Diary of Corporal Lawrence Van Alstyne, September 17, 1862

Two letters to-day, and two papers, all from home. Seems as if I had been there for a visit. I wonder if my letters give them as much pleasure? I expect they do. It is natural they should. I know pretty nearly what they are about, but of me, they only know what I write in my letters, and in this, my everlasting letter, as I have come to call my diary. It is getting to be real company for me. It is my one real confident. I sometimes think it is a waste of time and paper, and then I think how glad I would be to get just such nonsense from my friends, if our places were changed. I suppose they study out these crow's tracks with more real interest than they would a message from President Lincoln. We are looking for a wet bed again to-night. It does not rain, but a thick fog covers everything and the wind blows it in one side of our tents and out the other.

Maybe I have described our life here before, but as no one description can do it justice I am going to try again. We are in a field of 100 acres, as near as I can judge, on the side of a hill, near the top. The ground is newly seeded and wets up quickly, as such ground usually does. We sleep in pairs, and a blanket spread on the ground is our bed while another spread over us is our covering. A narrow strip of muslin, drawn over a pole about three feet from the ground, open at both ends, the wind and rain, if it does rain, beating in upon us, and water running under and about us; this, with all manner of bugs and creeping things crawling over us, and all the while great hungry mosquitoes biting every uncovered inch of us, is not an overdrawn picture of that part of a soldier's life, set apart for the rest and repose necessary to enable him to endure several hours of right down hard work at drill, in a hot sun with heavy woollen clothes on, every button of which must be tight-buttoned, and by the time the officers are tired watching us, we come back to camp wet through with perspiration and too tired to make another move. Before morning our wet clothes chill us to the marrow of our bones, and why we live, and apparently thrive under it, is something I cannot understand. But we do, and the next day are ready for more of it. Very few even take cold. It is a part of the contract, and while we grumble and growl among ourselves we don't really mean it, for we are learning what we will be glad to know at some future time.

Now I am about it, and nothing better to do, I will say something about our kitchen, dining room and cooking arrangements. Some get mad and cuss the cooks, and the whole war department, but that is usually when our stomachs are full. When we are hungry we swallow anything that comes and are thankful for it. The cook house is simply a portion of the field we are in. A couple of crotches hold up a pole on which the camp kettles are hung, and under which a fire is built. Each company has one, and as far as I know they are all alike. The camp kettles are large sheet-iron pails, one larger than the other so one can be put inside the other when moving. If we have meat and potatoes, meat is put in one, and potatoes in the other. The one that gets cooked first is emptied into mess pans, which are large sheet-iron pans with flaring sides, so one can be packed in another. Then the coffee is put in the empty kettle and boiled. The bread is cut into thick slices, and the breakfast call sounds. We grab our plates and cups, and wait for no second invitation. We each get a piece of meat and a potato, a chunk of bread and a cup of coffee with a spoonful of brown sugar in it. Milk and butter we buy, or go without. We settle down, generally in groups, and the meal is soon over. Then we wash our dishes, and put them back in our haversacks. We make quick work of washing dishes. We save a piece of bread for the last, with which we wipe up everything, and then eat the dish rag. Dinner and breakfast are alike, only sometimes the meat and potatoes are cut up and cooked together, which makes a really delicious stew. Supper is the same, minus the meat and potatoes. The cooks are men detailed from the ranks for that purpose. Every one smokes or chews tobacco here, so we find no fault because the cooks do both. Boxes or barrels are used as kitchen tables, and are used for seats between meals. The meat and bread are cut on them, and if a scrap is left on the table the flies go right at it and we have so many the less to crawl over us. They are never washed, but are sometimes scraped off and made to look real clean. I never yet saw the cooks wash their hands, but presume they do when they go to the brook for water.

SOURCE:  Lawrence Van Alstyne, Diary of an Enlisted Man, p. 28-31

Diary of Private Theodore Reichardt, Sunday, October 6, 1861

Camp at Darnestown. The battery received three new guns in the afternoon. Lieut. J. G. Hassard, having joined our battery, at Darnestown, commanded the right section as First Lieutenant. Company cooking was introduced by him. Before that, every detachment done its own cooking. The enterprise itself, of cooking for the whole company, and the selling of a part of the rations, for raising a company fund, would have been well enough, but the management was extremely poor. Some days we fared well; on other days there would be no dinner, but a detestable bacon soup, hardly fit for hogs. We were told that the government rations would not admit of a dinner every day. But what good did it do then to sell rations, under the pretext of raising a company fund? This is a question which never could nor never will be satisfactorily, explained by those who started it.

