Personal Experience of Wm. R. Browning of Company I, 149th O. V. I. at Monocacy and as a Prisoner of War
I was captured July 9th, 1864 at the battle of Monocacy, after fighting from early morn until 4:30 P. M., when, being hard pressed and nearly surrounded by the enemy, we received orders for every man to save himself. This order scattered our organization, and we broke for the rear. The rebels were fast closing in on us, leaving only one road open for our retreat. I took that route to escape, and went through all right, but many of the boys were captured before getting through. I followed the main body of the troops who were in full retreat toward Baltimore.
I will not go into detail in regard to the capture of Philip Frank of my company, and myself, by a body of rebel cavalry, and taken back to Frederick, but will relate one incident. The cavalry who had captured us, met the infantry, who demanded of them, that they turn over the prisoners to them because they had done all of the fighting, and were entitled to take charge of the prisoners. A fierce quarrel arose, they drew guns on each other, and a fight was about to take place, when a cavalry officer rode up, ordered the infantry to march on, and the cavalry to take us to the rear. After marching a short distance they halted us and said that they would have to give us up soon, and that we would be searched when they turned us over, and that as they had captured us, we were their prisoners, it was their first search. They began, and took away what we had, that they wanted, combs, knives and some silver money that I happened to have, but they did not get rich, for we did not have much for them to get. We marched back to Frederick City, and were halted in the main street, where we were turned over to the infantry. While there, some of the loyal ladies of the town came with a basket of food, and gave some to us, which tasted very good, as I had only two hard tack and a pint of coffee that day. They would not give our guard any of it so they became angry and drove them away.
While here, more prisoners were brought in, and we marched through the town, and went into camp for the night in a field outside the limits. The next morning we marched back through the town, and on about four miles to Monocacy Junction. We passed through the battle field, where the dead and wounded were still lying on the ground, where they had fallen. At the junction we were joined by five hundred prisoners, who had been captured and brought there the night before. These men had drawn two days’ rations from the rebels, but we did not get anything. However, there was no help for it, and we started on the Rockville road toward Washington, passing through part of the field of Monocacys battle of the day before. Some of the wounded were lying by the road side, and begged us piteously for water. My canteen was filled with water, and I stepped out of ranks to give the poor fellows a drink, but a rebel guard drew his gun on me and swore he would shoot if I did not get back into line. I told him I only wanted to give the wounded men a drink, when he said let some of the Yankee citizens round here give them water. At that, I took off my canteen and threw it over to the wounded men. My guard at that said, “I was a fool, and that I would need a canteen before I got one.” This was true for I never had another, but often needed one.
We marched on to Rockville where dead horses were lying in the street. There had just been a fight here. We went into an orchard surrounding a house, and got water from the well. A lady came out and said, “If any of you boys want to write home, I will mail your letters for you. The rebels will soon retreat, and then I will send the letters.” Comrade W. W. McCracken wrote a letter telling our folks at home all the particulars of our capture. He left the letter with the lady, and it reached its destination.
I told her I had no rations and that I was very hungry, and wanted something to eat. She gave me a big slice of home made bread and butter. I will never forget that loyal lady, and have often wished that I could go to Rockville to repay the kindness done to a poor boy, only fifteen years old, and a prisoner of war. We were then taken out to another road on our way toward Washington, and camped in a field for the night.
The next morning we resumed the march toward Washington. About noon we began to hear heavy firing in front, and the rebel stragglers began passing us hurrying to the front so that they might be among the first to enter Washington and loot the city. One of the guards told me that the roar of the cannons was the sweetest music on earth to the rebels. I answered, “I think before you take Washington you will be accommodated with plenty of sweet music.” We marched on for three hours under heavy fire from siege guns. The stragglers who had rushed to the front in order to be the first to enter the city began to come back. We taunted them, asking, “Why didn’t you go on into Washington?” They replied, “We would, only the cursed Yankees are throwing flour barrels at us.” We were marched up until in full view of Fort Stephens, where we could see the stars and stripes floating above the fort.
They placed us in an orchard so close to the fort that the shells would crash through the tree tops above our heads. This was not of long duration, until a rebel line of infantry came out of the woods and charged the fort. The fort reserved their fire until the rebels got close up to it, and I began to fear that it would be taken, when all at once it let loose with artillery, and a galling infantry fire from a line of troops that we had not seen. Such a noise I never heard. The smoke and the gathering twilight hid all the combatants from view, but we could tell from the sound of the guns that the rebels were falling back, and that the Union infantry was following them up. Directly all firing ceased, and we knew that the enemy had been repulsed. At this time we drew two days’ rations of beef and flour, but before we had time to cook it we were ordered to fall in, and under a heavy guard began marching to the rear. The whole rebel army came pell mell, almost a stampede. The cavalry and artillery filled the road, the infantry going through the fields. The cattle they had stolen in Maryland were also driven through the fields, the drivers yelling and swearing, making the air hideous with the din. A fine residence of a United States Senator was burned to the ground.
