Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: November 28, 1864

No one has come to me since day before yesterday. Watched and moved until most night of yesterday but could see or hear no one. Afraid I have lost communication. In the distance can see a habitation and will mog along that way. Most noon. Later —as I was poking along through some light timber, almost ran into four Confederates with guns. Lay down close to the ground and they passed by me not more than twenty rods away. Think they have heard of my being in the vicinity and looking me up. This probably accounts for not receiving any visitor from the negroes. Getting very hungry, and no water fit to drink. Must get out of this community as fast as I can. Wish to gracious I had two good legs. Later. — It is now nearly dark and I have worked my way as near direct north as I know how Am at least four miles from where I lay last night. Have seen negroes, and white men, but did not approach them. Am completely tired out and hungry, but on the edge of a nice little stream of water. The closing of the fifth day of my escape. Must speak to somebody tomorrow, or starve to death. Good deal of yelling in the woods. Am now in the rear of a hovel which is evidently a negro hut, but off quite a ways from it. Cleared ground all around the house so I can't approach it without being too much in sight. small negro boy playing around the house. Too dark to write more

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 125-6

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: November 29, 1864

The sixth day of freedom, and a hungry one. Still where I wrote last night, and watching the house. A woman goes out and in but cannot tell much about her from this distance. No men folks around. Two or three negro boys playing about. must approach the house, but hate to. Noon. — Still right here. Hold my position. More than hungry. Three days since I have eaten anything, with the exception of a small pototoe and piece of bread eaten two days ago and left from the day before. That length of time would have been nothing in Andersonville, but now being in better health demand eatables, and it takes right hold of this wandering sinner. Shall go to the house towards night. A solitary woman lives there with some children. My ankle from the sprain and yesterday's walking is swollen and painful. Bathe it in water, which does it good. Chickens running around. Have serious meditations of getting hold of one or two of them after they go to roost, then go farther back into the wilderness, build a fire with my matches and cook them. That would be a royal feast. But if caught at it, it would go harder with me than if caught legitimately. Presume this is the habitation of some of the skulkers who return and stay home nights. Believe that chickens squawk when being taken from the roost. Will give that up and walk boldly up to the house.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 126

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

A prisoner of war nearly a year have stood and went through the very worst kind of treatment. Am getting ravenously hungry, but they won't give me much to eat. Even Mike won't give me anything. Says the doctors forbid it. Well, I suppose it is so. One trouble with the men here who are sick, they are too indolent and discouraged, which counteracts the effect of medicines. A dozen or twenty die in the twenty-four hours. Have probably half tablespoonful of whiskey daily, and it is enough. Land is a good fellow. (I wrote this last sentence myself, and Land says he will scratch it out. — Ransom). A high garden wall surrounds us Wall is made of stone. Mike dug around the corners of the walls, and in out of the way places, and got together a mess of greens out of pusley. Offered me some and then wouldn't let me have it. Meaner than pusley. Have threatened to lick the whole crowd in a week.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 99

Diary of Sergeant Major Luman Harris Tenney: July 19, 1863

Moved at daylight. Soon came upon rebel pickets and fired. Skirmishing. Dismounted 2 and 7 and went forward. One man wounded soon. Mich. Battery came up and one piece fired shell. Almost simultaneously Gen. Judah and gunboats opened. We heard musketry 10 minutes before ours. Before 10 minutes the rebels broke in a perfect rout, most complete, left wagons, cannon and any amount of plunder. I soon changed clothes, light clothes. Went with skirmishers, got several shots. Rested till 4 P. M. Marched up the river near Tupper's Plains, and then bivouacked. Rather hungry — all of us.

SOURCE: Frances Andrews Tenney, War Diary Of Luman Harris Tenney, p. 79-80

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: June 20, 1864

All the mess slowly but none the less surely succumbing to the diseases incident here. We are not what you may call hungry. I have actually felt the pangs of hunger more when I was a boy going home from school to dinner. But we are sick and faint and all broken down, feverish &c. It is starvation and disease and exposure that is doing it Our stomachs have been so abused by the stuff called bread and soups, that they are diseased. The bread is coarse and musty. Believe that half in camp would die now if given rich food to eat.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 69

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: January 11, 1864

A steady rain for twenty-four hours, and have not been dry during the time, however it is a warm rain and get along very well. We are still issuing clothing but very slow. About one hundred per day get partly clothed up. No news of exchange. Abe Lincoln reported dead. Papers very bitter on Beast Butler, as they call him. Manage by a good deal of skirmishing to get the papers almost every day in which we read their rebel lies. A plan afoot for escape, but am afraid to say anything of the particulars for fear of my diary being taken away from me. As I came inside to-night with some bread in my haversack some fellows who were on the watch pitched into me and gobbled my saved up rations. I don't care for myself for I have been to supper, but the boys in the tent will have to go without anything to eat for this night. It don't matter much — they are all hungry and it did them as much good as it would our mess.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 25

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 2, 1863

Pleasant weather and favorable for prisoners. At about nine in the morning the work of hunting for vermin commences, and all over camp sit the poor starved wretches, nearly stripped, engaged in picking off and killing the big gray backs. The ground is fairly alive with them, and it requires continual labor to keep from being eaten up alive by them. I just saw a man shot. He was called down to the bank by the guard, and as he leaned over to do some trading another guard close by shot him through the side and it is said mortally wounded him. It was made up between the guards to shoot the man, and when the lieutenant came round to make inquiries concerning the affair, one of them remarked that the ——— passed a counterfeit bill on him the night before, and he thought he would put him where he could not do the like again. The wounded man was taken to the hospital and has since died. His name was Gilbert. He was from New Jersey  Food twice to-day; buggy bean soup and a very small allowance of corn bread. Hungry all the time.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 15

Diary of Sarah Morgan: March 17, 1863

On dit the Yankees have gone back to Baton Rouge, hearing we had sixty thousand men coming down after them. I believe I am positively disappointed! I did want to see them soundly thrashed! The light we thought was another burning house was that of the Mississippi. They say the shrieks of the men when our hot shells fell among them, and after they were left by their companions to burn, were perfectly appalling.

Another letter from Lilly has distressed me beyond measure. She says the one chicken and two dozen eggs Miriam and I succeeded in buying from the negroes by prayers and entreaties, saved them from actual hunger; and for two days they had been living on one egg apiece and some cornbread and syrup. Great heavens! has it come to this? Nothing to be bought in that abominable place for love or money. Where the next meal comes from, nobody knows.

SOURCE: Sarah Morgan Dawson, A Confederate Girl's Diary, p. 340