SOURCE: Theodore Reichardt, Diary of Battery A, First Regiment Rhode Island Light Artillery, p. 22-3

Diary of Private Bartlett Yancey Malone, January 5, 1862

the Sabath and ther is a right smart ice on the ground to day And Bethel is a cooking I. H. Jonstons big turkey for dinner.

SOURCE: Bartlett Yancey Malone, The Diary of Bartlett Yancey Malone, p. 12

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, February 19, 1863

ON BOARD THE CONFEDERATE GUN BOAT DR. BEATTY,}

February 19, 1863.}

YESTERDAY the expedition for the "wiping out" of the Yankee Gun-Boat Indianola started, and I had the good fortune to ship as carpenter for the voyage. After many delays and false starts, we got under way and came up the river to the little town of Waterloo, where we tied up for the purpose of cooking and taking on more cotton; but as soon as the boat touched shore, the men started, at a double-quick, in search of a certain vile compound called Louisiana rum, and by night nearly every man and most of the officers were too drunk to stand on their pegs. About 11 o'clock the command "to arms" was given, as a boat was seen coming down on us. Then, ensued a scene which, for the honor of some of our officers, had better not be described; but, fortunately for us, it proved to be one of our own boats. I think that the effect of this lesson will be good, and may prove fortunate in the end.

I remained in the cabin and saw the "wounded" brought in. Our loss was one Irishman stabbed in three places, one (ditto) head broken in, and several with bruises. If the enemy had been aboard the Frolic, they could have taken us with ease. In the future, our officers will be in better condition, and, if they can keep the men under proper discipline, they will make a good fight when the hour of action arrives. The command is made up of one hundred men from Miles' Louisiana Legion, fifty from the Fourth Louisiana, fifty from the Fifty-fifth Tennessee, and Captain Bowen's Louisiana Artillery.

I have been kept too busy to-day to notice the officers in detail, but I am satisfied they are a merry set of fellows, and will fight well. The worst to fear is that they will not enforce a strict discipline. Colonel Brend has pleased every one, so far, by his quiet, pleasant manners and his agreeable firmness in commanding.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 65

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, February 22, 1863

Last night we tied up at the mouth of Red river, and this morning found our boat aground; but, after several hours' work, got her safely off and proceeded a few miles up stream, when we tied up again to take on wood and allow the men to cook. In a short time, the crew had stolen all the chickens in the neighborhood. The New Orleans Rats, of which this command is mainly composed, can beat the world stealing. [What say you, Rats?] I saw several coming in with honey and the bees swarming around it. During our memorable "big drunk" mentioned on a previous page, some one, more drunk than economical, threw away his shoes, and, on waking the next morning and finding himself minus this important article of dress, had to go bare-foot or steal from his neighbor. The latter plan suited his inclination, and the consequence was, a man in a different company was found to be shoeless and the thief with a tolerable pair of boots on. So it goes one man is bare-foot all the time, but a different man every day.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 66

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, January 21, 1863

Yesterday I was on guard for the first time since I went soldiering. I cannot say that I particularly like the fun, but it gives one an opportunity of thinking over past sins, and meditating new ones. To-day I have been cooking, and, to the great joy of my mess, I made a good pot of coffee out of rice and sweet potatoes. The small-pox is on the decline.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 21

Diary of Private Daniel L. Ambrose: Monday, April 20, 1863

This morning the soldiers are on their feet and moving around the blazing campfires, busily cooking their breakfast, and their cooking utensils are quite novel. A flat stone for a fryingpan, and a sharp stick for a fork (we use no knives.) After eating our breakfast, we commence building sheds with pine twigs, to shield ourselves from the sun's warm rays. The command does not move as was rumored last night. No demonstrations to-day, all quiet.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 149

Diary of 5th Sergeant Osborn H. Oldroyd: July 1, 1863

Here we enter upon the patriotic month of July, and where and how we are to spend it is yet beyond our conjecture, for we never know in this kind of service what a day may bring forth.

