Battese brought me some onions, and if they ain't good then
no matter; also a sweet potato. One half the men here would get well if they
only had something in the vegetable line to eat, or acids. Scurvy is about the
most loathsome disease, and when dropsy takes hold with the scurvy, it is
terrible. I have both diseases but keep them in check, and it only grows worse
slowly. My legs are swollen, but the cords are not contracted much, and I can
still walk very well. Our mess all keep clean, in fact are obliged to or else
turned adrift. We want none of the dirty sort in our mess. Sanders and Rowe
enforce the rules, which is not much work, as all hands are composed of men who
prefer to keep clean. I still do a little washing, but more particularly hair
cutting, which is easier work. You should see one of my hair cuts. Nobby! Old
prisoners have hair a foot long or more, and my business is to cut it off,
which I do without regards to anything except to get it off. I should judge
that there are one thousand rebel soldiers guarding us, and perhaps a few more,
with the usual number of officers. A guard told me to-day that the yanks were “gittin
licked,” and they didn't want us exchanged; just as soon we should die here as
not; a yank asked him if he knew what exchange meant; said he knew what
shootin' meant, and as he began to swing around his old shooting iron we
retreated in among the crowd. heard that there were some new men belonging to
my regiment in another part of the prison; have just returned from looking
after them and am all tired out. Instead of belonging to the 9th Michigan
Cavalry, they belong to the 9th Michigan Infantry. Had a good visit and quite
cheered with their accounts of the war news. Some one stole Battese's wash
board and he is mad; is looking for it — may bust up the business. Think Hub
Dakin will give me a board to make another one. Sanders owns the jack-knife, of
this mess, and he don't like to lend it either; borrow it to carve on roots for
pipes, Actually take solid comfort “building castles in the air,” a thing I
have never been addicted to before. Better than getting blue and worrying
myself to death. After all, we may get out of this dod-rotted hole Always an
end of some sort to such things.
SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p.
80
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