"Private Tooms, You are Under Arrest."

Thursday, December 31, 1863

In my younger years, I have endeavored to remain awake on the day before the new year. That is something for the young bucks. This year, as in so many past, I intend to be asleep. For several days now, there has been little else to do.

When I returned to the regiment, I was several days overdue from my furlough. I was met by my pards who had been wondering if I had been caught up in the Yankee raid in Salem. I was surprised that news of the raid was known here. Hancock informed me that some of our division had been sent away from here to catch the raiders. Our troops had made it as far as Staunton before being recalled and did not engage the enemy. While we were jawing, I noticed Corporal Flynn approaching our group with three armed men with bayonets affixed. Corporal Flynn said, "Private Tooms, you are under arrest."

With the corporal and one escort in front and the other two in the rear, they all took me, in the middle, to see Lieutenant Williamson in his cabin. Hancock, Duncan and the others followed but stayed outside. In his cabin was a staff captain who was from the Provost Marshall. Charges were read against me. It was mentioned that before I had arrived, the charges had been desertion, the penalty for which is death by firing squad. The staff officer scratched out the part about desertion and changed the charges to being absent without leave. 

The officer asked how I would plead to the charges. I responded not guilty due to the circumstances of my absence. Lieutenant Williamson asked me to present an explanation sufficient to render the charges null and void. I then told of the raid on Salem and of my conduct during the time of it. Both officers were attentive to my explanation but the captain asked if there was anyone who could verify that I was in Salem at the time. Quite unfortunately for me, I had told no one that I was going to Salem. Everyone thought that I was going to Charleston.

I thought about the officers and men of the Fiftieth Virginia who I met but we had parted company at the Charlottesville station. I did not recall telling them where I was going and since they and I parted, they could not verify my being in Salem. In a flash I thought of Captain Porteaux who had ordered me to transfer supplies in my hired wagon in Salem. Lieutenant Williamson offered to write a letter to the captain to verify my story. The staff captain said that until a satisfactory answer would be received, I, the prisoner, would have to be kept under guard in confinement.

And so, here I am, in the cabin of our mess as there is no stockade yet built. It is not so bad. I am excused from all duties. I keep a fire in the hearth and am quite warm. To my surprise, my very good blanket, which I had left behind while I was on furlough, was returned to me. All the time that I was absent, I had thought that I had seen the last of it. The rations are somewhat better than what my pares receive. Prisoners are not allowed to cook for themselves and are fed from a central mess. In addition the the basic fare of hardtack, salt junk, onions and cabbage, the same that the troops are issued, there is served to the prisoners a bowl of soup twice a day. There are a few carrots and some beef in the soup. I sleep most of the day and have ever since my return, including Christmas Day. It looks like that I will spend the first day of 1864 the same way.

While I am under arrest but suffering few privations because of it, poor Hancock and Duncan are the ones detailed to guard me, in alternating mounts. They also have no duties, other than guarding me, but they have to remain outside our cabin, bayonetted musket at the ready. The weather has turned quite cold, including frost and snow lately. Both of them leave their post when they think they can do so safely to come inside to get warm. Out of pity for their plight, I have shared my soup with them and they are mighty grateful. Corporal Flynn has not been by once to see as to my situation whereas Lieutenant Williamson has come by twice to inform me that there has been no response to his inquiry on my behalf. He is a good man.

I suppose there is nothing to do but wait and pen a few more lines in this diary. I could benefit from some more ink.


I Send You These Few Lines.

Tooms is in, "jail" but it could have been worse. Had the initial charge of desertion stuck, he would be facing several muskets, all pointing at his breast. Not a good way to bring in the new year. 

Tooms is hoping that the letter to Captain Porteaux in Salem will be his ticket to freedom. What Tooms does not know is that Porteaux was captured and is on his way to a POW camp somewhere up north.

What now, for Tooms?