Monday, March 7, 2011
In commemoration of the 150th anniversary of the start of the Civil War, I would like to honor my great-great grandfather Michael McDonald in a series of blogs including his written accounts of his Civil War experiences.
This is how he was taken prisoner.
One night the bummers of Company E failed to return to camp and were not heard from officially for several days. It was during the closing hours of the dying Confederacy; the day after Sherman's army left Goldsboro, closing in upon Johnson. The company commissary was well stocked and Captain Henry had told us we need not go out that day, but the spirit of adventure and habit was upon us. My regular partner, Joe, concluded to stay in camp and Pete Staley volunteered to accompany me.
The morning was wet and misty as we rode up to a plantation some distance in advance of the army. Owing to the dampness, we thought it advisable to examine our weapons and we had just finished overhauling and re-loading our revolvers and I remarked to Pete, as we returned them to their holsters, "Now we are good for half a dozen Johnnies," when we discovered about that number of horsemen, enveloped in their ponchos, riding toward us from the direction we ourselves had just come. Believing them to be a party of bummers out for forage, we permitted them to ride up to us unchallenged. When close to us, half a dozen revolvers flashed in our faces and a demand was made upon us to surrender.
All sorts of "horse play" was common among the bummers themselves to get the advantage over rival parties, and only a short time before I had heard of a party being captured by another party of their fellow raiders and having their revolvers taken from them. Believing this to be a similar attempt upon ourselves, I reached around for my weapon with the laughing remark, "Well I suppose you want our revolvers."
"You needn't mind pulling the gun, Yank; just unbuckle the belt and pass it over," observed one of the men covering me. At the same time their ponchos were thrown back revealing the Confederate uniform. That settled it. We were prisoners.
"Got any money?" was the next demand. We emptied our pockets.
Our captors soon started on with us to join their command. During the course of the day this same party picked up a federal lieutenant and two men and we had company.
The next day they sold my horse to a farmer for $3,000 in confederate money. About the same time a ragged-rebel soldier with exceedingly dilapidated foot-wear came up and looking me carefully over with a speculative eye, said: "I reckon them shoes of you's will fitten me Yank. Pull-em off an' let's see."
I reluctantly took off my shoes, and he very deliberately proceeded to try them on. They evidently fitted, for he threw his old pair of holes at me with the remark, "I reckon we'll trade even, Yank." The humor of the man still pleases me.
The second day we were taken into Hillsboro, where about eighty Union Prisoners had been collected. While going into town we saw the streets and side-walks lined with citizens and soldiers and at a distance of a block or two from us a carriage was slowly driving through the streets in which were seated two men, one of whom appeared to be bowing, gesticulating and talking to the assembled crowd as he passed along. Our interest in this scene was intensified when our rebel guards told us that the talking man in the carriage was President Jefferson Davis, taking his farewell leave of Johnson's army. He had then fled from his captured capitol and was making for a place of safety with the archives of the confederate government. We then knew that our days of captivity would be few.
We were put aboard the cars at Hillsboro and started south, not knowing our destination, but woke up the next morning to find ourselves at Salisbury--Salisbury notorious for its rebel prison pen! The cold shivers ran up and down my spine at the name.
Click here for next entry.
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