Photo taken at about age 70, when this manuscript
was written. He died at the age of 74
and is buried near Rose Hill, Mississippi.
His father, Rev. George Washington Ryan
(1811-1898), organized and was Captain of
Co. G, 8th MS Regiment (Tolson Guard),
CSA.
My mother, Emma Louise RYAN Gay - a grand-daughter,
told many wonderful stories
about growing up around MA Ryan when she was
a little girl living in Rose Hill & Bay
Springs, Mississippi. He was dearly loved
by his family.
Go to EDITOR'S NOTE for citations and references.
EXPERIENCE OF A CONFEDERATE SOLDIER IN CAMP
AND PRISON IN THE CIVIL WAR 1861-1865
I have often thought before I answered the
last roll and passed over the River to join the Silent Host that fell
before the roaring cannon and rattling musket
that I would give my experiences as a Confederate soldier and as a
prisoner of war. I have been often asked by
my children and grandchildren for my experiences or war record.
After fifty years have passed I have consented
to do this, though they were harrowing (especially my prison
experience), that it seems incredible except
to those who were there and experienced the same, terrible suffering.
I can only from a clouded memory give a brief
outline, for to do otherwise would make a large volume.
Chapter I
I left my home (near Rose Hill, Jasper County,
MS) and loved ones with three other companions on the second
day of June, 1861 and went to Corinth, Mississippi
where the Miss. Troops were rendezvoused and being drilled
for the conflict. I was so afraid that the
Yankees would be whipped before I could get there. I would not wait for
a company to be formed at home. After looking
around a day or two we decided to join the Enterprise Guard,
which was designated Company B., and was one
of ten companies composing the Fourteenth Mississippi
Regiment. I was small for my age, not weighing
over a hundred pounds, and tender looking, with not a sign of
beard on my face.
R.S. Weir was Captain of Company B, when I
made application to join his company. He looked at me as though
he doubted the propriety of receiving me.
He doubtless would have rejected me had it not been for my
companions who were with me and older than
I. They testified that my parents were willing for me to join the
army. However, it was not long before he found
that I was made of good tough stuff. I was often detailed to
perform some difficult task because I did
not give out as some did who were much stouter than I. I suppose we
remained at Corinth for two or three months
drilling every day. Finally to our great joy we received orders to go
to Russellville in East Tennessee. The Union
men and Southern sympathizers were having a hot time. The
Southern sympathizers were in the minority
and were being terribly persecuted by the Union men. We soon
restored order and gave all who wanted to
join the Confederate Army a chance to do so. We were next ordered
to Bowling Green, Kentucky, where we thought
we were going into winter quarters. Some time in January 1862
we were ordered to Russellville, Ky. We remained
there a short time and were ordered to Fort Donelson. On
arrival we were ordered in the breast works
surrounding the fort.
I will describe the battle of Fort Donelson
[-1-], more minutely than any other in which I was engaged from the
fact that it was my first Baptism of Shot
and Shell and was a land and naval battle all in one. Fort Donelson
consisted of two batteries on the Cumberland
River, protected by breast works surrounding it. On the 12th day of
February, 1862, The battle opened with sharp
shooting all along the line on both sides. The first day’s battle
closed with no perceptible gain by either
side. Day broke on the 13th to wind two armies looking each other in
the face. The cannonading and sharp shooting
commenced as the day before had. The Yankees brought up one
gun boat near the fort and fired about one
hundred and fifty shots. The one of our 128 lb. Balls went crashing
through her, damaging her so she went drifting
out of sight and was seen no more. Along the fortifications the
Infantry kept a continual firing on both sides
all day, killing and wounding a great many on both sides. The dead
and wounded were left on the battle field
to take a terrible snow storm which fell that night several inches deep.
Some of the wounded scratched around to save
their lives from the burning woods that had caught on fire from
the guns during the day’s battle (which was
a beautiful fair day) and remained there to perish in the snow.
