In The Woods Near
Doctortown Station, No. 5, Ga. — A change has come over the spirit of my
dreams During the night the cars ran very slow, and sometimes stopped for hours
on side tracks. A very long, tedious night, and all suffered a great deal with
just about standing room only. Impossible to get any sleep. Two guards at each
side door, which were open about a foot. Guards were passably decent, although
strict Managed to get near the door, and during the night talked considerable
with the two guards on the south side of the car. At about three o'clock this A.m., and after going over a long bridge
which spanned the Altamaha River and in sight of Doctortown, I went through the
open door like a flash and rolled down a high embankment. Almost broke my neck,
but not quite guard fired a shot at me, but as the cars were going, though not
very fast, did not hit me. Expected the cars to stop but they did not, and I
had the inexpressible joy of seeing them move off out of sight. Then crossed
the railroad track going north, went through a large open field and gained the
woods, and am now sitting on the ground leaning up against a big pine tree and
out from under rebel guard! The sun is beginning to show itself in the east
and it promises to be a fine day. Hardly know what to do with myself. If those
on the train notified Doctortown people of my escape they will be after me. Think
it was at so early an hour that they might have gone right through without
telling any one of the jump off Am happy and hungry and considerably bruised
and scratched up from the escape. The happiness of being here, however,
overbalances everything else. If I had George Hendryx with me now would have a
jolly time, and mean to have as it is. Sun is now up and it is warmer; birds
chippering around, and chipmunks looking at me with curiosity. Can hear
hallooing off a mile or so, which sounds like farmers calling cattle or hogs or
something. All nature smiles — why should not I? — and I do. Keep my eyes
peeled, however, and look all ways for Sunday. Must work farther back toward
what I take to be a swamp a mile or so away. Am in a rather low country
although apparently a pretty thickly settled one; most too thickly populated
for me, judging from the signs of the times It's now about dinner time, and I
have traveled two or three miles from the railroad track, should judge and am
in the edge of a swampy forest, although the piece of ground on which I have
made my bed is dry and nice. Something to eat wouldn't be a bad thing. Not over
sixty rods from where I lay is a path evidently travelled more or less by
negroes going from one plantation to another. My hope of food lays by that
road. Am watching for passers by. Later.—
A negro boy too young to trust has gone by singing and whistling, and carrying
a bundle and a tin pail evidently filled with somebody's dinner. In as much as
I want to enjoy this out-door Gypsy life, I will not catch and take the dinner
away from him. That would be the heighth of foolishness. Will lay for the next
one traveling this way. The next one is a dog and he comes up and looks at me,
gives a bark and scuds off. Can't eat a dog. Don't know how it will be
to-morrow though. Might be well enough for him to come around later. Well, it
is most dark and will get ready to try and sleep. Have broken off spruce boughs
and made a soft bed. Have heard my father tell of sleeping on a bed of spruce,
and it is healthy. Will try it. Not a crust to eat since yesterday forenoon. Am
educated to this way of living though, and have been hungryer. Hope the pesky
alligators will let me alone If they only knew it, I would make a poor meal for
them. Thus closes my first day of freedom and it is grand. Only hope
they may be many, although I can hardly hope to escape to our lines, not being
in a condition to travel.
SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p.
120-2
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