As each lagging day closed, we confidently expected that the next would bring some news of the eagerly-desired exchange.  We hopefully assured each other that the thing could not be delayed much longer; that the Spring was near, the campaign would soon open, and each government would make an effort to get all its men into the field, and this would bring about a transfer of prisoners.  A Sergeant of the Seventh Indiana Infantry stated his theory to me this way: 

“You know I’m just old lightnin’ on chuck-a-luck.  Now the way I bet is this:  I lay down, say on the ace, an’ it don’t come up; I just double my bet on the ace, an’ keep on doublin’ every time it loses, until at last it comes up an’ then I win a bushel o’ money, and mebbe bust the bank.  You see the thing’s got to come up some time; an’ every time it don’t come up makes it more likely to come up the next time.  It’s just the same way with this ’ere exchange.  The thing’s got to happen some day, an’ every day that it don’t happen increases the chances that it will happen the next day.”

Some months later I folded the sanguine Sergeant’s stiffening hands together across his fleshless ribs, and helped carry his body out to the dead-house at Andersonville, in order to get a piece of wood to cook my ration of meal with.

On the evening of the 17th of February, 1864, we were ordered to get ready to move at daybreak the next morning.  We were certain this could mean nothing else than exchange, and our exaltation was such that we did little sleeping that night.  The morning was very cold, but we sang and joked as we marched over the creaking bridge, on our way to the cars.  We were packed so tightly in these that it was impossible to even sit down, and we rolled slow ly away after a wheezing engine to Petersburg, whence we expected to march to the exchange post.  We reached Petersburg before noon, and the cars halted there along time, we momentarily expecting an order to get out.  Then the train started up and moved out of the City toward the southeast.  This was inexplicable, but after we had proceeded this way for several hours some one conceived the idea that the Rebels, to avoid treating with Butler, were taking us into the Department of some other commander to exchange us.  This explanation satisfied us, and our spirits rose again.

Night found us at Gaston, N. C., where we received a few crackers for rations, and changed cars.  It was dark, and we resorted to a little strategy to secure more room.  About thirty of us got into a tight box car, and immediately announced that it was too full to admit any more.  When an officer came along with another squad to stow away, we would yell out to him to take some of the men out, as we were crowded unbearably.  In the mean time everybody in the car would pack closely around the door, so as to give the impression that the car was densely crowded.  The Rebel would look convinced, and demand: