CHAPTER X.

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.