Blackshear, Ga., Dec. 2.—In with the same men whom I deserted on the cars. We are near the Florida line. Was put in a passenger train at Doctortown and rode in style to this place. On the train were two more Yanks named David and Eli S. Buck, who are Michigan men. They were runaways who had been out in the woods nearly three months and were in sight of our gunboats when recaptured. Belong to the 6th Michigan Cavalry. David Buck was one of Kilpatrick’s scouts; a very smart and brave fellow, understands living in the woods, and thoroughly posted. We have mutually agreed to get away the first chance, and shall get to our lines. David Buck used to attend school at Leoni, Mich., and was educated for a preacher. They are cousins. We three Yankees were quite a curiosity to the passengers on the train that brought us to this place. Some of them had evidently never seen a Yankee before, and we were stared at for all we were worth. Some smarties were anxious to argue the point with us in a rather “we have got you” style. David Buck is a good talker, and satisfactorily held up our end of the war question; in fact, I thought talked them all out on their own grounds. The ladies in particular sneered and stared at us. Occasionally we saw some faces which looked as if they were Union, and we often got a kind word from some of them. The railroads are in a broken down condition, out of decent repair, and trains run very slow. The Confederacy is most assuredly hard up, and will go to pieces some of these days. My out-door life of the few days I roamed through the woods, was just jolly. Being out from under rebel guard made me the happiest chap imaginable. Knew that I couldn’t escape to our lines, as I was not able to travel much, and my sole business was to remain a tramp as long as possible, and to get enough to eat, which I did. The negroes, and especially the field hands, are all Union darkys, and fed me all I wanted as a general thing. Made a mistake in going to the house of a white woman for food.
Dec. 3.—Blackshear is an out-of-the-way place, and shouldn’t think the Yankee army would ever find us here. The climate is delightful. Here it is December and at the North right in the middle of winter, and probably good sleighing, and cold; while here it is actually warm during the day time, and at night not uncomfortably cold. The Buck boys are jolly good fellows, and full of fun. Seem to have taken a new lease of life myself. Both of them are in good health and fleshy, and open for an escape any hour. And we don’t stay here but a few days, the guards say. Why not keep us on the cars and run us around the country all the time? There is no wall or anything around us here, only guards. Encamped right in the open air. Have food once a day, just whatever they have to give us. Last night had sweet potatoes. I am getting considerably heavier in weight, and must weigh one hundred and forty pounds or more. Still lame, however, and I fear permanently so. Teeth are firm in my mouth now, and can eat as well as ever, and oh! such an appetite. Would like to see the pile of food that I couldn’t eat. Found Rowe and Bullock, and Hub Dakin. They are well, and all live in jolly expectancy of the next move. The old coverlid still protects my person. The Bucks have also each a good blanket, and we are comfortable. Some fresh beef given us to-day; not much, but suppose all they have got. Guard said he wished to God he was one of us prisoners instead of guarding us.
Dec. 4.—Another delightfully cool morning. There are not a great many guards here to watch over us, and it would be possible for all to break away without much trouble. The men, however, are so sure of liberty that they prefer to wait until given legitimately. Would like to have seen this guard hold us last summer at Andersonville. Fresh meat again to-day. Rebels go out to neighboring plantations and take cattle, drive them here, and butcher for us to eat. Rice is also given us to eat. Have plenty of wood to cook with. Have traded off the old missmated pair of brogans for a smaller and good pair, and feel quite like a dandy. Have some money to buy extras. Have plenty of food yet from that given me at Doctortown. Divide with the Bucks, or rather, it is all one common mess, and what any one owns belongs equally to the others. Rebels glum, and cross, and sometimes we laugh at them, and then they swear and tell us to shut up or they will blow our heads off. Blackshear is a funny name and it is a funny town, if there is any, for as yet I haven’t been able to see it. Probably a barn and a hen-coop comprise the place. Cars go thundering by as if the Yanks were after them. About every train loaded with troops. Go first one way and then the other. Think they are trying to keep out of the way themselves.
Dec. 5.—Guard said that orders were not to talk with any of the prisoners, and above all not to let us get hold of any newspapers. No citizens are allowed to come near us. That shows which way the wind blows. Half a dozen got away from here last night, and guards more strict to-day, with an increased force. Going to be moved, it is said, in a few days. Why don’t they run us right into the ocean? That wouldn’t do though, our gunboats are there. Well, keep us then, that is punishment enough. Do what you are a mind to. You dare not starve us now, for we would break away. In fact, although under guard, we are masters of the situation. Can see an old darky with an ox hitched to a cart with harness on, the cart loaded with sugar cane. This is quite a sugar country, it is said. On the road here saw the famous palmetto tree in groves. Live-oaks are scattered all over, and are a funny affair. Persimmon and pecan trees also abound here. We are pretty well south now, spending the winter. But few die now; no more than would naturally die in any camp with the same numbers. It is said that some men get away every night, and it is probably so.