Preparations appear to have been made here for remaining in camp, and yet we may sleep to-night many miles away, or perhaps, without sleeping, march the whole night through. If only life is spared, it is enough; our duties are not shirked. If we camp only for a day, our quarters are to be all cleaned up, and everything put in the best order possible for comfort. On such excursions as this we have no mess cooking, but every fellow cooks for himself. The first man up in the morning, therefore, gets the frying-pan, from whom the next must engage it, and then may come number three, who is referred to number two. So the utensil goes round a group or mess. The coffee is generally made in a camp kettle for the entire company. I have spent more time hunting up the owner of the last claim on the frying-pan than it afterward took to fry my bacon and crackers.

The pay-master is said to be not far from camp, which creates quite an excitement, since he may charge upon us any moment. There were orders for inspection every morning at eight o'clock for all companies. A little exercise of this kind hurts nobody. I took a stroll through the woods, looking at the graves of those who had fallen by the wayside while our army fought for the position it now holds around Vicksburg. These graves will soon be leveled, and their last trace lost. Friends may mourn for the fallen, but their tears will never water the graves of the heroes.

I write with the aid of a bayonet candle-stick. The latter end of this month will find me just twenty-one years of age.

SOURCE: Osborn Hamiline Oldroyd, A Soldier's Story of the Siege of Vicksburg, p. 71-2

Diary of Corporal David L. Day: January 29, 1862

THE SIGNAL CORPS ARRIVES.

The long lost signal corps arrived today. We gave them a great ovation; flags and streamers flying, bands playing and cheering from all the boats. They have had a hard time of it, having been fourteen days on the passage from Fortress Monroe. They ran out to sea in the first great storm, and the succession of storms has prevented them from getting in. They were well nigh famished when they arrived.

GOOD WATER.

We are today luxuriating on good water, the first we have had for many days. Some of the boys last night got in the rear of the forbidden water casks, and by a vigorous use of a jackknife, succeeded in tapping a cask. Any quantity of canteens (mine among the rest), were filled with the contraband water, and if the thing is kept still today there will be a big haul tonight. Our fare is pretty short, and of a kind never dreamed of in the cabin of a first-class ocean steamer. Still it answers to keep us breathing, and perhaps that is as much as we can expect while on this excursion. We are thriving on a half ration of steamed pork and hardtack, with condensed sea water. The half ration of pork is a bountiful supply; it is so strong and oily a very little answers the purpose, and hardtack is the chief dependence. But for water, we shall do well enough so long as we can steal it. Coffee is entirely out of the question, for on this craft there is no chance for the cooks to make it in great quantities, although they do manage to make a small amount for the officers. None of us are allowed down in the fireroom, so that shuts us off from making coffee or scouse.

I suggested to a few of the faithful the plan of getting down on the bottom of the boat, under the boilers, and kindling a fire there and making some. They seemed to think that it would be rather a desperate undertaking, besides they would smoke themselves out before they had half accomplished their purpose.

SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass. Volunteer Infantry, p. 29-30

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: November 2, 1864

Have seen many of my old comrades of Andersonville, among whom is my tried friend Sergt. Wm. B. Rowe; were heartily glad to see one another; also little Bulluck who has improved wonderfully in appearance. Everyone is pleased with this place and are cheerful, hoping and expecting to be released before many weeks; they all report as having been well treated in Savannah and have pleasant recollections of that place; from what could be seen of the city by us prisoners it seems the handsomest one in America. Should judge it was a very wealthy place. My duties as nurse are hard, often too much so for my strength, yet the enforced exercise does me good and continue to improve all the time. A cane will be necessary to my locomotion for a long time as am afraid myself permanently injured; my cane is not a gold headed one; it is a round picket which has been pulled off some fence. Very cheering accounts of the war doings. All who want to can take the oath of allegiance to the confederacy and be released; am happy to say though that out of all here, but two or three has done so, and they are men who are a detriment to any army. The weather now is beautiful, air refreshing, water ditto; all happy and contented and await coming events with interest. Part of the brook, the lower part, is planked and sides boarded up for sanitary privileges; water has also been dammed up and a fall made which carries off the filth with force. Plenty of wood to do cooking with and the men putter around with their cooking utensils such as they have. Sort of prize fight going on now.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 110-1

