Project Gutenberg's Company K, First Alabama Regiment, by Daniel P. Smith This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. Title: Company K, First Alabama Regiment or, Three Years in the Confederate Service Author: Daniel P. Smith Release Date: November 20, 2020 [EBook #63820] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMPANY K, FIRST ALABAMA REGIMENT *** Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) COMPANY K FIRST ALABAMA REGIMENT, OR THREE YEARS IN THE CONFEDERATE SERVICE BY DANIEL P. SMITH. PRATTVILLE, ALA. PUBLISHED BY THE SURVIVORS. 1885. Burk & McFetridge, Printers, 306-308 Chestnut St. Phila. [1] [2] INTRODUCTORY. The First Alabama Regiment of Infantry was organized under the Act of the Legislature authorizing the enlistment of troops for twelve months. Three companies were raised in Barbour county by Capts. Alpheus Baker, John Clark and Jere. Williams; two in Pike, by Capts. Augustus Owen and Dawson; one in Wilcox, by Capt. I. G. W. Steadman; one in Tallapoosa, by Capt. J. D. Meadows; one in Talladega, by Capt. L. F. Johnson; one in Lowndes, by Capt. J. D. Conyers; and one in Mobile, by Capt. Ben. Lane Posey. The companies were ordered to rendezvous at Pensacola, for the purpose of relieving the independent companies at that time occupying the captured forts, Barrancas and McRae, and the navy yard. About February 10, 1861, the first companies arrived at Pensacola, and the others rapidly followed. It was not until April that the regimental organization was completed, by the election and appointment of the following officers: Colonel, Henry D. Clayton; Lieutenant-colonel, I. G. W. Steadman; Major, Jere. Williams; Quartermaster, Capt. L. F. Johnson; Commissary, Capt. Henry Shorter; Adjutant, S. H. Dent; Surgeon, J. D. Caldwell, M. D.; Assistant-Surgeon, Walter Curry, M. D. Soon after its organization, by Act of the State Legislature, but with its own consent, the regiment was mustered into the service of the Confederate States, and was assigned to duty in Fort Barrancas and the heavy batteries along the shore of the bay. Many of these batteries were thrown up by the men of the First Alabama, who, thus early in the war, were accustomed to the use of entrenching tools. Military instruction was not neglected; and, while industriously wielding pick and shovel, the men were thoroughly drilled, both as heavy artillery and infantry. A portion of the regiment was engaged in the fight on Santa Rosa Island, and then the whole regiment served in the batteries during the bombardments of the 23d of November, 1861, and the 1st of January, 1862. For its gallantry on these occasions it received complimentary mention in Gen. Bragg’s orders. At the close of twelve months’ service, the regiment was called upon to re-enlist for the war, and seven companies promptly responded. Capts. Baker’s, Clark’s and Posey’s companies were mustered out, and were replaced by Capt. Knowles’ company, from Macon county; Capt. William Pruitt’s, from Barbour; and Capt. J. F. Whitfield’s, from Autauga. The regiment was reorganized by the election of the following officers; Colonel, I. G. W. Steadman; Lieutenant-colonel, M. B. Locke; Major, S. L. Knox; Adjutant, S. D. Steadman; Quartermaster, Capt. Duncan Carmichael; Surgeon, Dr. Schackelford (afterwards succeeded by Dr. Hamilton). The companies were commanded respectively as follows: Co. A, Capt. J. D. Meadows; Co. B, Capt. Ramsey; Co. C, Capt. Stubbs; Co. D, Capt. R. H. Isbell; Co. E, Capt. Woods; Co. F, Capt. Williams; Co. G, Capt. Riley; Co. H, Capt. Knowles; Co. I, Capt. William Pruitt; Co. K, Capt. John F. Whitfield. In the following pages will be found a sketch of the services of Co. K, of Autauga county. Although the author makes no higher pretence than to be a company historian, yet he has embodied in the story all the facts connected with the history of the other companies, and of the regiment as a whole, that were in his possession. From the day that Co. K joined the regiment, in March, 1862, until the surrender of Gen. Joseph E. Johnston, it shared in all the toils, privations and dangers of the gallant “First,” and its history is indissolubly blended with it. Therefore, with the kindest feelings, the writer dedicates this little work, not only to the members of Co. K, but to all his comrades in the First Alabama. [3] [4] CHAPTER I. organization of the john gill shorter artillery—change of destination—at island 10—roll of company k—mysteries of the cuisine—a shameful waste. In February, 1862, John F. Whitfield, Esq., obtained the authority to recruit one of the three companies necessary to complete the reorganization of the First Alabama Regiment, C. S. A., serving at that time as heavy artillery at Pensacola, Fla. Meeting with Merrill E. Pratt, Esq., of Prattville, he proposed to that gentleman to raise one-half the company, he himself expecting to bring thirty or forty men into the field. Mr. Pratt was thinking, at this time, of joining another regiment with a small squad of men, who desired to be with him in the army, but, seeing now a wider field for usefulness, he accepted the proposal. In a few days, through his personal influence and popularity, he enrolled the names of nearly fifty volunteers, including some of the best men in Autauga county, and, had he not been restricted by the terms of his agreement with Capt. Whitfield, he could, without difficulty, have recruited a full company. On the 7th of March, Lieut. Pratt and his men proceeded to Montgomery, and, on the following day, were mustered into the service of the Confederacy, styling themselves, in honor of the Governor of the State, the “John Gill Shorter Artillery.” John F. Whitfield was elected Captain; M. E. Pratt, First Lieutenant; Dixon S. Hall, Second Lieutenant, Jr.; and Charles E. Tuttle, Orderly Sergeant. The second lieutenancy was left vacant, to be filled by the squad of men Capt. Whitfield still expected to secure. For the failure of these men to report, Capt. Whitfield was in no manner responsible, he acting throughout in good faith. No officer had more the confidence and affection of his men than Capt. Whitfield, and