Ten years in the ranks, U.S. Army

by Augustus Meyers

A few of the prisoners had escaped at times, which made a young and inexperienced lieutenant, who was officer of the day on my first tour of guard, so nervous that he ordered most extraordinary and unwise precautions against a recurrence of escapes. He ordered me to turn out the guard and all of the prisoners at eleven o'clock at night and at three o'clock in the morning—hours at which the sentinels were not relieved. The officer of the day was present at eleven, when I called out the two relieves of the guard, not on post, and formed ranks in the sallyport. Then with a corporal and two files of the guard, we started to turn out the prisoners. They objected strenuously at the unusual proceeding and cursed and swore dreadfully. It took a long time to turn them all out and count them, by the aid of a lantern. They were left standing in the ranks, half clad and shivering, while the officer of the day ordered me to accompany him for an inspection of the prisoners' quarters. More than half an hour had been consumed in the parading of the prisoners.

At three o'clock, when we turned them out for the second time, there was almost a riot. Some swore they would kill the lieutenant, others refused to get up and I had to bring in more help to drag them from their bunks and push them into the ranks, with only a blanket to cover them. They yelled and shouted and began to throw things at the guards in the semi-darkness—the only light being from a few lanterns. The lieutenant drew his sword and threatened to run it through the body of any prisoner who refused to obey orders, but he prudently remained outside the doorway. Now all this trouble was needless. A sentinel was posted outside the prison door and another at the only window. The prisoners' chances of escape by slipping away in the darkness, while outside, were better than when locked up. When the post commander heard the next day about the turning out of the prisoners in the night-time he ordered that it should not be repeated, and it may be assumed that the over-zealous lieutenant was admonished to use more discretion in the future.

About a week after the election, my company (C) received orders to be ready next morning in full marching order and proceed to Governor's Island to escort a detachment of Rebel prisoners from there to Elmira, New York, where the Government had established a large prison camp. As the other company remained at Fort Hamilton, we supposed that we would return there when our duty had been performed. We embarked on a steam-boat and soon arrived at the Governor's Island dock, where about two hundred ragged and hungry "Rebs," who had been confined in Castle Williams for a few days, were awaiting us. Each prisoner, as he stepped on board, received a loaf of bread and a piece of boiled beef to which he immediately did ample justice. The boat started for Jersey City where we put the prisoners on the cars of the Erie railroad. It was a special train, made up of emigrant cars, which made but few stops. I had charge of one of the cars in which every seat but four for the guard was occupied by a prisoner. With me were six privates as guards. I stationed three at each end of the car with their loaded rifles. When the train halted, one of the guards was stationed outside on each side of the car, and I also descended.

At Goshen and some other stations where we halted for a brief time, some of the citizens gave the prisoners fruit, cigars and tobacco, which we allowed to be passed to them through the car windows. It was quite late at night when we arrived at Elmira and turned our prisoners over to some guards, who marched them to the prison camp two miles or more away. The company passed the remainder of the night in some freight sheds, while the captain and lieutenant put up at the nearest hotel.

Next morning we were vexed and disgusted at learning that we were not to go back to New York, but were to remain at Elmira to guard prisoners. The general desire was to go back to the field and see the close of the war, of which a part of the Second Infantry had seen the beginning. We had made up our minds that the end was near; prisoners at the front had told us of the dire straits of General Lee's army for food and clothing and the rapidly diminishing forces. We felt angry with the authorities who had condemned us to such an inglorious duty, after our long and faithful service in the field, where we had lost more than a third of our number. But there was no help for it. As soldiers, we had to obey orders. We were not the only ones thus treated. The companies of the Twelfth and Seventeenth Infantry, who had left the field at the same time, had arrived here a few days before and were then doing duty. Subsequently we learned that the First Battalion of the Eleventh and the Second Battalion of the Twelfth were returned to the Army of the Potomac, where they remained to the end and were present at the surrender of General Lee's army. The company left at Fort Hamilton, together with our small "field and staff," was sent to Newport Barracks, Kentucky, there to recruit and reform the Second Infantry for future service.

The company marched from the Elmira depot a long distance beyond the suburbs of the town to the prison camp, near which we encamped, alongside of other troops. We put up "A" tents and raided some hay-stacks for bedding. It was cold, and as wood was furnished for cooking purposes only, we crowded around the kitchen fire, which had no shelter, to warm ourselves. All the troops, except the recently arrived regulars, were sheltered in temporary barracks.

The force guarding the Rebel prisoners, who were all of the rank and file, was composed of a battery of artillery, nearly a thousand regular infantry, several regiments of the Veteran Reserve Corps and a few others. The Veteran Reserve Corps was a new organization, something like Home Guards. It was composed of men considered unfit for field duty. In its ranks were a considerable number of men who had for a time served at the front. The active soldiers named this organization "The Invalid Corps." Colonel Moore of the Veteran Reserve Corps, the ranking officer, was in command of all the troops of the prison guard.

The prison camp near Elmira was established in July, 1864, and, at the time of our arrival, contained upwards of ten thousand prisoners. They had been in tents all summer but were then in barracks, within a stockade enclosing about forty acres. The main front with the principal gate and guard-house was close to and faced the road leading into Elmira, the back was near the Chemung river. A platform, from which the sentinels could overlook the prison yards and dead line, surrounded the entire stockade.

The site was badly chosen, there was a swamp within the enclosure and much of it was liable to be overflowed by the Chemung river. A great amount of sickness prevailed—at times five hundred were inmates of the prison hospital and as many more sick in quarters. More than ten per cent. of the prisoners died, while this prison existed; two thousand, nine hundred and seventeen were buried at the base of the hills about a mile from the prison. The greatest mortality was during the hard winter of 1864-'65, when often a dozen or more died every day and were removed every morning to be buried in trenches without any ceremony.

The Government allowed a soldier's rations for each prisoner, but that was considered too much for men who had practically no exercise, and it was left to the discretion of the prison commander, as to how much of the ration was to be issued. The saving was to constitute a fund for building quarters, hospitals, clothing, bedding and other supplies for the prisoners. At Elmira the prisoners received about two-thirds of a ration, served to them in two cooked meals daily. This kept them somewhat hungry, but they were far better off than our starving and shelterless prisoners in the South. When the inhuman treatment of our soldiers in the Southern prisons became known in the North, there was a hue and cry for retaliation; but I think none of it was practised in the Northern prisons. The suspension of the exchange of prisoners during 1864 by our Government caused increased suffering and many deaths of our soldiers in the Southern prisons.