CHAPTER III

PRISON LIFE

We continue the story of K. F. Peddicord’s life from memoranda written by him at intervals, and think it proper to introduce some letters written by him while in prison after the Ohio raid.

After the capture the prisoners were taken by boats to Cincinnati, Ohio. While marching through the streets of the city en route to prison, guarded on all sides by policemen on foot, policemen mounted, and infantry, artillery and cavalry flankers, one of the boys quietly stepped out in the dense crowd. Having citizen’s dress he escaped notice, and to make matters more secure he walked forward and spoke to one of his company, with, “Hello, Jim! Where was you captured?” Jim understood the situation. The guard ordered, “Stand back there!” and their friend fell back into the multitude and proudly went to liberty again. On went the column to the Female Prison, where they were confined four days. The prisoners were then moved to Johnson’s Island, where they were kept eight days. Soon after this the field and staff officers (68) were put in the penitentiary at Columbus, Ohio, and the line officers (119) were taken to Allegheny City and put in the Western Penitentiary of Pennsylvania, where they remained eight months. The men were sent to Camp Douglas, Chicago, Illinois.

The next move in the spring of 1864 was to Point Lookout, Maryland, via Baltimore and Chesapeake Bay. One of the prisoners, Lawrence Peyton, was killed there in a most cowardly manner by Sergeant Young of the Sixth New Hampshire.

From Point Lookout the prisoners were taken by ocean steamer to Fort Delaware, located on Pea Patch Island in Delaware Bay, where they were confined until June, 1865. The following letters are of interest in this connection:

“Division 27, Officers’ Barracks, “Fort Delaware, Del., December 7, 1864.

“My dearest Sister Lily:

“Again was I made glad, this evening, upon the receipt of your kind letter of the 1st. Having postponed several days in hopes of getting a letter before writing, at last I was successful, and the realization has made me again cheerful. For, to tell you the truth, I was quite sad. There is nothing so depressing to one’s spirits as the absence or non-arrival of letters from one’s friends, which you will please bear in mind.

“But what added most to my discomfort was not hearing from ——, for in his letter of the 14th of November he wrote me that he would send me a check _soon_. I answered immediately upon receipt, it being the 19th, but have received no answer or check, although I have not yet given up all hopes. With a little assistance of that kind, now and then, we expect to live through the winter, and without it it would indeed be hard living, as prisoner’s fare is not very flattering.

“I have several times been reduced to that predicament. This has been the case particularly for the last three or four weeks, since I preferred to pay a few small debts with the five dollars you sent, rather than purchase what I really needed. I miss my coffee most, and therefore I am often hungry, and when once hungry, without some assistance you will always be so, when restricted to a certain amount of rations. But enough of this; neither space nor restrictions will permit me to say more. I am trusting something may be done.

“Write soon and often, and tell me something of Mummy now and then. Glad to find your last letter some longer, but you can still do much better. Love to all.

“I am, my dear sister,

“Truly your affectionate brother,

“K. F. PEDDICORD.”

“Officers’ Quarters, Division 27, “Fort Delaware, Del., December 25, 1864.

“(A ring inclosed.)

“Dear Sister India:

“Your kind letter of the 18th came gliding into my sad and lonely quarters last evening, with a mild and gentle sympathy that steals away their sadness and loneliness ere I am aware. A retrospect of bygone brings to mind, this morning, many pleasing incidents which cause me for a time to forget my present situation. While musing o’er those happy days I can but sigh and say, ‘Would I were a boy again!’

“Could our friends have been silent spectators last evening they would doubtless have been surprised and much amused at _our entertainment_ in this division. We cleaned up and dressed up early, and at 6 o’clock two sets of boys, in their best—to represent ‘ladies,’ hats off—or a nice smoking-cap on to designate them, were tripping lively steps to the music of two violins. After dancing, we had songs, and all wound up before ‘lights out’ (9 o’clock) with a _rat supper_. For if you must know, there are many here who eat them whenever they can get them, and that is frequently.

“While the ball was going on in this (Kentucky) division, prayer-meeting was on in the next. Thus it goes in life. I did not dance; there is no poetry to me in dancing with a man. I thought, while looking on, if the girls could see us, they would say, ‘Well, those boys have learned to live without us. They do their own washing, cooking, sewing and dancing.’

“I wrote to you on the 20th, in answer to yours containing ten dollars. I also wrote you the 23d, and enclosed a ring, which, if received,—and I have my doubts,—take an old toothbrush, soap and water, and clean it, then rub it with buckskin. I send in this the plain one, just finished; it will not quite go on my third finger. I thought that too large. If it doesn’t suit you, I’ll make another. A friend gave me the one I sent you on the 23d. It is beautiful, I think. Don’t you think so?

“Remember me to friends. Love to all. Write me often and longer. The weather looks charming to-day, but not like Christmas of old.

“With much love,

“Your affectionate brother,

“K. F. PEDDICORD.”

“Officers’ Barracks, Division 27, “Fort Delaware, 4th January, 1865.