Dec. 6.—Thirteen months ago to-day captured—one year and one month. Must be something due me from Uncle Sam in wages, by this time. All come in a lump when it does come. No great loss without small gain, and while I have been suffering the long imprisonment my wages have been accumulating. Believe that we are also entitled to ration money while in prison. Pile it on, you can’t pay us any too much for this business. This is the land of the blood hound. Are as common as the ordinary cur at the North. Are a noble looking dog except when they are after you, and then they are beastly. Should think that any one of them could whip a man; are very large, strong, and savage looking. Should think it would be hard for the negro to run away. See no horses about here at all—all mules and oxen, and even cows hitched up to draw loads. I walk the prison over forty times a day. Everybody knows me, and I hail and am hailed as I walk around, and am asked what I think of the situation. Tell them of my escape and the good time I had, which incites them to do likewise the first opportunity. Occasionally a man here who growls and grumbles, and says and thinks we will never get away, &c. Some would find fault if they were going to be hung. Should think they would compare their condition with that of six months ago and be contented.
Dec. 7.—Another day of smiling weather. Still call our mess the “Astor House Mess.” It is composed of only three—the Bucks and myself. I am the only one of the original mess here, and it is still the most prosperous and best fed of any. We are all the time at work at something. Have a good piece of soap, and have washed our clothing throughout, and are clean and neat for prisoners of war. Eli S. Buck is a large fellow, and a farmer when at home. Both are young, and from the same neighborhood. As I have said before, are cousins, and think a great deal of one another, which is good to see. Relatives rarely get along together in prison as well as those who are not related. There were brothers in Andersonville who would not mess together. Seems funny, but such is the case. Should like to see myself throwing over a brother for any one else. Guards denounce Jeff Davis as the author of their misfortunes. We also denounce him as the author of ours, so we are agreed on one point. Going to move. The “mess” will escape en masse at the first move, just for the sake of roaming the woods. With the Bucks in company with me, shall have a good time, and we can undoubtedly soon reach our troops in as much as they are raiding through the South. Dave Buck is the acknowledged leader of us. He prays; think of that.
Dec. 8.—There are many men of many minds here. That used to be a favorite copy at writing school in Jackson, Mich. “Many men of many minds, many birds of many kinds.” How a person’s thoughts go back to the old boyhood days in such a place as this. Happiest times of life are those of youth, but we didn’t know it. Everybody told us so, but we didn’t believe it; but now it is plain. Every one, I think, has that experience. We all see where we might have done different if we only had our lives to live over, but alas, it is not to be. A majority of the men here have about half enough to eat. Our mess has enough to eat, thanks to our own ingenuity. Now expect to go away from here every day. Have borrowed a needle, begged some thread, and have been sewing up my clothing; am well fixed up, as are also the Bucks. Am quite handy with the needle, and it is difficult to make some of them believe I am not a tailor by trade. If I always keep my ways mended as I do my clothes, I shall get along very well. Eli has come with four large yams bought of a guard and we will proceed to cook and eat a good supper, and then go to bed and perhaps dream of something pleasant to remember the next day. Rumors of all kinds in camp, and rebels say something is up that will interest us, but I can get no satisfaction as to what it is. Drew cuts for the extra potato, and Dave won, and he cut that article of food into three pieces and we all had a share. Good boy.
Dec. 9.—Still in Blackshear, and quiet. Many incidents happened when I was out in the wood, and I am just crazy to get there once more. Look at the tall trees in sight, and could hug them. My long sickness and the terrible place in which I was confined so long, and my recovering health, and the hope now of getting entirely well and recovering my liberty, has made a new man of me—a new lease of life, as it were. The Bucks are the best of fellows, and having money which they use for my benefit the same as their own, we get along swimmingly. One of these days my Northern friends and relatives will hear from me. Am getting over my lameness, and have an appetite for more than my supply of food. Certainly had a good constitution to stand all that has been passed through, during which time thousands and thousands died, of apparently better health than myself. Of all my many mess-mates and friends in prison, have lost track of them all; some died, in fact nearly all, and the balance scattered, the Lord only knows where. What stories we can talk over when we meet at the North. This Blackshear country is rather a nice section. Warm and pleasant, although rather low. Don’t know where we are located, but must be not far from the coast.
Dec. 10.—The grand change has come and a car load of prisoners go away from here to-day. Although the Bucks and myself were the last in prison, we are determined to flank out and go with the first that go. Our destination is probably Charleston, from what I can learn. We three will escape on the road, or make a desperate effort to do so, anyway. Can walk much better now than ten days ago, and feel equal to the emergency. Fine weather and in good spirits, although many here are tired of being moved from place to place. More guards have come to take charge of us on the road, and it looks very discouraging for getting away, although “Dave” says we will make it all right. Place great reliance in him, as he has caution as well as the intention to escape. So like Hendryx, and added to it has more practical quiet common sense. Eli Buck and myself acknowledge him as leader in all things. Now comes the tug of war.
Dec. 11.—We flanked out this morning, or rather paid three fellows two dollars apiece for their turn to go. Are now thirty miles from Blackshear; have been unloaded from the cars and are encamped by the side of the railroad track for the night. Most dark. Rebel soldiers going by on the trains, with hoots and yells. We are strongly guarded, and it augurs not for us to get away to-night. Our best hold is jumping from the cars. Ride on open platform cars with guards standing and sitting on the sides, six guards to each car. About sixty prisoners ride on each car, and there are thirty or forty cars. Were given rations yesterday, but none to-day. It is said we get nothing to eat to-night, which is bad; more so for the other prisoners than ourselves. Low country we come through, and swampy. Bucks think we may get away before morning, but I doubt it. Rebs flying around lively, and Yanks going for them I guess.