Observations of an Illinois Boy in Battle, Camp and Prisons—1861 to 1865

by Henry Harrison Eby

Days and weeks passed slowly on, with nothing to cheer us, but everything to depress our spirits. Cold, hungry, and discouraged with the sight of so much misery all about us, little wonder that some lost their reason. Our main topic of conversation was the comforts of home, and the subject of something to eat, especially as this was most forcibly impressed upon our minds. I well remember receiving as a part of one day’s rations some small beans (called here cow beans). Some were red and others black. I placed them in my left hand and counted them, and found that there were just fifteen. These were all the beans that I received while on the island, and as I had no means of cooking them I ate them raw.

At another time I received a piece of boiled beef, about the size of a black walnut, which was all the meat I had to eat while on the island. After a short stay in this place I began to fail rapidly. On arising in the morning I would ache all over, and could scarcely straighten up, and it appeared to me that even the marrow in my bones was chilled. Occasionally I would take a walk down to the water’s edge, in order to start circulation and get a little warmth into my shivering body, in which I generally failed. In order to get to the water we were obliged to pass down through a narrow lane, fenced on each side with a tight high board fence, and plenty of guards on all sides. Through this we passed to procure water, and to wash our hands and faces if we washed at all. We were not supplied with washbasins, and therefore when washing would use the river as a basin, which did not improve the water for drinking purposes, where several thousand men washed within a space of 30 or 40 feet in length. The closet was also located very near where we obtained our drinking water. This was at the lower end of the island where there was no current to carry away the filthy water.

Our clothes could not be washed because the weather was too cold. We were in the same predicament as the man who possessed only one suit and was obliged to go to bed while his garments were being washed. But we were not so fortunate as he because we had no beds to go to and not even what a person would call a suit.

During some of these walks I saw most horrid sights as I walked through the camp. I remember one day of seeing several boys or young men who had become so weakened and emaciated by their treatment here that they were unable to stand erect while walking but were obliged to bend over like old men of eighty. Their clothing on the outside, under their arms, was white with graybacks and nits, and as I stood looking at the poor boys I wondered what must be the condition on the inside of their garments. But I was helpless as far as giving them relief. They were only a sample of hundreds of similar cases. As I stated in a previous chapter, we who were able would take off our shirts, turn them inside out, and kill (between our only weapons of defense our thumb-nails) all the graybacks we could find. During this operation we would keep our coats (when we possessed any) closely buttoned around our shivering bodies. But many poor fellows had become unable to do even this much toward their own comfort, and there were hundreds and thousands in the same wretched condition. At other times, when passing through the prison, I saw squads of prisoners who were such objects of pity that I am utterly incapable of describing them. The memory of them will remain fresh in my mind as long as I live. Some were mere skeletons, scarcely able to move, barefooted, pants worn off halfway to their knees, shirt or coat sleeves worn off nearly to the elbow, their long matted hair and whiskers which had not been cut for months hanging over their dirty, emaciated faces. Add to this, in many instances, perhaps sore and frozen feet. They were objects calculated to enkindle pity in the heart of a tyrant. Again, I saw some who were unable to walk, lying on the ground with no better clothing than those I have just described, and no other protection from the bitter cold.

To these death soon came as a welcome relief. Nearly every morning a number of dead were carried out to some burial place. All these scenes did not have an inspiring effect on us. The craving for meat had become so intense that one day as Lieut. Boisseux, commander of the guards, came strolling through the prison pen with his pet dog following him, the dog was enticed into a tent by some of the prisoners. They caught him, cut his throat, dressed him and prepared the meat for cooking, which was soon done, and he was devoured by the hungry men. I did not see any of this transaction, but learned of it through other prisoners. One day I met one of the prisoners who possessed a small brass kettle. He showed it to me and said, “This is the kettle in which we cooked the dog.” I wondered where they could procure fuel enough to cook a dog, as it was a very scarce article on the island. The dog was probably cooked a few days before my arrival on the island.

As the days passed on, the suffering from cold and hunger increased at a rapid rate. I could notice that I was failing and growing weaker every day, and would sometimes almost despair of ever getting out of that place of torment alive, but did not give up the struggle for dear life. One day as I was strolling through the prison, to my great surprise and delight I met two members of my own company, Alonzo Fish and John Stevenson, who were captured and brought to Belle Island during my confinement in the Richmond prisons. Of course we were greatly rejoiced, but sorry to meet under such conditions.

The death rate among the prisoners was becoming more alarming, as it seemed the strongest of them were succumbing to the rigors of the weather and starvation. The time was now near spring and the cold was abating somewhat, but yet the suffering was intense, from different causes. I never have read of such an amount of intense suffering at any place (except at Andersonville, Ga.) as I experienced and saw here in this dreadful place. The only hope I had was that the weather would become more mild, and the suffering in that respect might abate.

It was now about March 10, and they were and had been transferring prisoners from the island to Andersonville, Ga. Every alternate day they called for 600 prisoners, marched them out through the gate and across the bridge near the iron works to the south bank of the river, and generally across the long bridge to the city, where they were loaded into cars and sent south. We could see the trains passing over the long railroad bridge below the island. One day when they called as usual for 600, my chum, William Herrick, who had escaped with me from the Danville prison, went out with them, and the last time that I saw him was when they marched along just outside the dead line, on their way to Andersonville. The poor man ended his life there, as I afterwards learned.

The majority of us who were confined here were men who had seen several years’ service in the front of the army, and had often slept on the cold ground in our rain-soaked clothes, but this place was many degrees worse. We were helpless to assist our poor sick and dying comrades, because we could get nothing to help them with. We could not get as much as a few leaves or weeds to place between their emaciated bodies and the cold ground, in their dying hour. The surface of our prison pen was as bare as though it had been swept. Not a leaf, straw or anything of the kind could be found, that might be used in making some sort of a bed.

Being starved down, by receiving less than one meal per day, and that of poor quality, with not a spark of fire by which to warm our chilled bodies, scarcely able to straighten up, our garments on the inside infested with vermin, dirty in the extreme, no change of clothing and with long matted hair; all this made us feel indescribably miserable, and made the place a hell upon earth. Our farmers would build a roof over their hogpens to shelter their swine from the rain and snow, and give them straw for a bed and enough to eat, but we possessed none of these comforts. If a farmer would treat his stock as we were treated he would not expect them to live many months. One day while standing in the midst of the prison, looking over the mass of thousands of human beings—most of them in a deplorable condition—I saw some of them aimlessly moving about, seemingly not knowing where they were going. Of course we were all in suspense with regard to our future treatment, not knowing how long our misery would continue to increase or how or where it would end.