From Civil War in Song and Story: 1861-1865; collected and arranged by Frank Moore; Published in New York; 1882. Submitted by Stephanie Ebel
The following story was told by a correspondent, at the depot of Prisoners of War, at Johnson's Island:
Last night, a number of prisoners made a futile attempt to escape by digging under the fence. They commenced a mine under the floor of a building next to the wall, and four succeeded in getting through, making their exit on the side of the fence. But fortunately, the fifth was a size larger than he imagined himself to be, and stuck in the mud, as the boys say. He succeeded in getting his head through, but somehow got his arms in such a position that he could not move, being evidently under much excitement, and anxious to make his escape with all possible speed.
In the mean time, his comrades, who had made their escape, were anxious that he should accompany them on their imaginary journey South; and after undergoing a severe operation of hairpulling - as that was the only hold they could get -- he declined going any farther at that time. And after bidding his more fortunate comrades to take a lock of his extricated hair with them to his sweetheart in Dixie, he bade them farewell; and they left him in this ludicrous position, perfectly disguised.
But now arose the second difficulty: his friends on the inside thought he was intruding upon their rights, and informed him that if he did not intend to go any farther it was very impolite to stop up the hole with his precious self, and keep them from going too. After much persuading, by way of pulling at his legs, and again pushing, of no avail, they, too, abandoned the enterprise of extricating the poor miserable wretch. But what this unlucky being lacked in the organ of size he made up for in the organ of endurance, for he actually remained in this tight place from nine o'clock in the evening until half past five in the morning. It was raining nearly the whole night, and was uncomfortably cold. The first that was discovered of him was by the sentinel, who heard a suppressed voice saying: "I want to get out of this."
"Where are you?"
"Here, under the fence. I want to get out!"
"Well, get out or I'll shoot you!"
"I am fast! Don't shoot! I am fast!"
The corporal of the guard was called who brought a light, and, sure enough, there was a rebel planted, with his head protruding out of the solid earth.
It was agreed among the boys, that with the addition of a head-board,
with his name inscribed on it, "Capt. Pole, who stuck in the hole" , he would
be buried decently enough. But after consulting the officer of the
guard they concluded to dig him out. The ludicrous appearance he presented
created great merriment; muddy, dripping, half foundered, forth he came,
wringing himself as he went with the look of a wetdown rooster in a fall
rain storm. He said he was the first who attempted to escape; but no reliance
was placed upon his statement, and pickets were sent out, and those prisoners
who were out were discovered in the back part of the island building a raft,
and were brought in and secured.