Erhalten Sie Zugang zu diesem und mehr als 300000 Büchern ab EUR 5,99 monatlich.
- Herausgeber: Musaicum Books
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
Beckwith West's 'The Experience of a Confederate States Prisoner' is a compelling memoir that provides a firsthand account of the tumultuous times during the American Civil War. Written in a poignant and candid style, West vividly describes the harsh realities faced by Confederate prisoners of war, offering a unique perspective on the conflict that divided a nation. The book delves into the day-to-day struggles, hardships, and unexpected moments of camaraderie that emerged in the midst of adversity, painting a vivid picture of life behind enemy lines. This memoir is a valuable historical document that sheds light on the human experience during a turbulent period in American history. Beckwith West, a Confederate soldier himself, draws upon his own experiences to provide a deeply personal insight into the challenges faced by those who were captured and imprisoned during the war. His firsthand knowledge and detailed recollections give the reader a glimpse into the emotional and physical toll of confinement, as well as the resilience and camaraderie that sustained many prisoners through their ordeal. For readers interested in a poignant and immersive glimpse into the Civil War era, 'The Experience of a Confederate States Prisoner' by Beckwith West is a must-read. This memoir offers a unique and captivating perspective on the war, providing valuable insights into the human spirit in times of adversity.
Sie lesen das E-Book in den Legimi-Apps auf:
Seitenzahl: 162
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
Das E-Book (TTS) können Sie hören im Abo „Legimi Premium” in Legimi-Apps auf:
Ähnliche
Experience of a Confederate States Prisoner
(Memoirs)
Published by
Books
Table of Contents
Preface
The gallant Morgan has said that our independence is an achieved fact. “Privation and suffering have won it.” It is true that the noble South has been deprived of many of its wonted necessaries, not to say luxuries, by the present invasion of those disciples of Satan, commonly called “Yankees.” Paper, among other things, is scarce in the South, and paper may be turned into excellent account in the composition of cartridges, while metal that might be moulded into bullets is run into type. Yet newspapers and books are printed, and most of them eagerly read, especially any that have the most remote bearing upon the present contest. In these stern times of war’s realities, plain facts challenge our attention rather than the gaudy fiction of novels. Honey from Mount Hybla, or Nectar from Olympus, would fail on the palate, unless relieved by homelier viands; and it would certainly require considerable stoicism to sit down to a tale of imaginary woes and sorrows while one great wail is going up from our sick and wounded—an incredible amount of apathy to sit leisurely down to such a book under the shade of a tree while the nation is sending out a heartcry for reinforcements to our brave legions, in order to speedily defeat the unscrupulous enemy. This little book is intended as, and professes no more than a plain statement of facts, so that others may learn what I have read, seen and heard, without undergoing the pain of incarceration in the hands of Yankees, whose tyranny increases in proportion to the power they possess over their victims.
Experience of a Confederate States Prisoner
May, 1862. A “heavy march” on the 6th and 7th instant resulted in a Confederate victory at McDowell, Highland county, at which place a battle was fought on the 8th. General Jackson routed and drove the enemy, commanded by the Yankee Generals, Milroy and Schenck, twenty-five miles into Pendleton county, and captured a large amount of ammunition, commissary stores, arms, and many prisoners. Our forces afterwards completely routed Banks’ column at Winchester, and thoroughly defeated Fremont and Shields at Cross Keyes and Port Republic. After the battle at Front Royal, I remained at that place upon the recommendation of the regimental surgeon, on account of having strong symptoms of the Typhoid fever, which turned out to be the genuine disease. Dr. Brown, the resident physician, attended me; and a member of my own company, Mr. Oxford, nursed me faithfully from the 23d May, the day our forces entered Front Royal, to the 30th May, the day that the Yankees under General Shields recaptured it. The 12th Georgia regiment was the only force left at Front Royal. The Provost Marshal, or the Colonel commanding the 12th Georgia, gave us notice but one hour before the Yankees were in the town that they were advancing. When Mr. Oxford informed me of the near approach of the Yankees, I quickly jumped out of bed, and we hastily made a retreat towards Winchester. The salutary and kind attentions of Dr. Brown and Mr. Oxford had much improved me in strength, but I soon discovered that I could not keep pace with the latter in our eager efforts to escape. We succeeded in getting about one mile and a half from the town when the Yankee cavalry were heard closing on us so fast that we leaped over a fence on the left of the road, thinking that we might conceal ourselves in the high grass until the cavalry passed, and be enabled to elude them by getting into the woods near by. In the confusion, however, Mr. Oxford and I became separated, and by this time the Yankee cavalry were close enough to fire twice on myself and two others from the 33d Virginia, who attempted to make their escape in the same direction. The cavalry soon after had surrounded us, and we were compelled to surrender, and were marched into town under a heavy guard. The commissioned officers were carried before General Shields, and the non-commissioned officers and privates to the building used by our army as a hospital, where we had some hundred sick at the time. The commissioned officers at first confined to any house they might select, were afterwards paroled the town. I was taken to Mr. John B. Petty’s house, and ordered to remain there “for the present” by one of General Shields’ staff. About an hour after I was left at the above named house, a Pennsylvania Major came into the room where I was, and very abruptly asked me, “What are you doing here?” I informed him that by order of General Shields I was to remain there “until further orders;” he would not believe me, and placed two sentinels in the room until he found that my statement was correct. Captain Keogh (on General Shields’ staff) gave me the following note, saying, when he did so, that I would not be “any further annoyed by officers in other regiments” that had nothing to do with my case:
“Headquarters, Shields’ Division, May 30, 1862.
“Captain W. is allowed to remain at the house of Mr. John B. Petty (until further arrangements are made,) the said Captain W. being a prisoner of war. By order of Major General Shields.
MILES W. KEOGH,Ass’t Adj.”
After the lapse of two days I was allowed the limits of the town, but being sick I did not go out of the house for five days after I was captured, when I walked down to the barbers’ shop. While passing the hotel I was called by a Federal officer, whose name I learned afterwards was General Duryea, of New York. I went into his room, around which were sitting several other Federal officers, and the General addressed me, “What are you doing walking about the streets? Are you not a Southern officer?” I replied “I am,” and told him that Major Shedd, the Provost Marshal, had paroled me the town. General Duryea then said, “I understand, sir, that when the Rhode Island cavalry had you in their power, and could have killed you, that as one of the cavalry dismounted to take your sword, and was proceeding to mount again, you fired your pistol twice at the back of his neck.” I replied such could not be true, for I had no pistol about me when captured. General Duryea then said, “I may be mistaken, but I wish to find out what Captain it was, and visit the proper vengeance upon him.” The day before the Yankees entered Front Royal, a colored man died of small pox in a small frame house near the railroad depot, and by general consent of both citizens and the Yankee paroled prisoners in the town, it was agreed as advisable to burn the house and body, in order to prevent the spread of the dangerous and contagious disease. The Yankees were told by some traitor, or else themselves originated the lie, that we had burned up two of the Yankee prisoners in our hands, and they swore vengeance against us—declared that they intended to “put the town in ashes,” and nothing but a special order of General Shields to the contrary, and forbidding interference with any property whatever, prevented the soldiers from giving vent to spleen engendered by a false and malicious report. General Shields was informed by Major Collins, (Vermont cavalry,) in my presence, that while a prisoner in our hands he was treated most kindly, and that all reports to the contrary had no foundation in truth; and all the other Federal prisoners endorsed the statement of Major Collins.
June 6th. We have been told from day to day that all “General Jackson’s men” would be paroled until exchanged, and yet at the same time preparations are being made to take us to Washington, i. e., about nineteen officers, and one hundred and fifty non-commissioned officers and privates. The kindness of the people of Front Royal, and especially the ladies to the Confederate prisoners, deserves the highest praise. Devoted to our cause, they omit no opportunity to show their regard for those who are endeavoring to rescue them from the obnoxious presence and depredations of the Yankees. They keep aloof from the Yankees as much as possible, and are always on the alert to do something for the relief of our sick and wounded.
June 7th. Among the Yankees I made the acquaintance of Adjutant Griffin, 5th New York cavalry, who treated me kindly, as also Captain Abraham Moore, Captain Isaac S. Tichenor, and Major Shedd, 105th New York regiment, and Lieutenant H. Hobert Mason, of General McDowell’s staff. Met with the celebrated Miss “Bell Boyd” to-day. Miss B. is a sprightly, intelligent lady, au fait in all the movements of our army, and moderately good looking. Her general information, and nonchalant mode of fluent conversation, renders her tout ensemble quite interesting. It is said she has obtained valuable information from Yankee officers in regard to their movements, and conveyed the same to our army. A great many soldiers talk to me every day, and they all so far have expressed themselves tired of the war, but say that it will soon be ended, inasmuch as they have General Jackson “in a trap,” out of which he cannot escape. They say “Stonewall” is our greatest General—incomparably so—that he is cunning and strategic, but that it is not within the range of human possibility for him “to elude us this time;” that they would like to capture him, but under no consideration would they kill either him or Ashby if they knew it.
June 8th. They say we are to be sent to Washington city on to-morrow, but we have been told so many things that have failed to come to pass, that we are too reluctant to believe any more reports. Nous verron, to-morrow. Mr. and Mrs. Petty have been untiring in their attentions to the sick and wounded prisoners here. They will never be forgotten by those who have been the recipients of their kindness, especially those who had the fortune to be under their roof. Mr. P. has been made to pay the Yankees a heavy penalty on account of being “Secesh;” they have stolen three of his most valuable negroes, any number of horses, cattle, &c., besides laying waste his two farms. One of his negro men left him one day, and the next time he saw him the negro was dressed in the cavalry uniform, with a sabre hanging to his side, and passed his master with silent contempt on the street. The negro was now a member of the “Michigan cavalry,” a company notorious for its success in robbery and plunder of every description. This same negro visited Mr. Petty’s house afterwards in company with three Yankee officers, and demanded of Mrs. Petty (Mr. P. was absent) the key to the wine room; Mrs. P. told them that she had only a few bottles of wine, which she kept for medicinal purposes, and requested them not to disturb it, but the negro persisted with threats in having it, and told Mrs. P. “she lied” in saying she only had a few bottles. Having obtained all the wine in the house, by frightening this excellent lady they drank it in her presence, when they smashed the bottles on the floor, exclaiming, “the damned Secesh don’t deserve to have anything.”
Monday, June 9th. To-day the prisoners were put on the cars to be taken to Washington city. A lady gave one of the prisoners a boquet with a small Confederate flag attached, which, as he was about to get into the cars, was noticed by General Duryea, of New York, and as soon as the latter saw it he quickly severed the flag from the boquet, and with an air of contempt and triumph tore it into fragments, at the same time trampling each fragment under his feet. The people of Front Royal manifest the greatest interest in the Confederate prisoners. They carry provisions to them daily at the hospital, while those prisoners who are paroled are invited to their houses. It would seem that interest would sometimes prompt them to court Yankee favor, but they spurn it, and remain loyal and true in their deportment at the sacrifice of thousands of dollars worth of property, for Yankee regiments camp on the wheat fields, and steal the horses and negroes, and kill the hogs, and commit every sort of depredation upon the property of those who are known to be Secessionists. The ladies avoid the Yankees whenever they can, and when thrown into their presence, treat them with that reserve with which they might be expected to treat those whom they regard as the deadly enemies of their dearest friends and interest, but whose presence they cannot avoid. The people seemed sad when the prisoners left Front Royal; the ladies filled their haversacks with refreshments, and loaded the cars with flowers.
