Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Monday, May 30, 1864

What a night! In addition to scent from the fearful swamp, we had that of dead men in our rear. At our feet lay one begging for water groaning with pain. It was conjectured, because of his hoarse cough, that he had mumps, or measles or small pox, by some persons. Some dare venture but little here to aid suffering strangers when it is all one can do to keep alive. All the assistance we could offer was to give a cup of water. This I gave at arms length. He lay close at our feet but when we woke in the morning he was gone.

Prisoners from Butler report having helped tear up the Petersburg railroad. The stockade is to be enlarged. There has been a call for men to go outside to work on the timber. The old pen is so densely crowded that we are willing to help enlarge the prison. The Rebels are much hurried, being fearful of the reported raid from Kilpatrick. It is said some who went out in the squad to work are put on fortifications, refuse and are sent in. Some may be willing to do this for more grub, but we understand they were parolled on honor and then ordered to work by the commandant as he pleased. It is shameful if men assent to work on Rebel works, that they should be ordered to do so, is more shameful, and outside the laws of war.

Rations are cut down one-half; barely enough for two meals a day. We could eat all at one. Steward Brown has been out to the hospital a day or two. He tells me that 31 died yesterday, 39 today in the so-called hospital, saying nothing of the prison. He says they are miserable mockeries of hospitals, a discredit to the medical profession; but that the doctors are seemingly power-less in the matter, being under orders and practically destitute of medicines. All medical supplies, he says, furnished by the Rebel commissaries at Richmond, are sent to the military posts and are very scant and held by the physicians having charge of that department for use among their own soldiers. Brown is lately from England, pretty well versed in medicine, having had 30 years' study and practice in British hospitals and in military service. He professes neutrality, but was taken while helping care for our wounded in the Battle of the Wilderness, May 5th.

He is allowed more liberty than a Yankee. He says a bunch, that is still quite sore on my forehead, was caused by a spent bullet.

Hiram Morse of Co. F, 76th regiment, admitted to the hospital today. He sickened on corn bread, lost appetite, became helpless from diarrhoea and attendant fever; has wasted rapidly to a skeleton, helpless in body, crazed in mind. He has been kept alive by crust coffee and a little black tea we happened to have, since he got here. Many are becoming so homesick and downhearted, that they believe any report, good or bad. It is no place to get sick; courage must be kept up though rations go down.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 68-9

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: July 18, 1861

This afternoon, when riding down to Huttonville, I met three or four hundred sorry-looking soldiers. They were without arms. On inquiry, I found they were a part of the secession army, who, finding no way of escape, had come into our lines and surrendered. They were badly dressed, and a hard, dissolute-looking lot of men. To use the language of one of the soldiers, they were "a milk-sickly set of fellows," and would have died off probably without any help from us if they had been kept in the mountains a little longer. They were on their way to Staunton. General McClellan had very generously provided them with provisions for three days, and wagons to carry the sick and wounded; and so, footsore, weary, and chopfallen, they go over the hills.

An unpleasant rumor is in camp to-night, to the effect that General Patterson has been defeated at Williamsport. This, if true, will counterbalance our successes in Western Virginia, and make the game an even one.

The Southern soldiers mentioned above are encamped for the night a little over a mile from here. About dusk I walked over to their camp. They were gathered around their fires preparing supper.

Many of them say they were deceived, and entered the service because they were led to believe that the Northern army would confiscate their property, liberate their slaves, and play the devil generally. As they thought this was true, there was nothing left for them to do but to take up arms and defend themselves. While we were at Buckhannon, an old farmer-looking man visited us daily, bringing tobacco, cornbread, and cucumber pickles. This innocent old gen[tle]man proves to have been a spy, and obtained his reward in the loss of a leg at Rich mountain.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 30-1

