John
Dent Linning Story
This is a partial war record of John Dent Linning, private soldier in the Confederate Army, which he wrote for his daughter in June 1910.
As you know little of your father's life as a soldier in the Confederate army and there will none to tell you, perhaps you would like to glimpse a little of my life during those eventful days days that were dark and doubtful, foreboding many trials and privations to old and young.
I was a school boy when the war commenced, light hearted and happy without a care. The Arsenal Academy was at Columbia, S.C. and was a State Military School. We boys would haul out from the Armory a cannon and fire it as a signal for all who could hear it to assemble at once and enroll at Charleston to defend the state. I was sent to the Citadel in Charleston where I was nearer to the actual war. The renowned Fort Sumpter was in sight, and the constant booming of the large guns had a very demoralizing effect on study. We boys felt it our duty as trained young soldiers to be at the front.
To witness the bombardments of Fort Sumpter, one night I climbed up in the steeple of St. Philips' church. This was forbidden, for we had to climb into the churchyard, raise a window and then climb up by some inner ladders in almost total darkness. It was here I witnessed "The Old Ironsides" in action.
One night the bombardment was so intense, a cadet and myself broke garrison and climbed down a rope from the third story window of the citadel. We went down into the lower part of the city where only the Bay was between us and the Forts. The shells were flying overhead in all directions, but I was not at all frightened until I saw my father standing only a few feet away. If he recognized me it would be war sure enough. He thought I was miles away behind walls with sentinels guarding every outlet. The cadet and I returned and found our rope still hanging and after much effort we were safe again at school.
Several months later I left the Academy and enlisted as a private in Company A, 27th South Carolina regiment, Hagood's Brigade, Beauregard's Army. My regiment was stationed on James Island, just opposite Charleston and separated from the Northern forces by a large marsh. The only excitement we had there, was one night a general alarm was given and armed to the teeth, we rushed to the breastworks near the marsh. The enemy was reported as advancing in small boats in great numbers. I was selected to mount guard and give the alarm. Every minute I expected to be my last, when a picket reported the supposed enemy boats were only floating marsh, coming in with the tide.
We were next ordered up to Fort Sumpter which was built of bricks and perpendicular walls with several tiers of guns, but now it was only a sloping mound of bricks and dirt-like pyramid. Here we found comfortable quarters. During the day we carried on our backs sand bags to strengthen the weakened places. This work was very hard on me, as I had never done any manual labor. By night there was guard duty on the parapets, where we dodged as best we could the enemy shells sent over from Morris Island.
Soon General Robert E. Lee was calling for help and we started for Virginia. Before leaving Charleston, I was given permission to tell my family goodbye, not knowing if I would ever return. My Mother gave me a shirt made from a window curtain. It was of a loud pattern and very gay. At the depot, I was given a seat on the floor of a box car and South Carolina was soon left behind.
Our first engagement was at Port Walthalla between Richmond and Petersburg. The enemy had a large army and we a small one. We fought until night, winning the battle. One incident of the day, I remember particularly. My sixty rounds or cartridges were gone and I asked permission to get some from the dead. The dead and wounded were lying all about. The wounded begged for water and my canteen was soon empty. I took canteens from the dead and watered the living. I was a target for sharp shooters, their bullets were falling all around, but it was impossible to refuse the pitiable appeals of the dying. However, I obtained all the cartridges I needed and continued the battle for several days. The exposure gave me a high fever and I was sent to the hospital for three days. On returning, found my regiment almost depleted of men. We were constantly moving onward with no rest. I built breast works by day and was on picket duty by night. Finally we were told General Grant was changing his base and advancing on Petersburg. Imagine our traveling on foot on a dusty road where thousands were in front and behind, my equipment a blanket, a frying pan, a canteen, sixty rounds or ammunition and a gun, but I was not overloaded with an abundance of food, as my haversack was always empty.
All day we were forced on and on and when night came I laid down just as I was, too tired to even remove my shoes and I cried like a baby from sheer exhaustion. We were on a forced march the second day so as to meet General Grant.
