organization for a break completed—the attempted break—the guard disarmed—too late, go back—colonel raulston shot.
Our organization being now perfected, and our plans matured, we lay down that night, and held whispered consultations about our proposed future operations. I have already stated that the prisoners occupied the second and third floors of the building; the stairs being located in the north-east corner, and at the foot of the lower flight, was a room about twelve feet square, with a door leading to the street. In this room we usually waited with pails, to be let out to bring water, wood and coal, for the supply of the prison.
The next day everything seemed quiet, and at nine o’clock, when we were fell in for count, nothing could be detected that would indicate that anything unusual was contemplated.
During the forenoon, I had a long talk with Colonel Raulston, and General Duffie, who both seemed to think that we had better be prepared, and hold ourselves in readiness to take advantage of any favorable circumstance[Pg 223] that might occur, but that it was best for the present, to remain quiet, and bide our time. What was my surprise then, while sitting with the Colonel at dinner, to see a gunboat officer approach with his overcoat and traps all on, and say, Colonel we are waiting for you, sir. The Colonel replied, well, if that is all you are waiting for, you won’t have long to wait; and leaving his half-eaten dinner, got up, put on his overcoat, and started down stairs.
About the same time, about a dozen or fifteen went down with pails, and entered the room that opened on the street.
Colonel Raulston approached the guard near the foot of the stairs, and was trying to trade boots with him, while General Duffie approached the one at the back end of the room, and began bantering him for a trade; the Colonel, and General, each wearing a pair of long riding boots, which was something the average reb seemed to have a great weakness for.
The men with the pails, asked the sentry with whom Colonel Raulston was talking, to call the Sergeant of guard and he called as usual—Sergeant of the guard post number fo. Then Colonel Raulston gave the signal—now—when simultaneously both he and the General, seized and floored their man.
Raulston placed his hand over his man’s mouth, telling him to keep quiet and he would not be hurt, while Duffie held his man by the throat, to prevent him making any alarm. Lieutenant McGraw, 24th New York[Pg 224] Cavalry, who had been assigned to the duty, took the guns away from the guard, and at the same time the officers from above commenced filing down the stairs. The Sergeant came to answer the call, but he must have heard the scuffle, for he only opened the door about two inches, when he slammed and locked it again, and immediately called out the guard to surround the building. Each officer had armed himself with a stick of stove wood, and all were packed up and in marching order.
An attempt was made with these clubs to batter down the door, but it was a heavy oak door, and would not yield to their blows. Satisfied that the attempt was a failure, General Duffie called out, “Too late, go back!”
Owing to the fact that there was by this time quite a crowd down there, and the stairs being only wide enough for two to go up abreast, it was some time before all could reach the top.
Colonel Raulston and myself were the last to go up, and I had just reached the landing, the Colonel who was three or four steps behind me, had stopped to look out of the window, when the report of a gun rang out from below, and he started suddenly, and hurrying past me, went up the next flight, to the place he occupied on the floor above.
Although shot through the bowels, and at so short a range, strange as it may seem, he did not fall or make any outcry; and it was not until some time after, that I learned that he was wounded.
[Pg 225]I subsequently learned by some of my comrades, that he went to the place where he slept, took off his overcoat, opened his clothing and examined the wound, saying as he lay down, “boys, I guess my goose is cooked.”
Within a very few minutes, the guard led by the Colonel in command, filed up the stairs, where they found every thing as quiet as though nothing had occurred.
Some were playing checkers, backgammon or cards, some reading scraps of newspapers, some washing dishes, and others smoking and talking; in fact, the whole building had on its every day appearance, and no one would have supposed that there had been the least disturbance.
It was really laughable to see the singular expression on the faces of the guard, as they looked around upon the peaceful looking room. I sat in my place just at the head of the stairs reading, and remember that one of the fellows who followed the Colonel up, had his gun cocked, and with a good deal of bluster, said, as he reached the landing: “Colonel, show me any d—n Yank you want shot,” to which the Colonel replied, sternly, “Put up your gun, sir; I’ll let you know when I want any shooting done.” Colonel Smith, who was in command of the Confederate prisons at Danville, was a cool, brave man, and though strict in his prison regulations, was a humane gentleman who would not voluntarily inflict any unnecessary hardships upon those under his charge.
[Pg 226]He and Col. Raulston had been great friends, and I believe they both belonged to the Masonic order, Col. Smith often visiting Col. Raulston, bringing him books to read, and showing him many courtesies which, though perfectly consistent with his position, showed him to be a gentleman of generous impulses. In fact, I heard Col. Raulston say that the most distasteful duty he had promised to perform, was to go to Col. Smith’s office and secure him as a prisoner.
Guards were at once stationed about the rooms, and Colonel Smith proceeded up stairs where Raulston lay bleeding, and questioned him in regard to the affair.
This brave, unselfish officer, at once said, Colonel I am wholly responsible for all that has occurred; I am the instigator of the whole plot, and no one but me is to blame for what was attempted to be done, and I alone if any one, deserve the punishment for this attempted outbreak.
He was immediately removed to the hospital, where all that skillful surgery could accomplish was done to save his life, but the wound was of such a nature, that neither skillful surgery, nor tender nursing was of any avail, and on the 15th of December, he passed away—was mustered out. The shot that terminated his life, was fired by the guard he had disarmed, and the gun used, was the same one Raulston had taken from him, and had returned after the failure of the attempted outbreak.
