Sword and Pen / Ventures and Adventures of Willard Glazier

by John Algernon Owens

Captain Glazier states that he was within ten feet of the lieutenant when the shot was fired, and that the latter was not within thirty feet of the fatal line. The incident was not very exhilarating upon the threshold of his new abode, and the prisoners naturally felt greatly exasperated when they heard the particulars.

An order was promulgated next morning by the officer commanding, Captain W. K. Tabb, directing that "any of their number not in ranks at roll-call should be shot," which was not calculated to make them think more kindly of their jailers. The fact is, that the prisoners, in pursuance of a settled determination to lose no opportunity of escape that seemed at all feasible, had been again making experiments in tunneling, and this atrocious order was intended as a measure of precaution against similar schemes in future.

Thus excluded from the relief afforded by such hopeful occupation, their poor captives had to find other employment for their leisure hours, and at this time a kind of religious revival took place among them, and if human prayer could have effected the destruction of the Confederacy, that organization would certainly have crumbled into dust forthwith. The enthusiasm was so great that at times the exercises bordered upon tumult, and greatly incensed their less fervent guards. At one time a huge Western man poured forth such a rhapsody in favor of Grant and Sherman, and garnished it with such pungent denunciations of Jefferson Davis, and other Confederate magnates, that one of the jailers commented thus: "D—d smart praying, but it won't do! It won't do!"

On the morning of the tenth of August, an order from the Confederate War Department was read before the entire garrison of Camp Oglethorpe, and caused much excitement. This order directed that a detachment of fifty prisoners, selected from officers of the highest rank, should be forwarded to Charleston, in order that they might be placed under the fire of the siege guns with which the beleaguering Union forces were attempting the reduction of that city. The order further directed that Generals Scammon, Wessels, Seymour, Schuyler and Heckman should be included in the number. The mandate was of course at once executed, and the departure of the devoted band was the signal for a wild burst of indignant reprobation of the Confederate authorities. It happened also, at this time, that one of the sentinels shot and mortally wounded a prisoner. The victim's name was Otto Grierson, and he had been a general favorite. The excuse assigned for the murder was that he was endeavoring to escape, but his comrades declared that at the time the shot was fired, he was fully sixteen feet from the dead-line, and had made no attempt to escape. Young Glazier and others joined in a formal report of the facts to the officer in command, but the only result was that the murderer received promotion, and was granted a furlough!

If the statements of Captain Glazier regarding this and other contemporaneous outrages are to be relied upon (and he is very strongly corroborated), the officers commanding this military prison sadly abused their trust. Even the highest of those officials indulged in such petty exhibitions of puerile spite as to be altogether unworthy of his station, or even the name of an American.

On the arrival of the Fourth of July, the prisoners very naturally determined, as far as their limited resources would permit, to celebrate the occasion. Accordingly, in true American fashion, a meeting was called, at which speeches of a patriotic character were made, songs sung, and a miniature flag, containing the full number of stars and stripes, which one of their number had concealed about his person, was produced, and became an object of much interest. Instead of magnanimously ignoring all this harmless enthusiasm, the commander of the prison marched in a company of guards and violently dispersed the meeting!

On the twenty-seventh of July, six hundred prisoners were counted out, as they supposed to be added to the others under fire at Charleston, but really for removal to Camp Davidson, at Savannah, Georgia.

This change proved for the better. In the first place, in lieu of the Sahara of shadeless sand and clay of their former prison grounds, they found at "Davidson" a number of fine oaks, beneath the shade of which they were permitted to recline in peace. In addition to this, and a matter of infinitely greater importance, their guards were officered by gentlemen. Captain Glazier states that the authorities here issued tents, cooking utensils, and decent rations, and adds this tribute to their generally manly conduct toward the prisoners: "The troops here have seen service, and there is nothing like the battle-field and the suffering there experienced to teach soldiers humanity toward each other. Whenever attempts are made to escape, they give us to understand that they would do the same themselves, under like circumstances, but are still compelled to punish such infractions of discipline. They politely ask our pardon for inspecting our quarters, and in a manner as gentlemanly as possible, remove our blankets from the floor of our tents in their search for incipient tunnels. All this is very gratifying and tends to assuage the bitter hatred which former brutality has engendered. These Georgia boys will be long remembered, and may look for the utmost kindness and consideration from us if the chances of war ever reverse our situations."

This is a record for Georgia nobler far than any she ever gained upon the battle-field, albeit her sons were always in the van. All honor to them! Such victories are well worth the winning.

But pleasant as their Georgia quarters were by comparison with former experiences, the captives were afflicted with the malade du pays—the home-sickness that tugged at their hearts, and bade them again and again risk death for the chance of freedom. Tunnel after tunnel was attempted, and one, constructed by a select band (sworn to secrecy), was upon the eve of completion, when a straggling cow blundered upon the frail covering of turf, and became so securely imbedded in the falling earth that she could not extricate herself. Her bellowing attracted the attention of the sentinel, the plot was discovered, and, of course, frustrated.