Around midnight the next evening, minutes before the first day of the new year, Rose followed Hamilton down to the kitchen. Together they removed the stove, and Hamilton showed Rose his work, taking out the loosened bricks in the fireplace and exposing the entrance to the tunnel.
“Now, it’s a little tricky getting through,” the major told Rose. “You’ve got to—”
“I can manage,” the colonel cut him off. “See you down there.”
Facing the floor, Rose awkwardly climbed into the hole feet first, sucking in his gut and squeezing down as far as he could go. At that moment, Hamilton heard a Confederate guard stop outside the window. He could also hear the colonel struggling in the chimney.
“Help!” Rose whispered. “I’m stuck!”
Rose couldn’t move his arms at all. He was trapped in the curve of the passageway. Worse yet, his back was bent at a horrible angle in the tunnel.
“Hamilton, I can’t breathe!”
Rose’s mind raced. He can’t hear me. I’m doomed! God help me, I’m going to die in the chimney of Libby Prison . . .
Hamilton’s face suddenly appeared in the darkness above.
“Quiet!” he hissed. “There’s a guard outside!”
“Help me,” Rose whispered between gasps.
Leaning headfirst into the fireplace, the major tried his hardest to pull his panicking friend out of the crawl space, but Rose wouldn’t budge. Hamilton knew they had to be as quiet as possible so as not to alert the guard standing outside by the window. Grabbing Rose by the armpits, he tried again to pull him out, but to no avail.
I can’t get enough leverage, Hamilton thought. I need someone to hold my legs.
“Don’t panic. I’m going to go and find some help.”
Rose wheezed in protest, but the major was gone.
After silently creeping out of the kitchen, Hamilton scrambled upstairs. He had to find someone he could trust, someone he knew could keep a secret. He had a few friends he believed were up to the job, but they were going to be hard to find among the dozens of men sleeping on the dark floor. With Rose struggling downstairs, Hamilton had to take a chance and settle on a stranger. He knelt down next to an officer sleeping near the stairwell and shook him awake.
“Sorry to wake you, soldier,” he whispered. “I’m Major Hamilton, and I need your help.”
Dazed, the young man squinted in the darkness.
“With what? And what hour is it?”
“I’ll tell you later. What’s your name?”
“Lieutenant Bennett,” he said, “of the Eighteenth Regulars.”
“Well, Lieutenant Bennett of the Eighteenth Regulars—follow me.”
Upon returning to the kitchen, Hamilton was dismayed to see the guard still standing by the window. He put a finger to his lips and led the confused Lieutenant Bennett to the wall with the tunnel and crouched down.
“You need to help me get my friend out,” Hamilton whispered. “He’s stuck in the chimney. Hold my legs while I pull his arms.”
Bennett obliged, holding Hamilton’s legs by the ankles as the major bent down into the chimney. Hamilton grabbed Rose under the armpits, and—with the new leverage from Bennett—managed to wrench Rose free just as the guard standing outside the window walked away.
By the time the two men had pulled him out, the colonel was coughing up a storm.
“What are you boys doing messing around down in the fireplace?” Bennett asked with a knowing grin.
“I’ll inform you soon enough,” Hamilton replied. “We’re much obliged for your aid, especially the colonel here. And if you don’t mind, let’s keep this among the three of us.”
Rose noticed Bennett pause, as if he was going to ask another question. Then the young officer seemed to change his mind.
“Yes, sir,” he said and crept back upstairs to the sleeping quarters in the Chickamauga Room.
“The passage is a little tight, don’t you think?” Rose asked.
“I’ll work on it,” Hamilton promised. “Why don’t you try again after that? Maybe tomorrow night.”
“No time. We need to start digging tonight.”
“Are you sure? You almost died!”
Rose was shaken up. His large hands were still trembling.
“It has to be tonight,” he said. “There’s no time to waste, now that we’ve opened the wall. It could get discovered anytime.”
“Okay,” Hamilton whispered. “But I don’t know if that Bennett kid will want to come down here to save your skin twice in one night.”
Hamilton took up the pocketknife and chiseled at the edges of the tunnel where Rose had gotten stuck. After an hour of work, the major felt certain the passage was now wide enough for Rose to get through.
Rose returned to the fireplace, this time sliding in on his back. He managed to curve his body through the chimney’s winding passageway and, after about a minute, found himself breathing the rank air of the east cellar.
“I made it!” he whispered up the tunnel to Hamilton.
He lit a match and started making his way over the sea of straw and vermin to the far wall.
Hamilton wasn’t lying about the rats, Rose thought. They’re everywhere!
On paper, their plan seemed simple—breach the wall at the southeast corner of the cellar, then tunnel south toward the main sewer. The sewer pipe opened up into the nearby Lynchburg Canal—and the road to freedom.
Having just climbed down through the chimney after Rose, Hamilton walked over to his friend.
“That’s where you want to start digging?” he asked.
“It’s as good a place as any,” Rose said, feeling around the wall with his hands.
Hamilton handed the colonel his knife. Rose kneeled down and began chiseling at the mortar between the stones, a skill he’d grown adept at the past few nights. Hamilton stood watch as Rose worked. A candle he’d brought from upstairs flickered in his hand, painting the small cellar room with orange light.
From the hay-covered floor, an eerie sea of glowing red eyes curiously watched these new visitors.
Hamilton grinned. “Never thought I’d be celebrating New Year’s Eve in a cellar with a bunch of rats.”
“One thing’s for sure,” Rose replied. “I’m not spending 1864 in Libby Prison.”