Chapter 5
APRIL 27. Well I was out from under rebel guard for an hour or so, anyway, hurt my side, though, and caught a little cold, and sore somewhat, had given up the idea of escaping. Think if Hendrix had been alone he would have gotten away. Is tougher than I am, a man caught stealing from one of his comrades and stabbed with
a knife and killed. To show how little such things are noticed here I will give the particulars as near as I could get them. There were five or six men stopping together in a sort of shanty, two of them were speculators and had some money, cornbread and so on, and would not divide with their comrades who belonged
to their own company and regiment. Some time in the night one of them got up and was stealing bread from a haversack belonging to his more prosperous neighbor, and during the operation woke up the owner who seized a knife and stabbed the poor fellow dead. The one who did the murder spoke out and said, Harry, I believe Bill is dead, he was just
stealing from me and I run my knife into him. Good enough for him, says Harry. The two men then got up and straightened out Bill and then both lay down and went to sleep. An occupant of the hut told me these particulars and they are true. This morning poor Bill lay in the hut until eight or nine o'clock and was then carried
outside. The man who did the killing made no secret of it, but told it to all who wanted to know the particulars, who were only a few, as the occurrence was not an unusual one. April 28. Dr. Lewis is still getting worse with scurvy and dropsy combined.
Limbs swollen to double their usual size, just like puffballs. Raiders do about as they please and their crimes would fill more paper than I have at my disposal. April 30. Very small rations given to us now, not more than one quarter what we want to eat and that
of the poorest quality. Good weather, but too warm. Occasional rains. The flying Dutchman, Wurtz, offers to give any two at a time twelve hours the start and if caught to take the punishment he has for runaways.
The offer is made to intimidate those thinking to escape. Half the men would take the consequences with two hours start. May 1. Warm. Samuel Hutton of the Ninth Michigan Cavalry died last night.
So Peter Christency and Joseph Sargent of Company D, Ninth Michigan, have died within a few weeks. Last evening seven hundred of the eighty-fifth New York arrived here. They were taken at Plymouth, North Carolina, with fourteen hundred others, making twenty one hundred in all.
The balance are on the road to this place. Wrote a letter home today. Have not heard from the North for over six months. Very fast. May 2.
A crazy man was shot dead by the guard an hour ago. The guard dropped a piece of bread on the inside of the stockade and the fellow went inside the deadline to get it and was killed. The bread-wagon was raided upon as soon as it drove inside today and all the bread stolen, for which offence no more will be issued today.
As I write, Wirtz is walking about the prison, revolver in hand, cursing and swearing. The men yell out, Hang him up! Kill the Dutch louse! Buck and gag him! Stone him to death! and so on, and he all the time trying to find out who it is insulting
him so. I Visha find out who calls me such insulting wards! I kill the damn Yankees as soon as I eat my supper. And every few minutes a handful of dirt is thrown by someone, wreaks his vengeance by keeping back rations from the whole camp.
May 3. A rebel battery came today on the cars and is being posted around the stockade. Ever since my introduction to Andersonville they have been constantly at work, making their prison stronger, until now I believe it is impossible for a person to get away. Notwithstanding, there are men all the time at work in diverse ways.
Rebel officers now say that we are not going to be exchanged during the war, and as they can hold us now and no fear of escape, they had just as soon tell us the truth as not, and we must take things just as they see fit to give them to us. Tom McGill is well and hearty and as black as any negro. We're nineteen thousand confined here now, and the death rate ninety or one hundred.
May 4. Good weather. General Howell Cobb and staff came among us today and inspected the prison. Wards accompanied them, pointing out and explaining matters. General Winder, who has charge of all the prisoners of war in the South, is here, but
has not been inside. General Cobb is a very large and pompous looking man. None of the men dare address his highness. Three men out of every hundred allowed to go out after wood under a strong guard. May 5.
Cold nights and warm days. Very unhealthy, such extremes. Smallpox cases carried out and much alarm felt lest it should spread. May 6. Six months a prisoner today, longer than any six years of my previous life.
It is wonderful how well I stand the hardships here. At home I was not very robust, in fact had a tendency to poor health, but there are not many in prison that stand it as well as I do. There are about eighty-five or ninety dying now per day, as near as I can find out. Of course there are stories to the effect that a hundred and fifty and two hundred die
each day, but such is not the case. Have a code of reasoning that is pretty correct. Often wonder if I shall get home again and come to the conclusion that I shall. My hopeful disposition does more for me than anything else. Sanders trades and dickers around and makes extra eatables for our mess.
There is not a hog in the mess. Only every day someone is killed for some trifling offence by the guards. Rather better food today than usual. May 7. A squad of Yankees taken outside today on parole of honor for the purpose of baking
meal into bread. George Hendricks is one of the number and he will have enough to eat after this, which I am glad of. I could have gotten outside if I so chose, but curious to write down I don't want to go.
George says he will try and send in something for us to eat, and I know he will, for a true or hearted fellow never lived. May 8. Awful warm and more sickly. About thirty-five hundred have died since I came here, which is a good many, come to
think of it, cooked rations of bread today. We get a quarter of a loaf of bread weighing about six ounces and four or five ounces of pork. These are small allowances, but being cooked it is better for us. Rebels are making promises of feeding us better, which we hope they will keep.
There is nothing the matter with me now but lack of food. The scurvy symptoms, which appeared a few weeks ago, have all gone. May 9. Many rebels riding about camp on horseback. I listened to an animated conversation between an officer and two of our men.
Captain Wirtz, very domineering and abusive. It is a great treat to see a decent rebel. I am lonesome since Hendricks went outside. Men are continually going up to the deadline and getting shot. They do not get much sympathy as they should know better.
May 10. Captain Wirtz, very domineering and abusive. It is a great treat to see a decent rebel. Captain Wirtz, very domineering and abusive. Is afraid to come into camp any more.
There are a thousand men in here who would willingly die if they could kill him first. Certainly the worst man I ever saw. New prisoners coming in every day with good clothes, blankets and so on, and occasionally with considerable money. These are victims for the raiders who pitch into them for plunder.
Very serious fights occur. Occasionally a party of newcomers sticks together and whip the raiders who afterward rally their forces and the affair ends with the robbers victorious. Stones, clubs, knives, slingshots and so on are used on these occasions and sometimes the camp gets so stirred up that the rebels, thinking a break is intended, fire into the
crowds gathered and many are killed before quiet is again restored. Then Wirtz writes out an order and sends inside telling us he is prepared for any break, etc., etc. No less than five have died within a radius of thirty feet in the last twenty-four hours. Hendrix has a sore arm and in turning over last night I heard it.
He pitched into me while I was in a sound sleep to pay me for it. Woke up in short order and we had it rough and tumble. I tore down the tent poles, rolled around, scaring Louis and all the rest. I am the stoutest and soon get on top and hold him down and keep him there until he quiets down, which is always in about five minutes.
We have squabbles of this sort often which don't do any particular harm. Always laugh, shake and make up afterwards. The Astor House mess, or the heads rather, have gently requested that we do our fighting by daylight and Sanders very forcibly remarked that should another scene occur as happened last night he will take a hand in the business and lick us both.
Batasi laughed for about the first time this summer. He has taken quite a shine to both Hendrix and myself. In the fore part of today's entry I should have stated that Hendrix has been sent inside, they not being quite ready for him, at the cook house. He is a baker by trade.
May 11. Rainy weather and cold nights. Men shiver and cry all night, groan and holler. I lay awake sometimes for hours, listening to the guards yell out, Post No. 1, ten o'clock and all's well.
And then Post No. 2 takes up the refrain and it goes all around the camp, every one with a different sounding voice, squeaky, coarse and all sorts. Some of them draw out, here's your mule, and such like changes instead of all's well. Rumours of hard fighting about Richmond and the rebels getting whipped, which of course they deny. May 12.
Received a few lines from George Hendrix, who again went out to work on the outside last night. Wirtz with a squad of guards is about the camp looking for tunnels. Patrols also looking among the prisoners for deserters. A lame man, foretelling of a tunnel, was pounded almost to death last night, and this morning they are chasing him to administer more punishment,
when he ran inside the dead line claiming protection of the guard. The guard didn't protect worth a cent, but shot him through the head. A general hurrahing took place, as the rebel had only saved our men the trouble of killing him. More rumours of hard fighting about Richmond. Grant getting the best of it, I reckon.
Richmond surrounded and rebels evacuating the place. These are the rumours. Guards deny it. May 13. Rainy morning. We are guarded by an Alabama regiment who are about to leave for the front.
Georgia militia to take their places. Making preparations for a grand picnic outside, given by the citizens of the vicinity to the troops about to leave. I must here tell a funny affair that has happened to me, which, although funny, is very annoying. Two or three days before I was captured I bought a pair of cavalry boots of a teamster named Carpenter. The boots were too small for him and just fitted me.
