In consequence of
the damp nights I cough badly. Nights are cool, compared with the heat of the
day, the sun being terrible, in consequence of which I have suffered with
headache. Going about camp I find several wells 20 and 25 feet deep. In company
with twenty others our mess have commenced digging today. Pinchen is whittling
staves out of sticks of pine rations for a bucket with a small jack-knife, to
use in pulling up the dirt. Prison managers are against this enterprise; but
the jealousy is being overcome happily, through the influence of surgeons and
military officers who occasionally come inside and we have shown them the
condition of the stream. As yet no spades are allowed for this work, although
these officers have kindly suggested that they could be trusted to us under
restriction. So they have been dug with case knives, pieces of canteens, or any
piece of iron or stick convertible for such use. As digging proceeds men go
down on poles, where one can be obtained, bracing against the bank and
ascending the same way. The earth is a red sand, packs hard, needs no stoning.
After several feet a fine layer of clay is struck, smooth and soft which is a
curiosity to some, who smooth it and whittle it into fancy articles, among
which are pipes. Tin pails are attached to whatever we can create for ropes for
drawing up dirt and water.
Yesterday I noticed
a dead-line board laying on the ground inside, one end about three feet from
the post, blown, I suppose, by the wind. We have been troubled about getting in
and out of the well we are digging, and cannot find anything to put down to
climb on: 'I conceived the idea of capturing it to obviate the trouble. It got
pretty dark near midnight. I approached the place cautiously, and lay flat and
crawled to the board and tied a string to the end farthest in and sitting on
the ground 25 feet away, drew it cautiously until out of danger from being shot
by sentinels, when I picked it up and brought it to our place. We covered it
with sand when Rebel sergeants came in the morning, and after the well was
finished, broke it up for wood to cook our rations of meal. The Rebels missed
the board, but never found it. Thompson watched the guard while I pulled it
away, to warn me if they were likely to shoot, but the other boys didn't know
when I stole the "dead line."
Seven hundred men
taken at Spottslvania come in; report Grant at Mechanicsville, Johnston falling
back on Atlanta. Those who have razors shave for 5c., cut hair for 10c. Sweat
boards or dice appear in camp where men can stake 5c. a throw, if he wishes to
try his luck at gaming. I have known some to win quite often, but hear of more
who lose. A few things have been worked into camp by men who get out on duty or
by Rebel sergeants. A fair sized onion goes for $1, apples 10c to 40c, dry hog
peas 40c. per pint, plug tobacco $1.50. There is one commodity never had in any
market. It is ahead of any Dutch brewery extant; it is meal beer made by
letting corn meal sour in water. Molasses can be had for 5c. a teaspoonful; a
little is added to give it a twang and sassafras roots can be had by digging,
the tea of which is often added to give it flavor. Those who have money, pay
ten and fifteen cents for half a pint and drink it with a relish. Men crave
something sour, and poor fellows with feverish lips and scabious tendency,
without money, beg and whine for it childishly. The vender cries, "Here is
your nice meal beer, right sour, well seasoned with sassafras."
SOURCE: John Worrell
Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville
and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 65-6
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