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: November 1, 1864

Camp Lawton, Millen, Ga. — Arrived at our destination not far from midnight, and it was a tedious journey. Two died in the car I was in. Were taken from the cars to this prison in what they call ambulances, but what I call lumber wagons. Are now congregated in the south-east corner of the stockade under hastily put up tents. This morning we have drawn rations, both the sick and the well, which are good and enough. The stockade is similar to that at Andersonville, but in a more settled country, the ground high and grassy, and through the prison runs a stream of good pure water, with no swamp at all. It is apparently a pleasant and healthy location. A portion of the prison is timber land, and the timber has been cut down and lays where it fell, and the men who arrived before us have been busily at work making shanties and places to sleep in. There are about six thousand prisoners here, and I should judge there was room for twelve or fifteen thousand. Men say they are given food twice each day, which consists of meal and fresh beef in rather small quantities, but good and wholesome. The rebel officer in command is a sociable and kindly disposed man, and the guards are not strict, that is, not cruelly so. We are told that our stay here will be short  A number of our men have been detailed to cook the food for the sick, and their well being is looked to by the rebel surgeon as well as our own men. The same surgeon who for the last ten days had charge of us in Savannah has charge of us now He does not know over and above much but on the whole does very well. Barrels of molasses (nigger toe) have been rolled inside and it is being issued to the men, about one-fourth of a pint to each man, possibly a little more. Some of the men, luxuriantly, put their allowances together and make molasses candy of it. One serious drawback is the scarcity of dishes, and one man I saw draw his portion is his two hands, which held it until his comrade could find a receptacle for it.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 109-10

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: October 12, 1864

Still getting better fast, and doctor says too fast. Now do nearly all the diary writing. Hardly seems possible that our own Yankee gunboats are so near us, so near that we can hear them fire off their guns, but such is the case Reports have it that the Johnny Rebels are about worsted. Has been a hard war and cruel one. Mike does all my cooking now, although an invalid. He trades a sweet potato for vinegar, which tastes the best of anything, also have other things suitable for the sick, and this morning had an egg. My gold rings will put me in good health again. All the time medicine, that is, three or four times a day; and sores on my body are healing up now for the first time. Mouth, which was one mass of black bloody swellings on the inside, is now white and inflamation gone, teeth however, loose, and have lost four through scurvy, having come out themselves. My eyes, which had been trying to get in out of sight, are now coming out again and look more respectable. Battese was taken prisoner with eighteen other Indians; they all died but one beside himself.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 103

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: April 6, 1864

Issued clothing to the companies. Short on several articles. Had Thede detailed. Barber commenced cooking.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 113

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Luman Harris Tenney: September 20, 1863

Ground white with frost. Quite jolly at Hdqrs. talking over old Ky. times. Moved out at 7. Passed Bull Gap and got nearly to Russelville and received orders to return to Jonesboro. Battle expected. Stopped for supper and to cook beef and then moved on. Reached our old camp 5 miles north of Greenfield at 2 A. M. Sleepy time in the night.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 89

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: May 8, 1864

Awful warm and more sickly. About 3,500 have died since I came here, which is a good many, come to think of it — cooked rations of bread to-day. We get a quarter of a loaf of bread, weighing about six ounces, and four or five ounces of pork. These are small allowances, but being cooked it is better for us. Rebels are making promises of feeding us better, which we hope they will keep. There is nothing the matter with me now but lack of food. The scurvy symptoms which appeared a few weeks ago have all gone.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 55

Diary of John Hay: June 24, 1864

To-day a Resolution came from the Senate asking information about War and Treasury Orders concerning exportation of arms to Mexico. I did not like to act without consulting Seward, so took the papers to him, asking if it would be well to send copies to Secretaries of War and Treasury or not. He said, — “Yes! send the Resolution to the Secretary of War; a copy to the Secretary of the Treasury; asking reports from them, and then when the reports are in, ———

“Did you ever hear Webster's recipe for cooking a cod? He was a great fisherman and fond of cod. Some one once asking him the best way to prepare a cod for the table, he said: — ‘Denude your cod of his scales — cut him open carefully — put him in a pot of cold water — heat it until your fork can pass easily through the fish — take him out — spread good fresh butter over him liberally, — sprinkle salt on the butter — pepper on the salt — and — send for George Ashman and me.’”

“When the Reports are in, let me see them!”

He got up, stumped around the room enjoying his joke, then said: — “Our friends are very anxious to get into a war with France, using this Mexican business for that purpose. They don't consider that England and France would surely be together in that event. France has the whip hand of England completely. England got out of the Mexican business into which she had been deceived by France, by virtue of our having nothing to do with it. They have since been kept apart by good management; and our people are laboring to unite them again by making war on France. Worse than that, instead of doing something effective, if we must fight, they are for making mouths and shaking fists at France, warning and threatening and inducing her to prepare for our attack when it comes.”

