Some time the latter part of May, 1864, while on detached service as scout at headquarters Army of the Shenandoah, myself and a comrade were ordered to go across the mountains from Mt. Jackson toward Orkney Springs and reconnoiter the country to find out if there was any force of the enemy in that direction. We did as directed, and while we were returning overtook a mail carrier with his sack of mail going to Harrisonburg. We rode along in company until we came to where his road turned off, and we then persuaded him to accompany us, as we told him, to Imbodens’s camp. We rode on until we were within about five miles of Mt. Jackson and had met with a guard to a forage train, when feeling perfectly safe we stopped at a house for dinner, hitching our horses in the yard.

Our host took his own time about preparing dinner and while we were waiting a squad of our own men stopped for water and would have taken us all prisoners, but they knew my comrade to be one of the scouts, as he wore his hair very long, curling down his back in natural ringlets. Poor fellow, it cost him his life. When they were carrying us through Richmond he was recognized as one of Averill’s scouts that burned the bridges near Salem on Averill’s celebrated raid, and he was hung. As we were sitting at the table eating, our prisoner, who sat facing the door, jumped to his feet and ran out, shouting "take them ; they are Yanks." We jumped up and drew our revolvers, and as we cleared the door commenced shooting and jumped on our horses. By time they were all around us with their pistols and carbines at our heads, and as there appeared no other way, we made the best of a bad bargain and surrendered.

The old fellow we had as prisoner became perfectly wild and demanded a pistol to shoot us with, but they told him to keep cool and they would show him a trick worth two of that, and commenced to make preparations to swing us to a tree in the yard. Things began to look exceedingly squally, but about that time a lieutenant who was in command of the party, but had stopped back a distance for some purpose, put in an appearance and stopped their little matinee, but as he told me as we rode back to the mountains he did it merely that it might be done regularly and in order, which was not at all encouraging to us. He said that every Jesse scout (the name by which Hunter’s scouts were known) were pre-condemned criminals. We both denied belonging to them. Well, he said, it made no difference ; that the United States war department had ordered that all rebels caught wearing the Union uniform should be hung, (a fact, as I had read the order myself a few days before) and that probably if they should hang a few Yanks for the same offence it might act as a restraint and cause them to refrain from putting the murderous order into execution ; all of which was very encouraging to us.

We rode on without meeting with any adventure, except a woman come out and drew a revolver and requested the lieutenant to let her practice on us. She was young and pretty, and I have always regretted that I did not go back after the war ended and get revenge on her by marrying her. But the officer believed in doing things regular, so he told her to put up her revolver and he would look to it that we were taken care of. He was a lieutenant in one of the Virginia regiments and was home on wounded furlough, (although the party he was in command of were guerrillas) and he believed in performing his duty according to the articles of war, and as we were dressed in gray he looked upon us as self-condemned.

Finally about dark we came to the house of a Captain Wm. Miller who was in charge of the Columbia iron works, and had under him about two or three hundred men. He and his brother, who had been crippled at Bull Run and was the sheriff of the county, tried our case, they sitting on the porch while we sat on our horses in front of them surrounded by our guards. The sheriff and lieutenant were for hanging us at once, but the captain, backed by his wife and beautiful daughter, were for giving us time, and finally they all agreed to it.

We were then taken up on the side of the mountain. There each of us, tied by the wrist to a guard, lay down and slept till morning. We were then taken back to Capt. Miller’s and turned over to him. He took us to his rendezvous, a strong stockade fort on top of the mountain, where we were put in a hut and a guard with drawn revolvers placed over us. For the first two days we had no intercourse with anyone, but on the third the captain held quite a long talk with us. He said if we had told the truth and were really members of the regiments that we claimed we were that he would turn us over as prisoners of war, but if not, (and he would be sure to find out) and that we belonged to the Jesse scouts he would surely hang us, and we knew he would keep his word as he was a very religious man and looked upon it as a duty, although a very unpleasant one. He also told us how he expected to find out. He said that his scouts would be almost certain to pick up some straggler from one of the regiments to which we said we belonged, and if the prisoner recognized us it would be evidence that we had told the truth. If he failed to do so it would be equally certain that we had lied, and according to his code that crime alone ought to be enough to condemn us.

