Oneida Dispatch, Oneida, NY, January 19, 1867
Civil War Prison Life
As will be noticed by reference to the proper column, James Baker formerly of this town [Oneida, Madison Co. NY] died recently in Wisconsin. [Died in Wisconsin, Nov. 10, of inflammation of the bowels, Mr. James Baker, formerly of Oneida, aged 37 years.] In 1863, during those dark and gloomy days of the Republic, Mr. Baker enlisted in the Eighth Heavy Artillery of this state [NY]. In August 1864, he was taken prisoner and remained the victim of Southern barbarity till the last of February following. Doubtless while in the rebel prison pens his constitution received a shock which led to his early death. The story of the sufferings of the "noble boys in blue," while captives on the sun-blistered rather than sacred soil of the vaunted chivalry will ever retain a deep interest. We give below some extracts from a journal kept by Mr. Baker during his imprisonment:
We were then sent to Richmond on the cars, where we stayed three days and were examined again. Many of the boys gave up their money, with the promise that they should have it again when they were exchanged and others hid it in their clothes and if it was found it was confiscated to the Rebel Government. I hid all I had ($14.50) between the lining and outer leather of my old boot. Tuesday the 30th we were sent to Belle Isle, where we drew one-fourth of a loaf of corn bread twice a day and a small piece of bacon. Some of it was very good, and some had maggots in nearly an inch long. Here we stayed about three weeks, without any kind of shelter from the scorching rays of a Southern sun and chilly nights and storms that would drench us to the skin. We were in sight of the capital of the bogus Confederacy and old Jeff's palace, where we could hear a brass band play every morning.
October 5th, five hundred of us were put on a train of box cars, like hogs, eighty in a car and sent to Salisbury, N.C. We had one loaf of corn bread and a small piece of meat each. Major John H. Gee was then in command of this camp. About seven thousand came here in a very few days. For many weeks we had a kind of shelter. Mess-mate and I had a small blanket we got on the Lale. The ground was our bed, a brick our pillow and the canopy of heaven our shelter. Often have I looked up at the moon and stars at dead of night and thought of loved ones at home, and asked myself, "Are these the same that shine on my little home in York State?"
About the first of November there was furnished two tents to every squad of one hundred men. With the closest crowding these sheltered about half; the rest had to dig holes in the ground. Many froze their feet. About the middle of December, I was detailed to go two miles to load brick, which were brought to camp for the purpose of building fireplaces for hospitals. The first day, I sold a gold pen which I found in Petersburg for $10. With this money I bought salt, pies and tobacco, carried them into camp and sold them or traded for brass buttons. These I sold to the guard. In this way I made about $100 in Confederate scrip, with which I bought something to eat. About this time, I bought a hole in the ground of one of the boys for $8 and mess-mate and I moved into it. It was large enough to sleep in, and we could sit up in it. There was a hole dug in one side for a fireplace, mud bricks sundried for a chimney. Our furniture consisted of two bricks what served the double purpose of chairs and pillows; one quart cup, which we used for water pail, coffee pot (crust coffee) soup dish, and wash bowl; one pint cup for drinking and sorghum; one case knife - with this we had to cut our wood as well as our bread. One day I asked Major Gee to let me step into the ditch, which was dry and gather an armful of leaves for a bed, but was denied. Our rations during the winter were very scant. Often were we cut down to one-fourth loaf per day, and some days without any. I was forty-eight hours without any at one time. We got meat once in about ten days - beef heads, with eyes in and the lights were given us to eat. Sometimes the tripe without cleaning, gullets and beef noses were given us for extras.
Over five thousand died during my stay there. Oh, it was heart rending to go into the dead house and see the bodies lay there, some mere skeletons! One day there were sixty-four. To look upon one's friends and think maybe his turn next to go in the same way - pen cannot describe it. Seventeen of my own company died in this miserable place. When we first went there, they had these coffins they carried the dead out in, emptied them and came back for more, but this soon played out. They then had a four-mule team, big lumber wagon and negro driver. They would pile them in like hogs, dump them in holes or trenches, stripped of all their clothing that was of any value.
About the 8th of January, the rain pouring down in torrents caused our mud house to cave in, nearly burying us alive. With great difficulty we got out. After losing my house, I went under one of the hospitals and stayed until the 14th, when my partner left me and went out into the rebel army, hoping in that way to escape and get into our lines. But I never heard from him, poor boy. I think he is dead. I then went into a tent with my company, but in a few days a severe storm of rain and sleet flooded our tent. It became one complete mud hole. I took a severe cold and was very sick for a number of days. The boys thought I could not live. I got them to go and get me medicine and kept up good courage and would not go to the hospital. Had I done so, I think I should not be alive now. After I got better, my feet began to swell, and some of my toes turned black and were very painful. I also had the break-bone fever. My Knees would begin to ache about three o'clock in the afternoon, and the pain would streak up and down my limbs. It was such excruciating pain that I could not sleep but had to lay and groan. It would last until three in the morning. I suffer from the effects of it until this day.
Various were the rumors in camp about exchange. The guard would tell us we were going away, and that the cars were at the depot waiting for us; but these were all lies, got up to torment us. But on Tuesday, the 21st of February, in the evening, we were called out to get rations for a march. Two loaves corn and wheat bread and about a half pound of bacon was given to each man. the next day (22d) each division formed in line, a parole of honor read to us, and about noon we left the stockade and arrived at Goldsboro, where we signed a parole and drew one day's rations of raw beef, corn meal and cow peas. We started at midnight for Wilmington on platform cars, reached our lines at ten o'clock, A.M., Tuesday the 28th day of February 1865, hungry, dirty, ragged and lousy.
