The National tribune., 1897-08-12


down at night, and to walk few hun
dred feet in any direction would require
an hours patient threading of the mass
of men and tents.
The weather became hotter and hotter;
at midday the sand would burn the
hand. The thin skins of fair and aa-
burn-haired men blistered under the
suns rays, and swelled up in great
watery puhs, which soon became the
breeding grounds OF the hideous mag
gots, or the still more deadly gangrene.
The loathsome swamp grew in rank
offensiveness with every burning hour.
The pestilence literally stalked at noon
day, and struck his victims down on
every hand. One could not look rod
in any direction without seeing at least
a dozen men in the last frightful stages
of death.
Let me describe the scene Immediately
around my own tent during the last two
weeks of July, as sample of the con-
dition of the whole prison: / will take
space not larger than a good sized
parlor Or sitting room. On this were at
least 90 of us. Directly in front Of me
lay two brothers-named Sherwood
belonging to Co. Of my battalion, who
came originally from Missouri. Every
particle of muscle and fat about their
limbs and bodies had apparently wasted
away, leaving the skin clinging close to
the bone of the face, arms, hands, ribs
and thighs-everywhere except the feet
and legs, where it was swollen tense and
transparent, distended with gallons Of
purulent matter. Their livid gums,
from which most of their teeth had
already fallen, protruded far beyond
their lips.
To their left lay Sergeant and two
others of their company, all three slowly
dying from diarrhea, and beyond was
fair-haired German, young and intelli-
gent looking, whose life was ebbing
tediously away. To mr. right was
handsome young Sergeant of an Illinois
Infantry regiment, captured at Kenesaw.
His left arm had been amputated be-
tween the shoulder and elbow, and he
was turned into the Stockade with the
stump all undressed, save tie ligating of
the arteries Of course, he had not been
inside an hour until the flies had laid
eggs in the open wound, and before the
day was gone the worms were hatched
out, and rioting amid the inhamed and
super-sensitive nerves, where their every
motion was agony.
Accustomed az we were to misery, we
found a still lower depth in his misfor-
tune, and | would be happier could I
forget his pale, drawn face, as he wan
dered uncomplainingly to and fro, hold
ing his manned limb with his right
hand. | do not think he ate or slept
for a week before he died. Next to him
stayed an Irish Sergeant of New York
regiment, fine, soldierly man, who,
with pardonable pride, wore, conspicu-
ously on his left breast, a medal gained
by gallantry while British soldier in
the Crimea. He was wasting away with
diarrhea, and died before the month was
out.
This was what one could see on every
square rod of the prison. Where | was
was not only no worse than the rest of
the prison, but was probably much bet
ter and healthier, as it was the highest
ground inside, fartherest from the swamp,
and having the dead line on two sides,
had ventilation that those nearer the
center could not possibly have Yet,
with all these conditions in our favor,
the mortality was as | have described.
Near us an exasperating idiot, who
played the flute, had established himself.
Like all poor players, he affected the
low, mournful notes, as plaintive as the
distant cooling of the dove in lowering
weather. He played or rather footed
away in his "blues Inducing strain
hour after hour, despite our energetic
protests, and occasional fling of a club
at him. There was no more stop to him
than to man with a hand-organ, and
to this day the low, sad notes of flute
are the swiffest reminder to me of those
sorrowful, death-laden days.
| ITO be continued.I