Last night
"raiders" attempted to profit by their vile practices.
"Moseby's" (this name is given one of the chiefs) whistles blew and
was responded to by the subleaders. Suspicious-looking chaps move through parts
of the prison. Presently the cry of "thief," "raiders," and
suppressed voices are heard, like men in a struggle. Again cries of "catch
him," "murder," "Oh, God, they've killed me!" Now and
then one is caught, and cries, and begs dolefully. Then a squad of twenty
strong savage-looking men ran through the streets with clubs; soon there is a
desperate fight. Blows are plainly heard, and savage oaths and cries of fright
and distress. For a time the desperadoes vanish, then reappear. The disturbance
kept up all night; we did not feel safe to lie down unless someone of our tent
watched. I hear of two watches and other things being lost; have seen some men
who got hit. Some Massachusetts boys near us had their blanket seized. Luckily
one awoke as the last corner was drawn from him. He sprang up and so closely
pursued the thief that he dropped it. This morning a fellow had his head shaved
for stealing rations. Toward noon excitement attracted attention to the north
side. Going thither we found a fellow had been seized and was being shorn of
one-half of his hair and whiskers. He had been outside shoemaking and had been
commissioned by the Confederates to come in and take the names of others, of
the same trade, with the view that they might be induced or impressed into the
service, for Rebels are in need of men of all trades; especially men are wanted
to make "government shoes." I saw a man playing the same treasonable
game yesterday and a group of us resolved he should not go unnoticed. Shame on
those men who are willing to sell their birthright for a loathsome crust! Turn
their hands against the cause for which they fought, and virtually balance the
power of brothers in the field! The blood of our brothers would cry out against
us. For a Southerner to do this is treason; for one of our own men to do it,
what is it?
Twice, the first in
two days, has the sun appeared today, but it is still rainy. Several hundred
men arrive from our army in Virginia, the majority of whom are stripped of
blankets and tents. The number of deaths within 24 hours ending at 9 a. m.
today is stated at 160.
A hermit wrote of
his situation in solitude as "a horrible place"; "Better dwell
in the midst of alarms." But we have no choice; we both—
It was not poetical
to call Nature's solitude horrible; nothing is so horrible as subverted,
debased, cruelized, distorted, dying human nature.
SOURCE: John Worrell
Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville
and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 75-6
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