Day broke on the 14th to find everything covered
in snow. We were without shelter, food, or fire to warm by,
except for a few small sticks. Up until this
time we scored victory at every point. The enemy attacked our works
at every point and were repulsed with heavy
loss. While we were rejoicing over victories they were greatly
reinforced. At the break of day on the 15th
we were far outside the lines of our breast works, attacking; firing
volley after volley into them as they huddled
by their camp fires. Having taken them by surprise, with less than
8,000 men we waded through the snow and routed
30,000; capturing over 5,000 stands of small arms, six pieces
of artillery, and a great many prisoners.
Twice that day the 14th Miss. Reg. To which I belonged was ordered to a
bayonet charge, but the Yankees would not
stand. Gen. Buckner had opened the way for our escape, but instead
of that he was ordered by our chief commanders,
Floyd and Pillow, back to the trenches we had left the day
before.
General Grant had been receiving reinforcements
every day, until now his forces numbered over four to one of our
worn-out, frozen soldiers. During the night
of the 15th a council of war was held. The same was communicated to
General Grant, who proposed surrender. General
Forest was in the council and refused to surrender. He
contended that the way was open for us to
march out and he marched his command (which was Cavalry) all along
our lines of works. This was the first intimation
we had that we were prisoners of war. So we had nothing to do
but stand around our fires and talk of our
experiences and narrow escapes during the four days of carnage.
Chapter II
The next morning after our surrender we were
marched to the river where there were several old hulks of steam
boats that appeared to be rotted from bottom
to top. We were crowded on the lower decks one thousand to the
boat. We were much more in danger on the decks
of these old boats that we were when we were facing Yankee
bullets. We had no idea where we were going.
We were carried to Cairo, Illinois; the up the Mississippi by way
of St. Louis to Alton, Ill. We were landed
there after spending eight days on the lower decks of those old boats,
eating and sleeping on stone coal scattered
all over the bottom almost knee deep. We were crowded into cattle
cars like so many cattle and horses and after
twelve hours ride, through a terrible blizzard, we were landed at
Chicago, a motley looking set.
We had all our cooking utensils with us, camp
kettles, skillets, ovens, frying pans, coffee pots, tin pans, tin cups,
and plates. We had them on our heads, on our
backs, swinging from our sides, and in our hands. Some of our
boys were bareheaded, having their hats blown
off on the way; some had hats and caps with no brims, and some
with no crowns. As we were the first batch
of prisoners we were quite a show. The people had to see us so we
were marched out in square to square and from
street to street with thousands of people running over each other
to see us. Some would curse us and call us
poor, ignorant devils; some would curse Jeff Davis for getting us ‘poor
ignorant creatures’ into such a trap. I suppose
the children had been told that we had horns and tails, for they
crowded near us and kept saying, “where are
their horns and where are their tails, I don’t see them.”
After we were almost frozen we were marched
two miles to Camp Douglas Prison. Every step of the way was
through ice cold mud. Our pants legs up to
our knees were frozen as stiff as raw hides. The people by the
hundreds followed us to the very gates of
the prison, and from that day on it seemed that they never tired of
looking at us. The visited the prison everyday
in great crowds until an order was issued prohibiting it. The some
enterprising Yankee built an observatory just
outside the prison wall. It was crowded with people from morning
until night. Camp Douglas had been erected
for a rendezvous and drilling ground for Ill. Troops. Every thing
looked new and clean. I think that we were
the first arrival of prisoners. Each barracks had a capacity of 125
prisoners. On each side of the barracks there
were three tiers of bunks, one above another, with a narrow hall
between and a heater in the center. The prison
was laid off in squares and had the appearance of a little town. It
had a plank wall around it 15 ft. high with
a 3 ft. walk on top for the guards to walk on. There was a commissary
in the center where our rations were kept
and issued every morning. They fed us very well on provisions they
would not issue their own soldiers.
The guards, or Hospital Rats, as we called
them, had never been to the front and seen any service and they were
overbearing and cruel in the extreme. We had
some boys who would not take anything from them. We all got
water from Lake Michigan by Hydrant, the guards
as well as prisoners. At first when they came for water and
found one of our buckets under the pump they
would kick it over and place theirs in its place. They never failed to
get knocked down when they did this and before
they could recover the one who had done it would be hidden in
some barracks and we would never give each
other away. However, they were not long in learning that it was a
risky business.
