Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Thursday, August 6, 1864

The sick carried early to the gates but not received; ordered to be brought at 2 p. m. Doctors have got it into their heads that some system is necessary, and so much crowding at the gate was unnecessary and detrimental; so they ordered all back but the sick of eleven detachments and that none come tomorrow but those designated. Many are taken out. It gives hope that they are going to try to help us. Men persist in flattering themselves that we are soon to be relieved. I guard against disappointment and defer hope while action is deferred. The wolf at the door will not go away bloodthirsty until driven. They brought us to Georgia according to a decision of powers that be, that no shelter should be furnished Yankee prisoners. They will not release us for our sake, have disregarded our rights and purposely wronged us. Their cause is desperate; they fight for unprovoked revenge. They fiercely kill with bullets and designedly and half disguisedly plot our lingering death, seeking to profit their cause by our suffering. They began the war in hasty spite; it will end in hellish revenge. If they believe in their cause, need we hope for mercy? Has the government raised its hand to strike out one right the North claims for itself? Have we not compromised our sense of justice to appease unreasoning wrath, and have they not placed the dagger to our hearts? Now shall we be delivered by the murderers from the hands of their agents? Not till the last pillar has been broken and the hell-born spirit that incited this war shall rule no more, will their nefarious plotting cease. Yet we have hope which all of this surmounts, they must fail.

A PRISONER'S SONG.

Strident, yet more strident,

Sound the notes of war.

In our hearts confident

Behold the end afar.

Patient, yet more patient,

We'll bear the pains of fate.

Awake, oh, spirits latent,

And ward the blows of hate!

Higher, and yet higher,

Raise the hope of love;

Let faith new strength inspire

And make us stalwart prove.

Calmer, and yet calmer,

Wait we for the light,

Through savage din and clamor,

The passing of this night.

Freedom, on forever,

O, swiftly onward stride,

Enslaving bonds to sever,

And in this land abide!

Steady, and more steady,

Let our armies go;

They are strong and ready,

They move-it seems so slow!

Starving, we are starving!

We are sinking in distress;

Disease is gnawing-carving;

Our foes do sore oppress.

Help us to see the sunlight

Of victory and feel

Treason's bane has ceased to blight,

E'er death our eyes shall seal.

There is no danger from robbers and Thompson and I walk in the cool of the evening and talk about these things. A sensible companion in tribulation, is worth a thousand fools in peace if one appreciates him. The happiest man I ever saw was a man happy under miserable circumstances; the most miserable man is one wretched when surrounded with the benefits of life, with a vacant heart, a volcanic head, an iceberg and a fiery furnace freezing and burning his nature at the same time. To be contented, to be happy here, in one sense, is a mysterious art, yet the plainest fact.

"There is a Divinity that shapes our ends,

Rough hew them as we will."

We know now how to appreciate a man who is a living statue, not a human straw, a weed, jostled by every breeze, whipped about by adverse winds. We feel like him, believe in him; we are encased in steel. He is one, at least, who appreciates us. He has not only got the poetry of our best poets, but he has the heart, and the head; not only the rhyme but the sentiment.

Recently an interesting episode occurred, but it was not devoid of cruelties incident to this place. It reveals qualities of noble patriotism and keen foresight with a tinge of stern romance. A Georgian is a prisoner here.

Early in 1861 when the war-spirit had become rampant and Georgia was swayed by men like Toombs a man whose name is said to be Hirst, probably assumed, lived not many miles from this prison, who resolved for the Union. He went North, leaving his wife at home, and joined a Western regiment. In a battle between Sherman and Johnston's armies he was captured. He was recognized by a Georgia Reserve, while carrying a sick man out, who in peaceful days lived near him. The recognition was mutual and friendly. From him he got some news of his wife, the first in three years. It was arranged to get a note to her, telling of his imprisonment. In a few days the guard was on duty and tossed the wife's letter over the dead-line in a ball of clay. Two days later the woman came before Wirz and asked an interview. It was granted, the lady to stand outside the gate thirty paces, the man at the gate, neither to speak. At sight of each other they spoke each other's names endearingly. The interview was abruptly ended, the woman ordered away, the man driven into prison. The next day she came again bringing clothing and provisions which she begged Wirz to send him. Wirz promptly ordered her away, warning her never to come again, and sent soldiers to escort her off the ground. The husband was then brought before him and an effort made to enlist him in the Rebel service. This was resented, when he was bucked and gagged and locked in the dungeon, being brought out and maliciously punished at intervals for several days. Failing to impress him into the service, by advice of doctors he was turned into the stockade. [Note.—After leaving Andersonville I, learn he escaped from a train conveying prisoners from there, after Atlanta fell. He probably visited his family and later joined Sherman's forces.]