He promised to pay him on payday, we not having been paid off in some time. We were both taken prisoners and have been in the same hundred ever since. Has done to me now about 1,850 times and has always been mad at not getting his pay. Sold the boots shortly after being captured and gave him half the receipts, and since that have paid him in rations and money as I could get it, until about sixty cents remain unpaid and that sum is a sticker.
He is my evil genius and fairly haunts the life out of me. Whatever I may get trusted for in afterlife it shall never be for a pair of boots. Carpenter is now sick with scurvy and I am beginning to get the same disease hold of me again. Batasi cut my hair which was about a foot long. Gay old cut.
Many have long hair which being never combed is matted together and full of vermin. With sunken eyes, blackened countenances from pitch pine smoke, rags and disease, the men look sickening. The air reeks with nastiness and it is wonder that we live at all. When will relief come to us? May 14.
A band of music came from Mekong yesterday to attend the picnic. A large crowd of women were present to grace the occasion. The grounds on which the festivities were held lay a mile off and inside of all. In the evening a bowery dance was one of the pleasures enjoyed. The girl I left behind me was about all they could play and that very poorly.
May 15. Sabbath day and hot. Would give anything for some shade to lay in. Even this luxury is denied us and we are obliged to crawl around more dead than alive. Rumours that Sherman is marching towards Atlanta and that place threatened.
Kilpatrick said to be moving toward us for the purpose of effecting our release. Hope he will be more successful than in his attack on Richmond. Rebels have dug a deep ditch all around on the outside of the wall to prevent tunneling and a guard walks in the bottom of the ditch. Bangert of my regiment died today.
May 16. Two men got away during the night and were brought back before noon. Was going to say before dinner. The men are torn by the dogs and one of them full of buckshot. A funny way of escape has just been discovered by words.
A man pretends to be dead and is carried out on a stretcher and left with a row of dead. As soon as it gets dark Mr. Deadman jumps up and runs. Words suspecting the trick took to watching and discovered a dead man running away. An examination now takes place by the surgeon before being permitted out from under guard.
I hear a number of men have gotten away by this method and it seems very probable, as dead men are so plenty, that not much attention is paid to them. May 17. Had a funny dream last night. Thought the rebels were so hard up for mules that they hitched up a couple of grey-backed
lice to draw in the bread. Wirtz is watching out for Yankee tricks. Someone told him the other day that the Yankees were making a large balloon inside and some day would all rise up in the air and escape. He flew around as if mad, but could find no signs of a balloon.
Says there is no telling what to damn Yankees they'll do. Some prisoners came today who were captured at Dalton and report the place in our possession and the rebels driven six miles this side. Kilpatrick and Stoneman are both with Sherman and there are expectations of starting out on some mission soon, supposed to be for this place.
Nineteen thousand confined here, now, and dying at the rate of ninety per day. Philo Lewis of the Fifth Michigan Cav can live but a day or two, talks continually of his wife and family at Ypsilanti, Michigan. Has pictures of the whole family which he has given me to take home to them, also a long letter addressed to his wife and children.
Mr. Lewis used to be a teacher of singing in Ypsilanti. He is a fine-looking man, naturally, and a smart man, but he must go the way of thousands of others and perhaps myself. One of his pupils is here confined. Philo Lewis must not be confounded with F. L. Lewis, the member of our mess.
The latter, however, cannot live but a short time unless relief comes. Fine weather, but very warm. The sandy soil fairly alive with vermin. If this place is so bad at this time of the year, what must it be in July, August, and September?
Every man will die, in my estimation, but perhaps we may be relieved before then. We'll try and think so, anyway. New prisoners die off the fastest. May 18. We have some good singers in camp, and, strange as it may seem, a good deal of singing is
indulged in. There are some men that are happy as long as they can breathe, and such men smooth over many rough edges here. God bless a man who can sing in this place. A priest comes inside, praying and chanting.
A good man to come to such a place. Performs his duty the same to smallpox patients as to any other. Shall try and find out his name. Some of the wells dug by the Yanks furnish passable water, and improvement, anyway, on swamp water.
Well water in great demand, and sells readily for such trinkets as the men have to dispose of. Rebels building forts on the outside. Rebel officers inside, trying to induce shoemakers, foundrymen, carpenters, and woodchoppers to go out and work for the Confederacy.
A very few accepted the offer. Well, life is sweet, and can hardly blame men for accepting the offer. Still, I don't want to go. Neither do ninety-nine out of every hundred. The soldiers here are loyal to the cause.
