Reminiscences of the Civil War

by Cora Mitchel

The steamboat was crowded and, as it was at the time of a great flood, there was much to see and remember. The banks of the river were entirely under water, and sometimes the river was a large and continuous lake. Only those who have traveled on one of the Southern rivers can understand the romance and beauty of it all. The huge, moss-draped trees, the landings at night, with the negro crew singing their weird songs while unloading by the light of pine knots burning in wire cages. The trip was none too long for my excited fancy. My life in Columbus has always been a happy recollection. I loved my school and teacher, and the thrilling and dreadful events that took place touched me very lightly.

The next event of importance was that a brother two years older than I had been taken from the schoolhouse in Apalachicola by a detachment of soldiers, and conscripted into the Southern army. He was not allowed to go home even for a change of clothing. He was below the age limit, which limit had been lengthened at both ends since the beginning of the war.

My parents were greatly distressed and besought the colonel to release him, but without avail, and he was hurried off to the camp.

Fortunately, he had some friends in the company who gave him food and cared for him as well as they could. The colonel said he had “no food for conscripts.”

Not many months after this he came up to Columbus on a furlough, his health having broken down under poor food and the malarial air from the swamps. He was much changed from the rugged, healthy boy I had left behind in Apalachicola. We did all we could to repair damages in the short time allowed him, and were very sorry to have him leave us and go back to the privations of the camp.

The war progressed, but being so far from the scene of conflict, I was affected mainly by the troubles of my friends who had members of their families in the active army. Occasionally a father or son would be home for a while, and often the news of friends being killed in battle would shock the community, so there was little rest or happiness. I remember a feast gotten up for some Southern soldiers going through Columbus to join the army, and enjoyed waiting on the table. Though food was scarce and costly, every one gave of their best, and there was much cheering and enthusiasm. Quite a contrast to this, was our going down to the station to see a load of prisoners being taken to Andersonville. I saw no food or drink given them. They were huddled as close together as was possible, and all I could do was to pity their forlorn condition. It seemed only one of the natural conditions of war.

One day, coming home from school, I was met with the astounding news that my father had gone down to the blockading vessel in the harbor, taking my brother with him, and both were on their way North! The world seemed upside down for a while, and I was conscious that my eyes grew big with wonder and amazement. At last more tidings came, and we realized the whole situation.

My brother had had a very severe relapse of the fever, and his life had been in much danger, but the kindness of his fellow soldiers and his strong constitution had pulled him through; and when able to be helped to his saddle, he was told he could have a few days’ furlough, to go to his family in Apalachicola. When he arrived after two days’ riding and resting, he looked so very ill that it was evident he could not go back to camp, for the boy’s life would be the penalty. Father’s decision was quickly made. “How long can you stay here?” he asked. “Two nights.” “We will see about that,” was the answer.

Father knew that it would never do to let him return, and the only alternative was to take him North by the way of the blockade. Everything had to be done with the utmost secrecy, for the lives of all concerned in the transaction were at stake. If any small detail miscarried, the consequences were fatal. The most difficult item was getting some one to row them down the bay. Once on board the blockade, they were safe unless the ship should be captured.

Father was so loved and respected in the town that he was able to overcome even this difficulty, and two men promised to be ready at the wharf at a certain time. These men had been in the habit of going down for oysters and fish, so their movements were not noticed. They had been suspected of helping others off, but it could not be proved.