Reminiscences of the Nineteenth Massachusetts Regiment

by John G. B. Adams

The pen was very filthy; the mules had recently vacated, and it had not been cleaned. Moore said, “Make yourselves as miserable as possible, and I hope to God not one of you will be alive in the morning.” Gangs of the roughs came in and tried to trade. One of the boys came to me, saying, “I have a watch that they did not find; one of these men says he will give four blankets for a watch, and I think I had better let him have it, as we shall freeze to death here.” I assured him that he would lose his watch and get no blankets, but he was so cold he could not resist the temptation, and gave the fellow the watch. When he came in again he asked for the blankets. The wretch knocked him down and kicked him; that was all he received for the watch.

My galvanized friend turned up again and said they were coming after my jacket,—that they wanted the buttons. I took it off and laid it under another man. Soon they came in and asked for the officer with the jacket, a friend outside wanted to talk with him. They shook me and asked where he was. I replied, “He lay down over the other side.” They carried pitch-pine torches and looked at every man, but failed to find the jacket. We managed to live through the night, and in the morning my boy returned the diary, and Frank, two other officers who had been recaptured, and myself were taken out to be sent to Columbia. As we passed out I heard one of the gang say, “There is the cuss with the jacket,” but he did not take it, and we marched to the depot.

The rebels must have entertained an idea that Yankees could live without food, for they issued no rations to us either at night or in the morning, and we were hungry enough to eat a raw dog. Our train was one of those southern tri-weeklies which went from Augusta to Columbia one week and tried to get back the next, and stopped at every crossroad. At one place an old negro woman was selling sweet potato pies. I had a Byam’s match paper and bought one with it. She asked, “Is it good, boss?” I replied that it was worth five dollars in Confederate, and she was satisfied. I think she got the best of it, for the thing she sold me for a pie was a worse imitation of that article than the match paper was of Confederate money. At another place I bought a two-quart pail two-thirds full of ham fat, paying for it with one of the five dollar bills Packard gave us.

We spent the entire day on the road, arriving at Columbia at seven o’clock in the evening, and were put in jail. We were not confined in a cell, but in a small room with a fireplace; we found a fire burning on the hearth, and went to work. As we had had no opportunity to examine our clothes since we escaped, their condition can be imagined. We took bricks out of the hearth and spent an hour reducing the inhabitants. It sounded like the discharge of musketry, and the list of killed was larger than in any battle of the war.

In the morning we were ordered out and marched through the city. We learned that Camp Sorghum had been broken up and our officers moved to the lunatic asylum. The gate of the new prison swung open, the crowd gathered, expecting to see “fresh fish,” but instead saw four ragged, dirty, old tramps. We were received with a grand hurrah, and they gathered around to hear our story. We had been out just four weeks, and had travelled more than three hundred miles. While we were much disappointed we were not discouraged. Our trip had done us good; we had gained in flesh, had thrown off the stagnation of prison life and were ready to try again. We found many changes inside. Major Dunn and Captain Hume had received special exchange; others had escaped, and the squads were broken. We were assigned to squad fifteen, composed of men who had escaped, and we were a fine collection of innocents.

Before we escaped from Camp Sorghum an order had been issued by the rebel commander that if any more escaped they would put us in a pen, and the removal to Asylum Prison was the result.

There were about two acres enclosed. On three sides were brick walks; on the fourth a high board fence which separated us from the insane. Sentry boxes were built around the place and two pieces of artillery were pointed at us through the fence. Inside was a wooden building used for a hospital. The frames of about thirty small buildings were up and eleven were covered. The work had been done by our officers, and the rebels promised to send in lumber to cover the rest, but it never came. The eleven would accommodate about three hundred, the rest being quartered in a few old tents. Our squad had neither buildings nor tents, and we huddled together on the bare ground. It was so cold that we walked most of the night to keep from freezing.

I received eight letters upon my return. They had been written at various times, but all came in one mail. My friends had heard from me but once, and that was a letter written and sent out by an officer who was exchanged at Charleston. I had written several letters, but suppose they were never sent north.

Frank was taken sick and sent to the hospital. I visited him every day. The only advantages he received from being in the hospital were a roof to shelter him and his mush made thinner, called gruel. He only remained a week, as he chose to be with us.

Christmas day came and we were anxious to celebrate in some way. I had held on to ten dollars that Packard gave me, as I feared we should require it for salt, but concluded to have a nice dinner, so I bought a squash and we feasted on boiled squash and salt.