Reprint of Isaac N. Rhodes interview
Des Moines Register February 9, 1913

MT. PLEASANT, IOWA Feb 1---

"Kentucky jeans plus Iowa grit did it," declared Sergt. I. N. Rhodes, Company I, Fourteenth Iowa infantry, a bedridden survivor of the war of the rebellion, as he related the story of the escape of his brother and himself from the Macon, Ga., prison through the rebel chain guard, the 200 mile trip down the Ocmulgee and Altamaha rivers to the sea, and the finding of refuge aboard a Yankee gunboat patrolling the coast.

Sergeant Rhodes, who is 76 years old, has been bedridden since August and to aid him in the closing days of his life comrades and friends in Mount Pleasant are signing a petition to be forwarded to Congressman Kennedy with the hope of getting for him a special pension of $100 a month. It is stated that he can not recover from the malady, paralysis of the lower alimentary tract.

Propped up with pillows, the veteran told the story of his escape clearly, his memory of the "walk" through the rebel lines being excellent. He even spelled out the names of the participants that the interviewer might have the story accurately.

"You see," began Sergeant Rhodes, the Fourteenth Iowa to which my brothers Milton and Wesley as well as myself belonged was a part of the Hornet’s Nest brigade, composed of the Second, Seventh and Twelfth regiments besides the Fourteenth, made famous through the inability of the rebels to drive it back at Shiloh until its support to the right and left had given way and its ammunition exhausted. Among the prisoners taken were my brother, Milton, and myself. Brother Wesleyan escaping capture because he was wounded in the head and carried back to the hospital. This was April 6, 1862.

"The rebels marched us off and we reached Corinth the next day through the cottonfields. Then they took us to Memphis where we spent two weeks in prison; from there we went to Mobile, spending two more weeks there. Finally we found ourselves in Macon, Ga., where the rebels had turned the fair grounds into a prison pen, guarding it by a chain guard which fact aided us when the time for an attempt to escape came. There were about 1,000 of us at the state fairgrounds altogether. It was not such a bad place in comparison with Andersonville, and the food might have been worse; as it was, the bacon had maggots in it and for coffee we had wheat. However, they gave us light bread, the quality in this case being better than the quantity."

"We reached Macon on May 4, a month after we had been taken prisoners at Shiloh. During the first weeks there we thought there might come orders for our removal, or an exchange, but the days passed and nothing happened, except once every week rations would be passed around. On June 13, however, came 100 Kentuckians and Tennesseeians and an idea. The new arrivals were political prisoners taken the previous fall on a raid and being accused of being union sympathizers. They still wore their Kentucky jeans, clothing similar to the rebel uniforms.

"This gave us an idea, for during our stay at Macon we noticed that rebel soldiers off duty were accustomed to walk across a corner of the prison grounds on their way down to the Ocmulgee river. Accordingly four of us, Lieut. G. H. Logan, Company I, Fourteenth Iowa; Lieut. J. S. Agey, Company D, Fourteenth Iowa; Sergt. Milton Rhodes and myself, resolved to make the attempt to walk through the rebel chain guard and escape down the Ocmulgee river.

"Following this plan, Brother Milton exchanged clothes with one of the Kentuckians. Then he passed successfully through the rebel line and explored the country between the camp and river, also finding a suitable boat--it was an old fishing scow, fastened to a tree.

"Milton returned and the remaining three of us found it easy to trade our good blue uniforms for the Kentucky jean clothing of our fellow prisoners, which was of poorer quality. Of course, we had to confide our plan to them and they advised us to ‘look out,’ warning us of the danger that accompanied an attempt to get through the chain guard. We listened respectfully to them, but did not follow their advise, for on Tuesday afternoon, June 17, the four of us walked right out--that’s all there was to it, we just walked out--of the grounds, passed the guards and reached the river. Lieutenant Agey, who was from Salem, Ia., and my brother crossed the guard line first, having no trouble. Shortly afterwards, Lieutenant Logan--he was from Drakesville, Davis county, Iowa--and I followed, being stopped by the guard just as we reached the boundary. We did nothing but obey with all haste. He asked us what we were going to do and if we were members of the Tenth Georgia battalion, the men of which constituted the prison guard. We said we belonged to the battalion, that we were going to the river to fish. He allowed us to pass.

"For rations, we had saved part of the regular weekly portion given us while prisoners and Lieutenant Logan had sold a sword belt in town with which he bought more supplies. This stuff, which consisted of flour, rice, salt and bacon, together with seven pounds of crackers and five of dried peaches, we placed in small sacks, which we carried around our bodies, and along with the provisions we also carried two or three small dishes, a small saw, a file and one revolver--Logan’s--with four loads in it. These later implements were hidden in our boots. To further aid us in our escape we had had an adjutant, also a prisoner at Macon, draw up for us a fictitious pass signed by the major commanding the Tenth Georgia, which showed that we were confederates on detached service, all confederate forces being instructed not to molest us. It was a fine instrument, all right.

"Reaching the river bank we found Milton’s boat and shortly after dark began our trip out of the land of Chivalry, gliding down the river briskly with the aid of our oars which consisted of a paddle, two pieces of board, and one tin plate. One of our number was kept on watch throughout the night, the rest of us paddling and hardly speaking above a whisper as the craft moved down the stream. A fish killed with our only oar was considered a fine addition to our stock of rations.

