Mike Hoare stalks
around, cheerful, black and hungry. We have long talks about our school days
when little boys together. Mike is a mason by trade, and was solicited to go
out and work for the rebels. Told them he would work on nothing but vaults to
bury them in. Is a loyal soldier and had rather die here than help them, as,
indeed, would a majority of the prisoners. To tell the truth, we are so near
death and see so much of it, that it is not dreaded as much as a person would
suppose. We stay here day after day, week after week, and month after month,
seemingly forgotten by all our friends at the North, and then our sufferings
are such that death is a relief in the view of a great many, and not dreaded to
any extent. By four o'clock each day the row of dead at the gate would scare
the life out of me before coming here, while now it is nothing at all, but the
same thing over and over.
SOURCE: John L.
Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 67
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