Corporal David L. Wentworth, Company G, Private Samuel R. Hersey, Company C, and Frank Veazie, officers’ cook, with about three hundred men (including Lieutenant Hamilton, Master Hannum, Engineers Plunkett and Stone, of the Harriet Lane), left Camp Groce, December 9th, for Shreveport. Long captivity in restricted quarters left them in such a debilitated condition that a march of any duration completely prostrated them.
The guard, some fifty men, under a good officer, was composed of a clever set of men, who made it easy for the prisoners so far as lay in their power, occasionally helping some poor fellows along by allowing them to ride their horses. Those too ill to walk (Hersey was among them, and towards the journey’s end Wentworth, sick with dysentery) were allowed to ride in the baggage wagons, five in number, an uncomfortable conveyance, none provided with springs, and the roads in poor condition.
Cooking utensils were scarce. Living principally upon “mush,” each mess, when they arrived at camping places, would try all sorts of tricks to secure a “dodger-pan” from some other mess, in spite of orders, “first come, first served.” Some would have to wait until late at night for their turn to come, while others, too tired, would retire to their bed of leaves and go to sleep hungry.
Every morning a start was made soon after daybreak, in order to reach each day’s destination as early as possible. On an average fifteen to twenty miles constituted a day’s march, and was done every day until December 22d, when a halt for several days was made, one mile beyond Tyler, to rest the weary prisoners. While here the officers left at Camp Groce passed them on their way to Camp Ford, without an opportunity being given to converse. Pleasant, cool weather was experienced the first four days, then came cold, windy weather for two days, then rain for one day, clearing off cold and windy and remaining so until the march ended, varied with a few rainy and many cloudy, damp and freezing cold days. It took six days to reach Trinity River, and several days more before arriving at Tyler. The march was resumed on Sunday, December 27th, crossing Sabine River during the morning, and continued each day until about sunset December 30th, when it ended, after an eighteen days’ tramp, and four days’ rest at Tyler, twenty-two days after leaving Camp Groce.
Even the negro drivers, rollicking jolly as they appeared to be, singing and yelling all day long, could not enliven this small regiment of marching sufferers. A favorite song, because it was constantly sang, and in a manner impossible for any white man to imitate, “Rock me Julie, rock me,” rang in the prisoners’ ears long after they had parted company with their ebony-colored singers.
The following account of what occurred while at Shreveport was written by Private Hersey, who claims that there is no exaggeration in his statements—facts alone are stated:
STATEMENT OF PRIVATE HERSEY.
“The last two days of the year 1863 will long be remembered by those members of our regiment who, with some three hundred other Federal prisoners, were wending their toilsome way over the rough, frozen roads leading from Marshall, Texas, to the Louisiana border, in expectation, when arriving there, of being exchanged or paroled. December 29th a fierce ‘Norther’ set in, which was soon accompanied by a severe storm of rain, hail, snow and sleet. Through this terrible storm we plodded on over a dreary region of woodland and prairie, with the icy hurricane piercing our tattered, scanty garments, the pelting rain and sleet drenching us to the skin. At night there was no shelter from the pitiless storm, excepting such as we could find under the wet, dripping branches of the forest trees, or form by twisting their limbs into arches and covering them with moss gathered from the cypress trees. Those who could creep in under the awnings of the army wagons, which the guard had appropriated for their own quarters, were fortunate indeed. Sleep or rest there was none, and for two days and nights our lives dragged on in utter misery.
“A dozen or more of our number were shoeless, and many a footprint stained with the blood of these unfortunate ones could be traced along the snow-covered ground. A score at least had no clothing, except an improvised suit made by tieing their well-worn army blankets around their waists. The hope of release urged many a poor captive forward, who otherwise would have succumbed to the fatigues and hardships of the long marches. Even the Confederate soldiers who guarded us, although much better provided for than ourselves, were scantily and meanly clothed, and suffered severely.
“On the thirtieth of the month, after a day of intense suffering from the severity of the weather and the length and fatigues of the march, we reached the end of our journey, or rather the place where we were to await the arrival of the agents of exchange or parole. We were halted in the depths of a snow-covered wood; there left to ourselves to find such shelter as leafless, dripping branches of the trees afforded. This locality was known as ‘Four Mile Springs.’