Such exasperating expressions were kept up from morning till night, for the two days they were at work erecting these guns on the frail platforms, to prevent tunnelling. But these precautions did not for a moment interfere with our tunnelling, and while we were thus pestering Tabb, others were busy preparing other avenues of escape. Two tunnels were started simultaneously, one commencing in an old building on the east side of the camp, and the other in what was called No. 7 Squad, which was on the opposite side of the stockade. The one on the east side was already to open, and the one on the west nearly ready, when they were both discovered and filled up. There was strong evidence of treachery in the discovery of these tunnels, as Captain Tabb went directly to both of them, and seemed to know just where to find them.
There was at this time in the prison, one Hartswell Silver, who claimed to be a Captain in the 16th Illinois Cavalry, but who was generally believed to be a spy, placed in there to detect our efforts at escape, and to him was attributed the disclosure of our plot. Had these two tunnels been completed, at least half of the officers would have escaped, and as the force guarding us was small at that time, there is no doubt but that the majority of us would have succeeded in getting away. In fact the evening before, two or three officers escaped, by crawling under the stockade, where the branch or stream entered the camp. They were fired upon by the guard, and one was brought back. The long roll was sounded and the whole force turned out in expectation of a general break. All officers were notified that any one leaving their quarters, even to go to the sink, would be fired upon by the guard. A great excitement prevailed among the rebs all night, which was aggravated by those in their bunks calling out every little while—“Corporal of the guard post number fo.” “Dry up there will you.” “Oh! give us a rest.” “Louder old pudden head.” “What’s the matter with you.” “Put him out.” “Shoot him.” “Lie down.” “Tabb try your big gun on this fellow,” and like expressions, making a perfect uproar in camp all night long. After a moment’s silence, some fellow would imitate the plaintive caterwaling of a cat, another barking like a hound, and another would answer from away off with the deep bark of the mastiff, another would crow like a cock. Sleep was out of the question, you might as well try to quiet a barroom full of drunken politicians who had elected their favorite candidate as to keep those fellows still. Once in a while the guard would call out, “keep still there you Yanks or I’ll shoot in there,” when some one at a safe distance would sing out “Put him in the guard house.” “Buck and gag him.” “Stone the loafer,” etc., and so it kept on during the whole night.
The next morning Tabb had two more field pieces planted in the woods to the south of our camp, and horsemen appeared with hounds to track and capture the fugitives, but for some reason they could not get on the right trail and only succeeded in treeing a coon. There were several other escapes about this time. One by Lieut. H. Lee Clark, 2d Massachusetts H. A., who sought out Miss Frankie Richardson, who made arrangements to help him out of the city, but this same Hartswell Silver, who was boarding there, betrayed him and he was brought back again. This Silver was paroled the day the tunnels were discovered and was never in camp afterwards, and it is just as well for him that he was not, for, as the boys said, Silver was at that time at a premium, and would have been higher, if he had put in an appearance. Lieut. Frost, 85th New York, also escaped in a reb uniform, as did several others, and Lieutenant Wilson of the regulars was sent out in the sutler’s vegetable box. This Lieutenant Wilson was an Englishman, and I think belonged to the regular army.
MR. CASHMEYER’S SUTLER WAGON, MACON, GA.
Mr. Cashmeyer came in one afternoon, as was his daily custom, with his cart, driven by a negro. Upon the cart was a dry goods box, filled with potatoes, onions, cabbage, turnips, bacon, beef, eggs, &c., which he usually disposed of to the Yankee sutler and others whose means justified them in purchasing, in what we call large quantities. He stopped as usual, at the shanty of the camp sutler, and there sold out his load. While he was in the shanty settling up, the crowd as usual gathered around his cart, and this Lieut. Wilson clambered into the box on the cart, while the crowd stood about the door of the shanty, the negro driver all the time maintaining that stolid look of innocence, so peculiar to the race, as he (the Lieutenant) was covered with empty sacks, that had contained the vegetables. And when Mr. Cashmeyer mounted the seat beside the driver, and left the camp, he was as innocent of helping a Yankee to escape, as the innocent looking negro seemed to be. The negro drove directly to the barn and unharnessed the mule, and as it was nearly dark, went to his quarters. The Lieutenant finding himself alone clambered out of the box and started off. Taking the railroad, he walked about five miles, when, as he said, he met a man who looked very fierce and who asked him where he came from, and where he was going. And after giving an equivocal answer the man asked him if he was not a Yankee officer, which he was too scrupulous to deny, and gave himself up, and allowed himself to be brought back, although the man who brought him back was like himself unarmed. But as he said on his return, the man spoke so gruff like, and looked so stern, that he thought there was no use of remonstrating. We nicknamed him George Washington, and tried to find a little hatchet for him, as an emblem of his innocence and truthfulness. As he remained in prison for a long time thereafter however, I think he may have regretted before he was exchanged, the conscientious scruples that would not allow him to tell a lie, even for the sake of freeing himself from the jeers of his comrades, and the tortures of prison life, which he had to endure afterwards.
It was a long time before he heard the last about that daring attempt to escape and the heroic defence he made against that unarmed reb who had recaptured and brought him back, and the desperate and successful resistance he had made against the temptation to tell a lie.
There is not an officer living who witnessed it, but will remember the celebration we held on the 4th of July. I will here quote what I that day briefly wrote in my diary of this celebration.