"Everything was going nicely when suddenly we grounded on a sandbar and while we were extricating ourselves from this difficulty another boat was seen coming down upon us, a boat full of rebels we thought. Hailing them, they answered that they were fishermen and were going down to their other line. We told them to wait, but they didn’t seem to want to do that for they soon disappeared from view and though we rowed hard it seemed that we could not overtake them. Suddenly, however, we again heard voices and off our stern was again seen the boat with the three men in it that had hailed us up the river. This time there was a longer interchange of questions and answers and the discovery was made by the lieutenants with us that the three in the strange boat also were union officers who had escaped the night preceding our getaway, having missed detection much more narrowly than we had. The officers whose voices served as a means of recognition were Lieut. H. W. Mays of the Ninth Kentucky regiment, and Lieuts. N. J. Camp and George W. Brown of the Twenty-third Missouri.

"Of course we were glad to have them with us and we made the remainder of the trip together. We floated down the river the remainder of the night, but by 10 o’clock the next morning, though the country seemed to be wild and without settlers, we decided it was more safe to tie up and wait for evening. This we did, not leaving again until 5 p.m., passing Hawkinsville, where several deserted steamers were tied up, at 11 o’clock that night. While four of us paddled, two of us slept, one man doing the steering. In this way we worked hard throughout the night, landing in a clump of willows at 8 o’clock on the morning of the third day out.

"Frequently hails reached us from the shore and always we gave them good news from Chattanooga, and told them how Stonewall Jackson was driving the Yankees off the sacred soil. At one place, pretty well down stream, we found a rope ferry across the stream, and here was the only time we made any reference to the confederate pass we were carrying. Because we were ‘rebels,’ the ferryman sold us $2.10 worth of bacon for $2 and gave us a quart of whisky for $1, the regular price being $1.25.

"Shortly after passing two steamers tied up at a bend in the stream on Sunday, May 22, we came in sight of the Gulf & Savannah railroad bridge and immediately pulled for the shore. The bridge we knew to be patrolled by guards of rebels. Waiting on shore until nightfall, we cautiously glided down stream, upon nearing the bridge, all except two of us taking in the oars and lying down in the skiff. In this manner we drifted silently under the structure upon which we could see the guards on the abutment and heard another coming to meet them. Once, and our hearts sank within us, we struck one of the pilings driven down to obstruct any craft that might attempt to glide down the river, but a quick shove by our man in the prow allowed us to slip through safely. A mile or so below the bridge we considered ourselves out of danger when a sentinel from a small fortification on shore cried to us to come ashore, sending a musket ball whizzing over our heads.

"We were a long time obeying his command, in fact we never got there, for putting all our strength into the oar we speedily got out of the danger zone. All that night and as much of the next day as possible, we traveled down the stream. The sixth night out, the river began to widen, the water became salty, and we could see the lights of the town of Darien at the mouth of the Altamaha. We pulled up to the shore and when daylight came we could see the ocean. Fatigue left us and already we pictured ourselves aboard the Yankee gunboat.

"It was ten miles across the channel and our old scow was not a seagoing craft, its foot-high sides being poorly adapted to fighting the breakers which we could see along the shore of Sapelo island ahead of us. But there was a lighthouse there and probably Yankee gunboats touched there, so the trip must be made. We did it though one of our boats was filled with water and we had to drag it to the island shore. Proceeding to explore the place, but one family, negro, were found. They were reticent, refusing to talk until fully convinced that we were unionists. They then told us of the visits every two or three days of the Yankee gunboats.

"The second day of our stay on the island we sighted two vessels approaching, their boats landing near the habitation of the negroes. We made haste to get our scow into the water, taking the precaution to take an old lantern with a candle in it for a light, the lantern being fixed to an improvised mast in the boat. They saw us approaching, for a yawl put out from the boat’s side, and soon we were hailed. Misunderstandings arose, due to our all shouting at once, and the sailors afterwards told us that they had their guns to their shoulders ready to fire, when the third hail was successful. Then but one of us was allowed to answer and he explained that we were union men escaped from the Macon prison. They told us to remain quiet; that they would tow us to the gunboat where investigation would be made. So they did, and after identification was made both officers and men treated us royally. The craft was the Wamsutta and this boat took us to the flagship of the squadron of blockade boats, the Florida, - Commodore Goldsborough commanding, off St. Simon’s island. Here we were fitted out with clothing, everything except hats, which they did not have. On July 4, the supply boat Massachusetts landed us at Fortress Monroe where General Dix heard our story. Here also for the first time, the story was given to the newspapers for a ‘runner’ of the New York Herald got it from the officers who escaped with us.

"The next day we were sent on to Baltimore where General Wool gave us a letter to Adjutant General Thomas at the war department, Washington. Reaching the capital city Senator Harlan of Iowa very kindly assisted us in our business with the war department. Here, too, we heard Gen. Lew Wallace, in answering a serenade given him at his hotel, declare that he spoke not as a politician, but as a soldier in saying that he would use every means God had given to put down the ‘wicked rebellion.’

"And to close the story we reached home safely on July 13, having secured a month’s leave of absence while in Washington. Later I went to Benton barracks, St. Louis, not leaving the service until Nov. 7, 1864. My brother, Milton, now living here in Mt. Pleasant, recruited a body of colored men, became a captain and went south to Arkansas. After the reorganization of the Fourteenth infantry in the spring of 1863 I was promoted to the position of first sergeant, which I retained until I left the service. Brother Wesley now is living at Decker, Tenn., west of Chattanooga.

Military history of Isaac Rhodes: 14th Iowa Infantry - Company "I"

Rhodes, Isaac N. Age 25. Residence Mount Pleasant, nativity Ohio.

Enlisted Oct. 5, 1861 as Second Sergeant. Mustered Nov.5, 1861.

Missing in action April 6, 1862, Shiloh, Tenn.

Escaped from prison, Macon, Ga., June 17, 1862.

Promoted First Sergeant May 1, 1863;

Second Lieutenant April 10, 1864.

Mustered out Nov. 16, 1864, Davenport, Iowa.

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