Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Friday, July 1, 1864

MOVE TO PRISON ANNEX—HOW WE CELEBRATE.

The addition to the stockade is finished. An aperture, ten feet wide, is left in the old wall at the north of the old ground. Thirteen thousand are ordered to move through (my detachment is one designated) in three hours. The weather is very hot and that mass of men moving without order over ground already crowded with those who are to remain, is horribly fatiguing. This time is given us to get on the ground or no rations will be given these detachments; so we strove at the walls like a crowded flock of sheep escaping through a hole in a fence, being obliged to jump a trench five feet deep, three wide with a bank of dirt on the opposite side. Never did men work more earnestly for a prize than we for a little course Indian meal to appease our terrible hunger. But it smelt so good, the green stuff that had been growing, that we felt rejoiced and thrilled at the sight of Nature's face yet undefiled, but soon to be desecrated by the foulness of disease and decay. A score of men fell into the trench in clambering through the stockade, and had to be helped. Fragments of trees lay about over which men strove to obtain fuel and shelter. The average number of deaths per day is estimated at 70.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 82-3

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Sunday, July 3, 1864

New prisoners report favorable progress by our armies. Yesterday there was a powerful rain lasting ten hours. In this part the soil is red and hard, surface flat, and water stood from two to four inches deep. We stood up all night to keep out of it. Those too feeble to do this, were drenched and drowned. It was with great physical and mental effort that I was able to endure the strain as I have been feeble several days.

Four crazy men have been wandering through camp several days. I noticed one today without any clothing, having been naked for two weeks. He lay within four rods of the south gate, arms extended, exposed to the sun, in full view of everybody. His whole body was blistered, his countenance frightfully distorted, giving utterance to unintelligible sounds, frothy matter oozing from his mouth and nostrils, his eyes appearing blind. Another prisoner shot through the hips last night by a guard. One lay near the brook delirious, burning with fever; another near him was unable to speak; one-half buried in the swamp, covered by a mass of maggots and flies. Those who brought him out said his eyes, ears, nose and mouth were filled. Near the sink, in almost every passage, lay half-rotting skeletons, evincing all the signs of deprivation and symptoms of pestilence, and yet alive. All of this and I have not been out of my usual course. Neither do I mention those who have a slight covering to turn the sun. There are hundreds who would require the best treatment to be saved, and perhaps could not be saved. In this absence of medical treatment we resort to simple means to cure ourselves. A very limited supply of red root and white gum bark can be found, on our new lot, and pine bark, which are used to check the almost universal complaints, diarrhoea, dysentery and urinary troubles. I observed several men today had buried their limbs to the knees, as a remedy for scurvy. But the truth is there is no remedy for this condition under the circumstances. Never could we imagine anything so horrible! We might write volumes, and fail to describe the horrible reality. Our people would disbelieve it, and "pooh" as if it were a fabulous tale. Tonight some have a season of prayer near us. One or two most excellent prayers were offered, prayers that would grace pulpits, bearing an earnestness of the soul's devotion. It seemed so much like home, like steadfast faith and adoration, a reflex of the all-reaching Providence, that we felt it good to be there; that hearts are still alive, the finer sympathies not entirely stifled. How much better to see men in such communion, seeking consolation from heaven, than to see them worse than brutes, or fighting demons! No rations today.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 83

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Monday, July 4, 1864

Eighty-eight years this day since our fathers gave to the world that important document setting forth the immortal truth that all men are born free with equal rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and declaring the independence of these states from foreign domination—the Declaration of American Independence. On these great truths they founded a Republic. Today their posterity are in mourning for the loss of sons. In painful expectations, in earnest hope and fear, their eyes are turned toward two mighty armies contending on the same soil, one for those principles and that Republic, the other battling to maintain a dying rebellion inaugurated to overthrow the work of their hands, and to found a government on principles the reverse. Nothing was ever more plainly asserted in both words and deeds than this. Here within the scope of my vision, are 26,000 men suffering for the great sin that has cursed our people, offered a living sacrifice that it may not be destroyed but saved free from the contaminating influence that has stained our fair emblem—the boasted emblem of liberty; that the Union of the States shall not be broken by the hands of Treason; the foul assassin of Liberty! O, that the day of glorious triumph may soon come and with it the right, and stop the horrid evil of war! Let the demon that actuated it be destroyed! Apropos to the day are these beautiful lines from Longfellow, which Thompson recited:

* * * Sail on, O Ship of State!