It turned out as he had expected. On the evening of the fourth day we heard the leaves rustling down the mountain side and soon in walked the last man in the regiment I would have wished for them to capture, as I had not a particle of confidence in his discretion. You all knew him-Old Grif, horse farrier of Co. F, but he recognized me at once and said he saw my brother Ed the day before and that he told him about my having been reported missing, and never said a word about my having been a scout at all. They allowed us together about an hour, then the captain took him to another hut and questioned him very closely about me, which he repeated the next day, and then put us all together saying he was satisfied and would turn us over as prisoners of war. His brother then came up and spent most of his time with us, and his daughter sent us many books to read which helped very much to pass the time away pleasantly. The captain told us that he was very glad to have escaped the performance of a very disagreeable duty, and that he would parole us and send us back to the Potomac but that he was afraid the bushwhackers would murder us on the way back, I finally got him to promise that he would turn us over to regular troops instead of to Mosby or McNeil. He gave us his promise which he religiously kept, having to take us forty miles farther to do so. We remained with him ten days and then started on our journey for Richmond. We crossed the valley through Harrisonburg and Port Republic, and on top of the mountain we met a Virginia Regiment that our forces captured at Crampton Gap in 1862, when Capt. Miller turned us over to the Colonel, shook hands with us, and departed for his home. I have never seen him since but have received several letters from him. And here I wish to say that no more noble and generous man fought with either army-north or south

We were awakened the next morning about daylight by quite a spirited argument in front of our quarters. It seems the colonel of the regiment that we had been turned over to had employed two natives to guard us on our way as far as Charlottesville and there turn us over to the Provost Guard, and as it was quite a long tramp they were anxious to get an early start so they could get back that night. The boys were getting our breakfast for us and the guards were unwilling to wait until it was ready and we had eaten it, hence the row, and of all the cursing you ever heard men get them mountaineers got it. And they were a hard looking couple too. Tall, long haired, gaunt looking specimens of bushwhackers, armed with navy revolvers which never left their hands ; they were about as undesirable looking specimens of a guard as any Yank would wish to have placed over him. Finally one of them says:

"Trot them out ; we ain’t going to wait a minute longer."

"Well," says the sergeant in charge of us, "go ahead with them you G__d d__n hogs, but if you don’t bring back a receipt for them signed by the Provost Marshal your D-----d hides won’t hold water to-night."

At that he came to out quarters and told us he guessed we would have to go as the d---d hogs would not wait, and they were the only mounted men they could get to guard us. He said he was sorry he could not turn us over to gentlemen, but thought they did not raise any in that part of the country. We crawled out and off we started down the mountain, minus our breakfast, but as the boys had furnished us a good supper the night before we thought we could make the trip without suffering any inconvenience, but before we had gone two miles we heard a horse coming at full gallop and up rode one of our friends from the regiment with our breakfast in a basket.

"Now," he says, "d---n you, you will let them stop and eat it, won’t you?"

"No, keep on."

That was all the reply he got, and it was all he got to the volley of oaths and vile names he poured out on them as long as he staid with us, He rode alongside of us and carried the basket until we had eaten all we wanted, done up the remainder in a paper and gave it to us, bade us good bye, and with a parting oath to the guard turned and rode back to his command. We had not gone very far after he left us when we came to quite a good sized stream, and as there was a log across it on one side of the road, I being in the lead started for it, but "halt" and click, click, in rapid succession.

"Keep in the middle of the road."