this esteem he retained from first to last. While in Montgomery, enameled cloth knapsacks and haversacks, and cedar canteens, were issued to the men, but they provided their own uniforms, no two of which were alike. When enrolled the men expected to go to Pensacola, but upon arriving in Montgomery, it was learned that the regiment had left that place for New Madrid, Mo., a fortified post on the Mississippi River. As this change in destination, from a warm to a cold climate, and from garrison to field duty, necessitated a change in clothing, leave of absence for two days was given the members of the company to return home and make needed preparations. There was a general cutting down in the amount of impedimenta, though most of the men loaded themselves with twice the amount that could be carried on a march. On the morning of March 10th, the company reassembled in Montgomery, and, under the command of Lieut. Hall, started for Memphis. Monday night they camped at Atlanta, not being able to proceed farther on account of the crowded trains. It was not till Wednesday noon that the company reached Memphis. The regiment was just leaving the city by the boat, and could not wait for the company to join; Lieut. Hall, however, reported, and received orders to proceed by the steamer “Republic,” which left the next day at 5 p. m. Thursday night the boat reached Fort Pillow, where it was learned that New Madrid had been evacuated, and that the First Alabama had been ordered to Island No. 10. Friday evening the “Republic” arrived at Tiptonville, and the men disembarked; but, the boat being detained, they slept on board that night. Saturday they again landed, and marched across from Tiptonville to Island No. 10, a distance of six miles. The regiment was found encamped without tents in a newly-cleared field, and the company, thus early in its service, began roughing it. It was not till the 18th that they received any tents; they then were moved into a wood, some three-quarters of a mile from the river. On the 25th the camp was again moved, and tents pitched in regulation order in an open field in the rear of Batteries Nos. 5 and 6; a camp guard was detailed, and the military routine of guard-mounting, drill and dress-parade began. Capt. Whitfield and Lieut. Pratt arrived on the 18th, receiving a hearty welcome. There now being no hope of the other squad reporting, it was decided that Lieut. Pratt should return home and recruit the company to its full strength. Lieut. Dixon S. Hall was promoted to the second lieutenancy, and Orderly Sergt. C. E. Tuttle, who had ably performed his duties and looked after the comfort of the men, was made junior second lieutenant. The following is the roll of the company, as it stood at that time:— Captain, John F. Whitfield. First Lieutenant, Merrill E. Pratt. Second Lieutenant, Dixon S. Hall. Second Lieutenant, Jr., Charles E. Tuttle. Orderly Sergeant, Norman Cameron. Second Sergeant, A. J. Thompson. Third Sergeant, J. C. Rodgers. Fourth Sergeant, A. J. Merritt. Fifth Sergeant, E. T. Sears. First Corporal, John Williamson. Second Corporal, W. L. Ellis. [5] [6] [7] [8] Third Corporal, J. M. Royals. Fourth Corporal, W. H. Hutchinson. Privates. N. K. Adams, E. L. Averheart, O. M. Blaylock, G. R. Bledsoe, A. P. Brown, C. W. Brown, E. F. Brown, J. W. Cook, W. A. Dennis, J. H. Durden, W. Farmer, Wm. H. Fay, John Frank, Jr., J. A. Fergerson, John Griffin, M. M. Hancock, Elijah Hearn, G. W. Hearn, J. C. Hearn, J. W. Hearndon, J. G. Holston, Joseph Hurd, J. W. Killough, J. M. May, C. J. Moncrief, W. L. Moncrief, J. D. Rice, J. L. Robinson, Junius Robinson, T. J. Roe, C. H. Royals, G. H. Royals, Daniel P. Smith, J. F. Smith, Mac. A. Smith, J. G. Tarleton, J. S. Tunnell, Joseph Tunnell, Fletcher Wilkins. Total, 4 commissioned officers, 9 non-commissioned officers and 39 privates. W. H. Hutchinson was soon after detailed as a member of the drum corps, and O. M. Blaylock was appointed corporal in his stead. Joseph Hurd was detailed at the same time as fifer. All the above were present for duty, except Private Griffin, who received a furlough when he enlisted, and reported to Capt. Isbell after the surrender of the Island. Muskets were not issued to Co. K for two weeks after their arrival, but details for fatigue and guard duty were made [9] after a few days. When Capt. Rucker’s company was relieved at Battery No. 1, on the third or fourth day of the siege, a detail of sixty men from the First Alabama was ordered there, with daily relief. Co. K furnished four or five men of this detail. The men were quickly initiated into the mysteries of the cuisine, and from the first day some were quite good cooks, while others made most amusing blunders. A camp-kettle, half full of rice, was a source of much worry to an amateur who attempted to boil it—there were not enough utensils in the company to hold South Carolina’s favorite dish as it swelled in the pot. Commissary stores were plentiful, and there was a shameful waste. Fresh beef was hauled off and buried by the wagon load; barrels of corned beef remained untouched in the camp; while rice, flour, molasses and sugar were issued in larger quantities than could possibly be eaten. These were the last days of the “Flush times of the First Alabama.” On the 30th of March, Lieut. Pratt and Corp. Ellis left for Alabama to enlist recruits. About the same time Privates M. A. Smith and J. L. Robinson were honorably discharged on account of physical disability, and left for their homes. CHAPTER II. bombardment and capture of island no. 10—the batteries—at rucker’s battery—canal cutting —a night attack—running the gauntlet—an unfinished meal—the attempted evacuation— retreat to tiptonville—mackall’s order—the surrender—across reel-foot river. Island No. 10 is, or was, in the Mississippi River, opposite the boundary-line between Kentucky and Tennessee. The river approaches the island in nearly a southerly direction, then runs to the northwest about twelve miles to New Madrid, where it makes a semi-circular sweep, and takes its course to the southeast for sixteen miles to Tiptonville, Tenn., forming a great horseshoe