Sail on, O Union, strong and great!

Humanity with all its fears,

With all the hopes of future years,

Is hanging breathless on thy fate!

We know what Master laid thy keel,

What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,

Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,

What anvils rang, what hammers beat,

In what a forge and what a heat

Were shaped the anchors of thy hope!

Fear not each sudden sound and shock,

'Tis of the wave and not the rock;

'Tis but the flapping of the sail,

And not a rent made by the gale!

In spite of rock and tempest's roar,

In spite of false lights on the shore,

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea!

Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee.

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,

Are all with thee,—are all with thee!

Have had but little rest for two nights, owing to the storm and severity of my complaints. No rations since the 2nd. Two hours of terrible thunder storm. At the Sutler's "Shebang" I purchased a small wheat biscuit for 35 cents. This is my feast (after two days' fast) for July 4th, 1864.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 84-5

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Tuesday, July 5, 1864

We moved back to the old side, five of us, unbeknown to Rebs, it being improved by the removal of so many to the new part, and to get near the well we dug, for we were fifty rods from water. About 3 p. m. the mule teams came to the north gate; the boys cry "rations," the first issued for over sixty hours. I know no other reason for this than that the first night after the new part of the prison was occupied men carried off timbers of the old north wall for wood or for huts. On July 2nd Capt. Wirz directed that no rations be issued until every stick was replaced. He was heard to say on the 3rd, at the gate, that he would "learn the G-d d--n Yankees that he was in command and if the sons of b-----s died like hell, there would be enough left." I paid ten cents for a small rotting apple; it was good. The 6th, Sherman's men report Johnston whipped at all points; the 8th, behind the Chattahoochee, Sherman crossing on his flank; Grant's, Richmond in danger; Lee's cornbread line troubled. The Southern slave empire must come down. Billy Decker, prisoner since October, a Belle Islander, "Pinch's" old playmate, is stopping with us. He belongs to the 1st U. S. dragoons; is from Steuben county, New York.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 85

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Thursday, July 7, 1864

Cool nights, hot days. My complaint not so bad. I have a painful cough. From three to six shots fired nightly by sentries, so common as not to be of note.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 85

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Friday, July 8, 1864

Prisoners arrive, 300, taken at James Island, S. C., the 3rd, belonging to the 52nd Pennsylvania, also a squad from Virginia. Fierce lightning and thunder in the middle of the day, the sun shining brightly, and scarce a cloud in the sky. A Rebel paper admits the country open to Grant, and Lee in a strait. "All we want is to be left alone," said Jeff Davis at his inaugural. His wants will grow, like "bull pen" lice.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 85

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Saturday, July 9, 1864

SCENES AMONG SICK.—RAIDERS CONVICTED.

Strong these men had been;

In vast army camps had duty done;

Had useful service in field and fort performed,

Some also on the sea and river fleets.

Strong on marches and in battles' strife;

Strong in perilous trenches behind belching guns

On skirmish lines at opening frays,

And bravely stood the shock of charging lines

That brought the battle's final test.

—From The Vision of North.

More than a week since a sick call. The Doctor came to the gate this morning; and many sick go forward. Crowds are carried who cannot walk and are laid over a large space. Still in a bad state and quite weak, I go, hoping to get a prescription, for "camphor pills," which sergeants of "nineties" draw, after the examination. Doctor comes in and looks them over hastily, going among them some, touching a few as though he felt squeamish. Two hours would be required, at least, to get along with the "nasty job," the doctors think, and only wink at them at that. I could not endure the hot sun, the awful stench, the sight of those sickening objects. I soon lost faith, if I had any, that I should be healed by a slight hem touch. I came to doubt, upon viewing the condition of so many others, whether I needed anything. More curious than charitable charity is a cripple here, begins and ends at home. I looked them over, and was not curious.

