The Northern soldiers had destroyed the railroad east of Vicksburg, so that Johnston could not quickly move upon them and soon the Union army was so strong that Grant could have fought Pemberton and Johnston at the same time. The Union army had now plenty of food and ammunition and was strongly entrenched, while the fall of Vicksburg and the surrender of Pemberton’s brave army seemed only a matter of time.
By the first of July, it became evident that Johnston would not be able to relieve either the city or the garrison.
Provisions were nearly gone and the men were exhausted by continuous duty and watching and through the incessant bombardments by the Union troops.
On the third of July, Generals Pemberton and Grant met between the lines for a brief conference.
On the Fourth, the white flag floated over Vicksburg. The Gibraltar of the Mississippi had surrendered and 31,000 brave Confederate soldiers had become prisoners of war.
Grant treated the prisoners with every consideration. Rations were issued to them by their captors, and the men who for months had faced each other as enemies became friends. The prisoners were not sent north, but men as well as officers were paroled and turned over to Major Watts, Confederate Commissioner for the Exchange of Prisoners.
There was no cheer or taunt from the Federal soldiers, who stood at arms as the prisoners marched out of the city; they seemed to feel sorry for the fate of their late enemies. Haggard from the hardships of the siege, the men marched out in silence. Sad and silent the officers rode away on tired and dispirited horses, that had for weeks fed on nothing but mulberry leaves.
In the city also, friendly relations were at once established between the Union soldiers and the inhabitants, nor was there a lack of comic and funny incidents.
A negro servant, overcome by his desire to shine, rode about the city on his master’s silver-mounted saddle. After an hour, he returned with a very long face and a very old saddle.
“George, where is my saddle!” asked his master.
“I met a big Yankee soldier and he says to me, ‘You get off dat horse. I’s gwine to hab dat fine saddle.’
“I wa’n’t gwine to git off, but he pointed his pistol at me, and he says, ‘You black nigger, you git off,’ and I got off, and he gives me dis old saddle.”