“Dear Sister:

“Glad to acknowledge receipt of your kind letter of the 26th (the answer to mine of 16th), but better pleased to find enclosed five dollars ($5). However, that expression conveys but a feeble idea of my feelings and of the heartfelt thanks to you for your sisterly kindness and attention. It put new life into me. I trust that my _three_ or _four_ letters subsequent to the 16th have all safely reached you, together with two rings enclosed at different times, and I also hope with the rings you are well pleased. Give one to Sam. If they are not what you wanted, tell me, and I’ll try again. I sent Cousin Bell one for a Christmas gift.

“I received yesterday per express a box containing pair of pants, shoes, 2 pairs of socks, hair brush, looking-glass, handkerchief, twelve sheets of letter paper, package of envelopes, small blank book and pencil, soap, two books,—‘India’ and ‘Prince Regent,’—two towels, all of which I am much pleased with. Had the flannel shirts been put in they would have done more good than shoes. I have just had my boots half-soled, and I think they will nearly last me this winter.

“When I went outside to get the package I did not bring the shoes, for the custom is to exchange your old clothes for the new ones. Therefore, I did not trade my boots off, though they are old and they are the best for winter and such snow as we have now. I received a letter dated 26th from Lily yesterday, as quite well, and had received a letter from you, then safe at P——. I also received one from home of the 21st, written by Jennie. All well. Jennie was about going to Tennessee. I received one from M——, same date, and _very sweet_, written a few moments after _kissing_ my mother’s eldest, who was never better. The rogue read my last and sent his love, etc. Give my best to all kind friends.

“With much love to Sam, Ernest, Minnie, and your dearest self, I am

“Yours indeed,

“K. F. PEDDICORD.

“I am well, but at this moment very cold from writing. Write often and longer.

“FRANK.”

“Fort Delaware, May 3d, 1865.

“My dear Mother:

“My last to you was dated 23d of April, being a response to brother’s of the 16th inst. Knowing a kind mother’s anxiety for her children, I have concluded not to wait longer for intelligence from home.

“Many startling and sad events have happened since I last wrote, enough to chill one’s heart. Our feelings can only be imagined by those who have had the like experience, or, if they could escape without sad and sore hearts, they would not be human beings. The bravest and firmest spirits are depressed with the mournful facts that have stared us in the face, facts which, at first, could hardly be realized. But the crisis is over, the last vestige of hope has disappeared and passed into oblivion, and we think of it as a word of no meaning. The inconstant world is a cheat, life is a shame.

“The struggle with self has been most trying; and self-respect has left me within the last few days; nothing but the man remains, but a dejected form or counterfeit resemblance of a once proud spirit.

“In the privates’ barracks there were over six thousand; in our quarters there are over two thousand officers; all of the former consented, several days ago, to take the oath of allegiance when the roll was called and it was offered. Four or five hundred consented yesterday, myself included, and about one hundred remain yet who have not consented. The majority will yield, I think, in a few days. It could not be expected we would change so long as we had an army in the field; but when the last army had surrendered we knew our last hope had expired. Still, to change so suddenly was ‘marrying too soon after death.’

“We do not know how long we are to remain here. I only know we are the most unfortunate people the world ever knew. May God protect and preserve us!

“My love to all, and believe me,

“Your affectionate son,

“K. F. PEDDICORD.”

“Fort Delaware, May 7th, 1865.

“Mrs. K. B. Peddicord.

“My dear Mother: My heart was gladdened this morning by the reception of your favor of the 1st inst., and though but a few days have intervened since I last wrote you, being the same date of the one just received, I feel it my duty and your desire that I should write you again. Thus, my immediate response.

“It is particularly gratifying to learn of the good health of the loved ones at home, _where I hope to be at no distant day_. But at the present writing I have not the remotest idea _when_ we will be permitted to leave. A very small number, by special request of their friends, were furnished with transportation to their homes a few days since. I mentioned to you in my last, that of over two thousand officers and five or six thousand privates held prisoners of war at this place, all but a very few had then consented to take the oath of allegiance to the United States, and that myself was one that _weakened_ at the last call.

“Who, but a captive, can imagine our agony and suffering, anxieties and fears, as day after day passed in monotonous gloom?—shut out from the world, and in utter ignorance of the fate of near relatives and my many dear old companions, scattered over the wide extent of the South! With nothing but such desponding reflections to occupy my mind, time hung heavy on my hands, and rendered existence doubly intolerable almost.

“But the great crisis is over, and the brightest faces and the gayest spirits have calmed themselves to be ever afterward mournfully sad. Alas, that so many proud spirits should be broken, but may He who has so far guarded and watched over the unfortunates, still protect us!

“With kindest regards to all kind friends, and love to all,

“I remain, my dear mother,

“Still your affectionate boy,

“K. F. PEDDICORD.”

“Merchants Hotel, Philadelphia, “June 14th, 1865.

“Dear Mother:

“I am free and on my way home. Have a sick friend in charge. Will leave here on the 19th or 20th. By that time he will be strong enough to travel. I can’t leave an old and dear companion, mother, although I am longing to see you so much. Love to all.

“I am, dear mother,

“Your FRANK.”