Battle of Brown's Mill
True Story Of A Union Soldier Captured At Brown's Mill And Sent To Andersonville
From Blue Lick To Andersonville
The true story of a Kentucky boy in McCook's Calvary
Aaron had never felt as bad as he did this hot July day, standing in the middle of some Southern farmer's field. He was captured, along with many of his comrades, at the Battle of Brown's Mill near Newnan, Georgia. His thoughts took him back to Blue Lick, Kentucky, his mom and dad, and home. In the days to come, these thoughts will help keep him alive.
The sharp jab in the back brought Aaron back to reality. Ok Yank, Start walking, the Reb ordered. The prisoners marched about 3 miles to the town of Newnan, a town of about 1000 people. The Rebels had set up temporary headquarters on the grounds of the Newnan courthouse. There they were all put to the pump. All were subject to this system of pumping the prisoners for information.
Aaron's prison life began on the night of July 31st, 1864. He recalled, We were moved off the courthouse square onto a vacant area on the edge of town. That night the rain came down in torrents. We hunched together and tried to keep from drowning on that unforgettable occasion. The next morning all of our personal and useful articles were ruthlessly taken from us. The Rebs also stripped us of our boots, hats, blankets, tents, and even underclothing.
Barefooted, they walked to Atlanta. The trip, over horrible roads, took 2 days. Here, I became acquainted with the true character of the Southerner. Some of my fellow prisoners had come from the Army of the Potomac, up north, and assured me that on their march to Atlanta that Rebel guards would shoot any of the injured that could not keep up the rest. At first I could not believe these stories, but soon I would see similar instances if not more cruel than those related, said Aaron.
Five days later the prisoners were loaded on boxcars and began their 10-mile per hour trip to Andersonville. Aaron and 60 other men, many wounded and sick, were in a single car which measured 7 feet by 30 feet. Aaron remembered, There is a long list of unforgettable things that will long be remembered. The groans and shrieks of the wounded, the moans of the poor diarrhea patients, and the memory of the stench of so many being jammed together would be one thing that I will not forget as long as I live. Day was bad enough, but when night came, it was even worse. It was so bad on the train that I actually looked forward to getting there.
Little did Aaron know, that compared to prison life; the train ride was a real comfort. Without the aid of someone who had seen it or the devil that created it, you could not imagine the kind of place it was. Aaron thought that hell seemed to surpass itself. Imagine 15 acres of swamp land, one third of it always held water, a closed fence 20 feet high, no outlets except 2 gates, and no roof. The entire swamp was covered in human excrement; yet among this filth some were obliged to lie down.
Food at the first was one quart of ground corn, cob and all. Corncobs have no nutritional value what so ever, even hogs won't eat them. This was their daily fare for many weeks. On dry days they were furnished one stick of firewood to cook the meal.
Late August brought real misery in earnest. A storm of rain set in and for 22 days the clouds poured down suffering and death. We had no roof or shelter, nothing but the wet steaming earth to rest upon day and night, Aaron recalled. For days it poured down in a continuous stream, carrying hundreds to their lonely home, either heaven or hell. Some days more than 100 died each day. Aaron and the other prisoners had to eat the corn meal raw, since they had no fuel to cook it.
September arrived with a new set of problems,hot and dry without shade to protect our heads. Many suffered heat strokes, while others went completely mad and rushed beyond the dead line, where their lives and suffering ended together. One man especially came to mind, said Aaron. He became so mad that he would not wear any clothes. For about a month he was seen all day completely naked. He would wallow in the swamp, which contained so much disease and filth. He was allowed by the brutal guards, and he alone, to infringe on the sacred dead line. Not a day passed without a prisoner being wounded or killed. One day a guard killed a man with a kick for daring to touch the wagon bringing our provisions. Many of the prisoner's bodies simply could not tolerate the daily doses of cob meal. They simply dried up and died. It was hard for me to believe that the Rebs could worship the same God as us. Aaron's body was now burned in its exposed parts to the color of the soil, as it had been his bed for so long.
When I arrived in Andersonville there were 16,000 prisoners. Our number in September had reached 20,000, but by October it was 30,000. At this point the deaths outweighed the number of new prisoners, said Aaron.
October brought a surprise to Aaron and many of the healthier prisoners. The Confederates decided to move most of them to other prisons in the South, as Sherman was now south of Atlanta and too close for comfort. On October 15, 1864, Aaron left Andersonville for Charleston, South Carolina.
In spite of how he looked or felt, Aaron was packed with 65 more in the boxcar once more and jolted for about 300 miles over the rough rails. Their food consists of about one pound of bread made from cob meal and two ounces of maggoty bacon. This with two crackers lasted us for the next three days. While on the train Aaron talked with a fellow prisoner who told him of the death count at Andersonville. He stated that from March 1st 1864 eleven thousand seven hundred and seventy nine died, and most died because of improper treatment. Both felt the Rebs had rather see us dead than alive.
From Charleston the prisoners were taken to Florence, SC where they had erected another stockade. Although the food was very bad in this place, the men found sympathy in the good women of the area who brought them food each day. Aaron soon learned that this was the only prison in the south that allowed locals to visit the Union prisoners.
His hate of the Southern people changed as the days passed. He became friends with a young girl who brought him food and soap. Her name was Elizabeth Corley.
As time passed, they became close friends, with visits every other day. The guards allowed Aaron to write letters home to his parents in Kentucky. Elizabeth told him that the news of peace was in the air and hopefully the war would end soon. She also told him that Sherman was in Savannah and would be going north into South Carolina next. This meant that the prisoners would be exchanged, moved, or set free.
In February, Sherman captured Columbia. The next day the guards unlocked the gates to the prison,and departed. Aaron walked out a free man. Many of the prisoners walked to Columbia to meet the advancing Union army, but Aaron was too weak and stayed at the prison.
Elizabeth and her parents brought Aaron to their home and cared for him, as did many of the families in Florence with the other sick prisoners. After a bath in a #3 bathtub and a hot meal, he lapsed into a wonderful God given sleep.
The war was finally over. Aaron found a job with the Florence Post Office and rented a room in the Travelers Boarding House in downtown Florence. He had found his destiny. On December 25, 1865 Elizabeth and Aaron were married. They relocated to Greenville, SC., where he again worked for the Post Office. The couple was blessed with children and grand children during their life together. Aaron died in 1909, and Elizabeth in 1912. They are buried in the family plot in Greenville, SC.
The war that tore our country apart had brought these two together. Are we merely pawns in God's hands? Where we stop and for how long, only God knows. God's plan is alive, and well, and continues. What else can be said?
Edited and condensed by:
Edward Jordan Lanham
12-00
This was sent to me by a relative of Aaron.
Edward Jordan Lanham