Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, April 19, 1864

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,

April 19, 1864.

We are still in camp, but yesterday we received an order to send back all surplus baggage and be ready to move at any time. No doubt we shall soon have a very interesting time of it and the papers will then be full of news.

General Longstreet's army is at Charlottesville. He may come here or go to the peninsula. That of course will depend on circumstances. All the news we received yesterday was very encouraging. The capture of Fort Pillow by Forrest was excellent for us. Gold is now 179 in New York, but if we whip Grant we may send it up to 300 for them.

I was glad to hear that old Jim Beauschelle was at our home. My father is decidedly hostile to the preachers who stay at home and preach to the women and old men, but I know he treated Beauschelle like a prince. If you see a certain widow, you might take the liberty of teasing her a little about old Beauschelle. She sent him some nice warm articles of clothing recently.

I have just finished my breakfast. I had corn bread, meat, molasses and coffee. Such a meal is first-rate for soldiers, but if the same were offered me at home I should feel like turning up my nose at it.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 90-1

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: April 28, 1864

After a slight shower last night, a cool, clear morning

The ominous silence or pause between the armies continues. Lieut.-Gen. Longstreet, it is said, is "hidden." I suppose he is working his way around the enemy's right flank. If so, we shall soon hear thunder.

It is also supposed that Lee meditates an incursion into Pennsylvania, and that Gen. Beauregard will protect his rear and cover this city. All is merely conjecture.

We are amused at the enemy's accounts of the storming of Plymouth. Their papers pretend to have not heard the result, and would lead their readers to believe that Gen. Hoke was repulsed, and that the place is “impregnable.”

The following appears in the morning papers:

“GEN. LEE'S BILL OF FARE.—The Richmond correspondent of the Mobile Advertiser gives the following about Gen. Lee's mode of living :

“In Gen. Lee's tent meat is eaten but twice a week, the general not allowing it oftener, because he believes indulgence in meat to be criminal in the present straitened condition of the country. His ordinary dinner consists of a head of cabbage, boiled in salt water, and a pone of corn bread. In this connection rather a comic story is told. Having invited a number of gentlemen to dine with him, Gen. Lee, in a fit of extravagance, ordered a sumptuous repast of cabbage and middling. The dinner was served: and, behold, a great pile of cabbage and a bit of middling about four inches long and two inches across! The guests, with commendable politeness, unanimously declined middling, and it remained in the dish untouched. Next day Gen. Lee, remembering the delicate tit-bit which had been so providentially preserved, ordered his servant to bring that middling.' The man hesitated, scratched his head, and finally owned up: 'De fac is, Masse Robert, dat ar middlin' was borrid middlin'; we all did'n had nar spec; and I done paid it back to de man whar I got it from.' Gen. Lee heaved a sigh of deepest disappointment, and pitched into his cabbage.”

By a correspondence between the Secretaries of the Treasury and War, I saw that Mr. Memminger has about a million and a quarter in coin at Macon, Ga., seized as the property of the New Orleans banks—perhaps belonging to Northern men. I believe it was taken when there was an attempt made to smuggle it North. What it is proposed to do with it I know not, but I think neither the President nor the Secretaries will hesitate to use it—if there be a "military necessity." Who knows but that one or more members of Mr. Lincoln's cabinet, or his generals, might be purchased with gold? Fortress Monroe would be cheap at that price!

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 194-5

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: April 27, 1864

Well, I was out from under rebel guard for an hour or so any way. Hurt my side though, and caught a little cold. Am sore somewhat. Have given up the idea of escaping. Think if Hendryx had been alone he would have gotten away. Is tougher than I am. A man caught stealing from one of his comrades and stabbed with a knife and killed. To show how little such things are noticed here I will give the particulars as near as I could get them. There were five or six men stopping together in a sort of shanty. Two of them were speculators, and had some money, corn bread, &c., and would not divide with their comrades, who belonged to their own company and regiment. Some time in the night one of them got up and was stealing bread from a haversack belonging to his more prosperous neighbor, and during the operation woke up the owner, who seized a knife and stabbed the poor fellow dead The one who did the murder spoke out and said: “Harry, I believe Bill is dead; he was just stealing from me and I run my knife into him.” “Good enough for him,” says Harry. The two men then got up and straightened out “Bill,” and then both lay down and went to sleep. An occupant of the hut told me these particulars and they are true. This morning poor Bill lay in the hut until eight or nine o'clock, and was then carried outside. The man who did the killing made no secret of it, but told it to all who wanted to know the particulars, who were only a few, as the occurrence was not an unusual one.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 53