"Here pity doth most show herself alive

When she is dead." —Dante.

There were stronger forms and more robust constitutions than mine, weaker than infants; more loathsome than if they were dead; so they soon must be once a part of the bone and sinew of the Union army! What ten times worse than ghastly expressions! What pitiful complaints! What peevish, unmanly cries, calling for the doctor to "Come quick, for Christ's sake, quick!" constantly begging for water! Aghast, I stepped hurriedly, shamblingly, but carefully over those wasted, corrupted bodies, once beautiful caskets of immortal spirits, and hastened here and sit down with the boys under the shade of the blanket, my heart sinking, is it not hardening with gloom? I shudder while I write lest my fate shall be like theirs.

"What did you get, North?" they asked.

"Nothing; didn't try."

"You ought to."

"It wouldn't amount to shucks."

"Perhaps it would; at any rate, get all you can out of the Confederacy."

"That would do."

"Then go back and try."

"That makes me think of a man standing all night in the cold to freeze an ugly dog. The soundest man in the bull-pen would be sick to stand in that dying crowd an hour."

"That's what's the matter."

Tonight some of the sick are still at the gate; no attention paid, but ordered left till sent back. Many of the worst cases were admitted to hospital, a large number carried back by friends. Out of those who remain, six have died during the day; others on the verge of death. Doctors claim they have no means to care for the sick, therefore neglect them, let them rot rather than parole and send them to our lines. They are not admitted to the hospital, which is little better than this den, until in a condition of death; nor are we allowed to go out for brush and timber to build shelter here though thousands would volunteer for that service and the timber is all about us.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 86-7

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Sunday, July 10, 1864

Hot, showery day, renders the condition of the sick more appalling. It is believed that more than two-thirds of the 700 men at the gate in response to the sick call, are victims of starvation. Healthful action of the stomach and other organs of the body is destroyed; the food supplied imparts no nutriment though appetite craves it. Men eat whole rations ravenously, while unable to walk, which is not retained, sometime two minutes,—if it is, it is an internal fire and blood and decayed flesh come with temporary relief. Others loathe it, strain to vomit at sight, and so remain till death. Those not so afflicted are more or less infected with scurvy, dropsy, urinary disorders or these combined.

It is announced tonight that six raiders have been convicted and condemned to death and are to be hanged tomorrow in the prison shortly after noon. The names of these convicts are Cary Sullivan, of 76th N. Y. regiment; William Collins, alias Moseby, 88th Pennsylvania; Charles Curtis, 5th Rhode Island artillery; John Sarsfield, 144th N. Y.; Patrick Delaney, 83rd Pennsylvania; A. Muir, alias Jack the Sailor, U. S. navy. Sullivan's given name, announced by the regulators as Terrence, was carried on the company roll as Cary. It is understood that these men were professional bounty jumpers, going out for the money they could get, and were captured outside of the line of duty. We know Sullivan deserted our regiment while it was forming for expected battle, on the night of October 10th, 1863, and was captured by Rebel cavalry that was flanking our infantry a few hours prior to the beginning of Meade's great retreat to Centerville, Va. To carry out this grim project Sergeant Keys and immediate assistants have got the use of timbers and tools and secured a few carpenters to build a scaffold.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 87

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Monday, July 11, 1864

HANGING THE CHIEF RAIDERS. SCENES AT THE EXECUTION.