All this made an impression upon my mind that I will never forget. I learned afterward that after their repulse at Washington, the word was passed that General Hunter was advancing from Harper’s Ferry to attack them in the rear. We marched all night and forded the Potomac at Edwards Ferry early the next morning. We waded the river, which came up to my arm pits. I being small. We camped near a big spring not far from the river, where we rested and cooked what little we had. The next morning two days rations were issued, and cooked, and we again took up the march passing through Leesburg, Va., and on through Snickers Gap, getting to the Shenandoah river after dark. Here we camped for the night. The next morning they allowed us to bathe in the river. We resumed the tiresome march and pressed on to Winchester where we halted in the edge of the town. While here we drank from a spring the coldest water I ever saw. We then marched to Kernstown where we encamped for two days. Here Joseph Rowland and Joseph Hays of my company made their escape. This left eleven of our squad still prisoners. Sergeants James Nichols and Rees McCall; Corporals James and William Harrison, brothers and Privates W. W. McCracken, Thomas Broaders, Philip Frank, Wm. Houser, James Cruit, Peter Garratt and myself. The stop here gave us a much needed rest, and we again drew our two days’ rations of beef and flour. Two days’ rations may sound big, but a hearty man could eat it all at one meal without discomfort. I do not remember the exact amount, but know that it was not near enough to satisfy our hunger.
We again resumed our march bound for Staunton up through the beautiful Shenandoah valley, passing through New Market, Mt. Jackson and Willow Springs. At Staunton we boarded the cars and rode to Charlotte. Here we went into camp and drew what they called rye bread and tainted salt beef. The bread was the worst I ever saw. It was dough inside with a thick hard crust, that could hardly be broken, when it was broken the dough rolled out. The next morning we were again taken by the cars to Lynchburg. Here we were placed in a tobacco warehouse. The floor was covered with dried tobacco juice and licorice, at least that was what the boys said it was. I did not use the weed. We remained here a few days, I don’t remember how long, I only recollect the stinking meat issued to us.
While here I passed my sixteenth birthday, the 26th of July. On the 27th, we went on to Petersburg and Richmond Junction, thence to Danville, arriving there on the 28th. We were assigned to Prison No. 7, an old tobacco warehouse. The first floor was used as a hospital, the second, third and fourth stories for prisoners quarters. I was put in squad No. 7 on the second floor. We were fifty men to a squad in charge of a sergeant whose duty it was to draw rations for the men and to detail two comrades each day to carry water from the Dan river, about 200 yards from the prison. Here the hard prison life began. There was a cook house near the prison, the cooks being Union soldiers. The rations were corn bread made of corn and cob ground together, sometimes with salt, often without. Once in a while we had bean soup made from black or nigger peas, as they called them. A little bacon in the soup full of skippers. I could not eat it, it was so filthy, I only ate a small piece of the corn bread each day.
I cannot go into detail, each day was like another and very monotonous. We suffered from the heat when we first went into this prison. There were five squads of 50 on our floor, and when we all lay down at night, there was no room to spare, we were packed like sardines in a box. To economize space we would lie in rows across the building and when we turned over all would turn. On a hot night the stench was fearful. We remained here during July and August using water from the Dan river. This was stagnant, in pools, for the river had almost dried up in the summer. The rebels would march us past as nice a spring of good cold water as ever flowed and would not allow us to get it, but take us to the river, where we skimmed the green scum from the surface with our buckets and dip water from the hot, stinking pool. The hot weather created thirst, and the prisoners drank it as fast as it was carried to them and cried for more. If our guards were not in the humor we would have to wait until they were ready, consequently there was great suffering from thirst. About the last of August, Smith Miller of Company E of our regiment became suddenly insane, and was taken to the hospital where he afterward died. Philip Frank of my company was also sent to the hospital where he died. Many of the men became sick and we were all growing weaker day by day. In September an order came to exchange a certain number of the sick. When the doctor came to examine them, I took Samuel Jones to him, Jones could not walk, so Joe Shepard and I carried him down. The doctor passed him and then asked me, “Now what is the matter with you?” I told him, “Nothing, only I want something to eat.” The doctor replied, “If you would say so, I will pass you.” I said, “No, take some poor fellow that was sick, I am not sick, and I do not intend to die in prison.” The boys of my company that were released at this time were James Nichols, Reeves McCall, James and William Harrison and Peter Garrett. The two Harrison boys died at Annapolis, Maryland, on their way home. Disease and exchange now cut our number down, but our condition did not improve, we were growing weaker every day for want of food. In October I was sick with diarrhoea and went to the hospital. The sick were better cared for, and the nurses were detailed Union soldiers. The doctors were Rebels, and did not have much regard for the prisoners. I remained in the hospital but did not get any better. In October Thomas Broades was brought into the hospital, paroled on sick leave, and afterward died at Annapolis. Later in the year William Houser was brought over to the hospital, but only lived a few days.
