Born in April 1823 in Bucks County Pa, son of John and Mary Gross.  Brought to Ohio in 1837 by his parents. Married in Preble County Ohio during 1845 to Mary Ann Alloways 1824-1905.  Charles was a Carriagemaker in Covington Ohio.  He and his wife are buried in the Highland Cemetery at Covington, Ohio.

SKETCH OF ARMY AND PRISON LIFE, OF CHARLES M. GROSS  COVINGTON, OHIO.
(from his own pen)

In August 1862, when the roaring of guns and the rattling of drums were heard in the land, J. C. Ullery, G. W. Miller and myself recruited a company for the 110th regiment O. V. I., and went into camp north of Piqua for instruction and drill, Ullery received the commission of Capt., myself that of First Lieut. and Miller Second Lieut. With that patriotic instinct native to every true born American citizen, we turned our back on home, friends, comfort and everything that life holds dear and exchanged them for the field with all its attendant hardships. It was a new, busy and exciting life, with everything to learn.

September 22nd I received a summons to go home on account of the serious illness of my Father (my mother having died a few years earlier) who died on the evening of that day, and the same evening my youngest son, James Ellsworth, was born (being our fifth child) and when I returned to camp it was with a heavy heart, I can assure you. We remained at Camp Piqua until November 19th, when we bade our loved ones good bye with a feeling that it might be forever, a feeling that was realized by thousands and thousands of our brave boys.

We were taken first to Zanesville, O., thence down the Muskingum River, landing at Marietta, crossing the Ohio River to Parkersburg, Virginia, when we went into camp for a few weeks. From there we were taken to Clarksburg and from thence on to New Creek Station where we remained until about December 20th, when we were put under regular Knapsack drill, as our former soldiering had been principally by railroad. The afternoon that we started from there the snow was sweeping down the valley thick and fast. We marched about fourteen miles, the ground being frozen so hard that it was difficult to drive stakes for our tents. After participating in a delicious army repast, we nestled down on the frozen ground in our tents and soon found ourselves in the land of dreams, a land exempt from hunger, cold or fatigue. Next day we reached Morefield, took possession of the court house, records and all. The boys soon began inspecting the records but before time to retire we received orders to prepare three days rations and be ready to march by midnight. This excited our curiosity, but the time soon arrived and all was confusion and commotion; however the artillery, cavalry and infantry were soon in line, with General Clurrett, a Frenchman, as our leader. The monotony of the night was broken only by the tramp, tramp, tramp of the boys, and rumbling of the heavy artillery over the rocky roads; but as all things have an end, we finally wore the night away and were halted for breakfast, which did not consume a great deal of time, as the bill of fare was not an elaborate one.

The old familiar saying, that "there's no rest for the wicked," applied equally as well to the soldiers when started out on a wild goose chase. The column was headed for the Shenandoah Valley and the commander did not let much grass grow under our feet, as we were on our way to surprise a camp of rebels at Strasburg. We passed a number of picket posts on our way but the pickets had all fled. About five o'clock P. M. we arrived, and the cavalry dashed in through the town, having a running engagement with rear guards of the confederate troops. We were pretty well tired out, as this was our first experience of rough and tumble marching and our French leader had little mercy. We made the best shelter we could out of boughs of trees, and huddled down for the night.

We had hardly closed our eyes when we heard a voice saying, "Captain Ullery, your company is detailed to guard the general's headquarters over in town;" the captain's reply was a few well chosen words, more expressive than elegant, and we reluctantly crawled out and obeyed, cold and tired as we were. It was the latter part of December, and intensely cold, but we soon found the general's headquarters and were put in an old barn which afforded slight protection. About midnight the forces commenced moving past our quarters, going northward towards Winchester, until after awhile it seemed as if we must be left alone, and concluded we had better see the General, so Captain Ullery called upon him and told him that the forces had all passed up the valley. "Get out as quickly as you can and follow," he said, and in less time it takes to tell it, we were in line and going on a retreat gait. In about an hour we overtook some cavalry and felt more comfortable.

