In the morning we were taken on board the rebel flag of truce boat, I was very weak, but Joe Shepard the good Samaritan of our regiment helped me aboard, and we started down the James river to Harrison Landing. Some one shouted “there is the old flag.” In an instant everybody was alert, and on looking down the river we caught a glimpse of “Old Glory” through the tree tops on one of the boats of our fleet. Such a time I never saw, we were the happiest boys on earth. We cheered, we shouted, we cried, we prayed, we were so happy. Many were going back to die, but they were glad to get where they could die under the dear old flag. We landed at Harrison Landing where the 25th Corps (colored) was stationed. It looked queer to me to see them on the skirmish line opposing the Rebels. Each fellow had his “gopher hole” to dodge in, one big black fellow picked me up like a baby and carried me back through the lines. They all came running to us with something to eat, those great black fellows with white hearts. My man carried me as far as he could go, and I walked a short distance to the river, where the transport “New York” was waiting for us. We went aboard and had a good meal of soft wheat bread, pickle pork, coffee with sugar and condensed milk, I thought I had never tasted anything so good. We arrived at Annapolis on Washington’s birthday, February 22, 1865.
I have tried in my own feeble way to tell something about my prison life. I have written it from memory and there may be some errors of dates, and etc. An old man’s memory is sometimes faulty. I have not told of all the horrors that I have witnessed, no tongue can tell nor pen describe what I have seen in these hells. To tell all would make a book, what I have told is true. I was discharged March 29th, 1865, at Todd Barracks in Columbus, Ohio.
William R. Browning
Private, Company I. 149th O. V. I.
Chillicothe, Ohio.
Incidents
While we were in camp at Chain Bridge we occupied the crest of a hill or ridge that sloped gradually to the south, making an ideal camping ground for the army. As night drew on camp fires were kindled and twinkled by thousands over the slope while the soldiers prepared their supper. Stories of their adventures and songs served to pass the evening. When the time came for “lights out,” a drum corps on the right began playing “The girl I left behind me.” A brass band in the centre struck up “Home Sweet Home.” These were all the tunes we recognized, for every band and drum corps in camp began playing. Pandemonium seemed to have broken loose, as the great volume of sound came up. Tunes could not be distinguished, the discord was terrific. It gradually died away as band after band ceased playing. A deep silence came over the plain, the stars blinked in the summer sky. The army was asleep.
Observation on the March.
Once on our march toward Snickers Gap I saw a squad of soldiers taking a cow from a farm lot, they had tied a rope around her horns two were tugging at the rope, and others were pushing. The woman of the house and her children were crying and begging them to let her alone. The argument was still on as we marched along.
On this same march we passed a field where a fight had taken place a day or two before. The dead had been buried and the wounded removed, but the field was full of dead horses. The stench from the swollen carcasses lying under the sweltering rays of the hot July sun was terrific. We hurried past as fast as possible, breathing a sigh of relief when we came again into the pure air of the mountains.