bend of six miles in width, and opening to the southeast. Across this opening, a few miles to the eastward, is Reel-Foot River or bayou, emptying into the Mississippi below Tiptonville; in high water expanding into a lake, and connecting with the Mississippi above Island No. 10, cutting off all approach except by boats. At the beginning of the bombardment, Gen. McCown was in command of the Confederate forces, augmented, by the evacuation of New Madrid, to some ten or twelve thousand men. More than half these troops were, however, withdrawn about the last of March. The batteries, which had been ably planned, but imperfectly constructed, under direction of Capt. Harris, of the Engineer Corps, contained forty-four guns, mostly 32 and 42 pound smooth-bores, with a few 64-pounders and one or two 100-pound rifles. Twenty-seven guns, not mounted, were scattered along the river bank and on the Island. The batteries were distributed as follows: On the Tennessee bank of the river were six— No. 1 (Rucker’s), six guns; No. 2, four guns; No. 3, three guns; No. 4, four guns; No. 5, two guns; No. 6, seven guns; total, twenty-seven. On the Island were four batteries—No. 1, six guns; No. 2, four guns; No. 3, five guns; No. 4, two guns; total, seventeen. A floating battery—the old Algiers floating dock—was moored to the left bank of the Island; and on the deck of this nondescript craft, wholly unprotected, were eight guns. The enemy, upon the evacuation of New Madrid, established batteries there and soon after at Point Pleasant, opposite Tiptonville—thus cutting off approach to the island by river. Boats made a landing at Tiptonville and—when it became too warm there—at a point just below, and thus communication was kept up till the gunboats ran the Island 10 batteries, a few days before the surrender. On the morning of March 15th the Federal fleet arrived from above, and opened fire upon the Confederate works. There were seven iron-clads: the “Benton,” “Louisville,” “Carondelet,” “Conestoga,” “Pittsburgh,” “St. Louis” and “Mound City,” armed with ten heavy guns each, and eight mortar-boats, each carrying one thirteen-inch mortar. Their fire concentrated on Rucker’s and the Island batteries, was continued all day and slowly on Sunday, the 16th. Monday morning the iron-clads, lashed three together, dropped down the river, stern foremost, to within a mile and a half of Rucker’s Battery and anchored. They maintained a heavy fire all day, throwing, with the mortar fleet, 1,350 shot and shell, of which 1,000 were hurled at Capt. Rucker’s guns and 350 at the Island. There was no one hurt on the Island, though there were many narrow escapes. At Battery No. 1, on the main land, a shot passed through the parapet, dismounting a gun, killing Lieut. Clark, of Capt. Rucker’s company, and wounding several men. These were the only casualties during the siege. Elcon Jones, of the Signal Corps, was stationed at Rucker’s Battery. During the day his signal-flag was twice shot from his hand. In one instance he was transmitting a message, and he picked up the flag and continued his communication without missing a word. He was afterwards complimented in general orders by Gen. Beauregard and promoted. The Confederate artillery practice was very good; the iron-clads were repeatedly hit, and before night they hauled off, continuing their fire with their long-range rifles. One shot struck the “Benton,” passed through her iron-clad side into the Captain’s cabin, bounded from the floor to the ceiling and landed on the table. The dismounted gun at Battery 1 was placed in position again that night, not having been seriously damaged. Tuesday the bombardment was resumed, but the fleet did not come within good range of the Confederate smooth- bores, and our fire was, in consequence, slack. Capt. Rucker’s company, exhausted by its severe labors, was relieved by the First Alabama. The river continuing to rise, the working of the guns in Battery No. 1 was rendered difficult, if not impossible, by the water, which was two feet deep on the platforms. All the powder and shell had to be removed from the magazine, and, without other protection than a tarpaulin, stowed in an angle of the breastworks. On rainy days some of the guards would creep under the tarpaulin, propping it up with a handspike so as to get air; but this improvised tent would invariably attract the enemy’s attention, and a shell would go shrieking over, causing the hasty striking of the shelter. A deep slough connecting with Reel-Foot Bayou cut off all approach to this battery except in boats, and as the relief details had to be sent up after dark, a trip on stormy nights was attended with some risk. On one occasion a boat was carried by the swift current into the swamp and capsized; the crew were not rescued till daylight—passing the night, cold and wet, on stumps or driftwood. In the meantime the enemy’s engineers were clearing a channel, or canal, through the swamps and bayous on the west side of the river, from a point above the Island to one below, to enable them to get small transports below the batteries and to transport troops across the river and take the Confederates in the rear. But little digging was required, as the high stage of the river gave the necessary depth of water; but the trees had to be cut out of the way. The trees were felled, leaving the stumps just above the water. A cross-cut saw, forming the lower side of a triangular frame, was [10] [11] [12] [13] then pivoted by the upper angle to the stump, so as to swing freely—the blade of the saw being four feet below the surface of the water. Twenty men on a side operating this simple device could cut off a stump two feet in diameter in a few minutes. The canal was completed early in April, and several transports were at once sent through, arriving safely at New Madrid. As the gunboats were of too deep draught to use the canal, preparations were at once made to run one of them by the batteries, and, as a preliminary step, it was decided to spike the guns in the dangerous upper battery. On the night of April 1st five boats were made ready with crews from the gunboats “Cincinnati,” “St. Louis,” “Benton,” “Pittsburgh” and “Mound City,” and volunteers from the Forty-Third Illinois Infantry, all under command of Col. Roberts. In each boat were twenty men, exclusive of officers. Every precaution was taken to insure secrecy; the oar-locks were muffled, and the expedition did not start till midnight, when all was quiet. The night was dark and stormy, and the only difficulty was in finding the battery; but a flash of lightning revealed its position as they got abreast, and a landing was effected without opposition. But two sentinels were on the battery; these fired their guns and ran back to the main guard, who were on the parapet of the breastwork in the rear. By the time the alarm was fairly given the enemy had spiked the guns and re-embarked. The successful termination of this attack was due largely to the fact that the battery being submerged except the parapet, there was no place for the guard immediately around the guns, though there was, undoubtedly, carelessness in not having more men on duty. A boat was despatched to camp with the alarm, and a fresh detachment of men was sent up. Co. K, prior to this event, had received no arms, but during the alarm a lot of old muskets and ten rounds of cartridges were distributed. Two of the guns were unspiked during the nights of the 2d and 3d. The night of April 4th set in dark and threatening; in the midst of a terrific thunder-storm the long-roll sounded, and the battalion was hastily formed in line of battle in the rear of the batteries. Mingled with the almost continuous roll of the thunder was the roar of a heavy cannonade, while the lightning and the flashes of the guns, rendered more vivid by the intense darkness of the night, combined to render it a scene of wonderful grandeur. The firing continued but for a brief period, and quiet being restored, the men were dismissed to their quarters. In the morning it was ascertained that the iron-clad “Carondelet,” protected by barges of baled hay, had successfully run the batteries. She was first discovered by the sentinels at Rucker’s Battery, who fired their muskets, giving the alarm. An attempt was made to use the two guns which had been unspiked, but the charges were damp, not having been drawn after the guns were unspiked, and they could not be fired. During the 5th the fleet shelled the camp of the First Alabama and other regiments, but no one was hurt. The following night the enemy crossed a small force opposite New Madrid, and spiked the batteries of light artillery stationed there, but immediately retired. Sunday, the 6th of April, was clear and pleasant, and passed quietly. At dress-parade the troops were ordered to be in readiness to march at the sounding of the long-roll. The signal came while the men were preparing or eating supper, and leaving everything—the tents standing, cooking utensils scattered around, in some cases the food half cooked in the kettles—the battalion of the First Alabama in camp, numbering about 325 men, formed on the parade-ground and marched to the general headquarters. About 350 of the regiment stationed on the Island, 60 at Battery No. 1 and a considerable number sick in camp were left behind. The commander of the forces at this time was Gen. Mackall, Gen. McCown having been relieved April 1st. It was dark when the troops, about fifteen hundred in number, left headquarters, the First Alabama in the advance. After marching ten miles, the column was halted in the woods, and formed in line of battle about half a mile from the river and nearly opposite New Madrid. It soon began to rain, and as fires were not permitted, the condition of affairs was anything but pleasant. The object of the move was, ostensibly, to prevent a landing of the enemy, crossing from New Madrid. The night, however, passed without alarm, except a slight stir caused by pickets bringing in a prisoner. A heavy cannonade in the direction of Island No. 10 announced that another iron-clad had stolen by in the darkness. This vessel, it was afterwards learned, was the “Pittsburgh;” she was protected in the same way as the “Carondelet,” and received no injury. Daybreak found the men cold, wet and hungry, many of them having eaten no supper. The wagons arrived about 7 o’clock; flour, bacon and cooking utensils were issued to the companies, and an attempt was made to prepare breakfast; but orders to resume the march compelled the men to leave the half-cooked meal on the coals. Information had been received that the Federal troops were crossing lower down the river, and that the garrison was in danger of being cut off. Many of the troops were unaccustomed to marching, and upon leaving camp had overburdened themselves with baggage. As a consequence, the road along which the men were hurried was strewn with every kind and description of apparel and not a few blankets. It was nearly dark when the command approached Tiptonville, and, making a detour, passed around and below it. That landing was already in possession of the enemy, and a force of their cavalry were following close in the rear of the retreating Confederates, picking up stragglers. While opposite Tiptonville there was an alarm, and the column was halted and brought to a front; but no attack was made, and the march was resumed. About three-quarters of a mile below Tiptonville the command was formed in line of battle, and there remained all night, the men sleeping in ranks, with their arms by their sides. Gens. Gantt and Walker, who had been stationed opposite New Madrid, had retired with our command, and the combined force numbered between 2,000 and 3,000 men. At 11 o’clock, Monday night, Gen. Mackall arranged terms for the surrender of his army, but the soldiers were not made aware of it until the next morning, otherwise many would have made their escape. The universal feeling among men and officers was, that the surrender was utterly uncalled for, and that the greater portion of the force could have been safely taken out while a few men held Gen. Pope’s army in check. Many denounced Gen. Mackall as a traitor, [14] [15] [16] [17] and asserted that the surrender had been