On the morning of the eighth, after roll call, we were informed that an order had been issued for our immediate removal and that we would only be allowed to take one blanket or quilt, which was to be held open as we passed out of the door. We were to receive our rations outside. What a surprise this was to us after all the promises that had been made to us. A perfect bedlam ensued; men would grab up their best books, copies of Dickens, Shakespeare, law books, medical works, magazines, novels, tear out the leaves by the handful and throw the empty covers down on the floor. Next came the groceries, sugar, coffee, pepper, salt, soap, sardines, pineapples and cheese from New York; soused mackeral from Maine; pickled eels from Massachusetts; all sowed broadcast on the floor and mixed into a conglomerate mass a foot or two deep.
We started and at the head of the stairs I turned to take a last, farewell look. I could see many a short piece of candle that had been lighted and stuck fast to the plate which supported the roof, the blaze beginning to lap up the sheeting, but I did not stop to look back again, the outside was good enough for me. I passed down and out through the door, holding my blanket open, and received my hunk of corn bread as I passed out. We started up Franklin Street on the pavement, and, oh, how rough it was after seven months on the smooth floor of the prison. We had bid adieu to old Libby with all its horrors and terrors, yet it proved to be the best prison of my experience.
After marching awhile we turned to the left, then came thoughts of Belle Isle. But, no, we were not destined for that place, for we passed over the bridge, across the island and on to the depot, where we were put aboard some old freight cars. The bell rang, the wheels began to roll, and soon we were whirling over the iron rails. The cars were filthy with dirt, but the atmosphere was fresh, the meadows green and the air fragrant with the perfume of apple and peach trees in full bloom, and I assure you that it was a fragrance we all enjoyed for the time permitted; it was the free air of heaven.
It was the eighth of May and we were moving in a south-westerly course, our destiny being an enigma to us. Late in the afternoon we pulled into Danville, where we were unloaded and marched to a large brick building, which had just been evacuated by other prisoners. Around the outside of the building were a number of Union men, who were just convalescing from the smallpox; scabs were falling off and the men pitting nicely; however, we escaped contagion. We were only confined here about two weeks when we were again put aboard the cars and started south, passing through Charlotte, N.C., and Augusta, Ga., thence west to Macon. Here we left the train and were marched to the fair grounds, which covered about four acres. It was enclosed by a high board fence, with a platform and sentry boxes on the outside for the guard. When we got inside we found one large rustic building near the center, (floral hall) and in the north-west corner was an open shed, fourteen feet wide by over one hundred feet long, which had been built for our predecessors, who in turn had made cots or bunks by driving stakes into the ground about two feet apart, covering them over with boughs and limbs, and leaving just enough room between each one for a man to walk without inconvenience. I was fortunate enough to get one near the center, which was high and gave me a good shelter.
A tunnel spoiled by the rain—Captain Tabb's cruelties—Corn pone bakers—July 4th squelched—Beyond the "dead line"—Caught—Sherman sixty miles away—Charleston—Negro regimental prisoners—In the gallows' shadow—Whipping-post—Paroles—Money exchange drafts—The Anderson men.
We had been there a few days when I discovered that something unusual was taking place. Every night I could faintly hear the whispering of men engaged in some secret enterprise, but concluded that the best thing for me was to remain quiet and watch. Then came a big rain, which so thoroughly wet the ground that it caused a strip of earth about two feet wide and ten feet long to drop below the surface about ten inches, into a tunnel which these men had been digging. No one appeared to notice it, as it was outside of the dead line. The project was abandoned, but the hole under the shed remained intact. Some men who were digging in another part of the prison deposited the earth in this exposed hole, but the guards had "caught on" and were on the watch.
One night shortly after Captain Tabb, who was in charge of the prison, collected about twenty of his guard and, crawling up on the stockade, jumped over the fence and came down on us, swinging his sword, the guard following. They came through under the shed in single file and encircled my bunk and the one opposite, which covered the abandoned hole, and the captain said: