The days have been
continually hot since last date; rain at noon. Every day we see the extreme,
nameless misery, feel that awful helplessness of languor creeping over us. We
weary of observing and noting. Nobly nature struggles against the noisome
corruption and economizes her wasting resources. Nights are dreaded for reason
of murderous raiders getting bolder, robbing men by force as well as by
stealth; pounding with clubs, cutting with knives, even in day time. It is
dangerous to sleep; not a night passes but the camp is disturbed; cries of
murder are heard; somebody is hurt and robbed. Three nights ago three men near
us were attacked while asleep, one was stripped of clothing; but before we
could rally to assist, the scoundrels fled. Last night twelve of the murderous
wretches rushed up to where we sleep with the intention of smothering us with
blankets; and being armed with clubs and knives could have done us harm.
Thompson and I were watching, awakened the boys and were ready. Seeing this
they got up a sham fight. One says, "It's not here, I will show you,
come," and they ran away. We have a watch and $26 amongst us.
Sullivan has denied,
to Mattison, having any connection with the "raiders"; but
knowing that we know he lies, he tells Mooney that he controls the gang, being
a chief we need not fear. It was by accident Mattison met him as he evades us.
But the wicked shall not go unpunished. He will find the truth of this text.
A few nights since
Mooney's blanket was stolen. He appealed to Sullivan with threats and promises.
Sullivan brought him the identical blanket. A man was attacked this afternoon
but the raiders were beaten. Prisoners come in so fast that we are terribly
crowded. At night when we lay down every passage, every space is covered,
thousands sleeping without the least covering or shelter.
SOURCE: John Worrell
Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville
and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 79-80
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