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bryon p. zuver, company d Prisoner of War The account of Bryon Zuver, a private in Company D, was originally excerpted from the unpublished ‘‘History of Company D, 12th Iowa,’’ prepared by Erastus B. Soper, in ‘‘Iowans in Southern Prisons,’’ edited by Mildred Throne in the Iowa Journal of History 54 ( January 1956) 67–88. However, the piece has been newly annotated. The complete history was prepared by Erastus B. Soper between 1885 and 1903, relying on the accounts of many of his fellow members of Company D. This account, though the manuscript is lost and is occasionally in the third person, was written by Zuver himself. As soon as the surrender was complete, the firing in our vicinity ceased, while awaiting orders to move off the field, our boys entered into conversation with the Regiment in our immediate proximity, which proved to be 1st La. Inf’y, a body of well dressed and well appearing men. From them it was learned that the Regiment we had met and dispersed from rear at Hell’s Hollow was the 2nd Miss. Tigers, and that Gen. Johnston had been killed.39 They also pointed out to us the confederate Gens. Beauregard, Hardie [sic] and Polk, and had considerable to say (intending probably, to be complimentary) about our not being Yanks, and that our fighting had cost them a man for every one of us captured. As we moved to the rear, we met troops pushing forward towards the front, but the explosion of shells from the gun boats,40 caused the lines occasionally to stagger and stragglers to hunt for a safer retreat. We were constantly reviled and taunted with all manner of vile epithets from these so called chivalrous sons of the South; but, owing to our peculiar situation, we had little to say. Still the boys did tell them that their boasts of driving Grant and his army into the Tenn. River were vain; and declared that, on the contrary, they would be hunting their back tracks before that time on the next day; all of which they received with howls of derision. That night we stopped near Monterey [Tennessee], seventeen miles from Corinth, and were guarded all night in what had been the previous year a cornfield. We were without food or shelter and exposed to the { 55 } rain; the mud was deep, and the marching had been fearful. Here we left Thomas Barr. He was shot through the thigh and could march no further . We afterwards learned that three days later he escaped from a field hospital where there was mostly rebel wounded, and reported at Camp. At this place, the officers and men were required to turn over their side and personal arms. Lt. Hale took his revolver apart and gave Boughton the cylinder, which he concealed in his canteen, splitting it open for that purpose, and closing it up; Gephart laid his upon the pile; all offers of the boys to carry it and take chances of detection were declined. A squadron of rebel Cavalry, in the morning, came rushing into town determined to shoot the prisoners rather than permit them to be recaptured. They erroneously supposed themselves pursued by a force of Federal Cavalry. But the scare was soon over, and we took up our muddy march toward Corinth, where we arrived about the middle of the afternoon and halted in the street near the depot, while the train was being made up to give the ‘‘Yanks’’ a free ride; while waiting, the corpse of Gen. Johnston, with its guard, passed through our lines. This gave occasion for much angry talk on the part of the citizens. Wherever we went during the whole trip South, the people flocked to see us, manifesting the keenest curiosity and most malignant hatred. Finally we were loaded in freight cars and, late at night, pulled out on the Memphis & Charleston road toward Memphis, arriving at Grand Junction, Tenn., about noon. At La Grange, about three miles from there, we were held three hours, while trains loaded with troops from Island No. 1041 on their way to Corinth passed by. . . . Speeding on, at a moderate pace, the train was run into the M. & C. depot at Memphis on the evening of April 8th, where we found about all of the population of the city awaiting us. ‘‘Heres your mule’’ the gamins sung out. We unloaded ourselves from the box cars and were marched to the ‘‘Bradly Block,’’ a large...

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