Our parole was a mockery, its only object being to get us to Savannah as easily as possible, and to prevent benefit from our recapture to any of Sherman's Raiders, who might make a dash for the railroad while we were in transit.

There had been no intention of exchanging us.

There was no exchange going on at Savannah.
After all, I do not think we felt the disappointment as keenly as the first time we were brought to Savannah.

Imprisonment had stupefied us; we were duller and more hopeless.
Ordered down out of the cars, we were formed in line in the street.
Said a Rebel officer: "Now, any of you fellahs that ah too sick to go to Chahlston, step fohwahd one pace." We looked at each other an instant, and then the whole line stepped forward.

We all felt too sick to go to Charleston, or to do anything else in the world..