arranged several days before. While this report was wholly without foundation, yet of his incapacity no one who was present could have any doubt. Gen. McCown was removed by Gen. Beauregard because, after the fall of New Madrid, he had pronounced the position at Island No. 10 untenable, and Gen. Mackall was ordered there, with instructions to hold it at all hazards until further orders. On the morning after the gunboat “Carondelet” passed the batteries, he issued the following address to the troops:— Headquarters, Island No. 10, April 5, 1862. Soldiers:—We are strangers—the commander to the commanded, and each to the other. Let me tell you who I am. I am a general made by Beauregard—a general selected by Gens. Beauregard and Bragg for this command when they knew it was in peril. They have known me for twenty years; together we have stood in the fields of Mexico. Give them your confidence! Give it me when I have earned it! Soldiers! the Mississippi Valley is entrusted to your courage, to your discipline, to your patience. Exhibit the vigilance and coolness of last night, and hold it! (Signed) William D. Mackall, Brig.-Gen. Commanding. Gen. Beauregard, in a communication published since the close of the war, expressed himself as satisfied with Gen. Mackall’s performance of the trust, but his troops saw only a series of blunders. Gen. Mackall surrendered 3,000 men, 4,000 stand of arms, 75 siege guns and 24 pieces of light artillery. The enemy captured four transports afloat, and two transports and the gunboat “Grampus” which had been scuttled, and a considerable amount of stores and ammunition. The following are the members of Co. K who were surrendered at Tiptonville: Capt. J. F. Whitfield, Lieut. D. S. Hall, Lieut. C. E. Tuttle, Sergts. Thompson, Rodgers, Merritt and Sears, Corps. Williamson and Blaylock, Privates Adams, Bledsoe, C. W. Brown, Cook, Dennis, Farmer, Frank, Fay, Hurd, Killough, May, C. H. Royals, Rice, Roe, D. P. Smith, J. S. Tunnell and Josiah Tunnell; total, 3 officers and 23 enlisted men. The commissioned officers were sent to Columbus, Ohio, and afterwards transferred to Johnson’s Island; the enlisted men were sent to Camp Butler, near Springfield, Ill. Several of the company were sick, and, with their attendants, were taken prisoners at the camp or in the hospital, viz.: Privates A. P. Brown, E. F. Brown, Fergerson, J. C. Hearn, Hearndon, C. J. Moncrief, W. L. Moncrief, J. F. Smith and Tarleton; total, 9. These were sent to Madison, Wis., and afterwards transferred to Camp Douglas, Chicago, Ill. J. F. Smith, mentioned above, started from the Island 10 camp with the company, but was attacked with measles, and was sent back to the hospital. Several hundred of the troops escaped across Reel-Foot River by wading and by boats. Among these were the following members of Co. K: Sergt. Norman Cameron, Corp. J. M. Royals, Privates Averheart, Durden, Hancock, Hutchinson, Elijah Hearn, George Hearn, Holston, Junius Robinson, G. H. Royals and Wilkins; total, 12. Some of these were on detail at Battery 1 and elsewhere, and others were on the sick-list when the company left camp. The companies of the First Alabama stationed at the Island batteries were surrendered by direction of Gen. Mackall to Commodore Porter, Monday night, and were afterwards sent to Camp Butler, Ill. [18] [19] CHAPTER III. prison life in 1862—in the mud—bivouac at new madrid—a friendly irishman—at camp butler —scant water supply—escape of prisoners—an astonished sentinel—playing guard—lost on the prairie—a prisoner shot—health of the camp—mortality statistics—curious phenomena—death visits the company—col. fundy in command—practical jokes—trinket making—news from comrades—homeward bound—arrival in dixie. At daybreak on Tuesday, April 8th, the retreating garrison were quietly aroused from their leafy, but not otherwise romantic, couches in the woods below Tiptonville. It was a cold, cloudy morning, and the men, who had been without food or fire for twenty-four hours, stood impatiently in line of battle eager for something to be done that would warm up their chilled limbs and bodies. To continue the retreat, or to fight either would have been a welcome change, but the order that was passed down the lines was received almost in a spirit of mutiny by both officers and men. All knew that “Do not fire on the enemy” could mean nothing but surrender. Rations were served out, cooking utensils distributed, and fires built; but while busy cooking the men were ordered to “fall in,” “stack arms” and “march,” and breakfast was abandoned or eaten half raw. Upon arriving at Tiptonville the surrendered army was formed in close column, in an open field, and surrounded by guards. The field had been cultivated in corn, the previous year, and though the hollows between the rows might in dry weather, have offered rather tempting couches, they were treacherous ones in a wet season, while the black swamp mud was not conducive to cleanliness. During the day flour and bacon were served out, and the men had plenty of time to cook and eat. With night came on a storm, and the prisoners made such shelters as they could with fence rails and blankets. The only fuel was that offered by fences, with the stumps of the newly cleared land for pieces de resistance. Those who essayed the blanket shelters were roused by trickling streams of water from above, to find themselves lying in ponds of water one or two inches deep. Sounder sleepers would not awake till some rascal had filched their blankets, and the fire-builders had stolen their rails. By midnight the majority of the twenty-five hundred prisoners were packed, in circular groups, six or seven deep, around the fires, which dotted the field, or were wandering disconsolately from fire to fire hoping to find some place where a gleam of the flames could be seen. The anathemas of the men were bestowed quite impartially upon the weather, the Yankees and Gen. Mackall the Confederate Commander. Words and invective were exhausted in showering curses upon the last. Had they not been prisoners the discomforts of the night would have been of little moment, but under