Capture and Escape: A Narrative of Army and Prison Life

by John Azor Kellogg

At Danville

Before we had perfected our tunnel, we were removed to Danville. There we were confined in a two-storied brick building that had been used as a prison for deserters, and was filthy beyond description. The floors were covered with dirt and grease, and literally swarmed with vermin. Our rations here, consisted of pea soup and corn bread. Such bread, and such soup! The very recollection is nauseating. Guards were stationed around the building, with orders to shoot any person seen looking out of the windows. The first knowledge we had of the existence of such an order was, by a bullet whistling through the room, and grazing an officer's head. The official in charge of the prison apologized for this occurrence, telling us that he had forgotten to notify us of the standing order given the guard, a slight omission that might have proved fatal to some of us.

Removed to Macon

We remained here but a few days, when we were again packed in freight cars and started for Macon, Georgia. Every change in our place of imprisonment thus far had been for the worse, yet we hailed this news almost with rapture. We thought, poor fools! that anything was better than our present situation. Alas! We had not yet tasted the dregs of the bitter draught before us. We had not conceived the idea that such a brute as "Hog Winder" could exist, or that men wearing the human form could be so debased as to serve as the willing agents of such a demon. We had not even heard the names of Tabb and Wirz. We were then miserably dirty, covered with vermin, and half starved; but we had yet to learn the horrors of starvation.

Happily ignorant of the future, we gladly started for our new destination. A rumor of an exchange in progress filled us with new hope, and although standing room was scarce and a chance to sit down at a premium in our crowded cars—seventy-five men being packed into each small-sized freight car—once more the song and jest went round. We could even laugh, as we told and retold each other that we should certainly be exchanged now; the more sanguine being sure that we were even then on the way to a general rendezvous established on the coast for that purpose.

While the train halted at Augusta to take on wood, a crowd gathered around to see the show—among others a boy about twelve years old, who carried a large market basket filled with sandwiches. We looked longingly at the food and tried to purchase, but he refused to sell to "Yanks," and the guard seemed highly pleased at his spirit, allowing him to approach near to the train.

Ours was the last car, and he lingered around the rear of it, talking with us, always in the most defiant manner; only it seemed to me that his countenance did not denote him to be the ferocious rebel his language seemed to indicate, and I could not help thinking it strange that he should refuse to sell to the guards, who tried to buy of him. At last the train began to move. He waited until we were fairly under way, then tossed the basket to us and ran back into the crowd.

In the basket was a note from his mother, a Union woman, filled with brave, hopeful words, saying that she trusted to the native shrewdness of her son to secure to us her offering. The note was handed round, and many a thankful heart blessed that woman, not so much for the timely offering of food, as for the words of sympathy and kindness that accompanied the gift.

After a long and exceedingly tiresome journey, we arrived at Macon. I can not even now repress a shudder as I pronounce that name. It is associated in my mind with suffering, misery, starvation, death.

Near a beautiful grove of trees, about twenty rods from the railroad, was an enclosure of about five acres, nearly square in form, surrounded by a fence constructed of pine boards twelve feet long, fastened perpendicularly to rails in the same manner we sometimes see tight-board-fences made in the North. Four feet from the top, on the outside, a walk was constructed. On this sentinels were stationed at intervals of about fifty feet. Near the entrance, on the outside, was the office of the commander of the prison, a small wooden structure.