A new prisoner fainted away on his entrance to Andersonville
and is now crazy, a raving maniac. That is how our condition affected him My
pants are the worse for wear from repeated washings, my shirt sleeveless and
feet stockingless; have a red cap without any front piece; shoes by some
hocus-pocus are not mates, one considerable larger than the other. Wonder what
they would think if I should suddenly appear on the streets in Jackson in this
garb. Would be a circus; side show and all. But nights I have a grand old
coverlid to keep off the wet. Raiders steal blankets and sell to the guards,
which leaves all nearly destitute of that very necessary article. Often tell
how I got my coverlid, to visitors. Have been peddling pea soup on the streets:
“Ten cents in money or a dollar Confed for this rich soup! Who takes it?” And
some wretch buys it. Anything in the way of food will sell, or water, if
different from swamp water. Rebs making a pretense of fixing up sanitary
privileges at the swamp, which amount to nothing. Strong talk of forming a
police force to put down raiders and to enforce order. If successful it will
prove of great benefit. Sanders, Rowe, Blakeman, Dakin and myself are among
those who will take an active part, although the part I take cannot be very
active. Half a dozen letters sent inside to prisoners, but no news in them that
I can hear of. More hot aud sultry, with occasional rains. The crazy man says
nothing but “prayer” will save us He has been sucking a bone now for about two
weeks and pays more attention to that than to prayer.
SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p.
73-4
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