We had no more than got quietly settled, when a cry arose of, "Look out, boys, there she comes!"
On looking up, we saw a small white cloud suddenly make its appearance over our heads, followed by a dull, reverberating sound, and a piece of exploded shell came screaming over us. Strange as it may seem, the sound of that missile was inspiring. We realized that we were within shot of friends; that five minutes before, that piece of iron had been handled by "boys in blue," under the protecting folds of the stars and stripes. Such expressions as these, were heard from all parts of the house and yard: "Good for you, old fellows! Hurrah! Hurrah! Uncle Sam is feeling for us. Give us another!" As another burst in an adjoining street, scattering big pieces of iron in every direction, it was greeted with hearty cheers from the prisoners.
It must not be inferred from this that we were so foolhardy as to court danger, or that we really enjoyed being under fire; but we were under the influence of excitement, and zealous to impress upon the Confederates around us, that we should not aid them by making any request to our government to suspend operations on our account. We also took into consideration the fact that a city was a large thing to shoot at, and the chances of being hit or injured not alarming. We took the precaution, however, of establishing a watch for shells, and I have no doubt that every man had his place of refuge picked out, in case of actual danger.
From our point of view, the sight of the bombardment at night was exceedingly fine. A dull, heavy report would be heard, and almost simultaneously something that looked like a shooting star would be seen moving with great rapidity toward the zenith, until it reached its greatest altitude, when it would fall to the earth almost perpendicularly, usually bursting in the air at an elevation of from fifty to a hundred feet, scattering fragments in every direction.
Only once, during our stay of nearly a month, were we in real danger. One day, about noon, when the most of us were in the building, a fragment of shell came crashing through the roof and two floors, on its way down passing through a table surrounded by a party eating dinner. Fortunately, only one man was hurt, and he but slightly. From the jocular manner in which the strange visitor was greeted, one might have supposed it was a mere piece of pleasantry, arranged for our special benefit.
Daily Experiences
Our rations in this prison were good in quality, varied, and plentiful. Daily we drew corn meal, flour, salt, fresh meat, rice, sugar, molasses, and beans. Besides this, those having money were permitted to purchase milk, sweet potatoes, shrimps, and other luxuries from the hunters, who were principally negroes. In short, we were now treated humanely, as we were entitled to be by the laws of nations and the customs of civilized governments. This change in our treatment, we were informed, was due to the humanity of General Sam Jones, who commanded the department.
Our surroundings at this place were as pleasant as we could expect. The yard and grounds of the Roper Hospital were laid out with care and taste. Beautiful flowers bordered the well-kept walks; orange and lemon trees perfumed the air; two large fig trees dropped their fruit at our feet, and furnished magnificent shade from the fierce rays of the sun. It was a very paradise of Confederate prisons. The officials, too, were gentlemanly and courteous, and seemed really desirous of making our condition as comfortable as was in their power.
Here, too, for the first time, we received mail from home, which came to us by flag of truce. It is almost impossible to describe the longing all felt for news from home: to hear from wives and families, and, not least, to hear from friends in the army. We had written many letters, which we were assured would by flag of truce be forwarded by our captors, but we had as yet received nothing, and the "Stale fish" Libby prisoners had received no mail since leaving Richmond in the previous spring. Imagine, then, the commotion caused by a voice loudly bawling, "Yankee mail! Turn out for letters."