STACK ARMS.

 

See, an officer in quest of men,

To do some work the Rebels need;

Invites us from this prison pen

To work for them while brothers bleed!

Foreswear our country, Southron? No!

For its cause is true and high!

Join the hosts of Freedom's foe?

Far better starve; in prison die!

We fight for section, Southron? No;

We fight that liberty may spread

O'er all the land that freemen know,

Where, too long, the slave had tread.

We fight for justice in the land

Where freeman's voice has been suppressed;

It shall be heard, from strand to strand,

And every wrong shall be redressed.

Patriotic to fight for wrong

Because 'tis in your section built?

To fight this evil to prolong

Does but enhance the master's guilt.

Patriotism knows no line

That shall Freedom's law restrain;

The die is cast, 'tis God's design

That slavery shall no more remain.

Ah, heed the call of destiny!

The black and white shall both be free;

And stack your arms, for liberty

O'er North and South alike shall be.

Stack arms, brave Southrons, and repent

You ever raised them 'gainst the right.

You know the force of brave dissent;

'Tis murder now to longer fight!

The "Stars and Bars" pull down, pull down;

They lead you wrong, in Slavery's ways,

More hateful than King George's crown

Our fathers spurned in other days.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 98-102

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, July 21, 1864

A weak and disagreeable state of body since last date has waived my practice of noting; but everything has been as now—"hell upon earth." We have a few dottings of this kind: the Rebel quartermaster is from Baltimore, and to counteract some suspicions of his speculating in rations, makes lots of promises when he comes in of late. One of our fellows got thick with him and told him where to find a tunnel, for a plug of tobacco. Soon after he came with a squad of negroes armed with feeling rods and spades, found and filled it. It had baffled their scrutiny for three days. The man who revealed the secret betrayed himself and that evening was hunted out, given a clean shave of his head and on his forehead was tattooed the word. "Traitor." Next day rations were ordered withheld till those who did the job reported at the gate. I don't know that anyone reported but rations came the day after leaving us a vacuum of one day.

Petitions have been circulating praying our government for relief. I did not sign. They are sanctioned by Rebel authority, intended to produce political effect and to leave the impression in the North that the prisoners condemn government policy in reference to exchange, therefore to serve a purpose of its enemies. It abounds in dictation and censure, suppressing facts.

Reports of movements in north Virginia are true. Sherman is up to Atlanta; Johnston relieved by Hood. They think Johnston, fights on the principle that "He who fights and runs away will live to fight another day." Federal cavalry at Montgomery and Taladega, Ala., and at Macon, Ga., only 60 miles away, which causes great excitement here. The Rebels are fortifying. Droves of negroes are brought here from plantations and put to work. Troops and citizens, all sexes and sizes, flock in and quarters are being built, making a ville of the place. We look over to it from high ground and reflect that it is one of the new born of Secessia. A man near the stream cut his own throat today. Several hundred Rebel soldiers are shipped by rail for Macon. Three men brought in whom the Rebels suspect were scouts. They were put in the stocks several hours, but gave no information. James English of our company, of New York City, died July 17th.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 92

