I demanded a copy of the charges, which Colonel Walter promised to furnish.
About three o’clock in the afternoon, I went to a couple of prisoners who were heavily ironed; they were handcuffed, had a chain on their legs similar to mine, and were chained together to a post, or to some fixture at the side of the jail. I inquired for what offence they were incarcerated.
The prisoner whom I addressed was a tall gentleman, with a very intellectual countenance, and of prepossessing manners. He was somewhat pale, and wore a sad countenance. He replied:
“We are charged with desertion.”
“Did you desert?”
“I enlisted in the Confederate service for twelve months. At the expiration of my term of service, I asked permission to return home, stating that my family were suffering for the necessaries of life; that they lived in Tennessee, which is occupied by Federal troops. Confederate bonds are there not worth the paper on which they are printed; provisions are scarce, and my family have not the means of purchasing. I wish to relieve their wants, and as my term of service has expired, I wish a discharge. This they refused, stating that the Confederate Congress had passed a law requiring all troops who had enlisted for any term, however short, to be held to service during the war, and all who left before that time would be considered guilty of desertion, and if arrested, would be shot. I attempted to return to my family, regarding the law a tyrannical enactment. I was arrested and committed to this prison.”
“What will be your fate?”
“I know not, but fear the worst.”
I learned that the other prisoner had about the same statement to make, and was also in dread of capital punishment. I left them and walked to the opposite side of the prison, when I observed a file of soldiers drawn up in front of the building. Two officers entered, and walking up to the two prisoners whom I had just left, unfastened their chains, and ordered them to follow. One of the prisoners asked whether he should bring his blanket. “No,” replied the officer, in a jocular tone; “you have no more need for a blanket in this world.”
On reaching the door, the soldiers separated, received the prisoners in their midst, closed up, and marching them across the railroad, shot them. As the officers passed Captain Bruce, he asked where the prisoners were going. They replied, “Going to be shot!” and showed him the warrant for their execution, having written across it, in red letters, “Condemned to death!”