In the case of leaving the second comrade, as described on pages 72-76, there was no option or time for deliberation. The exigencies of the hour compelled a separation. Mr. Tripp succeeded in escaping the notice of our pursuers, though hid in their immediate vicinity, and hearing their talk enumerating reasons for their failure to "take us in." After several days and nights of wandering and hiding, and of varied and interesting experience, Mr. Tripp was recaptured, sent to Richmond, kept there until September, 1864, was paroled, exchanged, and discharged. He is now living near Burlington, Kansas.
John F. Wood died June 20, 1864, "of wounds received in action." Referring to this, Sutherland, in a letter written not long since, says: "What a pity Wood had to die so soon after escaping prison. But he might have died a slow and miserable death at Andersonville had he not escaped."
Sutherland is living in Michigan, near Eagle Station. Smith resides at Dundee, same state. Mr. Smith very narrowly escaped drowning at Craig's Creek. Mr. Sutherland's opportune landing on the opposite bank of the rushing stream barely in time to extend to Smith a helping hand is all that saved him. In addition to all others, we had the perils by "Bogus Yankees" to encounter or avoid. We risked our lives to save them, and saving them we risked them again and again for our country. Having been captured in our third battle, by escaping, at least two of us, added to the three, thirteen more. But all this was better than Andersonville. We might have been numbered among the MARTYRS of the nineteenth century. "I would not make that trip again," said Smith, "for the whole state of Michigan," adding "unless I had to."
Danville, Ill., November 27, 1885. W. H. N.
INTRODUCTION.
In those "stirring times," during the late war, when powder, and ball, and the bayonet were the orders of the day, an escape from prison and a secret, hidden march through the Confederacy, was accounted an exciting, as well as a very lucky event. Even at this day, accounts of such are not stale, but possess a thrilling interest, especially to those who participated in them and to their friends. Our journey over mountain and valley, over hill and dale, and across rivers, branches, and rivulets almost innumerable, was accomplished mostly in the night time.
We had neither map nor compass to guide us. The north star alone served us in shaping our course, and very often it was concealed by ominous clouds. We took many needless steps, and made many needless and weary miles in consequence of lack of knowledge of the country and of the course we were steering. Sometimes the desolate hour of Winter's midnight found us far from the public highway, and almost inextricably involved in the brush and tangled mazes of the forest. At such times, being almost at our wit's end, we would try to advance on a "bee line" until the open country or some road was reached.