General Schoepf evidently thought that East Tennessee, as a section of country in the South, was the most disloyal to our cause, its citizens being largely Union people, and that these East Tennesseeans would certainly accept his liberal offer, and, by that means, make a break in our ranks. It is hardly necessary to say that he gave it up as a bad job, and did not attempt another such experiment. In connection with this, however, I regret to have to say that a few weak brothers were found in our ranks, who took the oath of allegiance and were then separated from the rest of the prisoners, in a special camp about a half mile distant, where they were designated by us as “Galvanized Yankees.”
After spending a part of the winter at Fort Delaware, one morning there appeared a notice at what we called a postoffice, inside of the big gate, calling upon all Marylanders, prisoners of war, to appear at the gate with their baggage; which, of course, was construed to mean that Governor Swann had succeeded in his effort to secure a parole for these Marylanders, and that they would be taken to Washington for the purpose of being paroled and permitted to go home to remain until properly exchanged. This, of course, created considerable excitement and rejoicing among the Marylanders, which was shared largely by the rest of the prisoners, although they could not hope to ever be favored in the same manner. It was a source of comfort and gratification to us to know that some of our friends, at least, would be saved the sufferings and almost certain death, even if we could not share it with them.
While they were forming in line, by fours, headed for the big gate, an acquaintance belonging to Hood’s Brigade, whose name was Robert Brantley, of Navasota, called to me and said, “Good-bye, Henry.” I said, “Where are you going, Bob?” He said, “I am going to try to get out with these men.” I said, “How are you going to try to do that?” He said, “I have two names and am going to answer to one of them at roll call.” I said, “Bob, you do not want two names; you can’t answer to both. If you will give me one of them I will try to go out with you.” He said, “All right, come on.” I had time enough to go into the barracks and get an oilcloth satchel, which had been given me at Bowling Green; then I had a magnificent cape overcoat, left me by Major Ousley in Bowling Green prison; with this coat on and this citizen’s new satchel, the coat extending over the top of my boots, hiding partly worn butternut pants. I passed for a Marylander pretty well, seemingly as well dressed as they were, while Bob looked ragged, like one of these Hood Brigade men that had not had any clothing furnished them in some time, and appeared rather suspicious among this well dressed crowd. In giving me the name he retained the name of Charles Erbert, who belonged to the First Maryland Cavalry, and who had died in prison. The name of Charles Stanley, which he gave me to use, was the name of a son of a preacher Charles Stanley was sick in the hospital, and his father, ostensibly to preach to the troops at the fort, was permitted the privilege of a visit, mainly for the purpose of being with his son in the hospital.
The keeper of the prison roll was a Lieutenant Wolff, a renegade Virginian, who was also a “Galvanized Yankee.” Wolff was also acquainted with many of the Marylanders, and particularly with Charles Stanley, on account of his father visiting there. Wolff’s acquaintance with the Marylanders was through their clothing and money sent them, which passed through his hands.
We were soon marched out to the wharf, where the “Osceola” was awaiting us to carry us to the flag of truce boat, “New York,” anchored in midstream, as the water was too shallow for her to come up to the wharf. We were held on the wharf for nearly an hour before a roll call commenced, during which time I suggested to Bob to separate, for him to take the opposite edge of the party to the edge that I would take, then to post himself on the circumstances of his man’s capture and the location of his home in Maryland, telling him that we might be questioned, and, if posted, we could have a ready answer, thereby keeping down suspicion. Bob said he did not think there was any danger in that; his greatest apprehension was that he would be personally recognized by some of the Yankees, as he had been at work in the cook house, where he made the acquaintance of quite a number, and he thought perhaps Lieutenant Wolff might recognize him, while I had no fear of anything of that kind.
Finally a major, with several other officers, appeared. Lieutenant Wolff was already there. The major began calling the roll alphabetically. When he called the name of Charles Erbert, Bob failed to answer. I decided if he called it the second time that I would answer to the dead man’s name, believing that Bob had lost his nerve and would not answer at all. When he called the name the second time we both answered, but I kept down, while he jumped up quickly. This drew the major’s attention to him, and he never knew who it was that answered over on my side of the crowd. I forgot to mention that we were all squatted down on the wharf. When Bob walked out boldly, attempting to pass the major, on his way to the boat, the major stopped him. “What is your name, sir?” “My name is Charles Erbert.” The major, without any further questioning, told him to take a seat and called up a guard to take charge of him. This sudden decision of the major that there was fraud was no doubt prompted by both of us answering to the same name, yet it created a suspicion with me that perhaps we had been betrayed, as they kept a lot of spies in the prison all the time. As considerable time was consumed in calling the names, down to the letter S, I had ample time to prepare for the issue, and when the name of Charles Stanley was called I jumped up and boldly went forward, passing him, without looking. I was favored by Lieutenant Wolff being engaged in shaking hands with one of the Marylanders and eating an apple with his back turned to the major when he called the name of Charles Stanley, evidently not hearing it, and which I did not permit him to call the second time. I therefore passed through unmolested. As heretofore stated, my appearance tallied pretty well with the rest of the Marylanders and Bob Brantley’s appearance was in striking contrast with theirs.
After getting on the boat and mixing with the Marylanders, I was congratulated by them on my success and promised a good time when they reached home. As soon as all were aboard, the “New York” weighed anchor, when, the next morning, running down the coast on the Atlantic, we were told that we would have to remain down in the hold on the second deck until they could wash decks. They closed down the hatch and only permitted us to come on the main deck when we discovered that we were at Point Lookout, Maryland, under the guns of a thirty-two-pound battery, and the Potomac flotilla, and were then told to march out, and were led into what we called a “bull pen,” where we found about ten or twelve thousand prisoners quartered in little A tents on the sand of the seashore, with nothing else to protect them from the winter’s blast. Had we suspected their motive, we could have easily overpowered the guard on the big steamer, beached and burned her and scattered out in Maryland, without taking a parole. At Point Lookout our camp was laid off in State divisions, a row of little A tents on each side of a wide street with a cook house for each division at the head of it. We were here furnished rations the same as we had at Fort Delaware, by marching in and taking our position at the long table in front of each ration. Sometimes we had a cup of what they called bean soup, but it was always my misfortune to get a cup of bean water, the cook failing to stir up the soup and thoroughly mixing the beans with the water. Besides this, we had three crackers and an inch of meat. This we had twice a day, as at Fort Delaware, and considerable suffering on account of hunger was thereby entailed.
As stated, we were quartered in tents by State Divisions. Coming there with the Marylanders, under a Marylander’s name, I started with the Maryland Division, but in connection with this, soon joined the Texas Division, Tennessee Division and Louisiana Division and drew rations with every one of these divisions, thereby securing three extra rations which I divided among my messmates.
In order to improve my time, with nothing else to do, I decided to try to learn the French language and for this purpose, joined a Louisiana mess, the men belonging to the Seventh Louisiana, who were Creoles and spoke nothing but French in their mess. In a short time, I was enabled to understand some of their talk and they, as well as I, thought I was getting along fine, and I believe if I could have continued with them six months I would have spoken French fluently.
While at this point General Butler was appointed Exchange Agent, this in response to the clamor of the people in the North, demanding exchange, as their people were dying in our prisons, as well as our people in theirs; but, the policy of their War Department, sanctioned by Abraham Lincoln, was not to exchange a prisoner if they could avoid it. They did not want to reinforce our army from that source when our country was about exhausted for men. To carry their point on this they cared very little for their men in our prisons and even openly claimed that it was a protection to their army to enforce non-exchange even at the sacrifice of the men in our prisons.