May 19. Nearly twenty thousand men confined here now. New ones coming every day. Rations very small and very poor. The meal that the bread is made out of is ground seemingly, cob and all, and it scourges
the men fearfully. Things getting continually worse. Hundreds of cases of dropsy. Men puff out of human shape and are perfectly horrible to look at. Philo Lewis died today.
Could not have weighed at the time of his death more than ninety pounds, and was originally a large man, weighing not less than one hundred and seventy. Jack Walker of the Ninth Michigan Cavalry has received the appointment to assist in carrying out the dead, for which service he receives an extra ration of cornbread. May 20.
Hendricks sent me in today from the outside a dozen small onions and some green tea. No person, on suddenly being lifted from the lowest depths of misery to peace and plenty, and all that money could buy, could feel more joyous or grateful than myself for these things. As the articles were handed in through the gate, a crowd saw the transaction, and it was soon known that I had a friend on the outside who sent me in extras.
I learned that a conspiracy is being gotten up on the outside, in which Hendricks is at the head, and they will try and overpower the guard and release the prisoners. If Captain Wirtz only knew it, he has a very dangerous man in George Hendricks. Cramful of adventure, he will be heard from wherever he is. May 21.
Still good weather and hot, with damp nights, Dr. Lewis lingers along in a miserable state of existence, and Scurvy and Dropsy doing their worst. His old messmates in the Ninth Michigan Regimental Headquarters little think of their favorite storytelling good fellows condition now. We take as good care of him as possible under the circumstances.
Two men shot today by the barbarians, and one of them has lain all the afternoon where he fell. May 22. No news of importance, same old story. Am now a gallant washerman.
Batezi, the Minnesota Indian, learnt me in the way of his occupation, made me a washboard by cutting creases in a piece of board, and I am fully installed. We have a sign out, made by myself, on a piece of shingle, washing. We get small pieces of bread for our labors. Some of the sick cannot eat their bread, and not being able to keep clean, give us a job.
Make probably a pound of bread two or three days in the week. Batezi says, I work, do me good, you do same. Have many applications for admission to the firm, and may enlarge the business. May 23. Rains very hard.
Seems as if the windows of heaven had opened up, in fact the windows out altogether. It's a grand good thing for the camp, as it washes away the filth and purifies the air. May 24. Sherman coming this way, so said, towards Atlanta, it is thought the cavalry will make a break for us, but even if they do they cannot get us north.
We are equal to no exertion. Men busy today killing swallows that fly low, partly for amusement, but more particularly for food they furnish, are eaten raw before hardly dead. No thank you, I will take no swallow. May 25.
One thousand new prisoners came today from near Petersburg, Virginia. They gave us encouraging news as to the termination of the spring campaign. General Burnside said in a speech to his men that Petersburg would be taken in less than a month, or Mrs. Burnside would be a widow. Everyone hopeful, getting warmer after the rain.
Our squad has a very good well and about one quarter water enough of something a trifle better than swamp water. Man killed by the raiders near where we slept, head all pounded to pieces with a club. Murders an everyday occurrence. May 26.
For the last three days I have had nearly enough to eat such as it is, my washing business gives me extra food, have taken in a partner and the firm now is Batezi Ransom and Company. Think of taking in more partners, making Batezi President, appointing Vice Presidents, Secretaries, etc. We charge a ration of bread for admittance. Sand makes a very good soap.
If we could get hold of a razor and open a barber shop in connection, our fortunes would be made. We are prolonging Louis's life by trading for luxuries to give him. Occasionally a little real meat soup with a piece of onion in it, etc. Am saving up capital to buy a pair of shears I know of. Molasses given us today from two to four spoonfuls apiece, which is indeed a treat.
Anything sweet or sour or in the vegetable line is the making of us. We have taken to mixing a little meal with water, putting in a little molasses and setting it in the sun to sour. Great trouble in the lack of vessels in which to keep it, and then too after getting a dish partly well-soured, some poor prisoner will deliberately walk up and, before we can see him, drink it all up. Men are fairly crazy for such things.
May 27 We twist up pieces of tin, stove-pipe, etc. for dishes. A favourite and common dish is half of a canteen. Our spoons are made of wood. Hardly one man in ten has a dish of any kind to put his rations of soup or molasses in,
and often old shoes, dirty caps and the like are brought into requisition. Notwithstanding my prosperity and business, the scurvy is taking right hold of me. All my old acquaintances visit us daily, and we condole with one another. Fresh beef given us today, but in very small quantities, with no wood or salt to put it into proper shape. No one can very well object to raw beef, however.