In the morning when we overhauled the command they were breakfasting by the roadside, and you can imagine we needed something to satisfy the cravings of the inner man after the trying experiences of the night. After a little rest we took up the march for Winchester, arriving there in the afternoon. The 110th was ordered to the southwest part of the city into a cedar grove, where we cut boughs to make a shelter, as we had no tents with us. Only about half of the 110th was in this march, the balance being left at Morefield in the court house, and it was three weeks before they joined us again. On the next day after our arrival, which was Christmas, Gen. Imboden's forces advanced on us and we were all ordered out for the celebration, but the rebels hesitated, fired a few shots and fell back. They had force enough to have given us hot work but the Frenchman was plucky and remained there two weeks before he was reinforced. Some time in January I was chosen a member of the court-martial and thus avoided a great deal of guard duty, the court-martial lasting six weeks.

In the spring of '62 we received four months' pay, and as there was a large amount of money to be sent home from the boys, Col. Keifer decided to sent one man home from each company with the money, and again fortune favored me, as I was the lucky one chosen from Co. G. We were expecting an attack any day, and it was important that the soldiers' families should have the money. I made my visit home and returned to find everything quiet except scouting up and down the valley to hold the rebel force in check.

General Millroy, now took command of our division, which consisted of about ten or twelve regiments of infantry, several cavalry regiments, batteries, etc., etc., and was then the 3rd brigade, 3rd division, 3rd army corps, army of the Potomac, but was finally embodied in the famous 6th corps. It was said that this fighting corps had an engagement with the rebels one day and were victorious; then the rebels made a forced march to attack some weak point, but to their surprise they were confronted by this invulnerable corps. When the rebels recognized their opponents they remarked, "There is that dam 6th corps again," and the result was, they were routed.

We remained at Winchester during the winter of '62, fortifying all the important points, and taking care of the rebel generals, Imboden and Jones, who were prowling up and down the valley and over the mountains.

I just now remember a rather amusing incident that occurred one night. We had a large siege gun in one of our forts at Winchester and the report of said gun was to be the signal of an attack. One night about 12 o'clock the old gun let loose and fairly made the earth tremble beneath us, so as a matter of course we were not long falling into line. Just as the officers of the 110th O. V. I. had about formed their companies into line at their respective quarters, Quartermaster Sergeant D. J. Martin came hustling along with gun in hand and fell in at the foot of Co. G. saying, "I fights mit Co. G.," thus showing his patriotism and pluck.

The officers in command soon learned that it was only a slight attack on the outer pickets and we were soon ordered to retire for the night. We remained there until the following June and had many a hard march up and down the Shenandoah valley.

About the 12th of June General Millroy was suddenly apprised of the fact that Imboden and Jones' forces were advancing on Winchester, and sure enough on the morning of the 13th we were attacked by rebel batteries opening fire from the hills south of town. Soon our artillery was brought into position and a regular artillery duel ensued. Later on the infantry became engaged, the 110th participating in the fight until nightfall ended the day's work and revealed to us the loss of many a comrade whose familiar face would be seen among us no more. Next morning the fight was renewed with increased vigor, the rebels attacking us from the southeast. The 18th Connecticut, the 6th Maryland and parts of several other regiments, together with a few of the 110th on picket duty out in that direction were engaged, while the balance of our regiment was holding a fort on a hill west of the main fort. At 3 o'clock P. M. the rebels opened about thirty guns, shelling the main fort and also the one held by the 110th. A charge was made on the outer fort and stubbornly resisted the 110th which fought noble, but was finally compelled to fall back to the main fort. By this time General Millroy was undeceived and found that it was General Lee's army, Early's corps in the rear of Imboden's forces on their way to Gettysburg. They had swung around on our left as well as right.

About 5 o'clock P. M. a charge was made on the rebel lines southeast of Winchester led by Col. Ely of the 18th Connecticut infantry and the forces named above, driving the rebels down through a ravine and over the hill. Three other soldiers and myself were well in advance of our lines, and on looking around found that our forces were falling back. I discovered some rebels lying by a stone wall and said, "Let's get those fellows." As we started on double quick one of them commenced running. We cried, "Halt," but he paid no attention until he got to a stone fence and jumped over. We fired several shots at him but they all missed. The others, six in number, surrendered and I told two of the boys to take them back to the rear, then one of the boys and myself started for the one that had escaped. When we neared him he rose up and when I ordered him to surrender he dropped his gun and came to met us. I told my comrade to take him to the rear, saying, "I will get his gun for a relic." I did so and had scarcely started to the rear when to my surprise the rebels opened fire on me from the top of the hill. I had an open space of about four hundred yards to go up before I could reach shelter - when about halfway I faced about, took aim at a Johnny on the hill and fired the load out of the gun and then resumed my struggle for life under a constant fire. When I reached the summit I concluded I could go no further and dropped down, thinking they might conclude I had been hit and give up the chase, but my strategy failed. The leaden missiles plowed up the dirt on either side of me until it became necessary to change my tactics. Holding on to my trophy I started off on a walk, thinking I was too exhausted to run any more, but the whistling of the minnie balls gave me new inspiration and I soon retreated behind a board fence and went into a cottage where two or three of the boys were lying on the floor in an exhausted condition.

Amid the rain of fire and thunder of shot and shell, General Millroy was in his lookout in the main fort directing the movements of his forces until nightfall ended the second day's fighting. Late in the evening a council of war was held and our forces decided to cut their way out at all hazards. Some time after midnight we "folded our tents like the Arabs and as quietly stole away." The whole force commenced moving northward but had not gone many miles before we came in contact with rebel lines. Having batteries in a wood covering the road, they opened on us with grape and canister. General Keifer charging the rebel lines two or three times enabled about half of the division to get out while the balance bit the dust or were made prisoners of war and confined in the main fort.

I happened to be one of the unfortunate ones, and want to relate right here a little incident which goes to prove the saying that "truth is stranger than fiction." Several hundred of us were placed in the court house yard at Winchester before being taken to the main fort, and while there the rebels were bringing in baggage captured from the 18th Conn. and unloading it. There were new dress-coats, caps, knapsacks, stationery, etc., etc.

I wanted one of the coats very much, as I had only an old blouse which I had put on Saturday morning when I started out in command of the pickets. We started with one day's rations, and in the hurry and confusion were not relieved on Sunday or next day, as was the custom, so I had only the old blouse.

I stepped up to a rebel guard and asked him to please let me exchange coats, as I was now a prisoner and mine was very thin. He hesitated, said he was afraid the officers would see me, but finally said, "Exchange quickly." I did so and walked up towards the court house quite elated over my trade until all of a sudden it flashed across me that I had lost my money. I had taken two ten dollar bills and pushed them up between the lining and outer part of the old blouse and fastened them with a pin. It is needless to say that I hastened back to the pile of goods in search of the old coat; but I looked in vain, and the guard said that quite a number had picked up coats since I left, so I commenced looking at men about the yard with the hope of recognizing it, and yet I knew at the same time that the idea of trying to identify an army blouse without any mark of any kind on it was simply preposterous.

We were soon removed to the main fort, whither about three or four thousand of our prisoners had been taken, but I could not forget the loss of my money when I realized the situation, so as soon as I entered the fort I commenced eyeing the blouses on the men and before I had gone far I saw one that looked rather familiar, or at least I imagined it did. So I stepped up to the soldier and asked him to please take off his coat a minute and let me see it, saying I would hand it right back to him. He did so and when I looked at the lining and found no pin there my heart sank and still I was not yet satisfied, so I put my hand up the lining and to my delight and astonishment I pulled out the two bills and handed the man his coat. He was so dumbfounded that he did not even ask any questions, and I walked away as happy as a man could be under the circumstances.

The next afternoon we were started down the valley that we had traversed so often towards Staunton, ninety miles distant. The first afternoon one of those sharp nails worked up through the heel of my boot and made a blister on the bottom of my foot, which was not a very comfortable thing to march on; but we were not allowed to mind a little thing like that.

From Staunton we were transported by rail to Richmond and after our arrival, when we were marching up to Libby Prison, our ears were greeted with the cry of "Fresh fish, fresh fish!" Of course we did not understand at first what it meant, but it did not take us long to "catch on," as the boys say, and soon found that it signified fresh caught yankees. When we reached the prison we were marched into the lower rooms, ordered to halt and front face, and then the process of searching us, was gone through with in good earnest. This was a big catch for them. They had thrown their nets on the right side of the ship and the draught was great. They were as hungry for greenbacks as shiners are for worms.

Their search was a diligent one, but they did not succeed in getting all of our money, as we had it secreted about our clothing. One of them put his hand in my pocket and pulled out my pocket book which looked like a rich find, as I had some papers in with my money. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "this is a good one." He took out the money and handed back the pocket book and papers. After finishing their search, we were distributed about in the different rooms, where we managed to put in the time as best we could. If we could play practical jokes without getting caught at it we were delighted and always ready to do so. But it was hard on the constitution if we were detected, as our scanty supply of corn bread and water was liable to be shut off. We managed, however, to worry our keeper considerably at times.

One trick I remember that afforded us not a little amusement was perpetrated by sawing some of the doors into with saws made out of old case knives, and while roll call or count was going on the boys would creep from one room to the other and be counted over and over; then when Ross, the man who called the roll, would foot up the count of the different rooms, there would be a discrepancy and he would have to repeat the count with still a different result, so the day after the 109 officers escaped through the tunnel, little Ross counted and re-counted until he w................... thousand yanks and narry one a fool. I can't count them." Then Major Turner brought in some guards and drove us to one end of the building and made us march single file between bayonets and be counted, when to their great surprise they found that one hundred and nine were missing. They at first imagined that the rebel guards had been bought off and put them under arrest, but about 10 o'clock A. M. they found the tunnel, which explained the mystery.

When the 4th of July came round we attempted to have a celebration in a very circumscribed fashion - one of the officers made a miniature flag out of some pieces of old shirts and stuck it up on one of the beams and then we all commenced singing "Rally round the flag boys," but soon a whining sergeant came flying up the stairway, swinging an old navy in his hand and shouting, "You'ns all got to stop that now and take down that flag," but some plucky officers cried out, "If you want that flag, George, you can take it down yourself." George did take down the dear little flag we loved so well and carried it off, but fortunately we had one still smaller that he did not discover, so we guarded that reverently and silently without further demonstration, and thus ended our Fourth of July celebration.

We were in Libby Prison about eleven months, where we endured all the hardships and privations that made the place so famous, such as scanty fare, beds on the floor, and all the other inconveniences incident to a life of that kind. Indeed if it had not been for the welcome and much enjoyed boxes of provisions from the loved ones at home our fate would have been equally as hard as those of our comrades at Andersonville.

If one had gold or greenbacks they could exchange it for Confederate money and buy provisions, but our boxes were all opened and examined upon arrival, and if any money was found it was confiscated, so the friends at home were put to their wits' ends to know how to sent it, so that it would not be discovered.

Some rolled bills up and put them in a quill, then stuck the quill in a bar of soap, or roll of butter, but the rebels soon found that out and would cut everything of the kind into small pieces before handing it over; others bore holes in the boxes and imbedded the money before nailing the lid on, but they detected that scheme also, and had the boxes all emptied, then took them away and chopped them into kindling wood. My money was always sent in a tin fruit can, together with newspaper dispatches, giving the latest war news, pictures of my family, and any private matter that they saw fit to send; then the can was filled up with crackers and a little piece of lead, or something else added to give it the required weight, then it was soldered up at the tinner's and marked apples, or some other kind of fruit (a harmless kind of deception), and always came through all right. I never lost a dollar, thanks to the ingenuity of my family.

I could mention many incidents that were of interest to us, isolated as we were from the outside world, but time forbids.

I will mention one more incident that occurred while we were in Libby. Our army caught a rebel spy in our lines, I think it was Dr. Rucker, if my memory serves me right. He was tried by court-martial and condemned to be shot. This roused the rebel authorities and they came in to Libby, and announced that 50 captains would be selected to draw two from the number by lot, to answer or pay the penalty by death, in case Dr. Rucker, the spy, was shot. Our government commuted the sentence of the spy, thus saving the lives of the two captains.

From Libby we were moved to Danville, one hundred and fifty miles south. It was getting a little uncomfortable for the rebels, as the yankees were getting rather close to Richmond. They placed a magazine under the building and told us that if we made any attempt to escape they would touch a match to it, which was a very forcible argument against any little schemes that we might have had in contemplation tending to escape. We were kept at Danville only a few days and were then started southward, going through Salsbury, and finally landed in Macon, Ga., where we were placed in a stockade, only twenty-seven miles from Andersonville, quite as near as we cared to get to that place of death and starvation.

While here the men commenced burrowing in the sand like ground moles, making three tunnels at the same time, with the hope of being able to escape, but the rebels discovered one when about completed, and then searched till they found the others, and I can assure you that the familiar proverb, "Hope deferred maketh the heart sick," was never more forcibly illustrated than in the above instance.

While here one of our comrades was shot while returning from a spring, and, as one might imagine, such episodes had a tendency to dishearten those who were left.

We remained here several months then six hundred of us were sent to Charleston, S. C. and placed under fire of our own guns, on James Island.

On the way down the prisoners had arranged among themselves to capture the train when night came on. There were four guards on the outside of the box cars and four inside, and certain men had been selected to capture the guards as soon as the signal was given, but when we arrived at Savannah Junction, in the evening, they put four more guards in each car, and that changed the program. As there was no signal given, the officers commenced jumping from the train; fifty-one escaped in the darkness and made their way through a swampy country infested with alligators and poisonous reptiles, reaching the coast next morning, only to walk into a rebel picket line, and all but one man was recaptured.

When we arrived at Charleston we were put in the jail yard, surrounded by a brick wall about twenty feet high. The first night after our arrival a shell struck the rebel guard house on the opposite side of the street, killing three of the guards. Most of the shells seemed to pass over or to our right or left, but occasionally one exploded directly over us, scattering fragments in every direction, without any serious damage however. While the two hundred pound shells were not playing any great havoc among our men, nearly all were suffering from diarrhoea and flux, aggravated by an insufficiency of the right kind of food. To add to our misfortune, the dread disease, yellow fever, broke out among the boys. It was here that I lost my esteemed friend and messmate, Lieut. Horney, of the 110th O. V. I. which was indeed a source of grief and regret.

I was awakened one morning by the man next to me, who was rolling and tumbling about, and seemed very ill. When the surgeon came in about 8 o'clock A.M., he pronounced his disease yellow fever, and in the afternoon he was removed to the hospital, but Lieut. Andy Stahl was allowed to lie in the hall, where every one was obliged to pass him, going in and out until he breathed his last. He had fought in many a battle, and was literally shot to pieces, but had so far recovered that he could go about, with bent form, and hoped some time to reach home; but, alas for human hopes! He was obliged to succomb to that terrible disease. He died Sept. 28th, 1864. Lieut. Henderson, of the 11th Ill., died Oct. 7th, Capt. Wenrich Oct. 10th and Lieut. Shafer Oct. 12th. Lieut. Young was shot and killed by a guard who claimed that it was accidental, but of course we had our doubts as to that.

We received orders unexpectedly one day to prepare for a move. It did not take long to pack our effects and soon we were on our way to Columbia, S. C., and on our arrival, were marched several miles into the country and quartered in a small field of four or five acres, with a guard placed around it. This retreat we named Camp Sorghum, as this was the land of sorghum and yams.

On the 17th of Oct. the officers amused themselves by holding an election for President, with the following result: Abraham Lincoln, 1024 votes and Geo. B. McClellan, 133 votes, nineteen states being represented. The indications were that we were quartered for the winter, so some of the boys dug holes in the ground and covered them over with pine boughs, others giving their paroles and carrying small pines into camp and building little cabins; until we were quite comfortably settled.

Nov. 29th, '64, Lieut. Brant, Lieut. Edmiston and myself escaped from the camp. We were out about two weeks and walked about one hundred and fifty miles. We had learned that Sherman was marching on Augusta, and we struck out for that point, supposing that he would have a fight there. But instead he flanked the city and passed on, so we missed him.

We then turned in the direction of Savannah and traveled as cautiously as possible, but while hunting a crossing of Brier Creek two rebel Cavalrymen pounced upon Lieut. Edmiston and myself, saying, "You are yanks, aren't you?" We assented, of course. Then one said to the other, "Get off and search them and see if they have any arms about them." He did so and found we had none. He then mounted and told us to move on up the road. After we had gone a little way Edmiston looked back, when the big Texan asked him what in the h--l he was looking for. "More yanks back there?" We said, "No," but it did not satisfy him, so he galloped back to see, but returned directly saying, "No, there are no more," which pleased us, as we did not wish to be detected in a lie, neither did we want to betray our comrade, Liet. Brant. The rebels had destroyed all the bridges, as Sherman had to pass along on the opposite side, and it was one of those deep, narrow creeks that could not well be forded.

We were ordered to go along, so we walked on with the two cavalrymen following us. I said, "What are you going to do with us? We want and shall expect to be treated as prisoners of war," telling him at the same time that I had had charge of some of their prisoners and had treated them well; whereupon they promised us the same courtesy. After walking several miles we came to a cottage built on a little rise. There were four or five cavalry horses hitched to the fence, and as we entered we were met at the gate by a big burly fellow who said, "What have you got there, some dam yanks, some of Sherman's rascals?" We said, "No, we are escaped prisoners from Columbia." "Prisoners?" he said, "You can't fool me; you look too clean for prisoners, but come in, you are no better than they are anyhow, and I have a great mind to shoot you." So with this hospitable invitation we entered. They kept us there over night shut up in one of the rooms, guarded by our friend, the monster, and the cavalrymen. We nestled down on the floor and slept soundly, all unmindful of the danger about us. The next day we were sent to Augusta and thence to Columbia. When we arrived we found that the camp had moved into the asylum grounds, near the city. From here we were taken to Charlotte and from there to Greensborough. While waiting for transportation at the latter place one of our comrades paid fifty dollars in Confederate money for a good, square breakfast, brought to him on a tray, and I can assure you he was the envied of all who saw him.

On the 22nd of February, 1865, we arrived at Releigh and were all paroled. There we found quite a good many citizens who seemed in sympathy with the Union soldiers. From here we were taken to Goldsburough and re-paroled, making it if possible ironclad. March 10th one thousand of us arrived at Rocky Point and from there we started for the northeast branch of Cape Fear River, a march of nine miles, some bare-footed, some hatless and in every conceivable condition.

This was rather an undress than a dress parade. Upon our arrival we crossed over on a pontoon bridge built by the rebels.

On the opposite side of the river Gen. Scoffield's command was in camp and had built an arch at the end of the bridge, floating from the tops of which we beheld once more the dear old flag, the stars and stripes. We then felt like singing....

"And the star-spangled banner in trumph shall wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave,"

As we neared the arch a band struck up the "Red, White and Blue," which created a scene indescribable. The air was full of old hats, kettles, pans, coats and any thing the boys happened to have, while cheer upon cheer resounded far and near.

From here we had about two miles to march before reaching Wilmington. After being refreshed with some of Uncle Sam's hard tack, sow belly and some Yankee coffee, we pursued our journey with alacrity and delight, passing regiment after regiment of Union soldiers. Several colored regiments were drawn up in line to witness our entry into the land of Canaan once more and seemed to rejoice with us over our release from bondage.

A colored band played "Yankee Doodle" as we passed, to cheer us on our way.

From here we were taken down Cape Fear River, passing Fort Fisher, to the coast, thence to Annapolis, where we shed our rags and donned new suits and applied for a furlough to go home, after having been in the toils of the enemy for six hundred and twenty four long days. We started homeward singing the while in our hearts........

"And beneath the starry flag
We shall breath the air again
Of the free land in our own beloved home."

Signed: C. M. GROSS,  Capt. Co. B., 110th O. V. I.

The above diary is in possession of:
Cathy Coplen
3509 Juanita
San Angelo, Texas 76901