Building the scaffold for executing the principal raiders, began at 9 a. m. a few yards within the dead line near the south gate. By 1 p. m. it was finished and the crowd assembled everywhere a footing could be had in view of the scaffold. Looking from my position near the scaffold to the north on the sloping ground I beheld the most densely packed crowd I had ever seen. The south side if possible was more densely packed. They came from every extreme portion of the stockade until they could get no further. Evidently every man that could be was on his taps. A multitude of probably 30,000, all astir on so small an area is seldom if ever seen. The regulator squads, armed, with clubs, formed a square around the scaffold to keep back the crowd. It was feared by leaders that an attempt would be made, by associates of the doomed, to destroy the scaffold and release them. Sometime was employed in attaching halters to the beam and adjusting nooses, then all was ready. Shortly after, the gate opened and Capt. Wirz, dressed in a white duck suit, upon his gray horse, accompanied by a Catholic priest, followed by the guard with the doubly doomed war prisoners. They were six dressed only in undershirts and drawers and heads uncovered. Capt. Wirz addressed us in broken Swiss nearly as follows:

"Prisoners, I deliver these men to you in as good condition as I found them. I have had nothing to do in convicting them of crime of which they are accused, except to lend my assistance for their and your protection; nor do I charge them or believe them guilty, and shall have nothing to do with the execution of your sentence. You have tried them; I have permitted it. You have convicted and sentenced them; if they are hung, you, not I, will be responsible for it. I deliver them to you; do with them as you please, and may God be with them and you. Guards about face; forward march."

All but the priest moved out and the gate closed. This address was delivered from a paper in his hand said to have been' prepared by Lieut. Davis or some officer of the post.

The prisoners had doubted the earnestness of the proceedings up to the moment of the egress of Wirz and the guard. However, their arms had been pinioned, and when they looked at the gallows the dreadful truth struck terror to their hearts. Their executioners were in position and without the least delay pressed each man to ascend the scaffold, Curtis, a strong man, shouted in a strong, rough voice, "By God, boys, we will never go up there!" At the same time fiercely wrenching away, loosing his arms and throwing them about his head, dashed madly through the regulators' lines rushed through the weak crowd to the stream, plunged into the swamp, sometimes to his hips, but was retaken by two pursuers before reaching solid ground. Meantime the crowd took panic, supposing the rescue of the condemned was attempted and in the confusion jostled and trampled one another down. Their fright was greatly increased on seeing the Rebels fly to their guns. The crowd surged back like a heavy sea, trampling hundreds of the weaker under feet and leveling flimsy tents in the rush, which had hardly ceased before the fugitive was brought back trembling and cowering with fear. The others had been left standing, but now all were pushed up the steps to the trap by the executioner, talking and wailing unintelligibly while the priest begged fervently for them to be spared. As the nooses were put over their necks, and the bags, used for caps, were ready to be drawn over their faces, with what awful woe they crouched and pleaded for life. The priest, at their request essayed to address, not only those in charge but the vast crowd as well, uttering an appeal and urging that the final disposition of the matter be left to the crowd. Alas, of no avail. The witnesses of their crimes by thousands, as well as their condemners stood before them and their clamor for the execution to proceed overwhelmed the frantic effort of the priest. They believed them guilty of direct murder, the means of suffering and death of many by depriving them of scanty clothing and fare; by theft and in having cruelly beaten them. The guilty clamored for mercy that they had denied to innocent, helpless men. Yet willingly would most of us spared them to be dealt with by law, but with their lives we knew no safety.

Who has seen the soul's anguish pouring out in tears? This was the agony of guilt. It fired in the wild eye, flashed on the cowering cheek, darkened on the crazed brow and poured in frenzied tones from quivering lips. If the executioners were moved by these appeals they knew their duty and performed it. The firm answer was, "No you must die." Then said Collins, to the priest:

"Then do pray for us, pray long and hard!"

He prays but Collins breaks in vehemently.

"I am guilty, but not of this; I have been an awful man! I have not had a fair trial," and many other sentences, and all shout together, "Yes, yes!" Sullivan broke in:

"Neither am I guilty, but”—and he groaned, "I did not expect ever to come to this." "Nor I," all shouted in concert.

Their exclamations were so loud, continuous and distressing, that I heard nothing of the prayer. Several times the sack was removed from their heads as they feelingly urged to be prayed for, until the executioners had decided not to repeat it, when Curtis asked for one moment. Speaking loudly, he asked:

"Have I a friend within hearing?"

A voice answers, "Yes, it is me, Curtis."

"Is it you, Tony Ryan? Come up here."

Executioner—"No, he can't come up."

