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In and Out of Rebel Prisons. Alonzo Cooper
Читать онлайн.Название In and Out of Rebel Prisons
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isbn 4064066052591
Автор произведения Alonzo Cooper
Жанр Документальная литература
Издательство Bookwire
He was well known to all to be an unprincipled coward, and on two different occasions at least, he was most effectually snubbed. On one occasion it was by Chaplain White, of the 5th Rhode Island H. A., who was an earnest christian, and in connection with Chaplain Dixon, 16th Connecticut, regularly held divine service every Sunday, and prayer meetings once or twice during the week. In these services it was his custom to pray for the President of the United States.
One Sunday morning Tabb came in at roll call, and notified the Chaplain that he would not hereafter be allowed to offer prayer for the President. Chaplain White told him that while he retained his power of speech, his prayers should be dictated only by his conscience and his sense of duty. Chaplain Dixon opened the service that morning and made in his prayer an eloquent appeal, not only for the President of the United States, but for the success of our army, and for every Union soldier, whether in hospital, in prison, or in the field, and was not interrupted or interfered with by Tabb, who could hear every word from his quarters.
On another occasion he told Col. Lagrange, who was in command of number nine squad, to which I belonged, that he should hold him responsible for any tunnelling, or attempted escape of the men in his squad, who haughtily replied that he was not placed there as a spy or detective, and that he should not betray the secrets of his comrades, but would, to the utmost of his ability, render them any assistance they needed. This speech was cheered by the squad in the most hearty manner.
We always found that our treatment was fair whenever we were guarded by old soldiers who had seen service at the front; but when the new issue, who were a cowardly lot of home guards, were placed over us, there was no extremity of cruelty and meanness that they would not resort to, to render our condition more miserable and unbearable, even to shooting an officer who was quietly attending to his own business. A case of this kind occurred on the 11th of June, when Lieut. Gerson of the 45th New York Volunteers, who was returning from the sink about 8 o’clock in the evening, was shot and killed by one of the guards named Belger, of the 27th Georgia Battalion (Co. E). This was a brutal and deliberate murder, as the officer was not within ten feet of the dead line and was coming from it towards his quarters, besides the full moon was shining brightly, and the sentry could not have thought he was trying to escape. The truth is, he had told his girl when he left home, that he would shoot a Yankee before he returned, and was too cowardly to attempt to kill one who was armed. This fellow was promoted to a Sergeant and given thirty days’ leave for his cowardly act. Of course, in a prison like Macon, where none but officers were confined, the indignities and abuses were less frequent and severe than in Andersonville, where the enlisted men were held. Officers of intelligence were less liable to submit tamely to these indignities than were the men, who had been schooled to obey orders, and could and did, command more respect; besides, there were less of us, and our prison was more roomy and better kept.
A certain number were detailed every morning from each squad, to thoroughly police the quarters, and keep them in a good, clean, healthy condition. Then, officers were usually possessed of more money and valuables than the enlisted men, and were better prepared to subsist themselves, when rations were cut down to starvation points. The wonder is not with me, that so many of our boys died in prison, but that any of them got out alive. When I saw officers reduced to skeletons, and driven to insanity by the treatment they received, and then think of the poor fellows whose sufferings were a thousand fold greater, the only wonder is that human nature could endure it all. But I started to tell how we passed the time.
After doing our marketing, which, by the way, was happily illustrated by a reb, who said he used to go to market with his money in his vest pocket, and carry a basket on his arm to bring home his purchases in; but now, he was obliged to take his money in the basket, and could almost carry home his purchases in his vest pocket.
We amused ourselves by reading, playing cards, chess, checkers, and other games, while those wishing exercise played cricket or practiced the sabre exercise or fencing, to keep our muscles up, and perfect ourselves in the use of arms. Sabres and foils were whittled out of pine or ash sticks, with which we supplied ourselves. One German whose name I failed to take down, gave daily lessons in fencing, and he was not only an excellent teacher, but an expert swordsman. I have seen him allow three of his most advanced pupils come at him at once, and tell them to go at him as though they meant to kill him, and he would successfully defend himself against them all. One thing I distinctly remember was that he could not speak very plain English, and when he would give the order, “On guard en carte,” in his quick way of speaking it, a person who did not know what he intended to say, thought he said “Cut-a-gut,” and he was known in prison as “Old Cut-a-Gut” always after.
After we had exercised sufficiently we would lay down in the shade and read or sleep during the hottest portion of the day. A number of us formed a literary association, each subscribing toward the purchase of a library that a citizen of Macon had to sell. He said he had a library of about one hundred books, that he would sell for $500, as he was destitute and was obliged to part with them to buy provisions for his family. So twenty of us chipped in $25 apiece around and started a circulating library, appointed one of our number librarian, and in this way we were well supplied with reading matter for a long time.
I do not remember all, or any considerable number of the titles of these books, but what interested me most were some old Harper’s magazines, in the reading of which I found days and weeks of profitable enjoyment. I do not think I ever fully appreciated until then, how much real comfort it was possible to extract from those old literary productions. Our reading was usually done during the hottest part of the day while lying in our quarters, when out of door exercise was too uncomfortable, and when we got tired of reading we would take a nap or go visiting to some of our friends in other portions of the camp, and there sit and talk over affairs, discussing the prospects of exchange, spinning yarns, cracking jokes, or singing old war songs to cheer each other up and pass away the time. Others would resort to the gambling tent, where there was always a game of cards going on; sometimes it was three card loo and sometimes poker; but they would sit there from early morning until dark and play for money, and, as is always the case, some would come away happy and some broke. But somehow or other the same gang would be there the next day, anxious to retrieve their broken fortunes of the previous day, or add to their gains. Men would there as here, sell the last button off their coat to raise money to continue the game, with a hope that luck would come their way. Thus, some who came into prison with enough to subsist them for quite a long time, would soon be obliged to live on the rations they drew, while others, who were nearly destitute when they came in, would live like fighting cocks. I could rehearse incidents of this kind that came under my personal observation, but as I could not do so without giving names, as the boys say, I won’t give it away.
All sorts of games were played, some for money, and some for pastime. Cribbage, back gammon, euchre, seven up, and sometimes we would play poker for the beans we drew for our rations. When the bean ration was given out, each man would have perhaps a good tablespoonful, then five or six would sit down and play until one would have the whole, which would make him quite a respectable dinner, and the rest would have to go without. Thus it will be seen that our prison camp was a village, where all kinds of business was carried on, and all sorts of characters were to be found. We had our church, our prayer meetings, our social circles, our singing, our visiting, and our gambling houses, all in a space of four or five acres of ground.
We had some excellent singers, and were frequently entertained during the long evenings with solos, quartettes, and choruses, patriotic, sentimental and pathetic.
Among the patriotic songs oftenest heard, were “The Star Spangled Banner,” “The Red, White and Blue,” “The Sword of Bunker Hill,” and “Rally ’Round the Flag;” but the one that touched a tender chord in every prisoner’s heart, and that even the rebs used to call for, was this which I quote entire:
In the prison pen I sit, thinking mother most of you,
And the bright and happy home so far away,
While the tears they fill my eyes, spite of all that I can do,