mustered for examination next morning over eighteen hundred. After searching my package and person, taking from me nearly everything that my captors had left me, I was assigned, with two others, to a tent having already twenty-three occupants. I cannot describe the appearance of that tent and the men in it. If there is a word more comprehensive than filthy I would use it. It would require a combination of similar adjectives to give any description. There was given me a half loaf of bread and a small rusty salt mackerel, which I was informed was for next day's rations. I declared I would not sleep in the tent, but was told there was no alternative, as the guards or patrol would shoot me if I slept outside. It was a horrible night. Weary, exhausted, almost heartbroken, I ate a part of my scanty loaf, and placed the remainder under my head with the fish. I soon forgot my troubles in sleep. Waked in the morning and found I had been relieved of any further anxiety for my bread, as it had been taken from me by some starving individual, (a common occurrence). The mackerel was left as undesirable. A chew of tobacco would purchase two, so little demand was there for them—for many had no means of cooking them. A few hours of reflection—that ever to be remembered morning. There were none there that I had ever seen, except the few acquaintances made on the march. All looked dark, dismal—and the thought I might remain there for months came nearer to making my heart sink in despair than ever before. I thought that must be surely the darkest hour of my existence. While thus lamenting my fate, and almost distrustful of relief, a boy near me asked what regiment I belonged to. I told him the Washington Artillery. "Why," says he, "there is a whole company of them fellows here captured near Petersburg." I began to revive a little on that. For though the saying goes, that "Misery seeks strange bed fellows," I sought for old acquaintances, and soon found them. The surprise was mutual. By the kindness of Mr. Vinson, I had good quarters with him, and was more comfortable. We had a small tent, and only six in it. True, we were "packed like sardines" at night, but we were friends, and each one had a pride and disposition to keep as cleanly as we could. The food allowed was as follows: In the morning, early, the men are marched by companies (each about one hundred and fifty) to the "cook houses," and receive a small piece of boiled beef or pork. I do not think the largest piece ever given would weigh three ounces. There is no bread given at this time, and it is a common occurrence for the men to have eaten their scanty allowance in a few mouthfuls without bread. At or near twelve o'clock, M., there is issued to each a half of a small loaf of bread, (eight ounce loaves). The men can then go to the cook-houses and receive a pint of miserable soup. That is the last meal for the day. I never tasted of the soup (so called) but once. It was revolting—I might say revolving to my stomach. Sometimes, in place of meat, is given salt mackerel or codfish—never of good quality. The
Page:Southern Historical Society Papers volume 01.djvu/265
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Treatment of Prisoners During the War.
257
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