Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 25, 1864

Christmas day and didn't hang up my stocking. No matter, it wouldn't have held anything. Last Christmas we spent on Belle Island, little thinking long imprisonment awaiting us. Us escaped men are to ride in a forage wagon. The army is getting ready to move. Are now twenty-four miles from Savannah and rebels falling back as we press ahead. Night.—At about nine o'clock this morning as we sat in the forage wagon top of some corn riding in state, I saw some cavalry coming from the front. Soon recognized Col. Acker at the head of the 9th Michigan Cavalry. Jumped out of the wagon and began dancing and yelling in the middle of the road and in front of the troop. Col. Acker said: “Get out of the road you lunatic!” Soon made myself known and was like one arisen from the dead. Major Brockway said: [“]Ransom, you want to start for home. We don't know you, you are dead. No such man as Ransom on the rolls for ten months.” All remember me and are rejoiced to see me back again. Lieut. Col. Way, Surgeon, Adjutant, Sergeant-Major, all shake hands with me. My company “A” was in the rear of the column, and I stood by the road as they moved along, hailing those I recognized. In every case had to tell them who I was and then would go up and shake hands with them at the risk of getting stepped on by the horses. Pretty soon Co. “A” appeared, and wasn't they surprised to see me. The whole company were raised in Jackson, Mich., my home, and I had been regarded as dead for nearly a year. Could hardly believe it was myself that appeared to them. Every one trying to tell me the news at home all at the same time — how I was reported, as having died in Richmond and funeral sermon preached. How so and so had, been shot and killed, &c., &c. And then I had to tell them of who of our regiment had died in Andersonville — Dr. Lewis, Tom McGill and others. Although Jimmy Devers did not belong to our regiment, many in our company knew him, and I told them of his death. Should have said that as soon as I got to the company, was given Capt. Johnson's lead horse to ride, without saddle or bridle and nothing but a halter to hang on with. Not being used to riding, in rebel dress — two or three pails hanging to me — I made a spectacle for them all to laugh at. It was a time of rejoicing. The Buck boys did not get out of the wagon with me and so we became separated without even a good bye. Before I had been with the company half an hour Gen. Kilpatrick and staff came riding by from the rear, and says to Capt. Johnson: “Captain, I hear one of your company has just joined you after escaping from the enemy.” Capt. Johnson said, “Yes, sir,” and pointed to me as a Sergeant in his company. General Kilpatrick told me to follow him and started ahead at a break neck pace. Inasmuch as the highway was filled with troops, Gen. Kilpatrick and staff rode at the side, through the fields, and any way they could get over the ground. The horse I was on is a pacer and a very hard riding animal and it was all I could do to hang on. Horse would jump over logs and come down an all fours ker-chug, and I kept hoping the general would stop pretty soon; but he didn't. Having no saddle or anything to guide the brute, it was a terrible hard ride for me, and time and again if I had thought I could fall off without breaking my neck should have done so. The soldiers all along the line laughed and hooted at the spectacle and the staff had great sport, which was anything but sport for me. After a while and after riding five or six miles, Kilpatrick drew up in a grove by the side of the road and motioning me to him, asked me when I escaped, etc. Soon saw I was too tired and out of breath. After resting a few minutes I proceeded to tell him what I knew of Savannah, the line of forts around the city, and of other fortifications between us and the city, the location of the rivers, force of rebels, etc. Asked a great many questions and took down notes, or rather the chief of staff, Estes by name, did. After an extended conversation a dispatch was made up and sent to Gen. Sherman who was a few miles away, with the endorsement that an escaped prisoner had given the information and it was reliable. General Kilpatrick told me I would probably not be called upon to do any more duty as I had done good service as a prisoner of war. Said he would sign a furlough and recommend that I go home as soon as communication was opened. Thanked me for information and dismissed me with congratulations on my escape. Then I waited until our company, “A,” came up and joined them, and here I am encamped with the boys, who are engaged in getting supper. We are only twelve or fourteen miles from Savannah and the report in camp is to the effect that the city has been evacuated with no fight at all. Fort McAllister was taken to-day, which being the key to Savannah, leaves that city unprotected, hence the evacuation. Communication will now be opened with the gunboats on the coast and I will be sent home to Michigan. I mess with Capt. Johnson and there is peace and plenty among us. I go around from mess to mess this pleasant night talking with the boys, learning and telling the news. O. B. Driscoll, Al. Williams, Sergt. Smith, Mell Strickland, Sergt. Fletcher, Teddy Fox, Lieut. Ingraham and all the rest think of something new every few minutes, and I am full. Poor Robt. Strickland, a boy whom I enlisted, was shot since starting out on this march to the sea. Others too, whom I left well are now no more. The boys have had a long and tedious march, yet are all in good health and have enjoyed the trip. They never tire of telling about their fights and skirmishes, and anecdotes concerning Kilpatrick, who is well liked by all the soldiers. Am invited to eat with every mess in the company, also at regimental headquarters, in fact, anywhere I am a mind to, can fill. And now this Diary is finished and is full. Shall not write any more, though I hardly know how I shall get along, without a self-imposed task of some kind.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 157-9

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SEE ALSO:

• The Finis

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: June 26, 1864

The same old story, only worse, worse. It seems all the time it was as bad as could be, but is not. They die now like sheep — fully a hundred each day. New prisoners come inside in squads of hundreds, and in a few weeks are all dead The change is too great and sudden for them. Old prisoners stand it the best. Found a Jackson, Michigan man, who says I am reported dead there. Am not, however, and may appear to them yet. Jimmy Devers is very bad with the scurvy and dropsy and will probably die if relief does not come. Sergt. Rowe also is afflicted; in fact all the mess except Battese He does all the cooking now. He has made me a cane to walk with, brings water from the well, and performs nearly all the manual labor for us. He is a jewel, but a rough one.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 71-2

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Lemuel A. Abbott: Thursday, January 14, 1864

The weather still continues to be warm and pleasant; no wind and not a cloud in sight; have received two letters from Vermont to-night — one from home and another from one of my old scholars in Chelsea. The teachers who succeeded me in my school there had very poor success both last summer and this winter. When the teacher announced to the school this winter one morning that I had died of typhoid fever at Rockville, Md., it having been so reported, the children refused to be reconciled and grieved so they had to be dismissed, the same thing occurring the next morning. Poor things! I never think of it but what my eyes — well, my throat gets lumpy and my lips quiver. I had no idea they were so devoted. It seems as though they would follow me in memory throughout eternity. Still, as their teacher I was strict and firm, but always just, and never struck one of the flock of sixty during either winter with them. Will I ever make such devoted friends again? Alas! it's only a memory now but will ever be a sacred one. May the recollection be as blissful to them as it will be to me throughout the everlasting ages of time. Nothing has occurred to-day worthy of note; have had my cabin full all day. Lieuts. W. R. Hoyt and E. P. Farr have been in this evening.

SOURCE: Lemuel Abijah Abbott, Personal Recollections and Civil War Diary, 1864, p. 7-8