CHAPTER XXX.

June—­possibilities of A murderous cannonade—­what was proposed to be done in that event—­A false alarm—­deterioration of the rations —­fearful increase of mortality.

After Wirz’s threat of grape and canister upon the slightest provocation, we lived in daily apprehension of some pretext being found for opening the guns upon us for a general massacre.  Bitter experience had long since taught us that the Rebels rarely threatened in vain.  Wirz, especially, was much more likely to kill without warning, than to warn without killing.  This was because of the essential weakness of his nature.  He knew no art of government, no method of discipline save “kill them!” His petty little mind’s scope reached no further.  He could conceive of no other way of managing men than the punishment of every offense, or seeming offense, with death.  Men who have any talent for governing find little occasion for the death penalty.  The stronger they are in themselves—­the more fitted for controlling others—­the less their need of enforcing their authority by harsh measures.

There was a general expression of determination among the prisoners to answer any cannonade with a desperate attempt to force the Stockade.  It was agreed that anything was better than dying like rats in a pit or wild animals in a battue.  It was believed that if anything would occur which would rouse half those in the pen to make a headlong effort in concert, the palisade could be scaled, and the gates carried, and, though it would be at a fearful loss of life, the majority of those making the attempt would get out.  If the Rebels would discharge grape and canister, or throw a shell into the prison, it would lash everybody to such a pitch that they would see that the sole forlorn hope of safety lay in wresting the arms away from our tormentors.  The great element in our favor was the shortness of the distance between us and the cannon.  We could hope to traverse this before the guns could be reloaded more than once.

Whether it would have been possible to succeed I am unable to say.  It would have depended wholly upon the spirit and unanimity with which the effort was made.  Had ten thousand rushed forward at once, each with a determination to do or die, I think it would have been successful without a loss of a tenth of the number.  But the insuperable trouble—­in our disorganized state—­was want of concert of action.  I am quite sure, however, that the attempt would have been made had the guns opened.

One day, while the agitation of this matter was feverish, I was cooking my dinner—­that is, boiling my pitiful little ration of unsalted meal, in my fruit can, with the aid of a handful of splinters that I had been able to pick up by a half day’s diligent search.  Suddenly the long rifle in the headquarters fort rang out angrily.  A fuse shell shrieked across the prison—­close to the tops of the logs, and burst in the woods beyond.  It was answered with a yell of defiance from ten thousand throats.