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suddenly as if he had been hit by a bullet, and with a very forcible gesture, cried out "Go to your Company, go to your Company!" Which order, I willingly obeyed.This brings us back to the charge, which as before intimated, only lasted a few minutes; in which three or four of our men were killed -- one named Green, a boy eighteen years old, who had joined our Company two weeks prior to the fight. He being young and thoughtless, did not throw down his gun immediately after the surrender, and some said he advanced toward some Federals with his gun in his hand, when some one shot him. There were a half dozen wounded. I do not know how many of the enemy were killed. The first man who mounted the breastworks, a color bearer, was killed. He lay that night where he fell, with the flag he bore, spread over him.
We did not see out any more after the surrender -- two hours by sun, until night; the breastworks being lined with Federal soldiers, not all as guards, but thousands in addition, asking questions and passing jokes.
We slept on our blankets that night, inside the wall, while the Sentinels paced their post upon the breastworks around us.
My feelings at the time of the surrender, I can scarcely describe -- my first impulse was a feeling of relief, for I knew that if we had not surrendered that soon, all would have been killed. I then thought of home and loved ones, and the little probability of ever returning. On the afternoon of March 15th, 1864, we were marched to the river, and went aboard a gunboat, "no. 13", and launched out about dark; we knew not whither. One time in the night we ran into the great "Father of Waters" [Mississippi River], the boat turning down stream. We were convinced that New Orleans was our destination. As we passed Port Hudson, they fired a signal gun, for the vessel to haul in, and let its business be known; the Capt. however, paid no attention to it, and they repeated it, this time, with a solid ball, which struck the water before it reached us; then a third, which went over and beyond, then a fourth, which cut a post (which was one of a number that supports the hurricane deck), only a few feet from me. The Capt. seeing the danger, rang the bell, face about, and went back; and he and the Commander had some sharp words, after which all went well until sun up next morning the 16th, we arrived arrived [sic] at Baton Rouge, where we were taken off, and marched to the Penitentiary. We did not have an idea however, where we were going, until we were ushered into the outer gate; and I would not have known it then, never having seen one before, if some of the boys had not cried out "Penitentiary". We next went into the door of the building that enclosed the cells. An iron shutter closed behind us, and we were in the Penitentiary. We slept in the cells that night. Spent the 17th and till 11:00 o'clock that night, there, when we were taken out by a Ky. Reg't., and marched to the river, and out aboard a boat (I have forgotten the name) and at sunrise, the 18th, we landed at the Crescent City [New Orleans]. The city and shipping was a great sight to me, and I suppose it was to all who had not before seen it. The shipping, at a distance, reminded me of an old cedar brake. The river was very high, and it appeared to me, that the surface of the
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water was five or six feet above the street. The boat landed, but the people crowded around, and made such an ado over us, that they backed the boat into the middle of the river, and cast anchor, where we remained the balance of the 18th and the 19th, and until the afternoon of the 20th, excepting a short trip down the river to wood the boat, I think, on the afternoon of the 19th. All the while we rode at anchor, the citizens crowded around their skiffs, throwing us apples, oranges and other such treats. On the afternoon of the 20th, we were landed, (at the French landing, I learned from a fellow prisoner, who lived there) and were taken to the Pickayune Cotton Press No. 4. This was a square, containing two acres, enclosed by a brick wall, fourteen feet high, with a large gate on the east and west sides. The other two sides were shedded, about thirty feet deep, draining the water inside, which was carried off by gutters.Here I will note that, although, in summertime, and considerably advanced in the spring, I came the nearest to freezing to death on the 21st that I ever did. The wind was so cold, just off the water; and they would not let us have fire in the early part of the day. They afterwards reconsidered, and we had fire that evening. Here we remained until April 5th, when we were brought up the river for exchange. Our boat was the Polar Star. We came above Grantecore [Grand Ecore, north of Natchitoches, LA]. This was just at the time of the Mansfield and Pleasant Hill battles; and for that, or some other cause, we were not exchanged. Our boat turned down the river -- the officers in command promising to exchange us at some point below. On our way down, our boat was halted by Confederate Cavalry, and the officer in command went ashore and had an interview. We could easily have taken boat, crew and guard, but we were upon parole, and did not suspect them of acting treacherously, and when they had decoyed us to Alexandria, within their lines, they became bold, and told us they were taking us back to New Orleans. This was about dark, and some of the men began to make preparations to jump off, which four succeeded in doing; the last of whom leaped from the top of the banister, which made a tremendous splash when he struck the water, and the guard upon hurricane deck, shot at him, with what effect none of us ever knew. But he had given away the plan, and the officers doubled the guard. Before the light of another day, we were again upon the bosom of the Father of Waters, where it required but little restraint to keep us aboard.
