MY ESCAPE FROM THE REBELS.

Tale of Prison-Pen and Stockade. * ✶

HOW COLUMBIA, S. C., CAME TO BE BURNED.-TWENTY DAYS WITH SHERMAN'S "BUMMERS."

CAPT. IRA B. SAMPSON, 2d Mass. Heavy Artillery.

FTER a few weeks' stay at Savannah, the movements of General Sherman necessitated the removal of prisoners to a place of greater safety. We were therefore taken to Charleston, S. C., and quarters assigned us at the jail and contiguous yard. We

weeks I slept beneath the old gallows within the jail-yard, and though it was grimly suggestive it furnished me protection and comfort others would have been glad to secure. The waning heat of summer brought with it the dreaded scourge, yellow fever.

Reaching Columbia at night we lay upon the ground in a soaking rain,-a bath we much enjoyed. The next morning we were removed to "Camp Sorghum," an old cotton field near the Congaree river, a short distance above the city. Having no stockade, it was surrounded with a cordon of guards and equipped with the usual number of blood-hounds, the former with instructions to shoot any one approaching the dead line.

At first our supply of wood was obtained by a loop guard thrown out in the timber, but later a daily parole was substituted. Some broke their parole and endeavored to escape, but most of us were too reduced in strength to make such an attempt. There were some 1500 officers confined in the field, living in holes in the ground and in booths made of sticks and leaves until quite late in the fall, when with the aid of a few axes some rude huts were constructed.

Late in December the weather and insufficiency of clothing forced the removal of the camp to a stockade near the city. This inclosed two acres of the state insane asylum grounds and was therefore styled "Asylum camp." 'Asylum camp." Within the inclosure were two buildings used as hospitals. These hospitals were provided with nurses from our numbers while occasional visits of a Confederate surgeon supplied us with a scanty amount of medicines. Our rations were inadequate in quantity and quality. We slept during the day in the sun and walked the camp at night to keep warm.

Believing our forces were surely pressing toward us, we expected the enemy would attempt a removal of the prisoners, and hence our leisure moments had been spent in devising "retreats" in which to seclude ourselves when marching orders were received. Lieut. R. B. Sinclair, Co. G, 2d Regt. Mass. heavy artillery, had been acting as nurse in the larger hospital and had his bunk at the front of the second upper hall. Along the front of this building was a piazza wainscoted overhead, and he conceived the idea of hiding between the ceiling and roof. Using a case-knife with notches for a saw a hole was cut during the nights underneath his bunk into this space. The boards. were replaced, the cracks filled with soap, and we waited events. On the night of February 13, 1865, we received orders to move. Nine of us stowed ourselves within the hiding place, filling it to its utmost capacity. A comrade outside generously replaced the boards, refilling the cracks with soap and then left us to our fate. Our party now consisted of Major Reynolds, 14th N. Y. artillery, Lieuts. R. B. Sinclair and William Hamilton, 2d Mass. heavy artillery, Lieutenants Devine and Byers. with three others, now unknown, besides myself. The drums beat, the line was formed, and the prisoners moved out of the pen to the cars and started for North Carolina. This was about one o'clock at night.

During the rest of the night the rebel guards searched the grounds for prisoners, and in the morning we saw them through the cracks form a line across the camp and march slowly to the other side, testing every inch of its surface with their ramrods and bayonets. Some fifty or more comrades were exhumed, for it was an old trick and fully understood by the rebels. Guards came within the building where we were concealed, searching every nook and corner except where we were, and their conversation showed that we were overlooked. Our quarters allowed no room for movement, and no utterance above a whisper was thought of. The rebel guard withdrew during the night of the 14th. On whispered consultation, we determined to break our seclusion that night before nine o'clock, as citizens at that hour were required to be within their homes. It was scarcely more than eight o'clock when we emerged from our hiding place, and after a reconnoiter it was decided that each man should shift for himself. Entering the deserted grounds, now still as death, our own breath and footfall startled us with a strange nervousness. The entrance was closed, but by the aid of a stick I was enabled to climb the stockade and stand within a sentry-box recently occupied by one of our guards. I could see nothing but the glimmer of lights in the suburbs of the city, and guided by these I soon found myself on a street leading into a thickly settled portion. Having the utmost confidence in the blacks, who had always proved faithful in the protection of escaped prisoners, I determined to throw myself upon their generosity. I found myself near a cabin not far from a city mansion, and thought it must be the servants' quarters. My knock at the door was answered by an old "aunty," who looking at me in astonishment, grasped my hand and, drawing me into the house, exclaimed, "I know you!" The only other occupant was an old colored man, who beckoned me to follow him. He took me to a barn, and from a scaffold I worked my way around two sides of the barn under the hay and made a cozy nest-a safe hiding place-from which I could watch operations without.