At dawn we built up breast works, moved up one-half a mile and built more breast works. That night my captain and I slept together in the ditch, his oil cloths spread on the ground and both covered with my blanket. In the morning I was wakened by Grant's shrapnel, one bursting just over us. I shook my captain to wake him and found that a piece of shrapnel had struck him in the temple and he was dead. Another piece of the same shell had splintered my gunstock near the muzzle.
General Grant's cannon were doing havoc to our line and we were defenseless. The order came to retreat. Before we could reach safety, we had to pass an unprotected field. We started to run, every fellow for himself. Shells bursting every where. We were greatly out-numbered, a picket line against an army. It was impossible to hold out. When we reached our own main line, I will never forget General Hagood's reception, mounted on a horse with pistol in hand, he cried out that the first man attempting to enter the line he would kill. He commanded us to go back and capture the line we had deserted. It was death to go forward and death to remain. Orders were orders, so back we went, climbing over the dead, fighting hand to hand ten to one. To kill like this was murder, so I took a man as prisoner. Taking him back to my line, I offered to exchange his haversack for mine. He was willing (each thought the other had food), imagine our disappointment to find both empty.
Having brought in a prisoner I was in hopes of being relieved from duty, but no, back I went for picket duty, staying all night with the dead in a deep ditch. I do not remember how long we were stationed in this ditch. Perhaps a day or two, when suddenly we heard yells and a command to surrender. We were surrounded, captured and taken as prisoners. There were only about 20 of us.
On our way to the Yankee lines, I witnessed a battle, where the northern men were mowed down by the hundreds, others would move up to take their places; these also to be killed, for our marksmanship was most accurate.
I was cross-questioned by a northern officer. One question I remember was "How many men did General Lee have that day engaged?" I answered " Do you expect me to betray my country?" One officer said " Young man, you seem to have a cold. Have a drink." "No", I said, "all that comes from running after the Yankees today. Yelling and scaring them. Besides I would not drink with an enemy." They all laughed and sent me back to my companions.
Before telling you of my prison life, I want to say that this narrative does not cover all of my army life, either in hardships, endurance or privations.
Now as to my prison life. We were taken to the field prison under heavy guard, over dreadful roads, reaching there after dark, dirty, hungry and tired; and slept on the ground. Two days came and went, and we were given nothing to eat. On the third day, we were taken to city Point on the James River, there to take a boat to Point Lookout Maryland, where there were the Union prisons. Here we were lined up for the long promised rations. The provisions were placed on the ground for us. The first food was green bacon sides, which I ate at once and made me desperately ill and was unable to eat again for another three days.
The prison was situated at the point formed by the Potomac River and Chesapeake Bay, with the high wooden fence around it. We were guarded altogether by negroes. We were housed in "A" tents, five men to each tent. We laid on the bare ground and when one man turned over, all had to turn over. We had for rations a half loaf of bakers wheat bread a day. The water was nauseous, and I had to hold my nose to be able to drink it. I was at this prison a month. Here I met a young man named Dan Chaplin. We became fast friends which lasted all during my prison life. Finally I was to leave this accursed place.
We shipped for another prison, going out on the Atlantic Ocean, passing near Fortress Monroe, where Pres. Jefferson Davis was imprisoned. I slept on deck under an old sail. Soon the men below deck became sea sick, and those on deck were ordered below in their place. I tried to play sick, by hanging my head over the railing, which failed to work so down I went. I never saw such a filthy place, no wonder the men were ill. We landed at Jersey City, New Jersey and entrained for Elmira, New York. We were herded like cattle into box cars. I was a marked man, for just before I was made a prisoner I was given a new pair of pants and to save them from the filth on the shipboard, I had turned them wrong side out, so as to appear clean, when I reached my destination.
The prison at Elmira was surrounded by mountains. The pen was in a valley with a small muddy stream running through it. Here I found my friend Chaplin again. He brought me a cold drink of good water, the first I had had since leaving Virginia. Here again we occupied tents. Chaplin and I stayed together. There was a mess hall and hospital on my side of the creek. I had to pass the hospital each morning on my way to breakfast and here I saw laid out on the grass in rows those who had died the night before.
