CHAPTER X.
PRISON LIFE FROM THE DIARY OF A CAPTAIN IN THE 123D OHIO VOLUNTEERS.
After our surrender on the morning of June 15th, 1863, to Col. Walker, commanding the famous “Old Stonewall Brigade,” we were taken to where the morning fight had taken place, and were permitted to lie down and rest. After remaining there a couple of hours we were marched into Winchester, halting there a few moments, and were then taken over to the Fort. A couple of tents were then put up for the accommodation of the commissioned officers, but which failed to prevent the wind from annoying us very much by blowing sand in from all directions. Wearied and worn out, and having eaten nothing during the day, we were compelled to lie down at night without even a “hard-tack” to refresh us. Next morning, about 9 o’clock, a few pounds of meat was distributed among us, shortly after which the officers were separated from the enlisted men and marched over to the Court House. Late in the evening we received some bread and meat, but previously, Capt. Chamberlin had received a basket of provisions kindly tendered by some good Union loving Quaker ladies of the city, which he distributed among our officers, and for which they will ever hold those ladies in grateful remembrance. The officers remained there until 4 o’clock P. M., of the following day, when they were drawn up in line, the roll called, and after being supplied with blankets, our party, consisting of one hundred and eight commissioned officers, started on our march to Richmond, under charge of Capt. Wingfield, 58th Va. (Confederate), and his company. That evening we marched eleven miles, and laid down on the ground for the night about 10 o’clock. Thursday we marched twelve miles, lying by for three or four hours in the middle day, when flour and meat were issued to us, and we set to work baking up our flour into cakes. The men overtook us here, but we were not allowed to communicate with them. It rained heavily in the afternoon, completely drenching us through, and at night we were obliged to take up our quarters in an old log stable, which was more thoroughly invested by fleas than was particularly pleasant or convenient to us. Wet as we were, we laid down and attempted to gain a few hours repose, but alas, no chance for that desired boon. All night long the inhabitants of the stable could be heard visiting their maledictions on the fleas. The next day we marched nineteen miles to Mt. Jackson, and took up our quarters for the night in the Rebel hospital buildings. On Saturday we marched sixteen miles to Lincoln Springs, where we had a pleasant place to camp for the night. On Sunday we marched twenty-one miles. Col. Wilson, Adjt. Blair, Capt. Rings, Capt. Chamberlin and Lieut. Pumphrey, about noon hired a man, with a one horse wagon, to haul them to Staunton, a distance of twenty-three miles, for which privilege each of them paid five dollars in Confederate money. And, if the man could have carried them, he would have had more passengers at the same price.
On Monday noon we reached Staunton and remained there two hours, and then took the cars for Richmond, a distance of one hundred and thirty-six miles, which we passed over during the night, arriving at our destination about six o’clock A. M., June 23d. We were immediately marched to the Libby Prison, where we were searched, and our rubber coats, blankets, etc. taken from us. The most of us managed to secrete our money, so that it was not discovered. They gave receipts for the money they did get, which assured us that it would be returned to us when released. The officials informed us we could draw it as we needed it; which, afterwards, proved to be anything but true. They even went so far as to take a few sheets of paper and envelopes from one of our officers.
We were then taken up stairs, and introduced to our new quarters. The “Hotel de Libby,” as it was afterwards facetiously called, is a large brick building, one hundred and fifty feet in length by one hundred and five feet in depth. It fronted on Cary and extended back to Canal street, immediately in the rear of which was the canal and James river. This building was, previous to the war, occupied by Libby & Son, who carried on in it their business as ship-chandlers and grocers. Internally, it much resembled an Ohio grain ware-house, being three stories high, with a basement story underneath, and divided into three tiers of rooms. The lower room of the first tier was occupied by the various officers engaged in the control of the Prison. The two upper rooms were, at the time of our arrival, used for the confinement of prisoners, and we found there Col. Streight’s command and a few others, amounting to thirteen hundred and sixty officers. Of the middle tier, one room was occupied by citizen prisoners and deserters from the Union army. The third tier was used as a hospital for Union officers. The basement contained a couple of cells, for the close confinement of prisoners; the remainder of it was devoted to the use of the slaves employed about the premises. The attaches of the Prison were as follows: Capt. Turner, commandant; Lieut. Latonche, his assistant, and, by-the-way, the most obliging official we had anything to do with—Inspector Turner being one of the most tyrannical beings that ever lived, and had been a horse-jockey in one of the Northern cities previous to the war; Ross, who attended to the roll, and was a deserter from the North; George, (a sergeant) under lackey, whose duty it was to communicate orders to the prisoners; and Charley, a mulatto, who superintended the gang of darkies in their labors. When we entered Libby, the upper one of the two rooms in which we were placed contained bunks, sufficient for those who were then in the Prison, while they used the lower one for cooking and eating purposes.
We were obliged to take up our residence in the lower room and sleep on the floor at nights and use it to sit on in the day time, as we had no other seats furnished except stationary benches, at the tables.
Shortly after taking up our lodgings there, we applied for some of our money, but we met with the reply that none of “the officers of Milroy’s command could have a d—d cent.” Nor did we get any from them until the 1st of October. We were also informed that we would not be allowed to purchase anything outside—as Straight’s command was then permitted to do—so we had to smuggle our purchases through them for some time, until their orders were tacitly countermanded.—During the first four weeks, while subsisting on the rations furnished, we were often glad to pick up crumbs from the table to satisfy our hunger.
In speaking of the attaches of the prison, Gen. Johnson, a gentleman of color, should be mentioned, although he was a prisoner, as well as ourselves. His duty consisted in supplying us with smoke, which he did every morning, carrying a skillet of burning tar through the rooms, crying “Here’s your nice smoke, without money or price.” He also collected the soiled clothes once a week, which he was permitted to take out to be washed, returning them Sunday mornings, at the small charge of three pieces for one dollar. He also, for some time, monopolized the shaving and hair cutting, which operations he performed at the moderate price of twenty-five cents for the former and seventy-five cents for the latter; but he was finally superseded by an enterprising German Lieutenant, which compelled him to abandon this calling and take to that of “boot-black.” The old fellow was a regular fixture there, having been in the Prison about two years. He was an old soldier also, having accompanied a Pennsylvania regiment through the Mexican war. Every morning at nine o’clock A. M. “George” made his appearance, and, with his peculiar intonation of voice, would cry out: “Fall in, sick, and go down;” when those who wished to be prescribed for would huddle together and go down on the first floor, where they were examined by the surgeon—who was spoken of as a kind and attentive physician—and, after making a minute of their cases, would send them back to their rooms, excepting those whom it was deemed necessary to send to the hospital. In the course of two or three hours, the medicine would be brought up and distributed to the sick.
Our enlisted men, prisoners of war who were so unfortunate as to become sick, suffered outrageously. They were often allowed to lie in their tents on Belle Isle, on the wet ground, until the last moment, when they would be brought over to the hospital to breath their last.
If a description of the truth would be fit for publication, some few particular cases could be cited that would make any one shudder to think that there were, in this day and age of the world, men who were so lost to all feeling of humanity as to permit men, although their enemies, to languish and die through sufferings such as no pen should be called upon to describe.
Once a squad of Yankees (prisoners) were leaving the Libby building with a supply of the “so-called” rations for the prisoners. It consisted of weak soup—better say soiled water—in old, dirty pails, and about six ounces of poor bread per man. We threw a few apples to them from the windows, which they received gladly and began to eat as if they were nearly starved.