It is needless to add that I was at once supplied with an abundance of food. On the morning of the 16th I found my position to be on the east side of the city and nearly opposite to where the Union army afterwards entered. The day passed. My faithful keepers gave me from time to time the flying rumors

as to Massa Sherman's whereabouts and supposed intentions. First he was certainly crossing the river above, and then below, "for shure, massa. Out of it all I was certain the blue coats were coming and the hour of deliverance was at hand. There were ominous sounds of hurrying troops and the distant peal and reverberation of cannon, which gathered strength as the day wore away. My strength increased with the boom of the cannon, and for once I found myself thriving on the enemy's misfortunes.

The morning of the 17th of February opened with the hasty evacuation and attempt to burn the city of Columbia by the enemy. It was hardly more than ten o'clock before a body of Wheeler's rebel cavalry issued from the city a quarter of a mile distant, firing several buildings, including the railroad depot and warehouses, filled with grain and other stores, and then passed across the fields on the outskirts of the city and disappeared. There was no chance of a mistake as to who they were or what their intention was in firing the buildings. I was well satisfied that the evacuation had begun. This was some little time before the appearance of General Sherman. My colored friends had been instructed to watch events and bring me the first blue-coat which entered the city. A little before noon I was summoned to appear. Never was order obeyed more eagerly as I jumped from the scaffold and was presented to an officer of one of Iowa's brave regiments. With one

bound I was in his arms and beyond that I never knew or felt little responsibility for what happened. I have been told that the prisoners as they met acted more like crazy men than rational beings.

In passing into the city it was noticed that the streets were lined with broken bales of cotton, and from the amount consumed there was no escape from the conclusion that it must have been fired some time previous to the coming of the Union forces by the rebels before their retreat. It was so stated to me by a number of citizens.

The fire from the first had been urged on by a high wind, but during the excitement attending the evacuation of the enemy and occupation by the Union army, little attention had been paid to the progress of the flames. It soon became evident that it would require energetic work to stop the conflagration. The Iowa brigade aided by others battled bravely against its ad

vance, but the strong wind carried the burning brands far and wide with destructive effect. It was plain that the fire was beyond control, and but for the presence of an army of disciplined men there could hardly have been a building left to mark its former site. I never worked harder than that night in saving life and property, and yet it was in sight of the hated stockade where but a few hours previous I had been confined as an outlaw. When the morning of the 18th dawned the fire was stayed, but five hundred houses, five churches and a convent lay in ruins.

As we were about to leave Columbia, Captain Greble and myself were invited to look after a party of refugees-ladies and children desiring to go North. We confiscated a family carriage with a good team and took turns as gallants for three or four days; but this was too monotonous for such exciting times, so we secured a colored "brudder" for this duty and joined in the more satisfactory work of Sherman's bum

mers.

On reaching Fayetteville, N. C., we found a Union tug-boat which had come up the Cape Fear river to meet our forces. The tug had met with considerable opposition in ascending the river. I offered my services as artillerist to take charge of the guns on the return to Wilmington. Bidding adieu to my comrades and an army unequaled for endurance and bravery, the tug turned its prow down the river, reaching Wilmington in a single night without opposition. A few days later I reported at Washington and received thirty days' leave of absence for having made "an escape." an escape." Not many hours later I rejoined the loved ones at home in "God's country."

T

BAND OF HEROES.

HE most remarkable instance, perhaps, of a small band of heroes, successfully opposing a vastly superior force, occurred at the very close of the battle of Gettysburg. "The enemy were temporarily checked," says General Doubleday in his history of the battle, "by a desperate charge on their flanks made by only sixteen men under Captains Treichel and Rogers,

and Chaplain Newhall, of General McIntosh's staff.

This little band were every one. killed or disabled, but they succeeded in delaying the enemy until General Custer came up with the 7th Michigan regiment." The gallant Treichel (now Colonel) still lives, and is the efficient auditor of the New York Custom House.