It seemed as if the loyal unionists thirsted for my little remaining blood.

Autobiography and reminiscences by John W. Carroll.  

Collecting our little band, taking leave of this kind and hospitable family, Mr.  Hassell lending a buggy to assist in getting me home, we started on our journey again, the distance to Center Point, the home of my father, being about thirty miles.  Putting my wounded foot upon the seat of the buggy by the side of the driver and laying my head and shoulders in the foot of the buggy, a peculiar position for a buggy ride, but it was the best and only way I could go.  This position and the condition in which my foot had gotten by this time, made the travel very painful to me.  I surely thought that I would not survive the day; a rough and rocky road added to my tortures.  Arriving at my father's house about dark.  I was carried in, given some nourishment and placed on a feather bed, a luxury I had not enjoyed for quite a while.  The wound being very painful, I slept but little, but the fact of being at home, gave me much cheer.  The wound grew worse all the while, so much so, that fears were entertained of lockjaw.  I remained at father's one week only.  When it was known among the Unionists that I was at home wounded, that part of the country being largely on the side of the federal authorities, it was dangerous to be seen in many places.  I was doomed, so the enemy thought, to capture and possibly death.  Suspecting their intentions, a good Southern lady took a piece of cloth, made with her own hands, and went out among the loyal citizens, as they termed themselves; the cloth was suitable for men's wear and offered it for sale; stopping at every house and chatting along with the Union ladies, she soon found the plans they had laid for my capture or death; of course the cloth was not sold nor was it intended to be; it only furnished an excuse for the calls, but I was fully notified of the fact that I was to be dispatched.  A brother who was at home had an ox wagon backed up to the door of the room and I was duly placed in it and driven, jolting along a distance of four miles, to the home of an aunt of mine who cared for me, giving me all the attention possible.  This was Aunt Nancy A. Carroll, whose small baby girl would bring such things to me as she thought I would like to eat and also slip them to me.  The physician allowed me only a certain amount which we did not think enough.  Here I improved some.  In about one week, however, I was again informed that it would be dangerous for me to remain longer.  It seemed as if the loyal unionists thirsted for my little remaining blood. So I again sought the ox wagon and this time went to Mr. Jessie Rhodes', a good Southern man and very kind, whose wife was equally kind.  Here I was laid behind the door in a room where no one saw me except they came into the room, which they seldom did.

I remained here until the 17th day of the following April.  On that day I crawled out into the yard and saw for the first time in four months the beauties of nature.  The leaves were green, as were every living thing; wheat, up pretty tall, lambs, frisking about; farmers, at work; all nature wore a smile.  I remember that I had only seen through the crack of the door so safely was I hidden.  This effort of crawling out, though, damaged me and it was three weeks before I could be out again.  But during this last confinement, though I improved rapidly and was able to read, which helped me to while away the time, the wound recuperating all the time.  Again getting out I thought by laying my wounded foot on the horse's neck I could ride to father's, a distance of about seven miles, which I did getting along pretty well.