Curtis—"Then I have one request, Tony, it is my dying request. I want you to keep my watch and send it back to my father-in-law in New York City."

Tony—"I will do it, Curtis."

Curtis—"I am ready. This is a hard sight, boys," and he groaned.

Sullivan and Muir both said: "May God bless our souls!"

The executioners stepped from the platform, the props were pulled, the traps fell. As I looked upon the scene I saw that Collins had snapped his rope, and fallen to the ground. He was restored to consciousness, and though he plead that as God had saved his life once, he should be spared. But he was forced upon the raised trap, the noose readjusted while the other five were in the throes of death before his eyes, and swung off, partially kneeling, an impulsive movement all made. It was indeed a hard sight; six strong men sent from life for crimes against fellow prisoners. I almost think I am hardened because I looked upon them with the composure that I did. This is the breaking up of a gang organized in the Richmond prisons.

But there were interested spectators outside the prison, the soldiers standing in their rifle pits with arms ready; the artillerymen standing at their pieces ready to pull the ledyard cord at command; and from 1,500 to 2,000 people, composed of old men and women of both sexes and all colors, from several miles about, who in their anxiety to see, had edged from positions assigned them, in front of the artillery and infantry lines, and were thrown into panic as they supposed they were to fire upon the prisoners.

It is told of Muir that he was acquitted of a crime in Dublin, Ireland, though he had confessed guilt to his priest. Since conviction here he told the story to an Irish friend, adding that after acquittal the priest told him that death by hanging would be his doom; that the priest's words had always haunted him; though he sought to avoid acts tending to their fulfillment, he often lost self-control and went wrong. To him he confessed complicity in crimes charged and proved against raiders.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 88-90

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Tuesday, July 12, 1864

DREADFUL DAYS DRAG ON—NIGGER IN THE EXCHANGE FENCE.

A man shot through the body and killed while dipping water from the stream several feet inside the dead line. Two sentries fired.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 90-1

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Wednesday, July 13, 1864

Corn bread, as served here, is to me what a single feather was to Paddy's head on a rock and what he thought more would be if supplied. Irrepressible conflict is brewing between hunger and filling up. Putting plenty of water in the mush is common with some who want something to fill up. We get nothing but rice tonight.

I find Harriman and tent mate Phillips bad off with scurvy, it having assumed malignant form and the flesh of their limbs has become lifeless. Harriman was looking at photographs of home friends and spoke of them with tenderness and a tone keyed to despair. He has ever before been cheerful and quickly responded to expressions of hope and cheer. We find a word of cheer comes not amiss. I trust that "each does well in his degree." But time comes when condolence takes its place and when that cannot remove the fact. How little of either have we now! The downcast soul is robbed of the blessings of consolation from kindred when wafted from this den of sin to the realm beyond. Are its celestial features tainted with this morbid air; is it enfeebled by this languor? God's unbounded provision is the universal remedy for every woe. This we must feel as never before, or be insensible to ourselves. Harriman then related his strange dream which, to him, was extraordinary, in which he beheld immediate conditions, and the blackness and terror of the supposed "river of death" which soon brightened into a bordering stream, before which all misery, terror and darkness vanished, and he beheld the mystic world. He regarded this as a prophecy of a change soon to come to him and said he had no terror of what might come; it had given him strength ineffable. He then briefly sketched his life, his aspirations and disappointments, which are of so much interest to me that I carefully noted them for future writing.

Saw a paper of July 1st; most notable item: Democrats postpone their convention to be held in Chicago, August 29th. Made the acquaintance of a namesake, John H. Northrop, a nephew of the celebrated lawyer, Henry Northrop, of New York; a prisoner nine months, clothes nearly gone, is lively though he has symptoms of scurvy. The evenings are beautiful; religious meetings are being held in various parts. There are some remarkable singers who attract the attention of outsiders.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 91