We all felt deeply mortified at the failure of our[Pg 227] plot, but our greatest sorrow was occasioned by the loss of so gallant and beloved an officer and comrade.
Lieut. Leyden and myself asked permission of Col. Smith to be allowed to go to the hospital and nurse him during his illness, offering to give our parole for that privilege. I urged, that as Col. Raulston and myself were both from the same place, and I was well acquainted with his family, it would be a source of some comfort to them, to know that his last moments were soothed by the presence of one of his comrades, who could receive from him his last message to loved ones far away.
Our request was not granted, but we were assured that he should have every attention shown him that was possible, and that all that medical skill and science could accomplish, would be done to save his life.
Lieutenant McGraw, who was recognized by the guard as the one who relieved them of their guns, while Colonel Raulston and General Duffie had them down on the floor, was placed in solitary confinement for a few days, and was then released without further punishment.
It was greatly feared that he would be shot for the prominent part he had taken in the affair, and I now believe that he would have been more severely punished, had not his dying Colonel interceded for him. There was one rather amusing episode in this tragic affair, that caused some merriment notwithstanding the fatal ending.
General Duffie was a Frenchman and did not speak very good English. While he had his man down, with[Pg 228] his fingers firmly clutched in his throat, to prevent his giving the alarm, the man in his efforts to release himself from this uncomfortable position, made a gurgling noise, which some of us thought, might have caused the Sergeant to mistrust there was something wrong.
The General in trying to explain, said in his broken English: “I try to shut off ze wind, but ze more I chuck ze more he holly.”
In a few days the affair blew over, and everything moved along as usual. I have said, that two or three times a day, from fifteen to twenty prisoners were allowed to pass out under guard, to carry water, wood and coal, for use in the building.
I was often with this squad, for I was willing to do the work for the sake of getting out, where I could get a breath of fresh air; besides I could sometimes get a chance to buy something, that I could not otherwise obtain. In going to the river for water, we passed an oven, where they baked the cones for casting shell over. This oven was large enough to hold two men, and the door was usually open.
Just before dark, we would go out to bring water for the night. Some would have one pail, and some two. In coming back, we would halt when the head of the column reached the oven, and sit our pails down to rest, and while some one in the rear would attract the attention of the guard, one man at the head would slip into the oven, and the man next to him would take up his[Pg 229] pail, and his absence would not be noticed, as they never counted us on these occasions. When darkness came on, those who had thus escaped would quietly cross the river and walk away.
To prevent them missing the absent, a hole was cut through the floor of the upper room, and as soon as the Sergeant was through counting those on the lower floor, a number corresponding to those who had escaped, would be shoved up through this hole to be counted again on the upper floor; thus keeping our count all right. A crowd would always be around the hole up stairs, so that the Sergeant upon going up would not see what was going on.
One fellow had his blanket spread over this hole, and would be lying down there when the guard reached the room, so that it would have a natural appearance, and would not attract any more attention than any other part of the room. In this way some six or seven made their escape, and the count was kept all right, by sending a corresponding number up through the hole in the floor, and they were not missed for two or three weeks. In fact the only reason we had to believe that they had been missed at all was, that one day the reb Sergeant brought up his guard and counted us over a second time, and after figuring up the count, counted us over again, and seemed to still be unsatisfied, and repeated the count seven or eight times. Every time the count came out all right, which seemed to puzzle and perplex him terribly. He[Pg 230] could not understand how it could be, that he still had his full number of prisoners, while he seemed to have positive evidence that half a dozen had escaped. His information was that several had escaped, but his figures told him that we were all there.
Every time he counted us and found us all present, his perplexity increased; for he seemed to have proven the falsity of the old saying, “that figures can’t lie.” He finally concluded to fall us in on both floors at once, and then he found he was short six or seven prisoners. This seemed to puzzle him worse than ever, and I don’t believe he has up to this day found out, just how the thing was done. He certainly had not at the time we left Danville. After this there was no effort made to have the count overrun, and the use of that hole in the floor was abandoned.
All the time the different counts were going on, the officers, who of course understood perfectly well what all the fuss was about, were laughing and joking at the expense of the perplexed Sergeant, telling him that it seemed to be as much enjoyment to him to count Yankee prisoners, as it was for a miser to count his gold; asking all sorts of questions and offering all sorts of suggestions to tease and annoy him.
As he would call upon us to fall in again for count, some one would say, “well Sergeant what was the matter that time? Was there too many of us or not enough? What kind of an arithmetic did you study when you went[Pg 231] to school? Let me figure that up for you. This is a new military rule you adopt, turning out the guard every time the Sergeant comes in.” Others would say as they saw him coming up stairs again, “turn out the guard for the commanding officer!” “Turn out the guard for the officer of the day!” Others would attempt to beat the long roll on the floor, with sticks of stove wood, or try to whistle, “Boots and Saddles,” or the assembly. In fact they all seemed to try to see how exasperating they could be.
The Sergeant, who by the way was a clever fellow, courteous and gentlemanly in his demeanor towards us, took all of this chaffing, with as good a grace as possible.
He tried hard to conceal his perplexity and the annoyance our joking caused him, and with a determined look that seemed to say, “I’ll unravel this mystery if it takes all day,” kept up the count until it came out as he wanted it to, or as he seemed to know it ought to come out.