Miles O. Sherrill: A Soldier's Story: Prison Life and Other Incidents in the War of 1861-1865

would take my turn at the bat. As soon as it was light enough to see I would sit upon my humble couch (I was myself a picture of humility) and commence a war of revenge. As they would take to the wall I would go for them, and before I left that prison many, many "bugs" were slaughtered, as the blood-stained wall bore testimony. Yes, that wall was well striped with Confederate blood. The loss of blood in that way, if not with as much pain, was attended with much more genuine disgust. How much I would have liked to "express myself," but my lips were hermetically sealed. I learned how to sympathize with Pharaoh and his people, though there is no statement that any of this kind were sent on him when Moses and the Israelites were asking permission to leave. In November, 1864, I (with others) was shipped off to Elmyra, N. Y. "Thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother."
Leaving the old Capitol Prison, I got away at least from the multitude of B. B.'s, but I ran into the B. L.'s - army body lice, or what the soldiers call "grey backs." Later on I may speak of my experience with this pest while in the small-pox camp.
We reached Elmyra, N. Y., on Sunday morning. Being in the mountains, the ground was covered with snow. Arriving at the barracks, we were lined up (I was on my crutches, and had to stand there on one foot for what seemed to me a very long time) just inside the gate, negro soldiers on guard. The commanding officer, Major Beal, greeted us with the most bitter oaths that I ever heard. He swore that he was going to send us out and have us shot; said he had no room for us, and that we (meaning the Confederate soldiers) had no mercy on their colored soldiers or prisoners. He was half drunk, and I was not sure but that we might be dealt with then and there. Then we were searched and robbed of knives, cash, etc., and sent into various wards. While we were standing in the snow, hearing the abuse of Major Beal, some poor ragged Confederate prisoners were marched by with what was