the existing circumstances it was dismal beyond description. Day at last dawned, and the men were almost ready to welcome with a cheer the arrival of the transports, which were to take them away from such a mud-hole, even though it was to a military prison. The boats were small stern-wheelers and conveyed the men only to New Madrid, Mo., where they were landed in the mud. New Madrid mud is red, contrasting well with the Tiptonville black, and, as there was no opportunity for ablutions, mud and smoke soon rendered the Confederates as varied in hue as Indian braves. Abundant rations of hard tack, bacon and coffee were served out, and, although the storm had not ended, the situation was much more comfortable than during the preceding twenty-four hours. The officers were now separated from the enlisted men—something akin in pain to parting parents from children. Thursday afternoon the prisoners were again embarked, and, under convoy, the boats steamed up the river. At dusk the fleet passed Island 10, stopping for a short time; the next morning Columbus was left behind, and by 10.30 a. m. a landing was made at Cairo. The prisoners were here transferred to close box-cars, which to sight and smell, bore evidence of having, very recently, been used to transport cattle. A bale of hay was rolled into each car, to serve—when spread over the floor—as seats and bedding. To secure the safety and welfare of the passengers one guard was placed in each car, and was not relieved till the train reached its destination. The sentinel in our car was an Irishman, a social, friendly fellow, considerate of the prisoners’ feelings and reposing great confidence in their honor, which confidence was not abused. Probably his superiors would have been somewhat astonished at his ideas about guard duty, which were not those laid down in army regulations. Whenever the train stopped, even after nightfall, he would either allow some of the prisoners to jump out and fill their canteens, or go himself. During the night he handed his musket to one of the Confederates, laid down in the hay and went to sleep. His brother, the guard in the next car got uproariously drunk, and about midnight came stumbling into our car. He was so quarrelsome that we put him out, in a few minutes he was back, this time bringing his musket and threatening vengeance, but our slumbering guardian being aroused quieted him with a few words, more forcible than elegant, and sent him back to his post. Placed under a quasi parole of honor by the kindness of our Irish friend, not a prisoner attempted to escape from his car though there was abundant opportunity. In one village through which we passed in the night citizen’s dress was offered to some of the men to enable them to escape if they so desired. The train reached Camp Butler, four miles from Springfield, Ill., Saturday afternoon, April 12th. In the surrounding fields patches of snow were still visible, but the camp itself was a mud-puddle. When we left Alabama, a month previous, the fruit trees were in blossom, planters were busy ploughing, and the air was mild and balmy; on our arrival at Island 10 it was cold and the trees were bare, the first signs of Spring appearing as we left; now, for the third time, we were to have wintry weather. There were at Camp Butler fifteen or eighteen hundred prisoners taken at Fort Donelson, these occupied eighteen out of the twenty barracks within the prison lines, two being used as hospitals. The new arrivals were ordered from the cars and marched to the parade ground for inspection; blankets were unrolled, knapsacks unstrapped and the persons of the prisoners searched for concealed weapons, but no money or valuables were taken. Some three hundred of the prisoners were then sent to the barracks, and to the remaining six or seven hundred were allotted tents, one to every six or eight men, boards were distributed for floors and before night the men were comfortably sheltered. The barracks were about sixty feet long by twenty wide, standing [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] twenty feet apart, and were intended to accommodate one hundred men each. In front of the barracks—a street fifty feet wide intervening—the tents were pitched. Immediately to the rear of the line of tents was the guard and dead line; the dead line at the ends was within a few feet of the lines of barracks and tents and about two hundred feet to the rear of the barracks, thus enclosing in round numbers a parallelogram 800 feet long by 300 or 350 feet wide. As the warm weather came on, a second line of tents was pitched in the rear of the first and the crowded barracks relieved. The supply of water on our arrival was drawn from five or six wells within the enclosure; each barrack was supplied with a rope, and each mess used its own camp-kettle for a bucket, attaching it to the rope and drawing it up hand over hand. The scene around the wells was a lively one, especially just before the time for preparing meals. During the rainy season the supply of water in the wells was tolerably plentiful, though it would occasionally give out. By the first of May, however, the wells began to fail, and on May 7th it is recorded in the writer’s diary: “Water is getting to be a luxury, the wells are exhausted before sunrise.” After that time water was hauled from Sangamon river—about a mile distant— details of prisoners going with the wagons to fill up the hogsheads and barrels. It was esteemed a great privilege to go with the wagons as it gave opportunity to bathe and to gather mussels in the river. The fresh country air too was a wonderful contrast to the stifled atmosphere of the prison camp on a hot day. Outside the guard lines was another prison hospital, set apart for erysipelas cases, of which there were many among the prisoners. Its occupants burned in stripes with lunar caustic and painted with iodine, were a horribly grotesque crowd. Side by side with this hospital was the dead house, always tenanted with bodies waiting burial. At the head of the street, which separated the barracks and tents, was the “headquarters” of the Commandant of the post; at