June 10th. We arrived at Alexandria at 2 o’clock this morning—saw the depot which was burned by the bold General Geary, when he imagined that he saw 50,000 rebels advancing on him, when, in fact, the rebels were no where near him. The 104th New York regiment in their fright burned up everything they had. A fellow prisoner informs me that he was lately a prisoner in the hands of Geary, who had him hand-cuffed, and kept him without food for four days, and that he led his command to believe, by repeated assurances, that Richmond was in possession of the Federal army. At daybreak this morning a crowd assembled around the cars, and many were eager to talk with us, but were not permitted to do so. Nor were our friends allowed to give us anything to eat, although they had provided various refreshments, and although the Yankees had furnished us nothing to eat since yesterday morning, or it may be said with nothing at all, for what we eat then was given by the people at Front Royal. At 7 o’clock in the morning the crowd became very great, and the guards were increased in proportion. The ladies could not be prevented from kissing their hands to the prisoners. A young man attempted to throw an orange in the cars for a lady, who requested him to do so, but he was contemptuously thrust aside, and had to leave in “double quick” time. Our friends had provided for us coffee, bread and butter, ham, eggs, cakes, pies, candies in variety, and tobacco and cigars in profusion, but like the thirsty Tantalus, and the water we were almost in reach, without being able to enjoy them. Boquets were thrown in showers into the cars, while there was the greatest demand for our buttons. Some cut all the buttons off their coats, and then could not gratify all who requested to be given “one.” This scene, and the sympathy manifested for our cause by so many Alexandrians, made us feel happy, while at the same time we were sad in knowing that they were then writhing under the heel of Lincoln despotism. The Yankee soldiers seemed to envy the attentions sought to be lavished upon the prisoners by the people of Alexandria; some cursed us, some shook the United States flag in our faces, &c. One fellow remarked, “If the 11th Massachusetts was in those cars, you would not get to Washington city.” Others vented their spleen by insulting remarks to the ladies. We arrived at Washington at 12, M., having started from Alexandria in a steamboat about 11. We were then marched in two ranks (with a strong guard of infantry on either side and rear, and a display of cavalry in front) to the “old capitol military prison.” We were very wet when we arrived at the latter place, on account of the rain which commenced before we left the steamboat, but were compelled to stand out in the yard from 12, M., to 5, P.M., when we were assigned our quarters. The room in which seven officers and myself were confined was about twelve feet square. My prison companions are Captain Samuel M. Sommers, quartermaster, Lieutenants Chas. E. Bott and John F. Everly, 33d Virginia regiment, and Lieutenant James K. Decrow, Newton T. Johnston, James M. Brown, and Edward Waterman, of the 12th Georgia regiment. Roll was called to-night, and our names, rank, regiment, company letter, and State, taken in full. Our door is locked all the time, except when officers come in, or when we are allowed to go into the yard an half hour for exercise.
June 11th. The superintendent of this prison is William P. Wood, and the officers in command Captain Benjamin Higgins, and Lieutenants J. Miller and —— Holmes. Mr. Wood is an infidel, who so far from blushing to proclaim it, takes frequent occasion to do so. When endeavoring to enforce his doctrines, he addresses his opponent as “You mullet-headed Christian,” and speaks in the greatest derision of our Saviour, while he denies the existence of a God, or hell. He is a sharp-featured, serpentine-looking specimen of humanity, medium height, and by trade a cabinet maker, before his black republican proclivities secured him his present position. Mr. Wood, a prisoner, soon finds out to be the most important among “the powers that be” connected with the prison, and all “privileges” must be reached through him. He professes to be a great Southern man, and sometimes demonstrates this by knocking down a contraband, who does not wait upon him in accordance with his fastidious notions.
It is cloudy, and my close confinement, together with the continual sight of dark blue uniforms makes me feel as gloomy as the sky is in appearance. I would that I could be with our army in the “Old Dominion.” From my prison window I see an old United States soldier cultivating flowers in a row of flower pots. One knows him to be a soldier by his regular walk, and the style of his grey moustache, not to speak of his uniform. Indeed one might have guessed as much from the care he takes of his little garden, for there are two things I have noticed especially, loved by old soldiers, viz: flowers and children. They have so long been obliged to look upon the earth as a field of battle, and so long cut off from the peaceful pleasures of a quiet lot, that they seem to begin life at an age when others end it.
June 12th.
