THE IMMORTAL SIX HUNDRED
serted and took the oath of allegiance to the United States Government—this fellow Woolf made the prison of the Confederate enlisted men a veritable torture-house. After taps were sounded I would often, with the aid of Lieut. Bob Bowie and Capt. Tom Roche, my bunk-mates, steal into the enlisted men's camp next to ours, separated by a high board fence, and hear from the men the story of the atrocious treatment this fellow Woolf, Hackout, and the other scoundrels would inflict upon the helpless sick and poor Confederate prisoners of war, who could not make complaint, for the reason their complaints never got further than Captain Ahl, who never brought the matter to General Schoepf's attention.
Through that incomprehensible means that cannot be defined nor explained, and is only known to prisoners of war, we, confined in the officers' camp of the prison, became possessed of the knowledge that there was to be an exchange of prisoners of war. We seldom
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