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

Diary of Gideon Welles: Thursday, May 28, 1863

I this morning got hold of the pamphlet of Sir Vernon Harcourt, “Historicus,” and am delighted to find a coincidence of views between him and myself on the subject of mails captured on vessels running the blockade, or carrying contraband. He warns his countrymen that “the danger is not that Americans will concede too little but that Great Britain may accept too much.” This is a mortifying, humiliating fact, the more so from its truth. Mr. Seward is not aware of what he is doing, and the injustice and dishonor he is inflicting on his country by his concession. It is lamentable that the President is misled in these matters, for Mr. Seward is tampering and trifling with national rights. I have no doubt he acted inconsiderately and ignorantly of any wrong in the first instance when he took upon himself to make these extraordinary and disgraceful concessions, but, having become involved in error, he has studied, not to enlighten himself and serve the country, but to impose upon and mislead the President in order to extricate himself.

Dahlgren to-day broached the subject of operations against Charleston. He speaks of it earnestly and energetically. Were it not so that his assignment to that command would cause dissatisfaction, I would, as the President strongly favors him, let him show his ability as an officer in his legitimate professional duty. He would enter upon the work intelligently and with a determination to be successful. Whether he has the skill, power, and ability of a first-rate naval commander is yet to be tested. He has the zeal, pride, and ambition, but there are other qualities in which he may be deficient.

Brown of the wrecked Indianola and Fontané of the burnt Mississippi, each called on me to-day. They were both captured last February, have been exchanged, and arrived to-day from Richmond. Their accounts correspond with each other and with what we have previously heard in regard to the deplorable state of things in the Rebel region. Poor beef three times a week and corn bread daily were dealt to them. The white male population was all away. The railroads are in a wretched condition, the running-stock worse than the roads.

SOURCE: Gideon Welles, Diary of Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy Under Lincoln and Johnson, Vol. 1: 1861 – March 30, 1864, p. 315-6

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 25, 1863

— and Christmas. — One year ago to-day first went into camp at Coldwater, little dreaming what changes a year would bring around, but there are exchange rumors afloat and hope to see white folks again before many months. All ordered out to be squadded over again, which was quite a disappointment to our mess as we were making preparations for a grand dinner, gotten up by outside hands, Mustard, Myers, Hendryx and myself. However, we had our good things for supper instead of dinner, and it was a big thing, consisting of corn bread and butter, oysters, coffee, beef, crackers, cheese, &c.; all we could possibly eat or do away with, and costing the snug little sum of $200 Confederate money, or $20 in greenbacks. Lay awake long before daylight listening to the bells. As they rang out Christmas good morning I imagined they were in Jackson, Michigan, my old home, and from the spires of the old Presbyterian and Episcopal churches. Little do they think as they are saying their Merry Christmases and enjoying themselves so much, of the hunger and starving here. But there are better days coming.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 21

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: November 24, 1863

Very cold weather. Four or five men chilled to death last night. A large portion of the prisoners who have been in confinement any length of time are reduced to almost skeletons from continued hunger, exposure and filth. Having some money just indulged in an extra ration of corn bread for which I paid twenty cents in yankee script, equal to two dollars confederate money, and should say by the crowd collected around that such a sight was an unusual occurrence, and put me in mind of gatherings I have seen at the north around some curiosity. We received for to day's food half a pint of rice soup and one-quarter of a pound loaf of corn bread The bread is made from the very poorest meal, coarse, sour and musty; would make poor feed for swine at home. The rice is nothing more than boiled in river water with no seasoning whatever, not even salt, but for all that it tasted nice. The greatest difficulty is the small allowance given us. The prisoners are blue, downcast and talk continually of home and something good to eat. They nearly all think there will be an exchange of prisoners before long and the trick of it is to live until the time approaches. We are divided off into hundreds with a sergeant to each squad who draws the food and divides it up among his men and woe unto him if a man is wronged out of his share — his life, is not worth the snap of the finger if caught cheating. No wood tonight and it is very cold. The nights are long and are made hideous by the moans of suffering wretches.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 12-3

Brigadier-General William F. Bartlett: Tuesday, August 2, 1864

Carried in a dirty wagon without any cover to the prison, a filthy place, an old warehouse and stores. We were on the first floor, about three hundred, as thick as we could lie. No ventilation. I saw the Doctor in the morning; he said he would send me to the hospital. I could not eat anything; am feverish and so weak. No crutches. I have to be partly carried, partly hop along, when I move. Ration issued, corn bread, thick loaf, and bacon. I can't touch either; still drink water. If I do not get away from here very soon, I never shall. Wagon came for me about six, an open wagon or cart, used to carry bacon in, all covered with dirt and grease; gravel spread on the bottom to cover the grease; ride over rough road to hospital; am in a tent, old and ragged, but airy; good breeze. (Small-pox.)

SOURCE: Francis Winthrop Palfrey, Memoir of William Francis Bartlett, p. 120