Part 16 (1/2)

Citizens gathered upon the flat roofs of their dwellings and watched the conflict, between the Charleston firemen on one side, and the crackling flames and General Gilmore's batteries on Morris Island, on the other.

I saw a man and woman upon their roof near the burning building, and when the sh.e.l.ls began to drop in pretty thick and fast, and some of them most uncomfortably near to where they stood, the gentleman seemed to suddenly think of some duty he was obliged to attend to below, while the lady pluckily staid it out. The wonderful accuracy with which General Gilmore sent those immense projectiles into any part of the city, from his batteries on Morris Island, five miles away, was simply astonis.h.i.+ng. He seemed to be able to drop them just where he pleased and there was no time, day or night, when the citizens of that doomed city had not good reason to expect that they might receive one of Gilmore's compliments, as we used to call them. While we were waiting in the Broad Street House for the order to start for Columbia, after we had got all packed up, the officers commenced writing their names on the wall near where they had slept, and being in rather a poetical mood just then, I took my pencil and wrote on the wall in the corner where my quarters had been, the following:

I have slept in this corner for many a night, A prisoner of war in a pitiful plight, I have ate my corn dodger, my bacon and rice, And have skirmished my s.h.i.+rt and my drawers for lice.

Here's health to Jeff Davis and bad may it be, May mercy and pardon afar from him flee, May he find, when too late, to his sorrow and cost, That not only the Confederacy, but Heaven he's lost.

CHAPTER XXIX.

EXCHANGE ON THE BRAIN.

Many of the prisoners were afflicted to a greater or less extent, with what was termed exchange on the brain.

This disease would manifest itself in various ways, and different persons would be differently affected by it.

I remember numerous cases of this malady, (for it really was a malady) in the different prisons. Persons thus afflicted, would improve every opportunity to inform themselves of the prospects of there being an exchange of prisoners, and every paper they got hold of would be carefully scanned for exchange news, and whenever they came across an article on this subject ever so vague and unsatisfactory, they would pore over it, and try to construe it as an evidence that an exchange would soon take place.

If papers were not to be had they would stroll around the camp, stopping to talk with any one that could be induced to listen to them, about what they had heard on this subject, and try to hear something that they could console themselves with, and in their perambulations about the grounds, their whole and only theme was ”Exchange.” Should those they met commence talking upon any other subject, they were uninterested and would, as soon as possible, change the subject to the prospects for exchange.

The first question they would ask upon meeting an acquaintance would be, ”Do you hear anything about exchange?” Should they find two or three officers talking together, especially if they seemed to be talking rather earnestly, they would get up near enough to find out whether the subject under discussion was exchange.

It was the subject of all their thoughts and conversation by day, and of their dreams by night.

The most improbable rumors would be started in camp in regard to exchange, just to play upon the credulity of those who were afflicted with exchange on the brain, and they would believe them too, and would excitedly circulate the rumors.

One officer in Savannah, Captain Johnson, was afflicted badly with this malady, and could never see two or three officers together talking, without trying to ascertain if there was anything being said about exchange. We used to play upon his credulity to an extent that was really cruel.

While at Savannah, Col. F. C. Miller, 147th N. Y., was detailed as senior officer of the camp, and all communications to the commandant of the prison had to be forwarded through him, and all orders from the commandant to us were received through him.

Being very intimate with Col. Miller, I was supposed, next to him, to be the most probable one to know what was going on. The Colonel had made a backgammon board, and we used to sit in his tent and play a good deal of the time.

Captain Johnson and I both belonged to the same squad, which was designated as No. 9. One evening, I had been up to Colonel Miller's tent until quite late, and when I returned, the squad had all retired. As I came to my tent, which was just opposite Capt. Johnson's, I said to my tent-mates somewhat excitedly, and in a tone loud enough for Johnson to hear: ”Well, boys, I have now got some news that is reliable. I just came from Col. Miller's tent, and the Colonel told me that Col. Smith told him--” here I dropped my voice so that Johnson could not hear. In a second Johnson jumped out of bed and came across the street, minus everything but his night clothes, and asked excitedly: ”What did Col. Miller tell you?”

”Well,” said I, ”Col. Miller told me that No. 9 squad would be detailed to police the camp to-morrow.”

Johnson, without saying a word, returned to his bunk amid the roars of laughter from the whole squad. I know it was cruel, to laugh at, and play jokes upon men who were half insane upon the subject. There were those who were clearly insane upon the subject of exchange, and were really to be pitied.

A Captain, whose name I have forgotten, became perfectly insane while we were at Savannah, and I think he died while in prison. At first those who noticed his peculiar actions thought he was playing a dodge to get paroled and sent North, but we were all soon convinced that the poor fellow had brooded over his imprisonment until his mind had completely lost its balance.

His mind seemed to be continually dwelling upon exchange, and for days and weeks he could not be induced to talk upon an other subject. He would tell the most improbable stories, that no one else had heard, about a general exchange of prisoners that was soon to take place, but as such stories were continually floating around the camp, not much attention was paid to him, and if any one thought upon them at all, they looked upon his stories as silly canards, gotten up to fool some one with.

His mind finally seemed to run to sumptuous dinners, and he would invite eight or ten of his prison companions to dine with him at a certain hour, and upon their arrival, they would find perhaps a half baked corn meal pome, that had been cooked in a dirty old wash basin, over a smoky fire, having been mixed up without salt or rising of any kind, to be the princely spread he had invited them to.

He would do the honors in a courteous and dignified manner and seem to think he was at home entertaining some distinguished guests in a royal manner, to a regal feast.

Of course his comrades would excuse themselves on one pretext and another, and would leave him to enjoy his dinner alone.