With the Immortal 600 at Morris Island
 
From: Bernhard1848@att.net
 
An honorable and civilized enemy would not rain artillery fire down upon civilians or their own prisoners of war; nor would such an enemy place prisoners in a stockade in front of their batteries protect themselves.
 
Bernhard Thuersam
Cape Fear Historical Institute
Wilmington, NC
www.CFHI.net

With the Immortal 600 At Morris Island:
 
"After weary months in Washington, during which time I was shown many kindnesses and attentions from Southern sympathizers, I was carried to Fort Delaware prison. After a lapse of some time I was drawn in with the lot of six hundred officers to b carried to "Morris Island," to be placed under the fire of our own guns at Charleston. We were crowded in the dark hole of the vessel, only equal to the "Black Hole of Calcutta," and packed on shelves like goods in a store, without any light or air, except that driven down a shaft by wind-sails.
 
On our arrival we were put in a "stockade pen," between "Fort Wagner and Fort Gregg," and guarded by a Negro regiment. For forty-five days we sat upon the sands and witnessed the burning fuses from bombs, larger than nail-kegs continuously fired night and day by our men at the forts. If they overshot the one or undershot the other they’d hit us. But that God marks the sparrow’s fall, protected us.
 
On the eve of our leaving for "Hilton Head," the Negroes on guard fired into some of us. I saw three fall either killed or wounded; they were hurriedly moved out. I never learned their fate. Three of our number got the cabin maid to steal life preservers from the cabins and quietly slid over-board where sharks were as thick as minnows. Two were exhausted from thirst and lack of food and were captured on Pinckney Island; the third reached Charleston. They gave us absolutely nothing at all to eat for forty-five days but a littlerotten cornmeal filled with black bugs, without salt or anyway to cook it. Our comrades were dying by squads daily, the dead house was filled all the time with the corpses. Scores of cats would enter through holes and prey upon the dead."
 
Lt. Col. C.B. Christian, Walker’s Ford, Amherst County, Virginia
 
(Southern Historical Society Papers, Vol. XXXVII, R.A. Brock, editor, 1909, pp. 241-242)