Sometimes our boys, for some trivial offense,
would be punished by putting them in the white oak, as they called
it. It was a guard house made of white oak
logs twelve or fourteen inches in diameter, notched down close with
one small window in the end. Inside, the wall
was a dungeon eight or ten feet deep. It was entered by a trap door,
a pair of steps led down into this dark foul
hole. It was pitch dark in there; one could not see his hand before him
when the door was closed. One who had not
been is such a place cannot have the least conception of it. I was
thrown in this place for a trivial offense,
for attempting to get a bucket of water at a hospital well while our hydrant
was out of fix. I spent four of the most wretched
hours of my life in that terrible place. I was taken out by the same
guard who put me in there, and the cursing
he gave me when he let me out would be a sin for me to repeat. I
opened not my mouth; I knew better. I received
one more genteel cursing while wounded in the prisoner’s
hospital at Nashville, which I will speak
of later on. There were some of our poor boys, for little infraction of
the
prison rules, riding what they called Morgan’s
mule every day. That was one mule that did the worst standing
stock still. He was built after the pattern
of those used by carpenters. He was about fifteen feet high; the legs were
nailed to the scantling so one of the sharp
edges was turned up, which made it very painful and uncomfortable to
the poor fellow especially when he had to
be ridden bareback, sometimes with heavy weights fastened to his feet
and sometimes with a large beef bone in each
hand. This performance was carried on under the eyes of a guard
with a loaded gun, and was kept up for several
days; each ride lasting two hours each day unless the fellow
fainted and fell off from pain and exhaustion.
Very few were able to walk after this hellish Yankee torture but had
to be supported to their barracks. There was
another diabolical device invented; that was the ball and chain route.
However that was seldom used unless some of
the prisoners attempted to escape and were caught. The chain
was riveted around the ankle and the ball
at the other end of the chain. It was almost as much as the poor fellow
could carry. That was one thing that stuck
closer than a brother. It went with him by day and by night, and even
lay by his side in his cold naked bunk at
night.
Sometime in September after our capture in
February we, to our unspeakable joy received notice that we would
soon be exchanged and sent back to dear ol
Mississippi. We were this time marched to the railroad and packed
in horse and cattle cars which were filthy
in the extreme; but that was all right. It was a joy ride for us. We
laughed, sang, and shed tears of joy at our
release from prison. We made a bee-line to Cairo, over three hundred
miles through the finest corn region in the
world. From Cairo we were sent down the Miss. River to Vicksburg
and from there to Clinton Miss. Where we went
into camp, electing officers, and re-enlisting for three years of the
war. We were furnished our necessary equipment,
for the Yankees had stripped us of everything except what we
had on.
Chapter III
We were placed under the command of General
Johnston, and participated in all of his movements for the release
of Vicksburg. When Vicksburg was surrendered
we fell back to Jackson. We were ordered to store our
knapsacks with all dispensable baggage in
the Edwards Hotel, telling us that it would follow us. During the time
we had been in Mississippi our mothers had
made and sent us plenty of good warm clothing. We left it all in that
hotel. Fifty years have come and gone. I have
often stopped at the Edwards House and I always think of my old
knapsack.
We fell back to Newton. It was while we were
there my Captain gave me permission to go home to see my
parents, who I had not seen since I joined
the Army. He told me he would have me marked present until the next
night. I left the camp at dark. I am sure
I ran and trotted two thirds of the way home---eighteen miles. The next
night my father placed me on a horse, and
a negro on a mule and carried me near our camp. No one but my
Captain and a few others knew that I had been
absent.
From Newton we went to Resaca and in a few
hours were plunged into a desperate fight. One member of our
company was killed [ 1 ] and several were
wounded. General Joseph E. Johnston was put in command of the
army and from that day on for one hundred
or more days we were constantly fighting, retreating, and destroying
railroads. A short time after we arrived at
Atlanta General J. E. Johnston was superseded by General J. B. Hood.