The mess hall was a long room with a long rough table running its length. The rations consisted of one piece of bread and one small piece of meat. It was not enough for a quarter of a meal. Eating this little bit only increased our appetite and we longed for dinner. This was the same as breakfast, never any more. Sometimes we had bean soup, though to call it soup was a misnomer, as it was colored water, with a bean or two at the bottom. After dinner we longed for the night and sleep, so as to forget our hunger. we had this same fare from day to day, and month to month -- never any more or any change. I am quite sure those in charge were starving us to fill their own pockets with money, which was meant to buy provisions for the prisoners. For pastime we made chains of horse hair and rings from buttons, which we sold to the guards.
I have seen the peeling of apples bought when thrown into the gutters, spitoons or any other convenient place, picked up and eaten by those poor hungry wretched creatures. Can you imagine men driven to such a state of starvation? Yet I saw it and such was a fact.
The South may have been accused of starving the Northern prisoners but could it have been any worse than this? If they got less, they could not have lived. Men at Elmira ate rats and anything else that turned up. Some men caught a dog belonging to an officer connected with the prison and ate it. The officer found it out and to punish them he had holes cut in the heads of barrels, only large enough for a man's head to pass through. The barrels were put over their bodies with their heads projecting about on the outside. An upright piece was nailed to the barrel with a sign that read: "These are Dog Eaters". There men were marched up and down the prison streets followed by a fife and drum to attract attention.
We tried to better our tents, by building a floor, made from boxes, so as not to be forced to sleep in mud. When mine was finished it looked much more comfortable, but an officer passed and ordered the floors removed.
In winter we moved into wooden buildings with bunks three tiers high. Chaplin and I were still together. We sat on the floor and talked, as there was nothing else to do. This went on for months. One day I was sent for by General Beal, the officer in charge of the prison. He questioned me and I was handed a letter addressed in a lady's handwriting. Upon opening it I found she was a great friend of my brother, Charlie. He was an officer on board the Shenandoah. She met him in England and he entreated her to hunt for me, for he had heard I was a prisoner. Faithful to her promise, she wrote to every prison and finally found me at Elmira. Her letter told me of my brother and that I was able to ask for anything I wanted. She sent me a large box of eatables, clothing, blankets and a Bible. The General asked me many questions as to the lady who sent me so much. So Chaplin and I lived high for a time.
After three years of prison life, my name was included in a list of sick men to be sent south in exchange for Northern prisoners. We traveled by train to Baltimore and at Richmond I was sent to a hospital too ill to travel further. The matron one day happened to speak of a very ill man just brought in from Elmira prison before a group of men. Chaplin was one of them. He came to see who the ill man was and was astonished to find his old friend. He told them who I was, that I was the son of the medical purveyor of General Beauregard's army. After this everything was done for my welfare. Chaplin obtained his furlough with mine. We were given sixty days leave and transportation to go home and recover. I went to Camden and he to Watterboro. My way lead down General Sherman's route -- everything was destroyed . The devil himself could not have done it more thoroughly. The roads were offensive from the dead carcasses left in the wake of the army. I labored on, meeting no one, and at night I lay down by a stream wrapped in my blanket Miss Nannie Wells had given me. The next day I could not stand. I crawled down to the stream for water, a negro passed and I asked him to carry me on his back to shelter, giving him the blanket in payment. He said there was a small village near, that had escaped General Sherman's march. There he carried me to a lady's home who put me to bed, fed me and clothed me. I told her I was trying to reach my uncle John Dent's home near Camden. She said there was a wagon of corn going there and I could ride in it. We reached there at nightfall. My cousins gave me a most hearty welcome. The hand of God seemed to have directed me thus far in a miraculous manner. And now for something more astonishing. In less than an hour after my arrival my father, with all the wagons and army equipment arrived. He met me on the steps and kissed me. What a jollification there was.
He had been ordered by the Confederate government to take all of his army stores, eighty-six wagons and office force, to Abbeville, South Carolina. the next morning he started, taking me with him. During his journey to Abbeville, General Lee surrendered. My father and I returned to Alabama where my Mother had lived during the dreaded days of the War.
This brings me to the end of my army life. I have not told you all, for so much has been forgotten during the intervening years. Though perhaps not interesting, you will at least know of some the great hardships I met with in the great struggle between the North and South and which no one took a part in without feeling a personal pride that he was a soldier in the Southern Army.
June 1910 Your affectionate father,
John Dent Linning