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Thursday, July 14, 1864

Report that Lee is moving forces northward; Ewell at Harper's Ferry; and a cavalry raid into Maryland. Whether this is to attract attention for political effect, or is a military movement is a question. While writing, sergeants of detachments have been called by Capt. Wirz and notified that he has if attempted he will kill every man in camp. Reports of two cannon startled the prisoners this afternoon, and we turned out to see Rebel soldiers pouring into line double quick. It was soon evident that it was practice. They formed on the hill, deployed skirmishers who indulged in a vigorous fire, interspersed with several volleys of musketry from a brigade, showing how they would do if Kilpatrick came, or if prisoners break out.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 91-2

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Thursday, June 16, 1864

The man who was deprived of his hair yesterday had taken the oath of allegiance to the "C. S. A." He wished to get 200 names—had about 50—to make army shoes. His papers were taken and he was forced to swear not to assist the Rebels any more. The affair soon reached Capt. Wirz who sent a guard to escort the ex-Unionist outside and to arrest his assailants. He also ordered that no rations be issued until the man who shaved his head was apprehended. All honor to the brave man who shaved the Judas head.

Rather than that thousands of comrades be deprived of scanty rations for day, he bade farewell to friends and calmly reported at the gate, was taken out by the guard and locked up, refusing to divulge another name. After a thorough search for the others, rations were issued.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 76

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Friday, June 17, 1864

The night of the 11th a well caved in; two men asleep slid in; one was killed. Soon after coming in, we learned that one of the dealers, or "raiders" bore the name of Cary. He was at Belle Isle and is charged with being the cause of several deaths. Today he was pointed out to us and we recognized Sullivan of our company (76th N. Y.) who deserted October 10, 1863, near the Rapidan River south of Mitchell, Va. He was a substitute from Buffalo, a "gambling, fighting, bad tempered fellow, feared in the company. He thinks we suspect him, and tonight sends word by Mooney, who knew him in Canada, that if we do not expose him, Company F shall never be disturbed by raiders.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 76

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Monday, June 20, 1864

Yesterday a sentry fired on a man who was attempting to kill a snake near the dead line, but missed him, the shot taking effect on four others; wounding one in the face, one in the thigh, both lying under their blankets, and grazed two others. Gen. Sturgis has blundered in a fight with Forrest in Tennessee; lost 900 men. Sigel has been relieved by Hunter for fighting Breckenridge with an inferior force, less than at his command. These seeming disasters fill Rebels with bombast and are not encouraging to us.

These little triumphs seem to raise their wind;

But great defeats they never seem to find;

They cut loops, but not the ropes that bind.

We look at them, then coolly turn aside,

Annoyed that Jonnies have such narrow pride,

That it should never enter in the mind,

'Tis but a wave blown up against the tide,

For surely Forrest breaks not the comet's tail,

And Joe E. Johnston goes down before it pale;

While flirting in Virginia are but attempts to rise

When U. S. Grant rolls Lee upon his thighs.

Robbers more desperate and bold. Two men have lately been murdered, and a number hurt and robbed. We watch nightly, fearing attack. Two guards are reported hung for attempting to escape with prisoners a few nights ago. The old guard leave this morning, probably for the front; we have a new set on.

Passing up from the creek this morning I saw a crowd standing around a dying negro boy about one-fourth white. A white man stood over him holding in his hand a stick, to one end of which was attached a stiff paper, with which he brushed the swarming flies from his face and fanned his dying breath. He was emaciated and bruised. Presently the feeble breath stopped the man bent and lay his bony hands on his breast. Again there was a faint heaving of the breast, the eyes brightened and glanced meaningly at him, then rolled back, and he breathed no more. I cannot tell why I forgot every thing for the time—

And intense interest took in him,

When hourly almost, each day, I see the dead

Of my own race, far loftier brows

And comelier forms, pass by.

Involuntarily, almost, my face turned towards the skies, my forehead and temples felt the soft, thrilling, intangible pressure of an electric band; my left arm and shoulder, for a moment, electrified. Then I looked at those about, and wondered what they thought. Turning to one, I remarked:

"I should have thought he had a soul, were he not a negro." He replied: "I know, if the human is immortal, he had a soul. I almost felt it when it departed."