On the 22nd of July he gave battle. He lost
heavily and gained nothing. On the 26th of July he again gave battle
and the result was the same. Sherman, rather
than attacking us in our breastworks marched his army around us
and started for the sea.
Gen. Hood turned his back on him and started
for Nashville, Tenn., crossing the Tennessee river at Florence,
Alabama. We soon came in contact with Gen.
Scofield, who was in command of Federal forces in Tennessee. He
retreated before us until he reached Franklin,
where he had good breast works and decided to give battle. The
survivors of Franklin who were in the midst
of the carnage are indelibly impressed with the dreadful events that
occurred on that fateful evening and night
of the 30th of November, 1864. I went through that terrible carnage
with out a scratch and now I believe it was
the answer to the prayers of loved ones at home that I was spared. I
know I went into the last line of the enemy’s
breastworks and as far as any Confederate soldier went.
The next morning after the battle I was detailed
to help bury the dead. I am sure I do not exaggerate when I say in
places the dead were piled upon each other
three and four deep. Sometimes we would find a poor wounded
comrade pinned down by several dead comrades
lying on him. Our brave Commander, General John Adams,
rode his horse to the top of the enemy’s breastworks.
His horse was killed with his fore-feet and head hanging in
the inside of their works. Gen. Adams was
pierced with eight minnie balls and fell inside the works and died in
fifteen minutes in the arms of a Federal Colonel.
We dug trenches two and one half feet deep and wide enough for
two to lay side by side. A piece of oil cloth
or blanket was spread over their faces and covered up. Every one that
could be identified a small piece of plank
was placed on their head with their names on it. Thus we left them until
the Resurrection Morn. We had six brave Generals
killed, all lying in a row on the gallery of a private house.
The Battle of Franklin, Tennessee was the worst
slaughter pen of all our battles, with a greater loss of live on our
side than any other battle of the war, according
to numbers and time the engagement lasted. We had nearly 7,000
killed and wounded in less than three hours.
Mississippi’s loss was greater than any other state. Nearly one third
of those killed were Mississippians.
Before daylight the next morning the Federals
were in full retreat. We followed them to Nashville and on the 15th
and 16th the two armies clashed again. General
Thomas was in command of the federal Army. On the 16th our
lines were broken and Gen. Hood’s army routed.
On the 16th in the evening, I was desperately wounded in
almost a hand to hand fight; the Yankees not
being more than twenty steps from me. We both shot at each other
at the same time. I ran a few yards and fell
[wounded in right thigh ~ ed.], and while lying on my back on the
ground unable to help myself a drunk soldier
who was a Russian would have wounded me had it not been for one
of their officers who had stopped near me.
He was in the act of running his bayonet through me when the officer
gave him a shove. He went on over me and perhaps
murdered some other poor fellow.
While lying there two young men, Illinois soldiers,
approached me and asked what regiment I belonged. I told
them the 14th Mississippi. They said, “You
were at Fort Donelson. We were there too. You fought bravely.”
About that time an ambulance came along gathering
up their wounded. They picked me up and put me in it. The
driver cursed and said he would throw me out
as soon as he got out of their sight. However, he did not put his
threat into execution.
I was carried to a private house that they
were using for a hospital for their wounded. I think I was the only
Confederate soldier in the building. I was
carried to the city the next morning and placed in a hospital prepared
for
the wounded prisoners. Many of our boys lay
on the battlefield next evening and perhaps many died for the want
of attention. I got along nicely until about
the ninth day, when my wound commenced paining me terribly. One of
the hospital doctors examined it and said
I had a bad case of gangrene. He had me carried to the Gangrene ward.
