Battle of the Crater; and Experiences of Prison Life

by Sumner U. Shearman

We were allowed out in the jail-yard, as I have said, early in the morning. A Confederate corporal would unlock the door, and shout out, "Yanks all out!" Of course, we were counted as we went out, and when we returned we were all drawn up in line and counted again, to make sure that all that went out had returned.

The captain in charge of the jail seemed to be a very excellent man. He was an elderly man, too old for active service in the field, and the men under him were either old men or boys, some of them hardly old enough to carry a musket. This showed to us, as we thought, that nearly all their available men were at the front. The guard was frequently changed; that is to say, the men who served for a few days would disappear and an entirely new set take their places. They wore no uniform, and we therefore concluded that they were rustics and others in the neighborhood, temporarily serving as guards over the prisoners.

One day while I was waiting for the officer to let us return into the prison, we having been allowed out in the yard, I was walking back and forth in the lower hall. While doing so three young girls came up to the sentinel on duty at the front of the building and spoke to him. They were evidently of the class known in the South as "poor white trash," who had come from the country. I heard them say to the guard that they would like to see a Yankee. He immediately pointed to me and said, "There's one." They replied, looking critically at me, "Why, I don't see but what he looks just like other men." What they expected to see I am sure I cannot tell, some monstrous being or other, I presume, for there had been most surprising stories told at the beginning of the war, among the ignorant white and colored people, of the horrible appearance of the Yankees. It was declared that they had horns on their heads, and altogether presented a very devilish aspect.

We used to talk more or less of the possibility of escape. We could easily have gotten away from the prison, because of the inferior quality of the guard. Whenever we were allowed outside, we could have made a rush, and thus gotten away from them. Some of us, of course, would probably have been killed or wounded, but a majority could have escaped from the prison itself. The difficulty was to get to our own lines, the nearest place being the seacoast at Charleston, S. C. This long distance had to be traversed, travelling by night and hiding by day. The Confederates were accustomed to hunt prisoners with bloodhounds, so the chances of ultimate escape were very small.

Two of our number, however, determined to take those chances at the first opportunity. So one night, when a severe storm was raging, the wind blowing, and the rain pouring down, they tied some blankets together as a rope by which they could be let down to the street. Here I may say that some of the prisoners happened to have blankets with them when they were captured, though I myself was not one of the fortunate ones. We had discovered that the sentry on duty when the nights were stormy, was in the habit of retiring within the porch over the front door of the prison; therefore these two men thought if they could reach the ground while the sentry was within the porch, they might possibly make their escape under cover of the darkness.

The plan proved successful. We let them down from the window, and saw and heard no more of them. Whether they were recaptured or not I did not know for years afterwards. They were not brought back to the prison, and I have since learned that they succeeded in getting away. In order to deceive the officer who called us out in the morning, we placed two dummies on the floor in place of the men who had escaped during the previous night. This ruse deceived the prison officials, so the men had a longer opportunity of making their escape; but it was discovered at night when the roll-call was made that there were two men lacking, and, of course, I suppose the two escaped prisoners were at once pursued.

The windows in the prison were sadly lacking in glass, many panes having been broken out. Glass was almost an unknown quantity in the Southern Confederacy at that time, as they manufactured none themselves, and the blockade was so stringent that they could import but little. The consequence was, when winter weather came on, that the prisoners suffered from cold. The captain of the jail fitted up the vacant spaces with boards, and so many panes had to be supplied in this way that it seriously darkened the prison. He also placed a stove in the centre of the hall which I have spoken of as running the whole length of the prison. It was very insufficient in its capacity to heat the prison, nevertheless it was better than nothing. Of course the fuel supplied us was wood.

An old colored woman was allowed to come into the prison whenever she chose, to sell what the southern people call "snacks," to such as were fortunate enough to have money to buy them. The lunches consisted mainly of baked sweet potatoes and flour-bread or biscuit. A New Hampshire officer had quite a little sum of money when he was taken prisoner, and this he had husbanded to the best of his ability, and had some of it left when the cold became quite severe. Through the old colored woman, by paying her liberally for it, he obtained an old carpet that had seen its best days. It was quite ragged and torn. This, those who slept on my side of the room placed over them, and thus had some little protection from the cold weather. We used to sleep spoon-fashion under this carpet, and of course we all had to turn over at the same time to keep the carpet over us. We appointed one of our number to give the word of command whenever he was disposed to have us turn.

Thus we lived week in and week out, until nearly six months had gone by. One day, when I was engaged in teaching my class in Latin, I heard shouts from some of my fellow-prisoners, calling, "Shearman! Shearman! You are wanted!" Making my way toward the direction of the shouts, I found that a Confederate corporal was at the prison door, who informed me that he had good news for me. He took me down stairs, and there I found a Confederate major, who told me the joyful news that I was to be exchanged next morning. I could scarcely believe what he said to be true, for I, in common with the other prisoners, thought we should be compelled to remain there until the end of the war, and when that might be we did not know.

I might say here that we were allowed to write letters home, but they were limited to one side of a half sheet of note paper. The paper and envelopes were of the poorest quality imaginable, and cost an exorbitant price, reckoned in Confederate money. These letters had to be read by the captain in charge of the prison, and forwarded by him to their destination. In my letters I almost always asked my father to do what he could to get me exchanged, but I had no hope that he would be successful. It seems, however, that the two governments had made an arrangement to exchange ten thousand sick men. The exchange was to have taken place at Savannah, and five thousand were exchanged at that point, when General Sherman arrived at Savannah, which compelled a transfer in the place of exchange. The remainder were exchanged at Charleston, South Carolina. Through the influence of General Burnside, a friend of my father's, my name was included in the list of those to be exchanged, although I was not sick. All this I learned after reaching home.