the other end of the street was the guard house with its dreaded “black hole,” a cell without light or ventilation. In an addition to these buildings were the Commissary’s, Quartermaster’s and Sutler’s stores, and the barracks for the guard. When the Island No. 10 prisoners arrived the camp was not enclosed, and there had been in consequence many escapes. It was quite common to hear in the morning the announcement, “A squad of prisoners left for home last night.” As calling the roll was entrusted to non-commissioned officers among the prisoners—there were no commissioned officers prisoners at Camp Butler—and as their reports were verified not oftener than once a week, several days were usually allowed to elapse before absentees were reported, thus giving them a fair start in the race for the Ohio or Mississippi Rivers. As many as nine broke through the guard lines in a single night; nor were escapes confined to the darkness, sometimes a break would be made in the broad daylight, and as the cavalry patrolled the lines during the day with sabres, the only risk was that of recapture. In one case, as the astonished sentinel saw prisoner after prisoner flitting by, he cried out, in accents of despair, “Corporal of the guard! corporal of the guard! run here quick, all the rebels are getting away!” These frequent escapes of prisoners soon led to more rigorous measures. Those recaptured were incarcerated in the black hole for a week or ten days; all prisoners were required to remain in their barracks from dusk until reveille, under penalty of being shot, and a board fence ten feet high was built around the camp. The fence, made chiefly by volunteers from among the prisoners, small wages being paid them, was completed early in May, and served to check the flight of the prisoners, though it did not prove an effectual barrier. Not many nights after its completion, during a storm, a party of four scaled it by aid of a short ladder they had constructed; a flash of lightning revealed them to the guard, who fired, but without effect. Some of the prisoners who worked on the fence, broke short the nails with which certain marked boards were fastened; making a dash for the fence one day they pulled off one of these planks, and three got through before the sentinel could fire. Two of the three were recaptured while running the gauntlet of a militia camp, just outside the enclosure and did penance in the “black hole,” the third escaped. An attempt was made to tunnel out, but it was betrayed to Maj. Fundy, and stopped when the tunnel had nearly reached the fence; it was started from a freshly dug sink. Those engaged in it escaped punishment by pledging their word not to renew the work. The cavalry regiment guarding the camp having been relieved by ununiformed militia, a novel plan of escape was successfully tried. A lot of rusty muskets had been found in one of the barracks by the Fort Donelson prisoners on their arrival, these had been carefully concealed with a view that they might sometime be useful. After the wells began to fail, and before the hauling of water in wagons had been begun, squads of prisoners were allowed to go out with guards to neighborhood wells and fill buckets and canteens. Procuring or fixing up costumes sufficiently like those worn by the militia to be mistaken for them, and brightening up the old muskets so as to pass muster, some of the prisoners played the part of guards and escorted out several squads who did not return. Another scheme was successfully played on the militia, who were very ignorant, many being unable to read. Hospital attendants were given passes to cross and recross the guard lines, they giving their paroles not to escape; noting carefully those of the guards who read these passes equally well bottom or right side up, bogus passes were prepared, no attempt being made to imitate the writing of the Federal officials, and the guards passed the holders out. No less than thirty left in this manner before the imposture was detected. None of those under parole violated their pledges, nor were they in any way connected with the writing of the spurious passes, but they suffered, as all passes were revoked. The regulations were henceforth so stringent that but few were able to elude the vigilance of the guards. During the six months that elapsed from the arrival of the prisoners to their departure for exchange, 225 escaped from Camp Butler. Not all of these, however, got back to Dixie, quite a number being recaptured and sent to other prisons. Among those who escaped by bogus passes was John Frank, Jr.; starting for the Mississippi River, he, and one or two companions, lost themselves on the prairies and, after wandering around for several days, made their way to a farm-house, where they procured something to eat, though they were suspected of being rebels. They next, unfortunately, wandered into Alton, where, finding themselves objects of suspicion, they surrendered. Frank rejoined us only when on our way to be exchanged. The first tragedy under the regulation requiring the prisoners to go into the barracks or tents at dusk, occurred on the evening of May 2d. One of the prisoners was seated on the steps of his barrack washing his feet, when “retreat” sounded; a guard, standing almost beside him, ordered him in, but the man was a little slow in complying, as he had his feet in the water; the guard repeated the order twice, and then fired on the prisoner, inflicting a wound from which he died in about three weeks. [25] [26] [27] [28] The sentinel’s conduct was approved, and he was promoted to be a corporal, but the precaution was taken not to place him on guard over the prisoners again, for fear of his meeting with an “accident.” On our arrival at Camp Butler the commander of the post was Col. Morrison, a superannuated officer of the regular army, kind hearted but very irascible. In his conduct towards the prisoners he was generally very lenient; soon after their arrival he had clothing and blankets issued to those who were insufficiently clad, and did them other favors. Towards his own men he was a martinet. On one occasion the