Co. G did their duty and remained with their charge until an exchange was effected, which occurred a few days later.
In the first days of September six hundred officers, ranging in rank from colonels to lieutenants were sent down to be placed under fire before Charleston, in retaliation for a similar piece of shrewdness on the part of the rebels. As soon as Gilmore began to throw shells into Charleston the righteous indignation of rebels in the field and their sympathizers North reached the explosive point. The idea of retaliative measures was a product of the brain of Jeff Davis. Burning cities is legitimate warfare. Confining helpless prisoners under fire is barbarous.
Those six hundred rebel officers were to be placed in a stockade on Morris Island, built between Fort Strong and batteries on Cummings Point.
On the sixth of September the prisoners were landed at the island and were transferred to their new guard, the 54th Mass., a colored regiment.
Sept. 5th the camp was struck at Hilton Head and by a very accommodating order the men were permitted to take with them to Morris Island such little useful articles as they desired, and so it came to pass that the ferryboat conveying the camp equipage was generously laden with bundles of boards, rude benches and tables, wash-tubs and the like. So that a few hours' work by experienced hands made the boys as comfortable as in their former camp. About all they had parted with were the few fleas.
A few words in parting and the flea is given a rest. This sand-flea is a small affair,—not the sand-flea, or chigre, of science—but a genuine flea. Co. G became very expert catching him. When a boy was struck, down went his stocking, the flea slid into the coarse meshes, usually too late. Some of the sufferers became expert and caught the little raiders in the dark. One man has been known to awaken from his sleep with two captives, one between the thumb and fore finger of each hand. Reader, believe this, it is correct. If you cannot believe the story, forgive the man, for he was sorely tried.
The flea of Sweden undoubtedly was larger and more defiant. History states the Queen Christina kept a little wee cannon for the purpose of shooting them. The cannon is to be seen at Stockholm. Co. G found no flea too large to handle easily and effectually.
Camp on Morris Island was very clean, very hot and when the wind blew, quite unpleasant from the sand blowing into the eyes. Co. G, however, had become reconciled to all denials. They amused themselves as best they could. Drank plentifully of Levi Randall's dried-apple beer, scoured their brass jewelry and traded with the colored troops; read and re-read the old newspapers, wrote a little and slept, whenever permitted. At night large details were marched to Fort Putnam or Fort Chatfield, and there spent the night, if undisturbed, sleeping soundly, while the city gun roared three times every hour. Often a brisk firing between Sullivan's Island and other rebel forts, made the place uproarious and cartloads of iron were flying about. But they became accustomed to the shelling and paid it slight attention. Only one member of the regiment was struck by the shells and he persistently exposed himself.
Details were sent up to the Point, three miles from camp, on fatigue duty working on the fortifications. One day while a party of the regiment were thus engaged the rebels opened spitefully. By noontime the boys were hungry. Punctual came Pat Matthews with a kettle of Ziba's best pea soup, and Co. G were happy. The boys of other companies waited until the firing ceased, when their food came. This is not given to reflect upon other cooks, but to illustrate Pat's indifference to danger.
When the regiment lay in rear of the battery at Gettysburg, July 1st, the air was noisy with bursting shells, the pieces striking around viciously. And during that interesting hour the men lay very close to the earth.