Ninth Cavalry: One Hundred and Twenty-first Regiment Indiana Volunteers

by Daniel Webster Comstock

In October permission was given to buy such eatables as were wanted, but not many of the officers could avail themselves of the liberty for want of money. Salt was bought for $3 a pound; coffee, $24 a pound; molasses, $10 a quart—Confederate money. In the stores, calico sold for $12 and $15 a yard; muslin, $15; good boots, $500 a pair; paper of pins, $6. These goods had been brought into Mobile through the blockade.

During the latter part of their imprisonment, after the guards had been taken off, an invalid Confederate soldier came into the camp with a jug of what he called "pine top whisky," and a tin cup. He offered the whisky at 50 cents a pint. There was only one colonel in the camp. He was an Ohio man. He bought a pint and drank it. He soon passed into an unconscious state, in which he remained for forty hours. The "pine top" could be depended upon. Some of the boys bought a sample pint, but finding it to be so much inferior to the apple jack of Tennessee, promptly discarded it.

The prisoners received some courtesies from Major Ward, Commander of the Post, and his Adjutant. Upon one occasion, in the absence of the Major, his Adjutant felt called upon to show some of the officers of the regiment special attention. He invited them to headquarters, extended to them the freedom of the establishment, which they accepted with such good will that the fun soon become fast and furious. The Adjutant set the pace, after a number of healths had been pledged on the absent Major's whisky, by breaking a camp stool. This example was followed by the invited guests, who joined in demolishing every article of furniture in sight. The Adjutant was not in a condition to escort his guests back to their camp, but they found their way without difficulty and knew the reason for the issuing of an order, which was read to them next morning, to the effect that no prisoner should visit headquarters without permission of the Major in command.

The monotony and weariness of confinement was sometimes relieved by the drollery of those whose love of fun could not easily be suppressed. The prisoners were often indebted for a good laugh to Captain Nation, of Company G, and Lieut. J. M. Jones, of Company M. A small boy rode into the camp the smallest mule our men had ever seen under saddle. Captain N.. who was about six feet tall, expressed a desire to ride the "critter." The boy dismounted, and the captain, letting out the stirrups to their full length, got into the saddle, his feet almost touching the ground. After putting the mule through the various paces he announced his intention of recruiting a "critter gang" for the Confederacy. Those who heard the captain's speech on the occasion will not soon forget its general tenor and the impression it made upon them. The speech was made from the back of the mule to the Union prisoners, Confederate guards and soldiers, citizens and negroes, who were attracted to the place by the captain's voice. It is greatly to be regretted that no phonographer was present to have taken it down literally as it came from the lips of the Hoosier orator, that it might be incorporated in this true history. He called for volunteers to uphold the flag of the Confederacy. He said he was going to raise a "critter gang company." No one would be required to walk and only to ride when it suited him; that the pay would not be any object; that each private would be furnished with a "critter" in size and color like the one he then rode, and should have a nigger to feed and care for him; that this variety was superior to all others and had been bred especially for the Confederate service, easy to mount and not dangerous to fall from; that only a limited number of volunteers would be received, and that now was the time to subscribe. The captain held the undivided attention of his audience, surprising and entertaining them with his wit and humor for a half hour, and dismounted and retired amid great applause.

While at Enterprise our men were almost entirely shut out from the world. The Mobile Register, costing 50 cents a copy, was occasionally to be had, and, unrelished and unsatisfactory as it was, yet was sought and read with great eagerness.

The privates and non-commissioned officers were marched from Meridian, Miss., to Cahaba, Ala. This was a violation of the spirit if not the letter of the terms of the surrender. On the march some ten days were consumed. They were placed in a pen or stockade and were subjected to the usual process of searching, and anything of any value found on their persons appropriated by their captors. They were not the first occupants of the pen. It already contained Union prisoners, literally half-clothed, some having only a shirt, some pantaloons without shirt, and some only a part of pantaloons, and all alive with grey-backs. The rations issued were substantially the same as those issued to the officers, consisting of one pint of corn meal a day and a piece of fresh pork, one inch square every other day, although some times the authorities forgot or failed to issue the rations for a day or two, very much to the disgust of the boys. If the prisoners had been fastidious or over-particular they might have complained of the custom to the prison authorities, which cut up the meats for distribution on the same log on which the dead soldiers were placed before burial. A Dutch skillet was allowed to each mess of ten men, as the only cooking utensil. During the time of their imprisonment the rains were frequent and heavy, and the cooking being done out of doors, our men were obliged often to partially shelter the fire with their bent bodies while cooking, to prevent the fires from being put out. The wood used for fuel was green white pine. The Alabama River overflowed its banks and for two weeks the pen was flooded, the water standing from two to four feet in depth. Cord-wood was floated in, out of which scaffolding was constructed by the prisoners to keep themselves out of the water. During this time the rations were eaten raw. It is needless to say that under such conditions, without shelter, exposed to the rain, but poorly fed, men died every day from exposure and want, and that those who survived were weak as children. Their imprisonment which seemed so long to them, at last was ended. The officers were sent North on parole December 10, 1864, but the enlisted men not until April, 1865, at which date they were started North, and in their enfeebled condition, although buoyed up by the hope of meeting friends and seeing home, it took them five days to march from Jackson to Black River bridge, a distance of forty miles, and when they came into the camp of their old regiment these brave fellows looked so gaunt, famished and woe-begone that they were but counterfeits of their former selves.

The terms of the surrender may be said to have been fairly observed, except that the colored soldiers were sent to Mobile to labor at the salt-works. Their officers shared the fortunes of the officers of the white troops. Most of the prisoners of this expedition took passage soon after their arrival at Vicksburg on the steamer Sultana, an account of the wreck of which is given hereafter.

During their imprisonment, the officers were treated fairly well. They were kept in prison at Meridian, Miss., about a week. The prison was a stockade made of poles with the ends in the ground and a scaffolding around the outside, near the top, on which the vigilant Johnny sentinel paced his beat. There was a dead line within the stockade, to which our boys paid marked respect. There were two log cabins in the centre of the stockade, entirely destitute of furniture, paved with sand and the steady companion of the boys—the gray-back. There were probably more gray-backs than grains of sand. They kept the boys employed when otherwise time would have lagged most slowly. The boys were not without money (I speak of the officers). They had dead loads of Confederate New Issue. They sold their horses for $600 to $1,000 a piece. It was a poor scrub that would not bring $600 in the market of Meridian. Watches brought from $500 to $1,500; knives and cork-screws from $50 to $100, and other articles in proportion. The people had the money and wanted to get rid of it. They were permitted to buy what the town afforded—not furnished in their rations, which were liberal in bacon, corn meal, and salt. After a week at Meridian, they were sent to Enterprise, a village fifteen miles below Meridian. When unguarded, they were put on their parole of honor not to leave the limits of the town. They took possession of a big tobacco warehouse, converting it into a dormitory and headquarters, but took their meals at the houses of the citizens in town, they being glad to take the rations of the boys, with what else they could buy, and a consideration in New Issue, in exchange for table board. Early in December they marched from Enterprise to Memphis. There they were ordered to report at Camp Chase, Columbus, Ohio, where they were exchanged and reported to the regiment at Gravelly Springs, Ala., late in January, 1865.

The following officers of the regiment were in the action of Sulphur Branch Trestle:

Major Eli Lilly.