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Sergeant Oats, Prison Life in Dixie: giving a short history of the inhuman and barbarous treatment of our soldiers by rebel authorities, Chapter 8: plans of escape. (search)
ndred miles and comply with these conditions is a bigger job than it looks to be till you have worked at it for a week or two. The question of subsistence makes the problem still harder. After getting all the knowledge and hints I could, I told Cudge S., and asked him to go with me. He would not risk it. I tried Tom B. He heard my plan, and gave me his hand on it. Our plan was to be taken out, if possible, so as to leave in the evening, so that night would be on the first part of the road; to jump off at some point before we reached Macon; then to travel northwest until we reached the Chattahoochee, and reached the high mountainous divide between it and the waters of the Tombigbee; thence north till we would reach our lines, somewhere between Big Shanty and Resaca. We expected a four hundred miles trip, and thought we could make it in a month. We expected to keep hid by day till we reached the wooded hills of Alabama, when we hoped to be able to travel a little by day.
Sergeant Oats, Prison Life in Dixie: giving a short history of the inhuman and barbarous treatment of our soldiers by rebel authorities, Chapter 14: camp Lawton. (search)
Chapter 14: camp Lawton. The Columbus jail. better fare. to Macon. new plans for escape. camp Lawton The jail at Columbus was an iron building. It consisted of a hall about twelve feet wide, twenty feet long, and twelve feet high; with a double tier of cells on each side. Each cell was about six feet cube. A shng, and put with the other prisoners, who were corralled on a vacant lot and closely guarded. The next morning we were loaded on a train of flat cars and taken to Macon. Tom was feeling well, and my feet were in a fair way to recover. Hood was about Chattanooga, so we decided that if we run that night we would jump off, and aim to go straight to Atlanta. The reader may try to imagine our disappoint when, instead of going on, they took us off the cars at Macon, and again put us in camp. We saw that they did not intend to travel by night, so we tried to think of some way to run the guard. We were put in a place that had a high, tight board fence on
Sergeant Oats, Prison Life in Dixie: giving a short history of the inhuman and barbarous treatment of our soldiers by rebel authorities, Chapter 21: our last prison. (search)
our miles before they made the engineer understand that he had lost a part of his train. He then ran on to the first station, and left us while he went back for the rear. The Johnnies were badly scared, and terribly indignant at this delay. The officer in command flourished his pistol around us, and swore that if he knew who uncoupled the train he would shoot him! But he did not know. It filled us with exultation and happiness to see the rebs so uneasy. About daylight we ran into Macon, and stopped, but they did not take us off the cars. From our train we could see up into the business part of town, and noticed a number of large, white flags floating over the principal houses. We asked a negro what they were for, and he said- Specks de Yanks is comin‘! The officers in charge of us held a hurried consultation with the authorities. The engine was turned around and hitched to the other end of our train, and by eight o'clock we were steaming away down the same road
Sergeant Oats, Prison Life in Dixie: giving a short history of the inhuman and barbarous treatment of our soldiers by rebel authorities, A Visit to Andersonville in 1880. (search)
A Visit to Andersonville in 1880. A correspondent of the Boston Herald who recently visited the site of the prison at Andersonville, writes as follows: Anderson is the name of a station on the Southwestern Railroad, about sixty miles, or two hours ride, from Macon. It is nothing but a railroad station, and the only other thing besides the railroad which characterizes the spot, is the immense Union Cemetery, of some twenty acres, over which floats the Star-Spangled Banner. The Cemetery is located on the spot where the prisoners were buried and the trenches were dug with such precision and regularity that the soldiers were not generally disturbed, but allowed to remain as their comrades interred them, working under the watchful eyes and fixed bayonets of the Georgia Home-Guard. The Cemetery is surrounded by a stout brick wall, with an iron gate, and is under the supervision of a Superintendent, who lives on the grounds. It is a plain spot. There is not much attempt mad