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Saturday, May 14, 1864

Owing to wet clothing and a chill I could not sleep. Before day I was watching the country. At sunrise we were alongside the Little Roanoke River near its confluence with the Staunton. On the bridge over the Staunton several guns were planted, one so near the track that the engine swept it off. This was in expectation of a cavalry raid. We were 46 miles from Danville. Here they retain their slaves and agriculture is in its usual state. As we approach the Dan River the country is admirable, rolling land, rich valleys. The road runs near the river several miles north of Danville, then sight is lost of it. At this point I judge it is larger than the James at Lynchburg. It was after 3 p. m. when we got off the train at Danville and marched through the place, and an hour later when we get into quarters in a large brick building formerly a tobacco warehouse. In passing through we tried to buy bread of women who offered, but guards would not allow. Several buildings were filled with prisoners. As we got near the building we were to enter I saw a man taken at the battle of Chickamauga eight months before, who attempted to talk but was driven away. He was on parole building a high fence back of our prison. We were crowded so thickly into the building that there is scarce room to lie down. While waiting for rations a man passed through with tobacco at $1 in greenbacks and $3 in "Confed" a plug. At length rations came, corn bread and bacon warm. This was new, men had a great relish for it. It was the third day's ration drawn during the nine days we had been prisoners. Danville is four miles from the North Carolina line on the Dan, a branch of the Roanoke River. It has water power for manufacturing, but not developed; lies in a fertile country; the river is boatable to the falls in the Roanoke 40 miles east to Clarkville. Population, 1,900. Close confinement, not being allowed to get faces to windows, although they are heavily barred with strips of oak plank, the nature of our rations and conditions in general, began to work perceptibly on men. Water is insufficient and bad, taken from the Dan, muddy in consequence of rain. Diarrhoea is becoming universal. Bread is coarse, no seasoning.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 46

Diary of Lieutenant-Colonel John Beatty: July 14, 1861

The Ninth and Fourth Ohio, Fifteenth Indiana, and one company of cavalry, started up the mountain between seven and eight o'clock. The Colonel being unwell, I followed with the Third. Awful rumors were afloat of fortifications and rebels at the top; but we found no fortifications, and as for the rebels, they were scampering for Staunton as fast as their legs could carry them.

This mountain scenery is magnificent. As we climbed the Cheat the views were the grandest I ever looked upon. Nests of hills, appearing like eggs of the mountain; ravines so dark that one could not guess their depth; openings, the ends of which seemed lost in a blue mist; broken-backed mountains, long mountains, round mountains, mountains sloping gently to the summit; others so steep a squirrel could hardly climb them; fatherly mountains, with their children clustered about them, clothed in birch, pine, and cedar; mountain streams, sparkling now in the sunlight, then dashing down into apparently fathomless abysses.

It was a beautiful day, and the march was delightful. The road is crooked beyond description, but very solid and smooth.

The farmer on whose premises we are encamped has returned from the woods. He has discovered that we are not so bad as we were reported. Most of the negroes have been left at home. Many were in camp to-day with corn-bread, pies, and cakes to sell. Fox, my servant, went out this afternoon and bought a basket of bread. He brought in two chickens also, which he said were presented to him. I suspect Fox does not always tell the truth.

SOURCE: John Beatty, The Citizen-soldier: Or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, p. 28-9

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, June 6, 1863

Left our camp yesterday, and moved to our present stoping place, four miles southwest of Yazoo City. We are on half rations of corn bread and poor beef.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 215

Diary of Private William S. White, June 28, 1861

Slept on the roadside all night, and just missed being run over by a wagon, whose driver did not see me. Our rations being short, I was sent out in the afternoon to procure something to eat for the boys. Being unsuccessful at the adjoining farm-houses, I rode some four miles, and at last succeeded in getting an old woman to promise to bake me some corn bread, but I could not get it until 10 o'clock, as she was very busy. When my bread was ready, it was raining in torrents, and I concluded to stay all night, though I well knew some hungry stomachs were yearning for my appearance at camp. Was given a very nice, comfortable bed, but being unaccustomed to such effeminate luxuries, I slept on the floor, lulled into forgetfulness of a soldier's life by the pattering of the rain-storm on the roof above me.

SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 103

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