This is what is going the rounds tonight: "They say Davis has sued for peace." Too sensible to be true!

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 76-7

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Tuesday, June 21, 1864

At 9 o'clock another man was shot. He was crossing the swamp in the east part to go to his lodging. Attempting to clear the mud, he leaped to a root near the dead line, but not up to it. The ball entered above the hip, and passed to the intestines. His groans and shouts are pitiable.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 77

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Wednesday, June 22, 1864

The first day of the month that it has not rained. The man shot last night is carried out dead this morning. By trading some, we are enabled to increase our rations to about half we could eat under normal conditions.

Selden, the Rebel quartermaster, has set up a sutler shop on main street on the north side, with a view of absorbing Yankee money men are starved to spend. The fact that some of the stuff on sale is the same as that issued to prisoners justifies suspicion that he had a reason for cutting down our rations. He attempts to whitewash this matter by putting two prisoners in charge, Charles Huckleby, of the 8th Tennessee, and Ira Beverly, of the 100th Ohio. Nevertheless we are told by Rebel sergeants that he has a commission from Richmond. He only appears, however, once every day. These boys expect to live better while in his service, but admit that the profits are "gobbled" by Selden; that he furnishes the stuff and fixes prices. It seems an unlikely place to make money, but the few who have any spend it fast and pay high prices. While exchange in Federal money is prohibited by Rebel law, it is openly done everywhere by Rebels, and in this case by a "C. S. A." military officer. Articles in stock consist of flour, molasses, small sticks of wood, plug tobacco, a vicious sort of whisky made from sorghum. These things appeal to starved appetites of thousands; and those who have money cannot resist the temptation to let it go. Though this is poor stuff, it is better than the scant rations irregularly issued. We have to pay from 25c to $1 for an onion, 10c to 40c for miserable apples, 25c a pint for meal, 40c for wormy hog peas, 40c for 1½ pint of flour, 10c for small piece of wood. With the advent of this institution rations grow less in quantity and quality. It is simply a scheme of this Rebel quartermaster to catch greenbacks, watches, rings, and things of value which men eagerly put up. It is not instituted with a view to benefit us. If such were the object, why do they extort such prices, why are rations cut down, why are we cheated out of one day in five by not getting rations?

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 77-8

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Thursday, June 23, 1864

THE PRISON CLEANED OF RAIDERS.—CANDIDATES FOR HEMP.

With the passing June storms, hot weather begins. Spent the afternoon with Harriman. He has been nine months a prisoner and has the first symptoms of scurvy in one leg. He was a very sound man and is vigorously resisting the disorder by use of water and rubbing. He has a work on stenography, the art of which he practices with some success. He urges me to visit Ohio with him, should we be released together, and speaks highly of the people, especially of Ohio girls. This is tempting; but I indulge no dreams, not even of home. Sleep is blank, waking a horrible dream, which I try to break by pencilling some of the horrors and by raising my thoughts to better things, occasionally.

A number of brutal fights today among the rowdyish, strong, sour, crafty fellows, not blessed with reason, but well endowed with bulldog strength and bravery; fighting hard while up, but not hitting a man when down. They are the pugilistic champions of this kingdom and enforce their rules. One man was knocked down eleven times before he left the ring. God knows I am sick of such sights; seldom get out to look at them. There is a lower grade who go in rough and tumble, clubs and Lists, on the least provocation, or misunderstanding. Peacable men occasionally get "chucked in the mug" as they call it, for attempting a friendly interference. There are men here whom nothing but clubs, or something more severe, will quell, when they put decent men on the defensive. The necessity of law restraint can never be doubted by those who here witness the rage and mad fury of these vile passions let loose with impunity, if they are reasonable. Poor, sick men are sometimes kicked by these brute-like sons of excess.