You can just bet that I changed my course quite suddenly and split that stream wide open. Ugh, but it was cold, being fed from springs from the mountains and about waist deep. After that whenever we came to a stream I never looked to see if there was a log or not but kept the road. With the exception of that order I don’t think our guards spoke a word either to us or among themselves until we arrived at Charlottesville. There we were turned over to the Provost Marshal and that night we were placed on a train with a lot of other prisoners and started for Petersburg, but had not gone far when they started back in great haste and we soon learned that our cavalry were in front of us and had torn up the track. They ran back to Charlottesville and put us in an old warehouse where they kept us four days. There were two long rooms and they were full of Yankees and rebel deserters and citizens who had been conscripted. The windows were boarded up but we could see through the cracks. On the second day we heard a great commotion on the street and on looking out we saw regiment after regiment passing and after them came a long wagon train. I got permission to go to the well with a guard and fill a canteen, and while there I found out that the troops we had seen passing were part of Ewell’s corps under Early, and that one division had been sent through Brown’s Gap to cut off Hunter in the rear, and the rest were en route to Lynchburg to take him in front. I then decided that it was my place to get to Hunter if it were possible, and that too without any unnecessary delay, so as I went back I took particular notice of the building we were confined in and discovered that there were several holes in the foundation. I waited until dark and then told some of the prisoners of my plan. I borrowed a knife, got them to sit around me on the floor to hide me, and I commenced cutting through the flooring. I soon had a hole twelve by eighteen inches made and was just getting through when I felt something cold touch my head, and looking up, there stood the officer of the guard with a cocked revolver at my head who with an oath invited me to come back. I came. I afterwards found out that one of the deserters had found out what we were up to and had went and reported it. If it had not been for him I would have got through and I believe would have reached Hunter’s lines in safety in time to have reported the force in his rear and enabled him to have turned and crushed it before the balance of the corps could have reinforced them. As it was he had to retreat and after great hardships and loss reached the Ohio river.

We remained in Charlottesville three or four days longer and then started for New Canton, a small place on the canal some 35 or 40 miles distant. They had ordered out the home guards to see us through to Richmond, and a motley looking crowd they were. The officers were uniformed in their old militia regimentals-chapeau's, dress swords and epaulettes-and all a great deal the worse for wear. Nothing of importance occurred until the second day as we halted for dinner. We heard a shot up at the head of the column and some of the guards allowed that some d---d Yank had tried to get away and had got his quietus, but soon the word came down the line that it was a horse of another color. One of the foot guards had stepped up to a mounted one to speak to him. He had his gun resting across his saddle and it went off killing the man on foot instantly. The home guards were all armed with double barreled shot-guns loaded with buck shot.

We reached New Canton that evening and were crowded into the hold of a canal boat and started for Richmond where we arrived on the third day and were placed in Castle Thunder in an upper room. We were then taken out in squads of fifty, marched to a lower room and searched and everything of value taken from us. They made us strip naked and the search was thorough. They found a good many things in the hair of some who wore it long. There was one place that they failed to examine, and there a good many green backs that went through by placing them there, and that was the belt knots on the back of the cavalry jackets. The boys would rip them open, take out the cotton, then stuff them full of bills and sew them up. As fast as they searched us they would march us over to Libby prison and there I got the first glimpse of what we had to go through. When they brought us our dinner it consisted of about two ounces of rotten bacon which no one could eat, and soup made of the water it was cooked in, and thickened with peas which had never been cleaned and were nearly half hulls and full of weevils floating on top. They also gave us a small piece of bread. Our delicate stomachs could not stand it, but good Lord how our mouths used to water for that rejected dinner afterwards. It was amusing to hear the boys mourn and wish they could have one good dinner like that, and they were in earnest too, but this was after they had been in Andersonville.

We only remained in Libby prison two days and nothing of any importance transpired. I was standing at the window one day looking out and all at once I heard the crack of a rifle and felt the wind of a bullet pass my head and saw where it went through floor above. Some one had thrown out some water or spit out from the window above me, and the guard looking up saw me and acted accordingly. It was the rule at Libby prison to "kill the Yankees and investigate afterwards." All the time we remained in Richmond we could hear our guns booming away at Petersburg, and the guards would entertain us with stories of how they were whipping us every day, but we believed as much of that as we had a mind to.

On the morning of the third day of our stay in Libby prison, they hustled us onto the cars for Andersonville. The only thing that occurred on the trip of any importance was the escape of one whole car load of Yanks. It happened in this way : The orderly sergeant of one of our companies I think it was C), knocked the guard out of the door with his fist, and when the train came to a bad piece of road where they had to run slow they all lit out. We were then away down in Georgia and I think they were nearly all recaptured.