Carpenter, the artist, who is painting the picture of the “Reading the Proclamation,” says that Seward protested earnestly against that act being taken as the central and crowning act of the administration. He says slavery was destroyed years ago; the formation of the Republican party destroyed slavery; the anti-slavery acts of this administration are merely incidental. Their great work is the preservation of the Union, and, in that, the saving of popular government for the world. The scene which should have been taken was the Cabinet Meeting in the Navy Department when it was resolved to relieve Fort Sumter. That was the significant act of the Administration: — the act which determined the fact that Republican institutions were worth fighting for. . . . .

SOURCES: Abstracted from Clara B. Hay, Letters of John Hay and Extracts from Diary, Volume 1, p. 210-12. See Michael Burlingame & John R. Turner Ettlinger, Editors, Inside Lincoln’s White House: The Complete War Diary of John Hay, p. 211-2 for the full diary entry.

1st Lieutenant Charles Wright Wills: January 20, 1862

Bird's Point, Mo., January 20, 1862.

It goes confounded good once more to stand on boards, and be able to sit down without wet coming through a fellow's pants. If I write and tell you where we've been, you won't read it, and if I don't write all about it you'll scold, so of the two I'll choose the first and tell you all I know. We got on the steamer “Aleck Scott” last Tuesday morning with five days' rations and started down the river through very heavy floating ice. ’Twas a very cold day and full three inches of snow lay on the ground. We landed at Fort Jefferson and camped for the night. By some mismanagement our tents and equipage failed to come and we had to cook the bacon we had in our haversacks on sticks over the fire, for supper, and sleep out on the snow, without tents to protect us from the wind. That was a sweet old night! Next day we shouldered our knapsacks, blankets all wet by a rain from 2 to 5 in the morning, and awful heavy, and tramped about ten miles in a southeast direction, through Blanville, Ballard County; and camped on Mayville Creek. Again we lay on the snow and frozen ground with feather beds of brush, and at 9 next morning started on the road to Columbus. We went out to Little Meadows which is about eight or nine miles from Columbus, and halted. Taylor's battery was with us and they now unlimbered and planted their guns to cover all of the four or five roads which lead from here to the river. McClernand's brigade of six or seven regiments, and Cook's of two regiments, were in advance of us with 1,000 cavalry, and I think that we acted here as a reserve, for them to fall back on if repulsed in a fight. We waited here two hours and then formed again and returned to our camp of the previous night. It had turned warm by this time and the slush was six inches deep on our backward march. Slept in the mud that night and remained in camp all next day, during which it rained every hour. Friday night it rained in a small way all the time, and in the morning, (if you remember when you have too many clothes in a tub of water how the water will "slosh" when you press the clothes) you'll understand my “condish.” I had my blanket spread on some stiff brush, and Mr. Aqua surrounded brush, and every time Wills turned, brush would bend and water would slosh and blanket would leak and upshot was, Wills was damb'd wet, but too spunky to get up until he'd had his nap. Saturday we got out of “provish,” and at 1 p. m. we struck tents, and thought we were off for home sure. But we only marched back a few miles and camped at Elliott's Mills. Here, by orders from the colonel, we killed two hogs for the company, and he took what cornmeal we wanted from the mill, and we supped sumptuously. Here although the mud was deep we slept finely. There was a cypress swamp near and the bark can be torn into the finest shavings. That was just as good as we wanted. Sunday we started for the river and of all the marches, that beats! We waded through at least eight streams from one to two feet deep and five to ten yards wide. I had shoes, and after wading the first stream, I cut all the front upper off to let the water out handier. I made it gay and festive after that. Object of expedish, don't know, don't care, only know that it did me good. I feel 100 per cent better than I did when I started. Col. Pitt Kellogg has brought me my commission as 1st lieutenant in his regiment, and I am adjutant in the 3d batallion, Major Rawalts. I go to Cape Girardeau the last of this week.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 56-7

3rd Sergeant Charles Wright Wills: January 10, 1862

Bird's Point, January 10, 1862.

