to go to Libby
I was standing a little aside from the rest, thinking over the situation and whistling to keep together what little courage I had left, when a rebel officer rode up and said, “We will take that whistle out of you in a little while.
Corn bread is gitting pretty mouldy down in Libby
I said I guessed not. It was my intention to whistle as loud the last day as I did the first. “Oh, I have heard lots of you fellows talk, but Dick Turner
soon fixes them,” was his reply.
This was the first promise of starvation.
We moved forward and soon stood in front of Libby prison.
I could almost read over the door, “He who enters here leaves hope behind.”
We marched in and passed to the rear of the room.
As I looked out of the window I saw them carry out four of our dead boys in blankets, all of them naked, having been stripped of their clothing.
We hardly knew what was to come next but had not long to wait, for Dick Turner
, who had charge, ordered part of us to fall in. Lieutenant Chubbuck
had kept a small revolver in his pocket until this time, but now threw it out of the window into the canal in rear of the prison.
We were ordered to stand in line, unbutton our clothing, and, as Turner
passed down, were made to open our mouths that he might see if we had any greenbacks in them.
He said those who gave up their money should have it again, but those who did not would lose it. I had sixty-two dollars and had just time to put ten between the soles of my shoe.
The rest I gave to Turner
After he had picked a squad he ordered them to the front of the room, away from the rest.
The front door was guarded by a thing I supposed they called a soldier, dressed in a black, swallow-tailed coat, his head crowned with a stove-pipe hat and armed with a sporting