With but short intervals, Slocum's guns have been heard all day. About three o'clock in the evening we hear to our right a sullen roar, a desperate crash, a whoop, and all is over; and soon we are told that Fort McAllister has fallen; that the immortal Hazen, Ohio's ideal son, has planted his battle-flag upon the ramparts there, making free our passage to the sea, and now we hope to receive supplies, as we have access to the fleet anchored in Ossabaw Sound. This evening Captain Ed. R. Roberts of Company C, makes his appearance in camp, after an imprisonment of seven months in the southern prison hells. The reader will remember that Captain Roberts, together with Captain McGuire, Lieutenant Fergus, and about thirty of the men, were captured on the seventh of May, 1864, in our encounter with Roddy and Johnson at Florence, Alabama. The captain has now a large crowd of the Seventh congregated around him, listening attentively to his heart-rending stories of rebel cruelty. We will now follow Captains Roberts and McGuire and Lieutenant Fergus during their wanderings in the land of their captivity. After their capture at Florence, Alabama, on the 7th of May 1864, they, in company with the men, were taken via Mobile and Montgomery, Alabama to Macon, Georgia, where they arrived May 28th. As soon as they entered the stockade Roberts washed his shirt, and after wringing it out, approached the picket fence immediately inside of the stockade to hang it thereon to dry, and just as he was about to touch the fence he was pulled back by a comrade who saved his life-saved him from being cruelly murdered; for it was the dead line he was about to touch, a line upon which many a noble patriot Union soldier poured out his life blood. At one time while here they were compelled to be two and a half days without anything to eat. After remaining in the Macon stockade for some time the officers were separated from the men, and transferred to the city work-house and jail at Charleston, South Carolina, and while here they were continually under the fire of Gilmore's guns. On the 5th of October they were all moved to Columbia, South Carolina, with the exception of those who were sick, among which number was the gallant Lieutenant Fergus, who was suffering with the yellow fever. After long weary months of suffering known only to those who were the sufferers, Captain Roberts and a number of other officers made their escape from those wicked men who sought their lives. The story of the Captain's march from bondage to liberty would alone fill a good sized volume. Guided by the trusty negroes they traveled one hundred and eighty miles in ten nights, (lying in the swamps by day) and reached Sherman's army, seventy miles above Savannah, Georgia, December 5th.
The Captain remained with Kilpatrick's cavalry until the 12th of November, when he joined his regiment and company. Brave, self-sacrificing soldier, the story of your trials, the longings that were yours, the revolting scenes that met your eyes, and the feeling of joy that came to your heart when your eyes fell upon the old flag, will never be known to any save those who experienced like trials, who witnessed like scenes and felt like joys. We now think of those of our number who are yet suffering in southern prison pens, and we are informed that some of them have been freed from their suffering, have been starved, have been murdered. It cannot be that these brave men's sufferings and sorrows which they endured in this land of cruel wrongs will not be righted in the world beyond the stars. We could not believe in a heaven if we should lose the faith that these men's wrongs will be made right above.
SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 284-6
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