When we arrived at Andersonville we were marched to Wirz’s quarters and he came out to count us. He was a villainous looking old Dutchman and carried a revolver in his hand while he was counting us. He was a long time about it and I got tired so I squatted down and as he came by he said "stand up G-d d—n you or I will blow your head off." I stood up. As they marched us over to the prison we passed under a gallows which had been recently erected. I don’t know whether it was ever used or not, but think it was put up for a kind of scare crow to keep us from trying to get away. When the train stopped at Andersonville we met with an experience that sent the cold shivers running down my back. As soon as we got out we were surrounded by Yankees, some two or three hundred of them, and as they were outside of the prison we were anxious to know what they were doing outside. They said they were out on parole. We asked them what they were doing. They said they were digging graves to bury dead Yankees in. We said for God’s sake it don’t take such a crowd to dig graves for those who die here does it. They said yes, and we have to work hard to, and we soon found out that what they had said was true. As soon as I got inside I commenced to hunt up my old comrades who had been captured before I was, and soon found Eli Conklin, Silas Schoonmaker and William H. Norton of my own Company (G). They received me with open arms, and as I had nothing stale except the clothes on my back they invited me to share their tent with them which I gladly accepted.

It was very hard work getting used to prison life. The water was horrible. All we had to drink came from the branch that passed through the camps of our guards and collected all of the filth from them and then ran through the prison for our use. At times it would have made very good soup, so thick was it with filth. Our quarters were pitched close to the branch and in consequence were very wet and muddy, so on the fourth day after my arrival when the orders were issued for the new arrivals to move into the new stockade we packed up and secured more desirable quarters. After we had got settled in our new place I went one day over on the north side of the prison to see Charley Creque (one of the old 32^nd boys-Co. I) as I had been told he was over there somewhere. I found him without much trouble, and while we were talking I witnessed the beginning of what terminated in quite a tragedy. There was a man sitting near us on a log with his clothes off killing the vermin that were on them (a common enough sight there). He had a watch and pocket-book lying beside him. Presently a big burley man came along and seeing them stooped and picked them up and started to walk off with them, when the owner of them said : "Put them down ; that is my property." The thief turned and struck him with a pair of brass knuckles knocking him down. Eight or ten more of the thief’s pals happening to come along they jumped on the prostrate man and when they left him he was covered with blood from head to foot and his face was terribly cut and bruised. I said to Charley Creque :

"What does this mean. Why don’t the prisoners stop it. It is barbarous to let a gang of roughs rob and murder a man in such a manner."

He laughed and said they were called the raiders, and if they should hear you say that they would not leave a whole bone in your body. So I kept quiet, but as soon as they had left I went up to the poor man and told him to come with me. He obeyed, and we walked down to the gate and called for the officer of the guard. When he came I asked to see the quartermaster. (I don’t know as that was his title, but that was what we all called him. He was a great big burley fellow, and could out curse a ship load of sailors). He came in with a "What in h-ll do you want." And as soon as he saw the man all bloody and I had told him how he came to be in such a fix, he ripped out a big oath and says : I’ll fix them. Sergeant, bring a dozen files of men with loaded guns and fixed bayonets." The men were soon ready and then he said : "Show me the --------." As soon as the prisoners found out they had the protection of the rebels they commenced to point out the raiders, and in less than an hour they had taken out over two hundred and had dug up about half a bushel of watches and I don’t know how many greenbacks that they had stolen from their fellow prisoners and buried under their tents. After they had picked out the worst of the gang and placed them under a strong guard they turned the balance back into prison. The prisoners formed two lines from the gate clear across the prison enclosure, and as they came in they had to run the gauntlet of sticks in the hands of the men they had been beating and plundering, and so well did they lay it on that two of were killed and several badly crippled. The next day Wirz gave notice that the prisoners could form a court martial and try the raiders he had put under guard, and that they could use the enclosure in front of the south gate for a court room. What transpired from then on to the hanging of the six and the sentencing of the balance to wear a ball and chain during the balance of their imprisonment is historical and not necessary to repeat. The man who stole the watch and pocket-book broke away from the guard when they were marching him to the scaffold and ran clear across the enclosure, but he was finally captured, led back and executed. The condemned men had looked upon the whole proceedings as a huge joke and had no idea the prisoners would hang them, but when they saw the gallows with six ropes dangling from it they began to realize they meant business.

About a month after their execution, Wirz got nervous and was afraid that the thousands of skeletons he was guarding would make a break for liberty, so he put up poles with flags on marking a space about one hundred yards square from the gate back into the prison, and gave orders that no crowd would be allowed to collect inside this space, if they did he would open on them with canister. Now this space was occupied by the prisoners the same as the balance of the prison, and whenever the men all crawled out of their quarters and stood up the whole prison was a perfect jam of men. The first day after he put up the flags, when the wagons came in with the rations, the men all got out to draw their share and of course there was a crowd on the forbidden ground as there was in the balance of the prison, and the first thing we knew bang went a gun from the fort that overlooked the prison and a shell went whizzing over our heads. But they did not send any more. The yell that went up from thousands of throats decided him not to repeat it. At one time during a heavy rain the branch rose and washed away a portion of the stockade, but before the prisoners knew anything of it the guards had formed a line of battle in front of the break.

To give you an idea of the mortality of the prison I will mention an instance. There was a spot of ground in front of our tent where the rations were issued, and men who had no tent would come along and lie down there and stay until they died. We kept count of the number and it was something over thirty that died on that little spot of ground about eight feet square. There was an old man who belonged to the Pennsylvania Reserves who came into the prison with five other comrades, all young, stout, hearty boys, and they set up their shelter tents adjoining ours, and in less than six weeks the old man was alone ; the rest had all died. Oh, it is horrible to look back on those days now, but we did not seem to realize it then: I have seen men walk deliberately across the dead line on purpose to be shot, and they always got their wish. There were a great many tunnels dug, but they all turned out so badly that our mess never took any hand in them. Whenever any one did succeed in getting out they were invariably brought back, as they would put blood hounds on their track at once, and in their feeble condition it was next to impossible to escape. When taken back Wirz would keep them in the stocks in the broiling sun for days.

We remained at Andersonville until Sherman besieged Atlanta, when we were taken out and transported to Florence, S. C., where we remained until the latter part of February, 1865. While there our sufferings were increased. Rations were cut down to a pint of corn meal a day for each man. Conklin had a good pair of boots which he traded off for a pair of brogans and got eight bushels of sweet potatoes to boot, and while they lasted we fared pretty well. At one time the rebels found out that there was a tunnel being dug somewhere but did not know the exact location of it, so they issued an order that there would be no more rations issued until they found it, and they kept their word and we got nothing for three days. Another cause of misery to us was counting us once a week to keep from issuing rations for any one who had died. Every Sunday they would move us across the prison to the south side and then count us as we marched back. We would have to stand around on the cold ground for hours at a time waiting our turn to be counted. All the clothing I had on was an old grey coat and a pair of ragged pants; no shoes, hat or shirt. I tore the tails off from the coat and wrapped them around my feet and that was the only foot covering I had until I escaped.

The guards kept up their shooting of prisoners at Florence. I asked one for a chew of tobacco one day and he attempted to shoot me but his gun missed fire. They issued wood to us at this place. A day’s ration was a stick about the size of stove wood. In the latter part of the fall of 1864 or the first of winter an order came to take out a lot of the worst sick and wounded, and that the sergeant of each hundred squad could go along as nurses and be exchanged, and as Conklin belonged to the latter class he was taken out and I was left alone so far as any of my company was concerned. I then had for my tent-mate a little fellow by the name of Weeden who belonged to the 22d New York Cavalry, and a jolly good messmate he was. Some time during February there came an order to move us to Wilmington, and the time for our hundred to leave came about midnight, one cold freezing night. I awoke Jimmie and told him to get up and make ready. He said he was too sick, (we both had fever at this time). I begged of him to come, but he said no, you go on and try and escape, for we had both made up our minds if they ever moved us again we would make one bold effort for freedom. Seeing that all of my efforts were futile I pulled out and left. I gave him all the coverings we had, two old pieces of shelter tent, and that was the last I ever saw of him. I have since learned that Jimmie got out alive and was living in Texas lately. I had always supposed until then that he died at Florence.