Bloodhounds this evening are heard circling the prison in search of a trail of men who escaped from a wood squad today. Men caught by these hounds are brought back and punished and forced to promise obedience. I saw two men who had been bitten by these hounds, while the wounds were fresh. Capt. Wirz came inside and rode around outside the dead line with an orderly. One man complained to him of hard fare, and was threatened with shooting and marched outside and put in the stocks. A piece of raw beef, about three ounces to a man, was issued to about one-fourth of the camp today.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 78-9

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Tuesday, June 28, 1864

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

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Wednesday, June 29, 1864

More brutality and robbery. Half asleep I heard blows, groans of distress, and voices that combine the savage tones of ruffianism. One man badly injured; two reported missing. Steps are taken to organize a police force. We are doing the little we can to assist. The safety of the camp requires it; our lives are every day in jeopardy. We are in greater immediate peril from these villains than from the atrocities of our keepers. At 3 p. m. a man was violently assailed in the street, while asleep, and robbed, he said, of $85 and a watch. He had arrived that day among others of Sherman's soldiers. With blood streaming down his face from a gash on his forehead, I saw him hasten to the gate where he reported the affair. A number went forward, among them several sergeants of detachments, and an earnest, but respectful appeal was made for assistance, or that we might be allowed to protect ourselves, or for some encouragement that the matter should have a hearing. Meantime the robbers, not intimidated, thinking that our appeal would avail nothing, gave out certain threats, and three of them visited the tent of an elderly man whom they knew to have money, and presenting knives, demanded it without one word, or they would kill him on the spot. The man handed out a portion, less than the amount, (about $40); but they were not permitted to prolong their visit. About 5 p. m. an order came from Capt Wirz that if we wished to take them outside, he would furnish a guard, we to point them out, and he would "clear the stockade." Exciting scenes followed. Shouts went up from thousands; the whole camp swarmed like a bee-hive. The gates open. Sergeants with revolvers, guards with bayonets fixed, enter, and Rebel and Union soldiers walk side by side in a good work. Our boys lead the way to the den of thieves, murderers and traitors, point them out, and put them under their charge as fast as found. Outside the gate was another strong guard who received them and they returned for more. There was a rush in every part of the camp, the raiders trying to skulk, the boys hunting them. Toward night the leaders began to resist, but under the clubs of our police they quailed. Near us one of the leaders, a strong man, was overtaken, but swore he would never be taken alive. He fought desperately, but one of our men struck him with a stake, knocking him senseless. One or two others were badly hurt. We saw Sullivan marching under three bayonets, and as he turned his eyes towards us, so full of guilt, we almost pitied him. Still we rejoiced; our only fear was he and some of his troop would be turned in again. At dark the work ceased; nearly sixty had been taken out, and a few, no doubt led astray, sent in. The boys shouted, "Bully for the Captain," for the men who took the initiatory step, and for the guard. With the work of catching' raiders began a search for money and lost property. In one place two stockings filled with greenbacks, another with watches (two gold), and other things were found buried, preparatory to being sold to the Rebels. Two men were found buried near the southwest corner. One had his throat cut, the other had the appearance of having been beaten and strangled. Bones of others were reported found.

The real organizer of this body, known as regulators, that led in apprehending the raiders, is Sergeant Leroy L. Key, of an Illinois regiment, evidently a good, brave, astute man, very choice in choosing his adherents. The organization was made up of western men, from Illinois, Iowa, Indiana and Ohio; comparatively few from each of these states. He seemed to have some distrust of laying his plans before eastern men generally, but with no valid reason other than that precaution was necessary until these organized, savage gangs could be suppressed. We New Yorkers felt galled, at first, by this manifest distrust on the part of some western brothers who seemed to desire credit for the move. The fact that the chiefs were from eastern regiments, had its effect. We thought best to watch and wait and aid when needed, realizing the necessity of curbing the outrages of this murderous bandit, and hailed the movement with joy, perfectly willing they should have the credit if they succeeded. Sergeant Keys had an instinct for choosing his men and, though a self constituted leader, none better could have been chosen for the terrible and unique duty imposed, which is not a task ordinary men have an ambition, for; for it was known from the start, by intelligent men, that extraordinary means would be necessary to put an end to the leaders, even if death were required. Hence the admiration of all lovers of men in the prison, is accorded Sergeant Keys and his efficient aids.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 80-1