A Soldier's Experience in Southern Prisons: A Graphic Description of the Author's Experiences in Various Southern PrisonsPrutsman, Christian Miller
Philosophy
A Soldier's Experience in Southern Prisons: A Graphic Description of the Author's Experiences in Various Southern Prisons
Prutsman, Christian Miller
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Prisoners and prisons
I mused to myself thus: "What can be the result; if I lie here I may
be blown up, if I go and faint by the wayside I shall die, so I may as
well be in one place as another." Accordingly I obeyed orders, laid
down and in a few moments was entirely alone in that great, cold,
desolate and deserted room. My heart fluttered as I thought of the
three kegs of powder in the mine underneath me and I tried to keep my
pulse still by holding my breath, but it would flutter on in spite of
every effort, when, suddenly, even before I realized that any time had
passed, there was a rushing of feet and my comrades poured in, one
after another, pell mell, hastily unrolled their blankets and stretched
themselves on the floor, every man in his place. A moment after, the
rebel guard came pushing in with lanterns and scrutinized every man
closely. All were apparently sound asleep but me, and most of them
snoring loudly. The guard was completely deceived and retired, and
then I also fell asleep; but when daylight came I noticed that both
my neighbors were gone. I made no comment, though I knew I would have
to be counted for them at roll call. I did this by falling in on the
right, and being counted, slipped down to the rear of the line, when I
was again counted--first time for Wise, then later for his companion.
The count being completed, the adjutant announced that "over a hundred
men had answered roll call who were not on the floor."
We began to smell trouble.
The adjutant went downstairs and soon returned with "Dick" Turner and a
guard, who drove all of the prisoners out of the room, and then passed
them back one at a time, counting them as they filed through the door.
After completing the count they announced they were one hundred and
nine men short, and started their patrols out in every direction to
recapture the runaways. By noon they had begun to head them off, and in
less than three days recaptured fifty-six. The remaining fifty-three
were never heard of again as prisoners in Libby; the most of them
succeeded in reaching the Union lines.
This escape was hard on the rest of us, however, our liberties being
greatly curtailed and our dangers increased. Among other orders, the
guard was instructed to shoot every man who showed his head at a
window. The first man shot at was Lieutenant Burns, who happened to
expose his head too close to an opening in the water closet, where a
board had been torn off. Fortunately he only lost half of one ear.
Lieutenant Forsyth of Ohio was not so fortunate. He was sitting four
or five feet from the window, reading, when he was observed by a guard
patrolling on the opposite side of the street. He fired at Forsyth,
killing him instantly, and many other brave officers afterwards shared
the same fate as Lieutenant Forsyth, at the hands of those cowardly
assassins.
Such was life in this prison, kept by people who prided themselves on
their "chivalry." God save the mark!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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