They rushed us into Wilmington as fast as they could get trains to carry us until there were several thousands of us. We staid there about a week and all the time we could hear the guns of Gen. Schofield’s army thundering away at Fort Anderson. One evening they hustled us on the train and started us for Salisbury, but as there were more than they could carry at once they stopped about twenty miles out and put us off in a clearing and put a guard around us. Right here I decided to part company with Johnny Rebs. I confided my determination to a Michigan man who had not been a prisoner long and he said he would go with me, so we lay down close to the dead line and watched our chance. It being quite cold the guards had a small fire at the end of each beat. It was a starlight night with a few clouds but no moon, and I knew that the fire light would serve to blind the eyes of the guards to some extent. I told my Michigan friend to watch me and do just as I did. He said he would. I went first. I took a point about half way between two fires, and when the guards backs were both turned towards me I started on my hands and knees across the dead line. From there it was about ten feet to the guards beat and then freedom or a bullet; probably the latter, as I had heard the officer of the guard give the order that if any of us tried to escape to shoot us without halting.

I kept on and had got about twenty feet past the guard line when a train of cars came thundering along. I kept my eyes fixed on the guard and quickened my pace a little, or rather "crawl." About that time I heard twigs breaking and looking to my right there came Michigander on a dead run. Both guards heard it at the same time and started towards me. Michigander kept on and was soon out of sight and hearing. The guards came to within ten feet of me and stopped and listened, but as they could hear nothing they turned and went back to their posts, but all the time they would keep looking out my way. I lay still for about half an hour and by that time the guards had got cold again and returned to their fires, so I started for a big pine tree I could see outlined against the sky, and when I reached it who should I find behind my but the Michigander. He was awful glad to see me, but I was in bad humor and blowed him up in "whispers," as we were less than fifty yards from our late captors. I told him I did not want him to go any farther with me as he would be sure to get us both captured, but for each to take a separate path. He begged so hard that I finally consented for us to stay together. I know there was a wagon road to the north of us as I had heard teams passing before dark, but I had determined to avoid the roads and keep to the woods and swamps. I plunged boldly in through mud, water and bamboo vines but had not gone far before I was up to my neck in water. Michigander came puffing and blowing along behind. I soon saw that we could make no progress that way, as the vines were so thick they had already torn my coat and pants in strings, so we backed out and decided to try the road until we got past the swamp. So we turned north and soon came to the road, then turned east and proceeded on our way, all the time keeping a sharp lookout and listening every minute for straggling rebels. But at last we entered a piece of open pine woods only to discover a line of picket fires in front of us. They were about one hundred yards apart and extended both ways as far as we could see. We came to the conclusion it was established there to pick up stragglers from the army at Wilmington. We selected a point about half way between two of the fires and started in on hands and knees to pass the line, and after a very weary time of it succeeded without being discovered. We then kept on east for about a mile when we came to another swamp, but this one was more open and the water not so deep, so we waded in and at last came to Cape Fear river close to where the wagon road we had left crossed it. Here we found a pontoon bridge and a company of rebels guarding it, and as we were afraid they would not accept our pass we decided not to attempt to cross, and feeling very much exhausted we selected a hummock thickly covered with galeberry bushes, about fifty feet back from dry land, crawled into the bushes and went to sleep.

Next morning we could hear the guns much nearer that they were the day before so we decided that Gen. Terry’s army was advancing and that Wilmington had fallen. Later in the day we heard some rebels talking and they confirmed our opinion. We remained here all day and night and the next day until about three o’clock when the firing was getting close enough so we could occasionally hear the sing of a Yankee bullet as they drove the rebels before them. We decided that as there would be some desperate fighting at the bridge, and as we could be of no use there and did not want to be killed just then, even by a friendly bullet, we would go farther back and be out of harm’s way. But we went almost too far. We passed back through the swamp and through the open pine woods until we came to another swamp. Just to our right was a cleared field with stock grazing in it. We decided that there must be a house near by and we would go to it and try at the negro cabins for something to eat. My fever kept getting worse all the time, and although we had eaten nothing since we escaped I was not very hungry but sick.