Since daylight yesterday morning we have been all ready with five days' rations and expecting every moment the orders to fall in and commence a march. We were delayed untill 11 a. m. to-day by a fog so dense that boats could not run even from Cairo to this point. All that time we were in the greatest suspense and after everybody had conjectured all their conjectures, we were yet perfectly in the dark in regard to our destination. All the troops here, save enough for guard duty, are going. I believe I'm within bounds when I say that 75,000 different lies have been circulated here in the last 36 hours, and all in regard to the present expedition. Well the suspense is over and we (think we) know that Columbus is our goal.

At 11 a. m. to-day the fog was dispersed by a cold north wind, and immediately two gunboats steamed down the river, giving us the first intimation of our route. They were shortly followed by other gunboats and then by steamers loaded to their utmost capacity with soldiers. All afternoon they have been going down. The last boat that I saw was towing a couple of flats loaded with ambulances, or “soldier-buggies.” I think all the troops have gone from Cairo and the boats that carried them will be back and take us at daylight to-morrow noon. I think they are landing them about six miles this side of Columbus, maybe not so far from there. General McClernand is taking his whole stock in the soldier business with him. It's a permanent thing certain. If this really means Columbus, and I don't see how it can be anything else, it has been managed with more secrecy than any expedition, besides, up to this time in war. I never guessed it within the possibilities of a month. These generals, we have three of them here (Grant, Paine and McClernand) may know their business, but we of the ranks don't understand what kind of truck 20,000 men want with the army at Columbus. And 10,000 is, I'm sure, considerably outside of the number that will move from here. There are probably 10,000 more at Paducah, that I think are also going. Well, maybe we'll get the place, hope we will. If we don't it won't be the men's fault, for we do hate that hole. It's funny what an effect this soldiering has on men. I suppose there is no mistake about our being within two days, at farthest, of a great battle, and yet these men don't to any eye show a sign of even a shadow of care or concern. Since I commenced this I don't believe that one of them has given it a thought. To save my neck I can't get up enough excitement to kill a flea or even to warn him. The boys are almost all playing cards. Sam Nutt and my chum Hy thought they didn't get enough supper to-night, so they put about a peck of beans in to boil and have just got them in eating order. I suppose Sam can plant more beans than any other living man of his weight. They have also a lot of pig's feet between them. Little Ame Babcock and Ike McBean are going with us to-morrow. Colonel Kellogg goes with five companies of his regiment. The Canton company does not go. I am not real well now but I wouldn't miss this trip to Columbus to save my life. I've had my heart set on being at that fight a long time and I'm [going] if I can walk two miles.


January 13, '62. I wrote this letter and thought I wouldn't send it untill we'd start and save myself a chance of being fooled, but now I'll send it to show how badly I was misled.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 53-4

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: April 13, 1864

Jack Shannon, from Ann Arbor, died this morning. The raiders are the stronger party now, and do as they please; and we are in nearly as much danger now from our own men as from the rebels Capt. Moseby, of my own hundred, figures conspicuously among the robberies, and is a terrible villain. During the night some one stole my jacket. Have traded off all superfluous clothes, and with the loss of jacket have only pants, shirt, shoes, (no stockings,) and hat; yet I am well dressed in comparison with some others, many have nothing but an old pair of pants which reach, perhaps, to the knees, and perhaps not. Hendryx has two shirts, and should be mobbed. I do quite a business trading rations, making soup for the sick ones, taking in payment their raw food which they cannot eat get many a little snack by so doing

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 51

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: April 10, 1864

Getting warmer and warmer. Can see the trees swaying back and forth on the outside, but inside not a breath of fresh air. Our wood is all gone, and we are now digging up stumps and roots for fuel to cook with. Some of the first prisoners here have passable huts made of logs, sticks, pieces of blankets, &c. Room about all taken up in here now. Rations not so large. Talk that they intend to make the meal into bread before sending it inside, which will be an improvement. Rations have settled down to less than a pint of meal per day, with occasionally a few peas, or an apology for a piece of bacon, for each man. Should judge that they have hounds on the outside to catch run-aways, from the noise. Wirtz don't come in as much as formerly. The men make it uncomfortable for him As Jimmy Devers says, “He is a terror.” I have omitted to mention Jimmy's name of late, although he is with us all the time — not in our mess, but close by. He has an old pack of cards with which we play to pass away the time. Many of the men have testaments, and “house-wives” which they have brought with them from home, and it is pitiful to see them look at these things while thinking of their loved ones at home.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 49-50