Many Sultana survivors, such as Cpl. James R. Collins (3rd TN Cav),
wrote detailed accounts of their experiences. Collins survived the war
- and the Sultana disaster - and lived in Cleveland, Tennessee after the
war. The following is an excerpt of his story which was printed, curiously
enough, in a Kansas newspaper, even though he lived in Tennessee all his
life. He begins by telling about being captured by Gen. Nathan Bedford
Forrest's men at Sulphur Trestle, Alabama:
"Our captors immediately started with us, under strong guard, southward.
After traveling three days we came onto a railroad. Here we found two trains
of freight cars waiting to carry us to the Confederate prison at Cahaba,
Ala. Boarding these trains we now started on one of the saddest and most
gloomy rides many of us had ever undertaken. To make matters worse, the
front train was wrecked by being derailed. We were on this train about
two days. (After then being loaded on a boat) we arrived at our destination.
This prison had been an old cotton warehouse in former days, and within
its dark and gloomy walls we took up our abode, not having the least idea
when we could get out of there.
The horrors of the battlefield and of war in general were tame in comparison
to what soldiers had to endure in these fearful prison houses. Starvation
and disease were the enemies to be encountered here and were two fold more
deadly than musket balls.
I shall not endeavor to give a detailed description of the routine and
monotony of our prison life. Suffice it to say that we suffered untold
horrors there. In addition to the want of food, the proximity of the prison
to the river allowed the water, when the river became swollen from the
frequent rains, to rise up into the building and cover the floor to a depth
of from one to three and four feet deep. Our building was not far from
some cordwood which our captors furnished us, and on these pens we were
enabled to keep out of water when the place was flooded. For six long,
weary months we lived in this dreadful existence, and ached every day for
a breath of pure air and a sight of the glorious blue sky once more." He
then speaks of the Sultana disaster itself:
"The first I knew of the terrible catastrophe that had befalled us was
when I awakened from sleep by the timbers of the upper deck together with
clouds of cinders and ashes, falling on me and pinning me to the deck,
I being asleep on the lower deck. Hundreds of other soldiers were sleeping
on the deck, crowded together as thick as they could find room to lie.
The other two decks the upper and hurricane were likewise crowded with
sleeping men.
As soon as I awakened from sleep, I found myself fastened tightly by
the mass of timber that had fallen from above, so that I could hardly move.
The immense cloud of hot coals and cinders rained down upon us and I could
feel my flesh being burned and scorched as I lay there, exerting all the
energy I possessed to clear myself from the wreckage. I was successful
in extricating myself, after being badly burned by the hot cinders and
scalding stream from the exploded boilers of the boat.
Never will I forget the scene that I then witnessed. Quickly following
the explosion, the Sultana caught on fire and soon she was a blazing furnace
of angry, devouring flames.
When the tremendous shock came most of the men sleeping on the upper
and hurricane decks were blown into the river and nearly all of them were
drowned on the spot. Hundreds of poor fellows sleeping on the lower deck
where I was were securely pinned down by the great heap of wrecked timbers
that fell upon them and all efforts to rescue them were futile, on account
of the fire, and many of them who had not been killed at first were burned
alive before the eyes of the helpless but more fortunate comrades, who
could do nothing to save them from their horrible fate.
As soon as I could clear myself from the wreck, I began to look for
father, who was on the boat with me. I soon found him and saw that he was
badly hurt, though he had also succeeded in getting clear of the wrecked
timbers. I knew that we could remain a very few minutes as the flames were
mounting higher and higher, so I spoke to my father and told him we would
have to try to save ourselves the best way we could. We bade each other
good-bye, and at once prepared to jump into the river. My father sprang
into the water and seized a plank. That was the last time I ever saw him.
I made my way to the bow of the boat, and catching hold of a rope that
was hanging from bow down to the water, I let myself down into the river.
Just as my feet struck the water, a drowning man seized me in a deathless
grip, and all that saved me from sharing his fate was my hold on the rope.
I saw the poor fellow at last loosen his hold and go down to rise no more.
Then, losing my hold on the rope, I sprang into the raging, chilly water.
The spring freshet was then on, and the great Mississippi was out of banks
and spread for miles over the country on each side of its course.
Swimming part of the way, and then turning on my back and floating,
I went several miles down the river, and finally came to some saplings
into which I climbed. I did not know that I was burned so badly until I
got out of the water. But when I pulled myself up into the branches of
one of those trees, I found that I was badly burned and scalded on several
different portions of my body, and as soon as I had left the cooling influence
of the chilly water, the pains from the burns became intense.