Great trouble is in getting it to us before being tainted. I persistently, let alone meet with even a suspicion of rottenness, makes no difference with nearly all here. We occasionally hear of the conspiracy of outside-parole Yankees. Time will tell if it amounts to anything. May 28
No more news. It really seems as if we're all to die here. My mouth getting sore from scurvy and teeth loose. New prisoners coming in every day and death rate increasing. I don't seem to get hardened to the situation and am shuddering all the time at the sights.
Rainy weather. May 29 Sabbath day, but not a pleasant one. Nearly a thousand just came in. Would seem to me that the rebels are victorious in their battles.
New men are perfectly thunder-struck at the hole they have got into. A great many give right up and die in a few weeks, and some in a week. My limbs are badly swollen with scurvy and dropsy combined. Mouth also very sore. Beteze digs for roots which he steeps up and I drink.
Could give up and die in a short time, but won't. Have got living reduced to a science. May 30 Another thousand came today and from the Eastern Army. Prison crowded.
Men who came are from Seagull's Corps in the Shenandoah Valley. The poor deluded mortals never heard of Andersonville before? Well, they hear of it now. Charlie Hudson from some sort of Ohio took his canteen an hour ago and went to the swamp for water. He has not returned for the very good reason that he was shot while reaching up under the deadline to get the freshest water.
Someone has pulled the body out of the water onto dry land where it will stay until tomorrow, when it will be piled with perhaps forty others on the dead wagon, carted off and buried like a dog. And this is the last of poor Charlie who has enlivened us many an evening with his songs and stories. The Astor House mess is very sad tonight. May 31
A rebel came inside today and inquired for me in the Tenth Squad First Mess. I responded, wondering and fearful as to what they should want with me. Was happily surprised on going to the gate to see Hendricks with something in his hand for me. Seemed thunderstruck at my appearance and said I was looking bad. He was looking better than when he went out.
And brought me luxuries in the shape of gingerbread, onions and tea, and am happy. George is a brick. Says it is against orders to send anything inside, but he talked them over. Was afraid the raiders would waylay me before reaching the mess, but they did not. June 1
Reported that the 51st Virginia Regiment is here for the purpose of conducting us north for exchange. Believe nothing of the kind. Prisoners come daily. E. P. Sanders, Roe and myself carried our old friend Dr. Lewis to the hospital. He was immediately admitted and we came away feeling very sad, knowing he would live but a short time.
The sick are not admitted until they are near death and then there is no hope for them. Rainy Day June 2 Another dark stormy day. Raiders playing the very devil.
Muddy and sticky. June 3 New prisoners say that an armistice has been agreed upon for the purpose of effecting an exchange and negotiating for peace. It may be so and the authorities had good reasons for allowing us to stay here, but how can they pay for all the suffering? And now some negro prisoners brought inside.
They belonged to the 54th Massachusetts. Came with white prisoners. Many of the negroes wounded, as indeed there are wounded among all who come here now. No news from Hendricks or Lewis. Quite a number going out after wood to cook with.
Hot and wet. June 4 Have not been dry for many days. Raining continually. Some men took occasion while out after wood to overpower the guard and take to the pines.
Not yet been brought back. Very small rations of poor molasses cornbread and bug soup. June 5 Exchange rumours to the effect that transports are en route for Savannah for the purpose of taking us home. Stick right to my washing, however.
A number of men taken out to be kept as hostages, so said. Raiders rule the prison. And myself cross and feel like licking somebody, but Hendricks is gone and don't want to try to lick anybody else, fearing I might get licked myself. Some fun fighting him, as it didn't make any difference, which licked. June 6
Eight months a prisoner today. A lifetime has been crowded into these eight months. No rations at all. Am now a hair-cutter. Have hired the sheers.
Enough to eat, but not the right kind. Scurvy putting in its work and symptoms of dropsy. Saw Hendricks at the bakehouse upstairs window, looking over the camp. Probably looking to see if he can locate his old comrades among the sea of human beings. Wirtz comes inside no more.
In fact, does very few rebels. The place is too bad for them. June 7 Heard today that Hendricks had been arrested and in irons for inciting a conspiracy. Not much alarmed for him.
He will come out all right. Still rainy. Have hard work keeping my diary dry. Nearly all the old prisoners who were captured with me are dead. Don't know of over fifty or sixty alive out of eight hundred.
End of Part 4, Section 2
