brook ran through one end of the enclosure, fortunately inside the dead line. We dug a spring there and from it got all the water we had.

Camp Oglethorpe, Macon, Georgia

One day one of our comrades was walking down the path to the spring with his canteen to get some water, when one of the guards who was on the stockade shot him dead. So far as we knew, there was nothing done about it except that his remains were taken outside. The guard remained on his post until time to be relieved.

There was one of our number who had been a prisoner so long and had become so reduced in health that he feared he could not endure much longer. While talking about it with his associates he was asked if he had anything he could sell to get some money to buy some food. He said he had nothing but his watch. He was advised to sell that. Lieutenant Davis came in every morning with a guard to count us. The next morning when they came in, this prisoner approached the lieutenant and said: "Lieutenant Davis, can I presume to ask a favor of you?" "What is it?" was the curt question. "I have been in prison for a long time and have become so reduced in health that I fear I cannot hold out much longer. The only thing I have left to dispose of is my watch. Could I ask you to take it out and sell it for me that I might buy something with the money to help me?" "All right," said the lieutenant, and put the watch in his pocket. The comrade further said: "Lieutenant, please remember to sell that watch for $200. If you cannot get that much or more, bring it back to me," and he gave his name. "All right," said the lieutenant.

Each morning after that when they came in this prisoner would stand around near the lieutenant, but nothing was said until one morning he said: "Lieutenant, were you able to sell my watch?" "No, I was not," replied the lieutenant. "Then, will you kindly bring it in to me when you come in tomorrow morning?" he requested. "What's your name?" asked Lieutenant Davis. The prisoner gave his name. "Oh, yes, I have done sold your watch already for $5," said the lieutenant. "You must be mistaken, lieutenant," exclaimed the prisoner, "for you must remember that I told you if you could not sell it for $200 or more, to kindly bring it back to me." "You tell me I lie, do you?" exclaimed the lieutenant—and turning to his guard, said: "Bring him along; I will show him." The prisoner was taken just outside the gate, where we could see him, and bucked and gagged and sat there on the ground in the hot Georgia sun the most of that summer day.

After we were in the stockade the main topic of conversation was: "Was it possible to get out of there?" The first thing tried was tunnelling, which required great effort and caution. We had nothing to dig with except our hands and pocket knives. Then, the fresh dirt must not be seen, nor the openings of the tunnels. While we worked entirely in the night, our work must not be discovered by the guards, and several tunnels were under way. One or two of them were nearly to the stockade when, one morning, they came in as usual to count us. We were lined up at one end with the guard around us, and were ready to march through between two guards and be counted, when Lieutenant Davis pulled the ramrod out of the rifle of one of the guards and went around and pushed it into all of the tunnels, showing us that he knew of them. He then gave us a strong talk, saying we would hereafter be watched carefully, and if there was any further attempt made toward tunnelling it would be met with severe punishment. That was the end of the tunnelling. But the question was: "How did he get onto it?" After a little we learned that the day before when the guard went out they took with them one of our prisoners who had enlisted from Kentucky or Tennessee—I have forgotten which. Fortunately for him he did not come back.

Then the question was: "What next?" In talking things over with those who had been in prison the longest and had the most varied experiences, they all said it was not so difficult to get out of prison or away from those who had charge of you, as it was to care for yourself after you were at liberty; that the entire South was thoroughly organized, not only to prevent the escape of Yankee prisoners, but also to arrest deserters from their own service, and all others, both white and colored, who wished to evade the service or to get to the North. An officer was detailed for each locality who must have a pack of good dogs and a posse of men always ready and every person was under strict orders to report to said officer any strangers, stragglers, suspicious persons or any unusual circumstances they might know of. Fresh tracks were looked after and these officers and men were returned to the front if their work was not satisfactory. They were wide-awake.

Several of our number had been recaptured. They all said the dogs were the worst part of the outfit, that you might possibly evade the others, but that when the dogs got on your trail they were sure to find you.

The next question was: "What to do with the dogs?" The only remedy suggested was to have something to put on our feet which would be so offensive to their sensitive noses that it would upset them. After thinking it over I decided that if the opportunity presented itself, I would try turpentine. There was an officer there at Macon whose duties frequently called him inside our prison. I was pretty well acquainted with him, and sold him my watch. One day I asked him if I could presume to ask a favor of him. "What is it?" he said. "Would you kindly get me a half pint of good spirits of turpentine?" I asked. "What do you want of turpentine?" he asked. "You know the Libby prisoners are here," I replied, "and you may know they brought many bugs with them; turpentine is said to be good to fight those bugs with." "I will see," he said.

The next time I saw him he handed me a bottle of turpentine. I thanked him and paid him for it. He then said: "Captain, I want to say something which may be entirely unnecessary, but I feel that I must." "What is it?" I asked. "It is that what I have done shall be known to no one but you and me, for if it should be known that I had brought something in to you it would mean——" and he drew his hand across his throat. I replied: "You may be assured no one shall know anything about it. Some of my comrades may know that I have the turpentine, but where or how or through whom I got it they will have no idea." He then said: "Captain, I do not wish to be inquisitive or to ask any questions about your affairs, but if at any time you have an idea you can get out of this place, if you will tell me what night, I will tell you where on the river you can find a boat with oars, blankets and food." I thanked him most heartily and told him I was fully confirmed in my previous impression that he was a noble, generous, first-class gentleman. He then said: "Captain, you do not have much to read do you?" "Nothing," I said. "Perhaps you would enjoy looking this over." He handed me a pamphlet and left. On opening it I saw it was about Macon, its location and maps showing the river and roads and where they went, etc.