I had hardly got secure in the tree, before someone called to me from
a small bunch of trees near by, and asked me to come over there, that there
was a floating log there wedged in among the trees, upon which we could
stand. I accepted this comrade's invitation and was soon beside him on
the floating log. I then ascertained that there were three or four more
men in the trees that were scattered about. One poor fellow who was in
a tree a little distance from us seemed to be terribly wounded, from the
groans that escaped his lips, and in a few minutes we heard him strike
the water, and then all was still. He had undoubtedly been so seriously
hurt that his strength had failed him after he had reached the tree, and
he fell into the water to be instantly drowned. We had not been in our
precarious refuge very long before we heard a boat coming up near the opposite
shore. We screamed and yelled with all the strength of our lungs to attract
their attention, but it went straight on, and we almost despaired of being
rescued at all. I shivered from cold, my clothes, of course, being dripping
wet, and suffering intense agony from the burns on my body, and never shall
I forget the horror of those long hours I spent out there in those trees
in the great river, hoping against hope that some kind fate might rescue
us from our terrible plight.
It seems that providence must have heard our cries, for some time after
daylight we saw, to our great joy and relief, the same boat that had gone
up the river and passed by, coming down again on our side and making straight
for us. The boat was soon alongside of our refuge, and numb with cold and
sick with pain we were picked up and
put aboard. (We then went) on down the river to Memphis, picking up
men all the way down. Arriving at Memphis, all those disabled were sent
to the hospital. I remained in the hospital until my wounds were partially
healed, sufficient to enable me to travel. From Memphis we were transferred
to Camp Chase, Ohio, the place to which we had started on the unfortunate
Sultana. There we were paid off, and by a special order of the war department
we were sent to our respective states to be mustered out of the service.
The Tennessee troops were sent to Nashville, and there we found the remainder
of our regiment, the third Tennessee cavalry, and we were mustered out
together, after which each fellow struck out for his own dear sweet home,
happy, Oh! so happy to get there again.
So thus ended one of the most tragic and lamentable events that ever
occurred in the history of our county. When the news of that awful tragedy
was sent abroad, many a home was darkened with grief and sorrow that had
been happy in anticipation of the home-coming of a father, a son, or perhaps
a brother or sweetheart.. And those poor fellow who died in that awful
catastrophe! ...Seventeen hundred of them were either burned to death or
went down into a watery grave at the bottom of the great river."
Josias W. Jones, a Sultana survivor, was 18 when he enlisted in the
18th Michigan Infantry (in 1862). He was a wagoner and a teamster. When
applying for a pension in 1891 he stated: "That ever since I left the army
in 1865 I have been suffering from rheumatism, loss of eyesight, and nervous
exhaustion. That on the 27th day of April 1865 I was on the steamer Sultana
which exploded on the Mississippi River and have been subject to nervous
disability ever since. That in the year 1885, I had a severe stroke of
paralysis and ever since have been subject to frequent dizzy spells. That
during the war (I was) in prison at Cahaba. Ala. (for) eight months and
when I was released my eyesight was almost entirely gone. That I am a painter
by trade and carried it on in connection with the mercantile business and
that after 1885 I was obliged to give it up on account of the dizzy spells.
That since 1885 I have by advice of my physician taken long and frequent
vacations from business in order to recuperate from nervous disabilities
and that in consequence of the above named disabilities at the present
time I am incapable to perform any manuel laber whatever." -Josias W. Jones
Jones told his son about "Picking wheat and oat kernels out the mule
manure to stay alive in prison."
His obituary related: "Mr. Jones had many thrilling and interesting
experiences while in the service. One of these was that of being sent out
to chop wood when he was prisoner in Morgan Castle (Cahaba Prison). He
and two other Union soldiers worked all day and were then shut up in a
barn with a guard stationed at the door. Removing a board from the floor
the three escaped and were soon a good distance from the barn. They were
tracked by bloodhounds and climbed trees to save their lives. Caught by
their pursuers, Mr. Jones was placed on short rations and the other two
soldiers were kept in shackles for some months. At the National Encampment
of the GAR held in Toledo last year (date not given), he was the only surviving
old soldier who was aboard the Sultana when she was blown up by the bursting
of her boiler."
While this terrible disaster would haunt the memories of those that
were lucky enough to live through it, some would be able to look back on
that awful night of horror and recall a humorous incident that would draw
a chuckle at reunions held years afterward. One such story concerns Jesse
Martin, 35th Indiana Infantry, who had gone to sleep far away from a small
collection of livestock. Blown across the deck by the Sultana's explosion
he awoke to find himself on his knees at the side of a cow, looking as
if he was getting ready to milk her.
And as Truman Smith, 8th Michigan Cavalry swam close to shore after
escaping the burning boat, he saw a curious sight. A large tree that had
been uprooted by the spring flood was floating down the river and in the
exposed roots he saw there or four men, all gleefully singing "The Star
Spangled Banner" as loud as they could.
Nearby, William Warner, 9th Indiana Cavalry, had stripped off all of
his clothes except a long undershirt. Now, as he floated along, he found
his wet head getting cold. Suddenly he spied something in the water and
swimming closer, he found it to be a stiff top hat, which he put on. When
Warner was finally rescued he was quite a sight, wearing only a his hat
and undershirt!