I was placed on the amputation table, chloroform
was administered and they did their cutting without me knowing
anything about it. When I came to I was snugly
wrapped up in my bunk crying like a baby. In a few days
gangrene made its appearance again. I was
placed on the table and chloroform was again administered. There
were two things that stuck closer than a brother;
that was the itch and body lice or greyback as they were politely
called. There was always enough filthy ones
to keep it alive and going. I had a bad case of the itch. While in the
gangrene ward it became very bad; so much
that my hands were swollen and my fingers stood apart. Sores and
yellow blisters came between them and they
ran corruption. I could scarcely touch anything, my hands were so
sore. The doctor prepared sulfur and grease
for me to rub my hands with. It was placed on a small table at my
head. Some one passing by knocked it off on
the floor. The nurse, who was a hospital rat, asked if I did it. I told
him “No!” He said, “You are a d___ lie” and
stood over me and cursed me for five minutes. I never heard such
vile oaths fall from the lips of a man. I
was in his hands and helpless and said nothing. However, I got over the
itch
and the cursing and in a few weeks I was able
to travel and set off for Camp Chase Prison.
Chapter IV
Camp Chase was situated four miles west of
Columbus, Ohio, the capitol of the state. The prison had a wall
around it sixteen feet high. There was a partition
wall that divided the prison into two apartments, and was known
as prison No. 1 and No. 2. I occupied prison
No. 1. Each prison contained seven or eight acres of land and each
held 4,000 prisoners. No 2 was called by the
prisoners in No. 1 the Razorbacks.
The gates to the two prisons stood side by
side and opened into each prison. When we arrived at the gates we
were told if we would take the oath of allegiance
to the United States and to into Prison No. 2 they would have
bountiful rations, plenty of blankets and
fires to keep them warm, but if they went into Prison No. 1 they would
have no promises to make. As a matter of regret
many went into the Razorback Prison. The guards were placed
on the wall with loaded guns with instructions
to shoot to kill with the least infringement of prison rules. The
barracks were on the pattern of Camp Douglas
Prison with three narrow bunks, one above another on each side
of the barracks. By spooning two could lie
in one bunk. We slept on the naked planks, straw being allowed.
Some poor bony fellows hipbones were through
the skin sleeping on the naked plank. We were not allowed fires
in our stove after night. In our emaciated
and rundown condition with nothing to wear but our light southern
clothing and many of us in rags, you can imagine
our terrible condition with zero weather almost half the time. We
had no chairs or benches and when we sat we
sat on the floor. We were guarded by a heartless set of wretches.
They had never been to the front and baptized
in the fire of battle; therefore they were cruel and mean in the
extreme often shooting unsuspecting prisoners
without the least provocation. After taps, as they call it, no lights
were allowed and after that all was quiet
as death until morning.
As to our rations: there was just enough to
keep us ravenously hungry all the time; one half loaf of bakers bread
eight inches long divided between eight men,
one inch to the man twice a day; with that one tablespoonful of navy
beans with a piece of pickled beef or salt
pork about the size of a person’s forefinger. We had a kitchen sergeant
who had the cooking done for his barracks.
When ready it was handed to us through a window in a tin cup, with
the liquor it was cooked in. The guards would
throw down apple cores and peelings and enjoy seeing our poor
starving boys scuffle for them. The hospital
was just outside the prison wall. There was a ditch four feet wide and
three feet deep. It was planked up side and
bottom and from the hospital it passed through our prison, and in it all
the filth of the prison was deposited, including
the scraps from the hospital, such as scraps of meat, bakers bread,
onions and beef bones, etc. At the head of
the ditch was a large tank. It was pumped full of water every day by a
detail of prisoners. We all knew when the
flood gates would be raised and the water turned loose. It would come
sweeping down, bringing the garbage with other
filth deposited in it during the day. Our boys would be strung
along the sides of the ditch and as it came
floating by they would grab it and eat it like hungry dogs. Beef bones
was a choice morsel. We would take them and
pound them up and place them in tin cups and boil them until the
marrow was boiled out. When cold there would
be a thin cake of tallow on top. We would spread it on our bread
like butter. Had Lazerus been laid out at
(our) gate he would not have gotten a crumb. A little snowbird would
have starved to death at our feet. I now,
after fifty years, recall some of the fitful scenes of the starved, emaciated
young men. Those once proud Southerners who
had been victorious in many a battle kicked and cuffed, starving
and sick at heart, and in despair with no
hope sitting waiting for the scraps from the hospital to be washed to their
feet with the garbage and excrement all clumped
in the same ditch together. There are no words adequate to
depict the outrageous cruelties and barbarities
perpetrated upon helpless prisoners by some of those who had
them in charge. The small pox was raging all
the time but we cared nothing for that. We did not have vitality
enough to produce a scab. I used the blanket
of one of my comrades that was carried to the pest house and was
glad to get it. The scurvy was also terrible,
eating the gums away and the teeth falling out, leaving the victim a
perfect wreck, all for the want of proper
food. There was another species of suffering that befell the tobacco
users. It was pitiful to see them following
those who were lucky enough to have a little money to buy tobacco,
watching until they threw it out of their
mouths to pick it up off the ground and put it in their own mouths or take
it
to their quarters and dry and smoke it.