colonel crossed the guard line and the sentinel failed to salute him; crossing a second time to make sure the sentinel saw him, he halted in front of the negligent guard, and in thundering voice demanded: “Do you know who I am, sir?” “Yes, sir,” was the quavering response. “Why did you not salute me?” and without waiting for a reply, he seized the volunteer by the collar and administered to him a sound kicking. To the prisoners, accustomed to a perfect equality between officers and men, this was a novel sight and excited various comments. To the commissary officer of the post, a Virginian, and, it was said, a Southern sympathizer, the prisoners were greatly indebted for full rations and the privilege of trading any surplus for luxuries and merchandise at very reasonable rates. He had the reputation of being “square” in all his dealings, and was consequently much liked. On our arrival, and for sometime after, the mortality at Camp Butler was great; up to the 25th of May there had been 318 deaths, a rate equivalent to 56 out of every 100 per year. During the month of May Maj. Fundy, of the Twelfth Illinois Cavalry, was given supervision of the Camp, and, by stricter sanitary regulations, the death rate was diminished, there being but 162 deaths from May 25th to September 6th, a rate of about 22½ out of every 100 per year. If it be taken into consideration that several hundred prisoners had escaped, the percentage of deaths will be somewhat greater than stated. Up to September 6th, the date of exchange, 225 had escaped, leaving 2,613; the average time of imprisonment was nearly twenty-six weeks—that is 1800 men 200 days and 1000 men, 146 days; the total number of deaths was 480, or 18⅓ out of every 100 for the six months, or 36⅔ per 100 a year. In this connection it is but fair to state that the provision made for the sick was ample; a good assortment of medicines was kept in the hospital drugstore, which, after our arrival, was placed in the charge of Joseph Hurd, of Co. K, a competent druggist. Among the prisoners were several surgeons, and in addition to these, Dr. J. Cooper McKee, U. S. A., was surgeon of the post. While he was in charge he ordered large additional supplies of medicine, and a room was fitted up exclusively as a drug store. When he was relieved, the latter part of July, a Springfield physician was placed in charge. The nurses were volunteers from the prisoners, among them N. K. Adams and Wm. H. Fay, of Co. K; D. P. Smith was Mr. Hurd’s assistant. To resume the company diary: On the Sunday following our arrival it set in to storm, and on Monday there was a heavy fall of snow, a novelty to many who witnessed it. Spring now rapidly advanced, and by May 1st the trees were beginning to leaf, the grass was green and violets were in bloom. On the 23d of April there was seen the curious phenomenon of four mock suns, the real sun being in the centre. There was a brilliant electrical display on May 30th; for nearly an hour the flashes of lightning were almost incessant, but a few seconds intervening, while at times, for several minutes together, the play of electrical light would be absolutely without intermission. Occasionally great nebulous balls of fire would roll up from the horizon to the zenith, then would follow flashes of chain and forked lightning, diverging to every point of the heavens. No rain accompanied the electrical storm, but during its entire continuance there could be heard the distant low roll of thunder. May 3d the camp was shocked by a tragedy in one of the barracks occupied by Mississippians: one of the prisoners, in a quarrel with a companion, seized a billet of wood and struck a fatal blow. The murderer was taken to Springfield and put in jail, but was not brought to trial, and when the prisoners were exchanged he was sent with the others. May 9th, Thomas G. Roe (private, Co. K) died of measles. This was the first death in our company, and caused sincere sorrow. On the following day he was buried in the prisoners’ graveyard, near the camp. Col. Morrison kindly permitted the company to accompany the body to the grave. William H. Fay read a chapter in the Bible and made a prayer. The grave was marked with a headboard inscribed with the name, company and regiment of the deceased. Early on the morning of May 14th, A. J. Merritt (sergeant, Co. K) died of measles. Both he and Mr. Roe were sick from the time of our arrival. Mr. Merritt refused to give up, and remained in his tent till within a day or two of his death, when he became so weak as to be forced to go to the hospital. He was much depressed from leaving home and family, but both he and Mr. Roe died very peacefully. On the morning of July 7th, John N. Cook (private, Co. K) died, and was buried the same day, the company receiving permission to attend. This was the last death in Co. K at Camp Butler. On the 22d of June, Col. Fundy succeeded Col. Morrison as commander of the post. He was much less of a martinet, and was also popular with the prisoners in consequence of his showing them some favors. Occasionally through the summer he allowed the prisoners—several hundred at a time—to go to the river to bathe, under guard and an implied parole not to escape. The prisoners never, to the writer’s knowledge, abused his confidence. He would listen to complaints, and, if well founded, would remedy the evil. At one time the militia—or, more properly, the recruits in an adjoining camp of instruction—made a practice of firing their muskets, loaded with ball, in such a direction that the balls fell in the prison enclosure. The whizzing of lead became a sound of daily occurrence, but the prisoners stood it very patiently till one of their number was struck and seriously wounded. A committee was then sent to Col. Fundy, to remonstrate and to plainly intimate that if the nuisance was not abated, the prisoners would themselves go out and stop it. He gave them patient audience, and promised them there should be no more trouble. About the middle of July he attempted an exercise of authority that cost him much of his popularity. For some time it had been customary to make details of...