Also, at many of the Knoxville Sultana Survivors Reunions the men would
recall how survivor Sam Pickens, 3rd Tennessee Cavalry, had traded a live
horse that refused to swim away from the burning boat for a dead mule that
floated past Pleasant Keeble, 3rd Tennessee Cavalry, said, "We always laughed
with Sam about this, but Sam said that swapping a live horse for a dead
mule was the best trade he ever made."
Many survivors, however, did not have any memories of the disaster which
made them smile. One such soldier was a member of the Ohio 54th Infantry
(Platt's Zouaves). He was captured while trying to defend General Sherman
whom he calls 'Bitter' Sherman in his notes. He was hit on his head with
a Confederate sabre and taken as prisoner. He first went to Libby Prison,
then to Belle Isle, and from there to Andersonville. A descendant wrote
of him: "My great grandfather was a passenger on the Sultana when it blew
up near Memphis. He was sleeping at the stern of the ship when the boiler
exploded. He describes his agony in his military records.
On board the Sultana, he was thrown from the stern of the ship where
he was sleeping next to someone with the last name of White. He and the
other soldier clung to debris and were rescued by a fisherman in a boat.
His name was apparently put on the dead list and his father who also fought
in the war, came to retrieve his body only to find him alive.
He never was the same after Andersonville and the Sultana. One thing
he wrote was 'I can still see myself as with my own eyes, crawling, weak
from hunger and dying of thirst. God forgive them, I can't.. ' "
This descendant continues: "He suffered, and some of that suffering
echoed down to present generations. There are those of us who suffer from
the after effects of a war we never knew. His daughter had to take care
of him until he was placed in the Soldier's Home in Ohio. She was very
bitter because of having to take care of him to the exclusion of all else.
So bitter in fact, that she burned all of his things upon his death. She
raised her granddaughter because the child's mother died at age 28. The
anger and resentment was passed on to this granddaughter (my mother) who
grew up an angry woman and who carried on the legacy of abuse to her children.
My brother died at the age of 46 because of drugs and alcohol. My four
sisters have all been married several times."
The remaining son, who wrote this account has a strong religious background
and says, " The legacy (of abuse) stopped with me. I used God as my ultimate
example of how to be a man. Thank God I have a wife of almost 30 years
and two great sons. My mother died recently of cancer, bitter to the end."
Families whose father/husband didn't return home endured agonies as
well. This author's great great grandfather's family had lost its means
of support when he died on the Sultana. Adam and Catherine had three small
daughters and all found good husbands within their German community in
Cincinnati and had long and happy marriages. But the horror of losing their
husband/father never went away. In 1904 the middle daughter, Hannah, wrote
to the Survivors of the Sultana Association in Knoxville, Tennessee:
"Cincinnati, April 24th 1904
Dear Sirs,
With sorrow in my heart, I will write a few lines to you, and gratefully
do I thank you all (for remembering) this terrible catastrophe where ..our
poor father and husband and so many faithful soldiers lost (their lives).
(My father), promising to (come) home to his dear ones, never returned.
But his friend, (who) died some time ago, lived to tell about it (Michael
Conrad, who was also on the Sultana). This man, being of a very careless
disposition, could not for any reason be wakened on any other night, but
April 27th always brought him to our house (to) cry, cry, like a baby.
It certainly was terrible....
My father was Adam Schneider, 183rd Ohio Regiment.
Mrs. Braunwart and family"
In 1899 Oliver Perry Temple wrote this about the Sultana in his work,
East Tennessee in the War: "And when the starling news of the disaster
came, and quickly spread over that region, the blackness of despair seemed
to brood over and settle on nearly every household. And, though thirty
summers have come and gone, and time has frosted the heads and furrowed
the cheek and dimmed the eyes of the surviving mothers, wives, and daughter,
within their bosoms there are still concealed wounds that will never heal,
never close, never cease to bleed, and the 27th of April come around. The
memory of the great loss is too sacred to be given up. And year by year
the sweet flowers that were to have greeted the returning exiles, in 1865,
are still planted by the walk leading up to the humble cottage. And unconsciously,
at eventide, when the air is laden with their fragrance, the aged wife
or mother, sitting in her door, still looks anxiously up the road as if
expecting some one. And on the 27th of April, annually, the survivors of
these men, with their friends, hold a sad reunion, generally near Knoxville."
Even though the pain has lessened over the years, we still remember.
Pam Newhouse is the great great granddaughter of Pvt. Adam Schneider,
183rd Ohio Infantry, and editor of "The Sultana Remembered," a quarterly
newsletter.
On April
27, 1865 the worst maritime disaster in the history of the United States
occurred when the sidewheel steamboat Sultana burst her boilers on the
Mississippi River seven miles above Memphis while carrying a load of 2,400
passengers, most of whom were Union prisoners recently released from Rebel
prison pens. Of the total number, over 1,700 would lose their lives.