one side of our car was securely fastened, while the one on the other side was partly open--perhaps two feet--not more than enough for a man going out in a hurry to clear the sides. There were two guards in the car, one on each side of this partly open door. Armed Confederate soldiers were scattered all along the train--some on top of the cars. The rear car, an ordinary passenger coach, was occupied exclusively by them. They were held in readiness to answer a call from any part of the train in case of trouble. A lantern was hung up to the ceiling near the middle of the car.

It was a little after dark when the bell announced the time for starting. About the time the train was pulling out I asked the man who had agreed with me when we were crossing the bridge to make an effort to escape, what he thought about it. I found he had changed his mind. The boisterous and violent manner in which the officer had instructed the guard to shoot any man who came near the door, the sound of guns fired off for the purpose, no doubt, of overawing the prisoners, and the general gloom which night and darkness threw around the scene, had a depressing effect upon him. He said we would surely be killed. This was sufficient to convince me that he could not be relied upon and I bade him good-night and went in search of others who might be induced to consider the matter favorably.

Two stalwart men with guns in their hands, stood between us and liberty, and a sufficient force to render their defeat absolutely certain must be brought to bear. A failure to overpower them at the first attack would be sure to lead to the instant death of those engaged, if not others. The car was unspeakably filthy, and the thoughts of remaining in it would unstring the strongest nerves.

While leaning against the end of the car and peering through the dim light made by the candle in the lantern, and carefully scanning the scene before me, I discovered four young soldiers sitting on the floor near the other end, who seemed to be absorbed in the discussion of some important proposition. I felt so confident I knew what they were talking about that I made my way to them by carefully stepping over the forms of the prisoners as they lay huddled together on the floor, and getting down among them entered into conversation with them. It is sufficient to say we soon had our plans laid and a perfect understanding as to carrying them out.

There were now five of us. It was arranged that four should attack the guards. In other words, two of us to each guard, while the fifth should make his way to the lantern which hung suspended to the ceiling of the car, as before mentioned, and at the time offensive operations were to begin he was to extinguish the light. The guards were fully armed--guns in their hands and revolvers in their belts--while we were without weapons of any kind, and all more or less weakened by confinement, exposure and lack of sufficient food. We fully understood the part each was to play in the drama, or tragedy--whichever it might prove to be.

Before proceeding further I had to go back to the other end of the car and take leave of Morton. To see him lying in the corner of the car suffering the tortures of a lingering starvation was a sad sight indeed, and served to admonish me that his condition would soon be mine if I remained with him. Our separation was very sad and affecting.

The first difficulty to overcome was to get near the guards without exciting suspicion. I had a finger ring made of bone which had been given to me by a friend on the Island. It was thought by careful manoeuvering I might be able to trade it to the guard for some crackers, which I noticed he carried in his haversack. Accordingly, I secured a position as close to him as I dared, and attracted his attention. I approached him by edging my way along, my right shoulder against the side of the car. He ordered me back, and several times threatened me. It was some time before I could get him to listen to me, but I handled him carefully, and after some parleying handed him the ring and told him he or some of his friends might value it as a memento, coming from a Yankee soldier. I pleaded for a few crackers and he eventually gave me two and a part of a third. By this time I had got sufficiently close to the door to be able to get an occasional glance outside as the train rumbled along and tossed me from side to side. I remember crossing a bridge, which I afterwards learned spanned Cedar Creek, a tributary of the Tar River. This bridge was probably eight miles or more from Franklinton station.

My companions had all gained their positions. The one who was to assist me was standing behind the shoulder of the guard, far enough away to avoid attracting attention and yet close enough to reach him. Two others had cautiously taken positions behind the other guard.

The crackers were eagerly, ravenously devoured. We had consumed the rations issued to us early that morning, long before the middle of the day. Six months as a prisoner of war with a continual craving for food and with but one short ration that morning made this deal with the guard one of great importance. Now all were ready. With suppressed breath, swelling hearts and quickening pulses we anxiously awaited the momentous moment.

All at once, as if everything were working in concert with us, the cars slackened their speed. We were evidently on an ascending grade. On visiting the point since the war I found this to be true. Of course the difference was not very great but it was noticeable. We had agreed upon a signal but this change in the speed of the train took its place, and that this was the supreme moment flashed upon all of us at once. I was on the point of looking around to see if the thought had struck the other boys when crash went the lantern, and then--

"There rose so wild a yell, Within that dark and narrow cell, As all the fiends from Heaven that fell, Were pealing the battle cry of hell."

The struggling guards were shouting to each other, calling down all sorts of maledictions upon the ---- ---- ---- Yankees. The light was out and in that car pandemonium had full swing.

