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Imprisoned by the Texians by Dr. John C. Gill SUMMARY Much has been written about the Red River Campaign of 1864. Dr. Gill was in the middle of it. Between the letter Gill wrote to his mother in mid-April 1864 and the letter he writes to his sister Anna in late June 1864, Gill spends six weeks as prisoner-of-war in Texas. The Union Army is resoundingly beaten by the Confederates as a result of the disastrous Red River Expedition (March 10-May 1864). The low level of the river and the hesitancy of Union generals caused one of the Union's most embarrassing naval defeats and the last real Confederate victory. Gill was captured at the end of the campaign and cannot bring himself to write about what really happened but includes an account written by another officer. About his own experiences as a prisoner-of-war, he writes his sister a strangely conflicted account. At first, Gill says that he was treated kindly although "the first two nights and days after being captured, we had very little to eat and no medicine for the wounded." Their treatment depended entirely on the whim of the person in charge at the time. Some surgeons treated the wounded; others did not. Some officers gave the "yanks" whole rations; others caused them to suffer. At first the ladies of Cheneyville visited the hospital and fed the sick and wounded. After a little while, however, the "rebs" grew jealous of this attention and "threatened to burn their houses and everything else that was cowardly" if the ladies did not stop their charity work. Gill became well-acquainted with some of these ladies and earned a reputation as a "splendid performer on the piano." He remained a prisoner for six weeks and, then, was sent back to the Union line. TRANSCRIPTION Morganzia, LA It is with pleasure and feelings of deepest respect that I pen you these lines. Yesterday while in the Adjutant's tent conversing with some of the officers, our conversation was suddenly brought to a close by the arrival of the mail. To my surprise there was a letter for me. I immediately returned to my quarters that I might be alone there to read and ponder on the contents of the long looked for and most welcomed missive undisturbed. When I first looked at the letter and before it was opened, I was strongly impressed that it was from home. But to who it was that I was so much indebted I could not determine. When I broke the seal and saw it was from Mother, the tears would involuntarily steal to my eyes, and it was utterly impossible for me to suppress them. I was uneasy all the time I was reading for fear some one would come in and find me in tears. I had just finished reading your affectionate letter when Major McKinley and Capt. Taylor came in to congratulate me in receiving word from home. They noticed my eyes were moist and somewhat red, and were in fear that I had bad news. But when I informed them to the contrary that they were tears of joy and gladness, that I had received a letter from my mother, they seemed to be nearly as glad as I. Some may call it weakness to shed tears. but under the circumstances let them call it what they may I could not help it nor am I ashamed of it. This is the first letter I have received from home since my return to the regiment with the exception of two that were written while I was a prisoner. One was from you, the other from Aunt Jennie, which also contained a few lines from Sister Anna. Could those at home but know the pleasure, the joy and happiness that
a few kind words from (home) give. I know that we would not have to beg,
supplicate, and entrust our friends to write us. It would be a blessing
to all in the army could their friends but be present in camp when the
mail is being distributed. To notice the varied expressions of countenance
depicted on those who are fortunate in receiving letters, and those less
fortunate. They would see an eager crowd congregated around Head Quarters,
anxiously yet patiently awaiting the distribution of letters. When the
names of the fortunate are called to receive their precious little packages
the eye will sparkle, the countenance brighten and (look) the very picture
of happiness. See them running in every direction to their respective
quarters to read their precious messages. Even the sick that are hardly
able to carry their feeble bodies along seem to forget their afflictions
and walk off with faces animated, step (more) firm and elastic, their
minds seemingly intent on the one object - a letter- Now let me portray
the less fortunate. They enquire "Anything for me?" and are answered,
"Nothing." Mark the sudden change their countenances assume; they walk
away with heads down, hands in their pockets, and are sullen and indifferent
(and do) not seem to care whether 'School keeps or not." I know how they
feel and can sympathize with them. One kind letter will do nearly as much
toward alleviating the suffering of the sick and hasten convalescence
as all the specifics the Materia Medica Comp??, at least it acts as a
most powerful adjuvant/rejuvenant. This negligence in writing produces
many of the bad effects. It is the cause of many an unkind remark and
many unbecoming acts, which in all probability, never would have happened,
would friends at home be more thoughtful and punctual in writing. Mother,
I do not write in this strain to find any fault with you. Because I know
you have the heart and will to write. But on account of your eyesight
it is quite a task for you to undertake. There are those at home who might
occasionally address me a few lines even if they were put to some inconvenience.
Could they see how limited our facilities are for writing I think they
would not complain. I am glad to learn that you have received my letter,
Mother. I was also greatly troubled concerning you knowing that you would
hear of the casualty of our regiment and on such occasions, reports are
generally greatly exaggerated. I used every means in my power to send
you word of my passing through the fiery ordeal unhurt. I knew that if
you only was positive that I was not killed. Or wounded. You would feel
much relieved. I wrote a letter and sent it to Gen'l Wharton's headquarters
and he promised to send the letters into our lines the first opportunity
under a flag of truce and again there were two officers (prisoners) that
were determined to make their escape. I gave them your address and they
promised faithfully to write you should they be successful in reaching
our lines. They made their escape I learn, but conclude that they did
not write you. And again I wrote while the exchange of prisoners was taking
place at the mouth of Red River, on board the Steamer ??ville. The first
intimation I had of the report, circulated of my death, was when I reached
my regiment. Then, I was troubled more than ever knowing the distress
you would be in, and hearing nothing definite about me. I immediately
wrote several letters to my friends at home hoping that some of them would
reach their destinations and you could get the intelligence of my good
fortune in being with my regiment again. I am well pleased with the officers
and men of this regiment; they are sociable and kind. There is only one
thing that I am not satisfied with, and that is its decimated condition:
the number of men present does not number quite two hundred. We have had
considerable sickness in the regiment since we came to this station. It
is very unhealthy. The days are… PAGES MISSING
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