He was so thin that he could never be hit by a bullet, as he could hide behind his ramrod in time of danger.
I called to the boys, “See what they call a soldier,” but as he brought up his musket to fire I found it was alive and I retired in good order.
Lieut. Thomas J. Hastings
of the 15th tore a piece off his shelter tent to use as a towel and was made to mark time while the rest were being searched.
After our names, rank, regiment, place and date of capture were recorded we were marched to a room in the third story.
The one next to ours was filled with our men. A brick partition wall divided us, but some of them made a hole through, and, as they had not been searched, passed a few things to us. Mark Kimball
gave me ten dollars, Mike O'Leary
a razor, another gave me a spoon.
The razor and spoon I carried all through my prison life, and have them yet. The money I returned to Mark some two weeks later.
We were not allowed to rest long, as I suppose they thought we required exercise, and were marched to another room over the office.
The rooms were perfectly bare.
We had no blankets or dishes, as everything had been taken from us. We sat down on the floor, about as blue a collection of humanity as was ever assembled.
In a short time Turner
came in to look us over.
I asked him if it was not about time for dinner, as no rations had been issued since we had been captured, two days before.
He did not like my question and swore at me for several minutes, winding up by saying that no rations would be issued until the next day, and I should be —— lucky if I got any then.
I replied that as I was not acquainted with the other hotels in the city I guessed I would wait.