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 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 6, 1864

Thirteen months ago to-day captured one year and one month. Must be something due me from Uncle Sam in wages, by this time. All come in a lump when it does come. No great loss without small gain, and while I have been suffering the long imprisonment my wages have been accumulating. Believe that we are also entitled to ration money while in prison. Pile it on, you can't pay us any too much for this business. This is the land of the blood hound. Are as common as the ordinary cur at the North. Are a noble looking dog except when they are after you, and then they are beastly. Should think that any one of them could whip a man; are very large, strong, and savage looking. should think it would be hard for the negro to run away. See no horses about here at all — all mules and oxen, and even cows hitched up to draw loads. I walk the prison over forty times a day. Everybody knows me, and I hail and am hailed as I walk around, and am asked what I think of the situation. Tell them of my escape and the good time I had, which incites them to do likewise the first opportunity. Occasionally a man here who growls and grumbles, and says and thinks we will never get away, &c. Some would find fault if they were going to be hung. Should think they would compare their condition with that of six months ago and be contented.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 132-3