Chapter V
In making this statement of my war experiences
and prison life, I have endeavored to state the facts as they
occurred to my mind after a lapse of over
fifty years. I have only given a sketch, especially of the live and
hardships of the Confederate soldier on the
march, of short rations and often none, and of the forced marches by
day and by night, through rain, snow, and
ice, cold mud; thinly clad, oft times barefooted with bleeding feet, all
for
a cause so dearly loved.
About the 10th of April, 1865, we were told
General Lee had surrendered to General Grant. We received the
news with great sorrow for we wanted to be
exchanged so we could have a chance to even up with the for their
cruelty to us. We were told we would be released
on taking the oath of allegiance to the United States
Government in squads of two to three hundred
every day until all were released. There were a good many of us
who said we would not take the oath but we
were plainly informed that was the only way we would be released.
On the 13th day of June, 1865, the oath of
allegiance was administered to us and we, through the providence of
God, walked out of the prison gates free men
with free transportation papers in our pockets to our homes. My
comrade, M. F. Roberts and I walked to Columbus;
from there we went to Cincinnati, where we stopped over
for several hours. We were conducted to the
5th Market Square; there the Ladies Aid Society met us with
canned goods and second hand clothing; all
of which we greatly needed; from there we went to Louisville, Ky.
We were conducted by the ladies to a tobacco
shed where we were again supplied with all kinds of canned
goods and second-hand clothing. Some of us
were in rags. My pants legs were worn off almost to my knees. I
had not a coat and but one old ragged shirt,
which I had worn since the day I was captured. A good merchant
took pity on me or was ashamed to see me walk
the streets of his city (especially when my back was to him) in
my garb and took me into his store and gave
me a good pair of pants and a shirt. From Louisville we went to
Memphis; from there we went down the Mississippi
River to Vicksburg. We walked twelve miles to Big Rock,
the railroad having been destroyed. From there
we went by rail to Jackson and to Hickory, where I arrived on
Sunday evening on the 26th of June, 1865.
I struck a trot for home a distance of twelve miles. In two hours I was
in the arms of my dear mother, having spent
only one night under my father’s roof in four years and twenty-four
days.
Signed:
M. A. Ryan
PS: I want to say in conclusion I have long
since forgiven those who had us in their power and were so cruel. I
have not the least spark of bitterness in
my breast against them. I pray they have repented and have been forgiven
and that we will meet on the shores of sweet
deliverance.
I saw and talked to two men, one from Chicago
and the other from Columbus, Ohio. I asked them about our
dead at each of those two places. They said
the cemeteries were enclosed with a stone wall five feet high and at
the entrance a beautiful arch with the word
“AMERICANS” and the graves were decorated every year as were
the union soldiers.
While it is true it has been over fifty years
since the war has ended yet there are things we can’t forget and were
hard for us to forgive the diabolical deeds
perpetrated by men who called themselves Union soldiers. In our
meditations our minds run back upon that field
of 5600 young lives that went out at Camp Douglas and the 2300
at Camp Chase, all among strange people far
from home with no fond and loving mother to speak a loving word
to tell them in their dying hours or to close
their eyes in death. There they now rest in their rude pine coffins with
their old Confederate blankets as their shrouding.
When we think of our deceased comrades we can but wonder
was it neglect, disease, or starvation. The
all wise God only knows.
M. A. Ryan