Between Christmas and New Years Day I took the pneumonia and the doctor told me, “Well, little Yank, you will have to die,” I told him, “I will never leave my bones in the southern confederacy.” He put a fly blister on my chest and the next morning I was better. Then I had inflammation of the bowels, and he swore I would die. He had no medicine to give me, but put another fly blister on my stomach. The blisters broke in the night and the water run all over me. In the morning I again felt better but soon erysipelas set in, where the blisters had been. He then said I must be painted with iodine. This the nurses refused to do, saying that I would die, and did not see the use of torturing me, but let the boy die in peace. The doctor said it must be done. They asked me about it, I told them if they would let Edgar Hulbert of the Twenty-third O. V. I. who was a nurse, paint me I would never say a word. He did the job and I kept my promise. About a week later I was up and walking around. I improved rapidly, and on the 25th of January I was returned to the prison. About this time the United States sent some clothing to us, but not enough to go round. I drew a blouse and my comrade McCracken a blanket.
It was now very cold in the prison, some would sleep under blankets while others marched around to keep warm. We kept this up until becoming exhausted, we would rouse the sleepers and take their places. This was kept up continually day and night, as long as we remained at Danville. About the 10th of February we were placed in the cars and carried to Richmond, Va., and put in Libbey prison. We suffered terribly from the cold on this trip. We were weak and our clothes were worn out. I was dressed in the blouse spoken of, remnants of a pair of trousers and a pair of socks that I had taken off a dead man. My pants were so badly worn that I would not be presentable in good society. But comrade McCracken had his blanket and we snuggled under it in one corner of the car and done the best we could until we landed in Libbey.
There has been a great deal said about Libbey prison, and truly too, but it was the best one I was in, we had a warmer place to stay and a greater variety of food, although the rations were extremely small. Here we talked about being exchanged, we thought we had been brought here for that purpose. On the morning of February 20th, a Rebel officer came to the prison and told us to get ready for parole. There was a glad lot of poor boys, all was excitement. The officer went away and did not return until afternoon when he returned with other officers and clerks and called us up in line. We took the oath of parole to do no duty for the United States Government until regularly exchanged. This we gladly took. That night we had a big time, nobody slept, in the morning we were going back to God’s country and home. Comrade McCracken sold his blanket for fifty dollars (confederate) and bought six pounds of flour with it. We made flap jacks and baked them on a stone, ate and talked about what we would eat when we got home.
In the morning we were taken on board the rebel flag of truce boat, I was very weak, but Joe Shepard the good Samaritan of our regiment helped me aboard, and we started down the James river to Harrison Landing. Some one shouted “there is the old flag.” In an instant everybody was alert, and on looking down the river we caught a glimpse of “Old Glory” through the tree tops on one of the boats of our fleet. Such a time I never saw, we were the happiest boys on earth. We cheered, we shouted, we cried, we prayed, we were so happy. Many were going back to die, but they were glad to get where they could die under the dear old flag. We landed at Harrison Landing where the 25th Corps (colored) was stationed. It looked queer to me to see them on the skirmish line opposing the Rebels. Each fellow had his “gopher hole” to dodge in, one big black fellow picked me up like a baby and carried me back through the lines. They all came running to us with something to eat, those great black fellows with white hearts. My man carried me as far as he could go, and I walked a short distance to the river, where the transport “New York” was waiting for us. We went aboard and had a good meal of soft wheat bread, pickle pork, coffee with sugar and condensed milk, I thought I had never tasted anything so good. We arrived at Annapolis on Washington’s birthday, February 22, 1865.
I have tried in my own feeble way to tell something about my prison life. I have written it from memory and there may be some errors of dates, and etc. An old man’s memory is sometimes faulty. I have not told of all the horrors that I have witnessed, no tongue can tell nor pen describe what I have seen in these hells. To tell all would make a book, what I have told is true. I was discharged March 29th, 1865, at Todd Barracks in Columbus, Ohio.
William R. Browning
Private, Company I. 149th O. V. I.
Chillicothe, Ohio.