It is not necessary--hard as it is to avoid it--to go more fully into detail. Suffice it to say there was not a hitch in the whole proceeding. Our plans were carried out perfectly, and in less time, perhaps, than it takes now to write it out. When obstructions were removed we sprang out into the darkness. The boy who knocked out the light was the tallest member of the party and had been selected for that duty because of his ability to easily reach the lantern. He and his companion (who belonged to the same regiment) took advantage of the confusion and dodged out of the car at the outstart, leaving the three others engaged with the guard. It was well they did for they clung to the lantern which proved of great value to us afterward. It was perhaps about midnight when, full bruisers, we picked ourselves up out of the sand where we had fallen and in answer to suppressed whistling came together.

We were free! The reflection brought with it feelings far different from those which possessed us a few minutes previous, yet when we contemplated our situation the thought occurred that expressions of pleasure at that time might be premature. We were not yet "out of the woods;" were in the heart of the enemy's country. To the nearest point of territory held by the Union forces it was more than a hundred miles. The future looked gloomy enough. The most difficult part of the task was yet to be overcome.

The train had not yet stopped, and after congratulating ourselves, we proceeded to consider the course to be pursued as to subsequent movements. At this moment another matter attracted our attention. A strange clattering noise was heard in the distance, and as it grew more distinct we crouched upon the ground and with bated breath awaited results. Presently, three or four figures passed along the railroad track. The amount of noise made led us at first to believe there was quite a large force of troops coming, but it proved to be four negroes, who, we afterwards learned, were wearing wooden-soled shoes, which, owing to the scarcity of leather in the South, were worn almost entirely by this class of persons. These shoes were made by using rawhide for the uppers and nailing it to the soles made of wood, the latter being from one-half to perhaps an inch thick; at least this is my recollection. After this little interruption we crossed the railroad and traveled westward in the direction of Tennessee. After walking three or four miles and becoming well nigh exhausted we lay down in the forest and slept till daylight. On waking up in the morning and finding ourselves too close to the open country for safety, we moved further into the woods and selecting what we supposed to be a secluded spot concluded to stop and recruit our wasted strength. The pangs of hunger were tormenting us, and how to get relief must now engage our attention. One of the party started out on a reconnaisance and in a couple of hours returned with six ears of corn. We took the lantern which, as before mentioned, was thrown out of the car, and which was picked up and carried along, broke the top off, and used the tin bottom for parching our corn. We gathered a few sticks of wood and made a small fire, carefully guarding against making more smoke than could possibly be helped, we all fell to work parching and eating. Parched corn has not much tendency to allay hunger, consequently all we could get did not check the craving for more.

I have heard a story which frequently occurs to me, and when it does I am invariably reminded of that parched corn experience. It is the story of an old darky who caught a 'possum, killed and dressed him, put it in the oven to bake, surrounding it with sweet potatoes, etc., and then the old man laid down to sleep while his 'possum baked. He was very hungry, and fondly anticipated a treat when he woke up. About the time the 'possum was done a mischievous acquaintance happened along, stole the 'possum and ate it all up. Then he took the bones, put them down in front of the old man, greased his lips with 'possum grease, and rubbed the grease over his fingers. When the old man woke up he missed his 'possum. He saw the bones lying in front of him. He saw 'possum grease on his fingers, and tasted 'possum grease on his lips, and finally said: "Well; am it possible dat I eat dat 'ar 'possum while I war asleep? It done look like I must hab eat him; but, fo' Gawd, dat 'ar 'possum had less effek on de stomach dan any 'possum dis chile eber eat." That was the way with the parched corn. It had a mighty poor effect on the stomach.

We remained at that place that and the day following, having nothing to eat but parched corn. The corn was procured from a slave whose owner lived a short distance from where we were hiding. Fearing our getting away might have been made known we kept very quiet, spending most our time deliberating as to the best route to the Union lines and the means to be adopted to gain them, and trying to exterminate the tormenting vermin which had started colonies upon every part of our clothing. It was an imperative duty, in order to keep the upper hand, to wage continual war upon these pests. On this occasion we had been prevented for one day from attending to this duty and in consequence they were in "shoals and nations," and we found it very difficult to reduce their numbers sufficiently to allow us any comfort. Having told our black friend to collect three or four of his most intelligent acquaintances and bring them to see us, they appeared in camp on the evening of the second day. Without their counsel we might have made a fatal mistake at the outset. The southern negroes are, or were while slavery was in existence, the most consummate strategists in the matter of escaping or eluding pursuit. Many of them had been runaways, and those who had not were thoroughly schooled in the art by able teachers. Stories of the most marvelous flights and long continued success in evading capture by the master and blood hounds, were told me. One very old woman, whom I afterwards met, told me she had spent nearly her whole life in the swamps and cane brakes. In order to throw the blood hounds off their tracks they would besmear their feet, hands and clothing with a mixture composed partly of brimstone. In crossing fences or going through the forests they were careful to allow no part of the body or dress to come in contact with the rails or trees but that which had been rubbed with the compound. We were advised to separate for the reason that if we remained together it would be difficult to find food for so many, and the chances for being discovered were much greater. When the pow-wow broke up it was well into the night, and taking leave of each other, we "folded our tents, like the Arab, and silently stole away" into the darkness.