We arrived at the prison from whence we had come out, on April the 18th or 19th, having been aboard the Polar Star, thirteen or fourteen days. From this time up to July 21st, we never saw a green leaf, or anything cheerful, nothing but the walls, poor prisoners and the guard. The men, as a general thing, made the best of it they could -- most everyone had some occupation that he followed with as much energy as men follow their avocations at home. Some made rings, some fans, others traded, while still others gambled, in short, it was just like a city, you could see every avocation followed that could possibly be inside the wall -- every sort of game that is run in any city. Any sort of man from the lunatic and the dude, to the gentleman; also almost every nationality -- the American, the Frenchman, the Dutchman, the Irishman, the Mexican and perhaps others. We too had here a natural artist, who could draw the picture of a man from sight, every
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feature. He drew the prison perfectly, completely, everything, and sold them for twenty-five cents apiece. Have ever regretted that I did not buy one.While here, I received a present of nine pair of shoes, with a Testament inside of one.
The guards were kind to us in the mien, our rations were very short. Some tried to make their escape in various ways, some by bribery, some by picking through the wall, one by blacking himself, hoping to pass as one of the Negro cooks, still another made a wooden gun, sewed up an oilcloth case, and intended to pass out as a guard, but all failed. He, Martin New was carried to the parish prison for safety, until the day of exchange, when he was teased by the boys, with "How many times have you been on guard since you left us?"
On July 21st, we were called into line and marched to the Nebraska, a boat which lay at the wharf awaiting us. We thought we would be much crowded on only one boat, as there were a thousand of us, but found plenty of room.
Capt. Stevens and twenty of us were captured, and he and nineteen of us went aboard the Nebraska that afternoon, the other, John Freeman, having remained from choice.
We left the Crescent City about two hours by the sun on that day, ran to the mouth of Red River by 3:00 o'clock next day, when, our flag of truce appeared, most of the men, in fact all, except the sick, went on hurricane deck, and raised a shout of joy. We landed half a mile below the mouth of Red River, and the work of exchange began. I thought the time long, but steady work will accomplish a great deal. About dark they called my name, and immediately called J. L. Patterson, and we walked off together. I felt strange to have no guard around me. We went up to the mouth of Red River, where we overtook the ones who had preceded us. Here we spread down our blankets and spent the night -- no one can imagine how free we felt. At 7:00 or 8:00 next morning we went aboard our boats. I do not now remember the name of either. We arrived at Alexandria, La., the afternoon of the second day. We spent July 24th in camp, in the suburb of the town. On the forenoon of the 25th, our officers obtained furloughs for the entire squad. Capt. Stevens informed us that a boat would leave at 2:00 o'clock from above the Falls, for Shreveport -- five of the men were so eager to get home, that they went immediately, not thinking to get any rations for the trip. The remaining fourteen of us, however, were more thoughtful of our stomachs, and each drew his three days rations, then proceeded to the landing, a half mile above the town; arrived in plenty of time. Overhauled the five, above named, who had gained nothing in their rush, and worse, had nothing to eat on the trip. We soon launched for Shreveport, on the Indiana, No. 2, a small steam wheel, which could be steered no more than a log. On the way, it had to be pushed off from bank, like a common ferry boat. It being such a frail craft, they did not run, except in daytime. One night, while tied up, and all had gone to bed, and most all asleep, a man supposed to be walking in his sleep, fell overboard. Some men were