Oxford Times, March 15, 1865
James W. Eaton, son of Mr Warren Eaton of this place [Oxford, Chenango Co., NY], died in the Prison Hospital at Salisbury, N.C., January 3d last. Mr. Eaton was a member of the 5th N.Y. Heavy Artillery, and had more than once bravely and gallantly faced the enemy upon many a well fought field, doomed at last to suffer death by the cruelty and inhumanity of rebel captivity. He was a young man of exemplary life, blameless character and pure patriotism. The following extract from a letter to his afflicted family, by a friend who was with him in his last hours tells the sad story of his sufferings and his death.
He had frozen his feet, I think on or about the 21st of Nov., it being very cold there at that time. Sometime in Dec., perhaps near the middle of the month, learning his situation, I sent for him to come to the Hospital where I was nursing, and succeeded in getting him admitted, hoping thereby to save his life, even if I could not his feet, which when I came to dress, presented a horrible picture. He told me that he had frequently tried to get in the Hospital but like many others with frozen feet had been unsuccessful, the Doctors either having a dread of frost bites or what was worse little or no feeling for our sick, suffering and dying prisoners.
At the time he was admitted his feet were swollen twice their usual size, the flesh on his toes had already become putrid, and it was not long before they dropped off, and he was minus toes. Amputation became necessary, consequently on the 29th of Dec. he had to submit to that painful operation. The right foot was taken off mid way between the toes and ankle; the left leg four inches perhaps below the knee. He had borne his afflictions up to this time with so much fortitude and cheerfulness that I had entertained strong hopes of his recovery But the shock was too much for his system, not having proper diet or stimulants to keep him up, the diarrhea setting in he ran down very fast. During the last hours of his life, he lay stupid, apparently unconscious of anything that was transpiring, in that state he dropped off. He left his testament and diary with me to take care of for him, little thinking perhaps at the time that he would so soon be called from his trials, afflictions and imprisonment there to a brighter world above.
In conclusion, let me assure you that after he was admitted in the Hospital, he had so far as our limited means would permit, every care and want attended to. Being his nurse I watched over him night and day, and did all in my power to make him comfortable and restore him to health.
Most respectfully, &c. Luther T. Dodson
It is only occasionally when we have brought home to us the death of our young patriot martyrs, like the lamented Eaton, and the veil is lifted which concealed the long suffering and agony of their rebel prison houses, that we can even attain in a remote degree to a proper realization of the duty imposed upon us as a people, to prosecute the rebellion to a speedy and successful issue, and bring if possible its inhuman and bloody leaders and agents to merited punishment. If we admire the dauntless bravery and the unflinching courage of the fiery battle trial, how can we fully appreciate the superadded martyrdom of the hero soldier, who thus patiently and without a murmur suffers the slow torture of living death in the worse than a slave pen of a rebel prison. Heaven grant that we may lay it to heart, and be able to vindicate national justice and the memory the Republic's heroic martyrs, by holding to strict account the crimes which are being committed in the name of Southern independence inaugurated by a rebellion founded upon crime, and prosecuted with an inhumanity and cruelty unknown to civilized warfare.
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