From the Richmond Examiner, 5/11/1863
A STREAMING IN OF YANKEE PRISONERS. - The city was inundated on Saturday afternoon by the arrival from different quarters of between two and three thousand Yankee prisoners of war, the main body marching from Guinea station, and pouring into the city through Brooke Avenue and Main street in a dark blue stream of Yankee uniforms, dusky with dirt and begrimmed with blood and the battle smoke. The line reached three or four squares, and moved, flanked by a fringe of Confederate greys as guard. This body numbered two thousand and more rank and file of the "finest army on the planet." The mass of them gave unmistakable evidence, in their low, repulsive countenances, of their Teutonic and Celtic extraction, particularly the former, and "Yaw, yaw," sounded along the line, as they moved, like the grunt of so many pigs. Prominent among them all towered and moved along a real red breeched Zouave, the last of his race we imagined, thinned out as they have been on every battle-field by the fire of the Confederates, who have a hatred of scarlet. Many of the prisoners were utterly worn out and exhausted, and at intervals some poor wretch would stagger fainting from the ranks and strike the gutter, and lay there until his comrades had passed, whom the stretcher corps would come along, gather him up, and "tote him along." This main body of prisoners was quartered in Crew's Factory, nearly opposite the Libby, which had been placed in a state of preparation to receive them by Captain Turner, the commandant.
The clerical work of recording the name, company, regiment, and State of so many prisoners is a task of no ordinary kind, but the work is faithfully and expeditiously done by Messrs. Ross and Ligon, the clerks of the prison. The prisoners are interrogated seperately, and the following literal questions and answers put to one of them on Saturday, will serve as an illustration:
Clerk to prisoner - What is your name?
Prisoner (who is a stumpy specimen of a German with three loaves of bread under his arm, and the half of one in his mouth, and a comrade similarly equipped beside him) - Yaw, dat ish my name.
Clerk - But what is your name; how do you spell it?
Prisoner (depositing his bread on the floor, so as to give him the count on his fingers) - C-h-awe-ez-e-n-be-r-t-l-y-l-l-e-r. Yaw, dat ish my name: you pronounce zim?
The Teuton with the unpronouncible name, picked up his loaves and was shoved along for the next comer, who proved himself the possessor of a harder name still, and to have entered the army the day he set foot on Northern soil - the 28th of December last.
When the above prisoners left Guinea station about five thousand more were left there, and they would be started on their way to Richmond immediately.
They will all be paroled and sent off as soon as possible to City Point, as it is not desireable to hold such an increased population when it can be reduced, especially as the Government has to pay for it.