We started down along the edge of the swamp and just as we turned a point that ran out in the field we discovered eight or ten rebels about fifty yards from us. They discovered us about the same time we did them and gave chase at once. We dodged back behind the point of the swamp and lit out at as rapid a gait as possible until we came to a path that ran into the swamp. We dodged into it and as we did so I looked back and saw the rebels just coming around the point. We ran about twenty feet from the edge of the swamp and dropped down in the thick undergrowth and held our breath. Soon in came the Johnnies on a run past us and so close we could have touched them with our hands. But they never saw us, although they had a dog with them. It surely was no hound or we would have been hunted out in short order. To make matters worse a battery came along in a few minutes, unlimbered, and commenced shelling our men across the river. We expected every minute our men would reply, and in case of an artillery duel or position (not over fifty feet directly in rear of the rebel battery) was surely not at desirable one, especially as there was no chance for us to move, as the rebels who had discovered us at first had returned and were keeping up their search, which they continued until about nine or ten o’clock at night. I had a dreadful cough and would hold it back all I could. When I could hold it no longer I would stick my face down in the mud and smother the sound.

Finally we went to sleep and slept until midnight, when we were awakened by heavy firing which we at first thought was in the opposite direction from the bridge, but in the morning we decided that it was at the bridge as we could still hear an occasional shot from the same direction, and as we could not tell whether our men held the bridge or not we started to work our way over near the road so we could see if there were any of our men passing. We got out of the swamp at last and crawled into some bushes on a hillock in the pine woods and staid there until about 3 P. M., when I told Michigander I was not going to stay there any longer. I was getting very sick. My cough was so bad that I coughed every minute, and my fever was very high. Michigander said he would stay where he was as he would run no more risk of being captured. So I started on by myself. When I came to the swamp I noticed that the long grass in the edge of it was all trampled down as was also the path through it. The grass all leaned one way, and that was towards me, and I knew it was not that way the day before, so I decided that the rebels had run out that way during the night. Feeling very much encouraged I kept on and soon came out where I could see across the river, and there proudly floating from a tall pole was the dear old flag and the whole country around covered with tents, and, God bless them, blue coats too.

I soon came in sight of the bridge and there I saw a "blue belly" marching up and down on guard. I started for the bridge and as I neared the sentry the sergeant of the guard came to meet me, and his first words were: "In the name of God what are you?" I was certainly a horrible looking object. I only weighed114 pounds; when I was captured I weighed 200 pounds. He took me to Gen. Terry’s headquarters, which were just at the end of the bridge. Gen. Terry and his staff were sitting on the porch of the house. When they found out I was a Union soldier there was not a dry eye in the crowd, but all I could do was laugh. You can imagine how I looked. Six foot one and one-half inches tall; weighing only 114 pounds; had not seen a piece of soap in nine months; my coat and pants hanging in strings; my feet and legs swollen and covered with sores; hair long and matted and beard the same; it was no wonder that I looked scarcely human. One of his aids took me in charge and turned me over to a company of infantry that were encamped near by. They had just cooked up a lot of rations and I came very near killing myself by eating, but was stopped in time by Orderly Sergeant. I told Gen. Terry where Michigander was and he sent out a detail and had him brought in that night, and next morning sent us in an ambulance to the hospital at Wilmington. When I got there they had to carry me in and that was the last I remembered for ten days.

When I came to my senses I was in an old negro woman’s cabin about a quarter of a mile from the hospital, and she was feeding me chicken broth with a spoon, telling me to eat it "honey" it will make you well. All I had on was a shirt and a pair of drawers and an army blanket around me. I had wandered away from the hospital. She said I came into her cabin and told her I was hungry. She saw I was sick and killed a chicken and made me some broth, and when she got it ready I did not have sense enough to eat it so she had to feed me. She sent out and got two soldiers to get an ambulance and I was carried back to the hospital, where I remained several days. In the meantime there had been an exchange of prisoners and the city was full of them, and I was finally sent to Annapolis, Md., with a boat load of them.

My brother Frank was stationed at the dock to count the men as they came off. I was carried off on a stretcher and he counted me in with the rest without recognizing me. The next day after I got there I got one of the nurses to write to Conklin to come down and see me (he being as I supposed at parole camp near Annapolis). And sure enough he was, and he and another young fellow came down to see me the next day. After they left me they met my brother and told him where I was. He came right down to see me, and then I had the first news from home in nearly a year. All were well and I was happy.