We were conducted to General Logan's Corps headquarters, were received by "Black Jack" with the same courtesy we had received at the other headquarters, and related some of our experience. Once more we were summoned; this time to see General Sherman. We found the hero seated by a good hot fire, composed of both rails and railroad ties. We were introduced to him and his staff and again made to review some of our late experience while effecting our escape. The general gave us a little talk, then instructed his adjutant general to give each of us a pass which would enable us to pass all guards and all patrols until further orders. The passes being written, General Sherman seated himself at a table, put his own signature to them and we had the pleasure of receiving them from his own hand.
After thanking him from the deepest sincerity of our hearts, we returned to the quarters of the 32d Wisconsin, where we found plenty of hot water and soap, also some extra clothing which had been found in some knapsacks, and right there and then we discarded our vermin filled garments, which had clung to us since our incarceration in old Libby, gave our bodies a thorough fumigating and scrubbing and arrayed ourselves in the new clothing given us, after which we looked and felt more like human beings.
On the morning of the twenty-second, while the regiment was standing in line waiting their turn to march in the passing column, a carriage drawn by a matched team of dapple-gray horses and driven by a soldier, approached and presented us (the Wisconsin escaped prisoners) with an invitation to come to Brigadier General Hobart's headquarters, First Brigade, First Division, Fourteenth Army Corps (The Acorn). We accepted the invitation, took possession of the carriage, and for the next twenty-four days we had the privilege and pleasure of holding down those seats on the line of march, which was almost a direct line northward. At the end of the first day we found General Hobart and bivouacked with his brigade at a place called Black Stock in North Carolina, nearly forty miles from Ridgeway Station. General Hobart, being an old Libbyite who had escaped through a tunnel from the prison in February, 1864, had a warm spot in his heart for us, and the reader may rest assured the welcome he gave us was no unmeaning affair; and the fact that he had furnished the carriage for us on this march gave emphatic evidence that he was fully aware of the hardships which we had been through.
The next morning the corps countermarched back into South Carolina, a distance of fifteen miles, then turned east, leaving the rebel army, which had been massing in our front, far in the rear. The remainder of my stay with that army was indeed pleasant, we were so comfortable in that carriage; besides, when meal time came, we enjoyed the luxuries of the quartermaster's table and every attention was shown to us which could in any way add to our interest and pleasure. At the end of the twenty-fourth day we reached Fayetteville, where we bid adieu to our carriage and those who had shown us so many courtesies. After a few preparations we took a boat for Wilmington.
While waiting at Wilmington for the boat we learned there were about seven hundred ex-prisoners there, enlisted men who were too weak, from their long confinement and sufferings, to be moved north. I visited them, thinking that perhaps I might find some one among them who had been captured with me. On my arrival at the first large warehouse, where a number of the men were, I went in. And what a horrible sight greeted my eyes. Instead of men who should have been in the prime of life and in the full strength of noble manhood I beheld, stretched out on blankets laid over a little of hay, a number of emaciated forms, looking more like skeletons than living beings, their eyes sunk in their sockets, many with no hair on their heads,—all arranged in a circle around the room with their heads toward the wall. I looked with horror upon that scene. I searched for faces, or even one face that was familiar. Alas! they looked at me in utter blankness. I continued my search and in all that number I found but two who could tell me their names, and even those two could give me no definite answer or information other than to name their regiment. My mission was vain, I could not talk to them; and they could no more answer my questions, than if they had been six months' old babies. Some of them could and did laugh; but, oh, such a laugh! It reminded one more of the babbling of an idiot than that of a sentient, human being. They would roll up their eyes at me and stare, then turn them in their sockets until the white appeared, causing indescribable shudders to creep over my frame. And these beings, when taken into custody by the southern "chivalry," were the flower of the best blood and brains in the North. They went forth to do battle for their country and their flag, in all of the pride of intelligent manhood, many of them from the best schools and colleges in the land; others from homes of comfort and affluence, where wives, mothers and sisters ministered unto them with all the love and devotion incident to a sacred home and fireside. They went forth to battle in full command of their strong physical constitutions, only, by the misfortunes of war, to fall into the hands of a set of men who, by all the rights of the best Government the sun ever shone upon, should have been the humane protectors of the fallen foe, but instead thereof had been more brutal in the treatment of their own fellow-citizens, victims of the same misfortunes of war, than had ever been dealt out by the savage Indian tribes of North America, or the cannibal natives of the Sandwich Islands. What a sad commentary upon the teachings that had been inculcated into the minds of the youth of those States, to perpetrate which—the oppression of a down-trodden race—they had rebelled against and attempted to destroy the Government which had been founded to provide homes for the poor and oppressed of all nations. No wonder that God in his wisdom finally overthrew the accursed institutions that were responsible for these atrocities.
After subduing my wrought-up feelings over the sights I had witnessed, I called at the quartermaster's office where I was given transportation on a Government transport to Baltimore and thence by rail to Washington; also an order to report to a certain officer on my arrival at the capital city. On reaching Washington I immediately reported as ordered, but I had to await my turn, being put off from day to day, as there were so many on the list who preceded me. Many of them were the same men with whom I had spent my prison life, who had been paroled and put through the lines and were now settling up their accounts, receiving their pay and getting their final discharge from the United States Government.
On reflection I concluded it would be better for me to see how my own account stood, so I went to the second auditor's office, and lost no time in having the clerks produce the books. I found that I was "short" as follows: "One cone wrench, 30 cents; one cap pouch, 35 cents; total, 65 cents." I produced the money to pay the shortage, but was informed by the clerk that the shortage could not be paid in that way. It then suddenly occurred to me that the aforesaid accoutrements had been lost in action, and I made an affidavit to that effect and my account was at once squared on the books. Since that time I have learned that many an officer was kept out of his pay for no more trifling thing than to be found short in the invoice of accoutrements for which he had receipted. Payment for the same was always rejected until their loss was fully explained. "Lost in action" was the best and easiest way out of the dilemma, and, fortunately for me, it let me out very nicely.
After I had reported to the officer every morning for two weeks, I finally received an envelope. I stepped aside to open it and found, inclosed, an order for me to report to my regiment within the next thirty days. As it happened, I had not been paroled, consequently I was still in the service of the army. The thirty days gave me ample opportunity to visit my friends, and I enjoyed my leave of absence very much. During that short period Lee had surrendered, Johnson was trying to dictate terms for capitulation and—the bloody contest was over.
When the thirty days were up I found my regiment at Burke's station, near Appomattox, from whence we immediately returned to Washington, where I marched with my regiment in review. After that, ten of the western regiments were cut out of the Army of the Potomac, organized into a separate division by themselves and placed under the command of Brigadier General John A. Morrill, formerly colonel of the 24th Michigan. My division reported to Major General John A. Logan, at Louisville, Ky., where we remained for a time, then went to Jeffersonville, Indiana, where I was mustered out of my regiment, July 3, 1865. We then went to Madison, Wisconsin, and on September 15th, I received my final parchment.
I had served three years and eleven months south of the Mason and Dixon line and worn a soldier's uniform for four years and two months. When our regiment was first equipped we were clothed in gray, but later, in common with all other soldiers under the Stars and Stripes, we were given the blue, and that was our color to the end of the service.