From Derby, W. P.; Bearing Arms in the Twenty-Seventh Massachusetts Regiment
of Volunteer Infantry During the Civil War 1861-1865. Boston: Wright &
Potter Printing Company, 1883. pp. 408-411
CHAPTER XX.
OFFICERS IN PRISON.
MUCH of the experience of
enlisted men in rebel prisons was also endured by officers in the hands of the
enemy, and after what has already been written, need not be repeated. On
reaching Libby Prison, May 16, 1864, they were required to register their names,
rank, regiment and company. They were then subjected to examination for personal
effects, as already described, with the statement: “If you surrender your
valuables without search, they will be returned when you are exchanged, but
failing to do this, they will be confiscated.” The consequences to those who
voluntarily surrendered their valuables to Turner were sad to contemplate, for
they introduced themselves into captivity without any means to relieve its
misfortunes.
After search, the officers were
confined on the third floor of that famous gaol, Libby Prison. It was a large
three-story building, containing nine rooms, each about forty by one hundred
feet. The lower floor was used for hospital and guard purposes. The building was
close to the Lynchburg Canal and the James River. In full view across the river
was the village of Manchester, and beyond, magnificent plantations with
mansions, groves, and waving fields, reaching far to the south and east. Looking
from the opposite side was that charnel-house for enlisted men, Castle Thunder;
the tents of our guards; and the uninviting rear walls of buildings facing
another street.
No rations were issued until the
next day, under the economical plea, “prison rations were drawn but once a
day,” our arrival (nine A.M.) being too late to be included that day. It was a
very convenient rule, and was found elastic enough to preclude the issuing of
rations to all prisoners the day of their arrival. It must have been in
recognition, if not in acknowledgment of the fact, that the surest means of
destroying courage and fortitude, was to withhold the means of sustaining life.
On the afternoon of the 17th a few old United States army
blankets,-discarded by former prisoners,-with one cup, spoon, and plate for
three, and some black bean soup, were issued to us. Hungry as we were, many
declined the unpalatable dish.
When our funds were taken, Turner
said we might draw against them at the rate of seven dollars in Confederate
currency to one of greenbacks, not to exceed one hundred dollars per month. A
few days later he appeared with a pen and requisitions, saying that if signed by
us he would bring the funds the next morning. The third day he returned,
claiming there was some informality in the first requisition, when a second was
signed, and a few days later he sought signatures to a third, on the same
pretext. This we refused, and it is hardly necessary to add we heard nothing
farther from our funds. Fortunately, Col. Lee espied a familiar face upon the
street, whom he recognized as formerly attached to the United States Armory at
Springfield, and succeeded in getting a note to him, inducing him to call. As he
left, he slipped one hundred dollars into Col. Lee’s hands, and soon after
sent in a basket containing knife, fork, spoons, cup, basin, and towel, all of
which was contributed to the mess of the captured officers of the Twenty-Seventh
Mass. Regt.
Dick Turner, who was the
animating spirit of this gaol, was a vindictive Baltimorean, and so close a
counterpart of Gen’l Winder, his chief, was he, as to often be himself the
instigator of acts of brutality. He so completely overawed all sense of humanity
in subordinates as to impress a doubt as to its possession by any of them. One
of them has remarked, since the war, “Turner is the greatest scoundrel that
ever went unhung.”
After remaining at Richmond until
May 31st, we were aroused, at five a. m., and ordered to get ready to
go south: As we filed out of Libby, half a loaf of corn bread, and a slice of
bacon was given to each, and, after a slight delay, we were marched over the
river to Manchester, the terminus of the Danville Railway. Here we were hustled
into box-cars, and at 7:30 A. M. started for Danville, at which place we arrived
about one o’clock the morning of June 1st. At seven A.M. we were
transferred to the Greensboro road and to the care of a detachment of the Third
Virginia Infantry, under a Lieut. Gay. We were favored with passenger coaches on
this road to Greensboro, but at that place sixty-two officers were crammed into
a box-car at the point of the bayonet. At two A. M. June 2d we started for
Salisbury, but the train moved with great difficulty, and with frequent delays
to get up steam. A drenching rain-by cooling the air-made our overcrowded
condition more endurable.
While waiting at Salisbury, a
citizen recognized Col. White of the Fifty-Fifth Pennsylvania Regiment, and
entered into conversation with him. A guard named Arnold ordered Col. White
back, and away from the car door. From some cause the guard failed to attract
Col. White’s attention, which resulted in the latter being roughly seized by
the guard and thrust back, with the exclamation, “Go in there you Yankee son
of a ___!” Capt. Belger protested against such treatment, which the guard
resented by levelling his musket at him saying, “I’ll learn a Yankee how to
talk to me!” He was checked from firing by a Capt. Carpenter who was sitting
upon the roof of the car, - saying, “I see no cause for such treatment.” The
enraged Arnold struck Carpenter several times upon his feet and legs with his
gun, when the latter withdrew from his reach, and supposed the affair ended. A
few moments later the guard appeared upon the car behind Capt. Carpenter, and
dealt him two stunning blows upon his head with his musket, and left him with
the exclamation, “There! d-n you, take that!” While efforts were being made
to resuscitate the injured man, Lieut. Gay happened along, and, hearing
Arnold’s story, called the guards around him and delivered the following
tirade: “I’ve heard of Arnold’s affair. He did just right! Don’t you
take a word from the d--n Yankees. If they don’t mind at the first word, put a
bullet through ‘em, d-n ‘em ! Arnold did just right!” A citizen and one of
the guard attempted to say, Capt. Carpenter was not at fault, but Gay stopped
them with an oath, saying, “Arnold did right!” There were about seven
hundred enlisted men upon the train as prisoners, and at one of our stops,
liberty had been granted some of them to get off and fill their canteens. A sick
man was attempting, by the aid of comrades, to get into the cars as the train
started, which being noticed by Lieut. Gay, he gave orders to one of the guard
to shoot him, and a moment later his body was being ground under the wheels of
the train.
We arrived at Charlotte, N. C.,
at four P. M. June 2d and marched to a grove near by, where we remained in a
drenching rain until morning. So profuse was the fill of rain, we began a
serious inquiry what we should do, but it was so much better than being packed
in close cars, we concluded to let it rain. At early morning two days’ rations
were issued, consisting of four hard-tack and one-fourth a pound of bacon, after
which we were again crowded into box-cars, and moved for Columbia, S. C. We
arrived at this place just before dark June 3d, disappointing a large crowd at
the depot who had congregated with supplies of home luxuries, anticipating the
arrival of a train loaded with Confederate wounded.