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Thursday, June 30, 1864

Men lay down last night feeling more secure of their lives. Hunting for raiders continued, this time without assistance from Rebel guards, except a lieutenant and guard at the gate. The formidable resistance of yesterday was not repeated; the combined efforts of the raiders having so signally failed yesterday. Our men are armed with clubs; when one is found he is hustled to the gates, often with a kick or a punch in the back, amid the sneering and shouting from lookers on, and goes sneaking out. Lieutenant Davis gave me permission to go out with witnesses to take evidence when the trial proceeds, which is to be conducted by thirteen men recently in from the western army, as it is the design of Sergeant Keys that the hearing shall be before intelligent and impartial men, with a view of giving them a fair trial; but feeling so badly, having been sick several days, I was obliged to return, Baldwin of my regiment goes out against Sullivan. The greater part of those taken out are returned on promises of good behavior and on the plea that they have been decoyed. Some of these Keys had strong evidence against but the place where they were kept, just outside of the gate, was overcrowded and Wirz insisted upon them being returned. A few were sentenced to wear a ball and chain. The abuse inflicted on those turned in, by the crowd, as they were forced to run the gauntlet, is almost cruel, two lines being formed from the dead line towards the center of the prison through which they are forced to pass. Many were severely pounded and one, a sailor, was struck by a fellow who had just come in from outside, with a rail, knocking him down, and he died from the effects of this and other blows.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 81-2

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Friday, June 3, 1864

A cold rain continued during the night. What would the good folks at home say could they see this camp this cool, wet morning—men lying in the wet sand? Could they have heard the coughing of thousands as I heard it when I walked the camp to shake off the cold that chilled wet clothing, would they not say: Now that so much has been imperiled for the country, let us make it a glory and a blessing to ages, an honor to ourselves, our institutions the abode of liberty, a beacon that shall light the world and silence the wrath of treason? There are 20,000 within a space so small that a strangling cough can be heard from one side to the other.

Report that nine men tunneled out and one guard escaped with them. The tunnel is found and being filled. Col. Parsons was inside; he thinks exchange is agreed upon, but can't be effected for our forces cover the point in the cartel. Were that all we should soon be relieved. He is quite familiar with a few of us and expressed a feeling that he would resign his command were it possible. He was sent for duty here because the most of his command are prisoners. Earlier in the war he was twice a prisoner, captured by Burnside's men, and was well treated. He says men are sent here without any provision made for shelter, and he has no orders or means to furnish it; that it is not the fault of the local commissary that we are left to suffer. Wirz is the jailor, a morose, inclement tempered man. It requires but little to get him in a rage. He is called "the old Dutch Captain"; is generally hated. Men caught in attempting escape are unreasonably punished by wearing ball and chain, bucking and gagging, putting in stocks, hanging by thumbs, by lash and close confinement.

Prisoners in today report the two armies on to Richmond, Lee with his right, Grant with his left; Kilpatrick 25 miles in the rear of Atlanta tearing up roads.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 71-2

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: July 14, 1864

We have been too busy with the raiders of late to manufacture any exchange news, and now all hands are at work trying to see who can tell the biggest yarns. The weak are feeling well to-night over the story that we are all to be sent North this month, before the 20th. Have not learned that the news came from any reliable source. Rumors of midsummer battles with Union troops victorious. It's “bite dog, bite bear,” with most of us prisoners; we don't care which licks, what we want is to get out of this pen. Of course, we all care and want our side to win, but it's tough on patriotism. A court is now held every day and offenders punished, principally by buck and gagging, for misdemeanors. The hanging has done worlds of good, still there is much stealing going on yet, but in a sly way, not openly. Hold my own as regards health. The dreaded month of July is half gone, almost, and a good many over one hundred and fifty die each day, but I do not know how many Hardly any one cares enough about it to help me any in my inquiries. It is all self with the most of them. A guard by accident shot himself. Have often said they didn't know enough to hold a gun. Bury a rebel guard every few days within sight of the prison Saw some women in the distance. Quite a sight. Are feeling quite jolly to-night since the sun went down Was visited by my new acquaintances of the 9th Michigan Infantry, who are comparatively new prisoners. Am learning them the way to live here They are very hopeful fellows and declare the war will be over this coming fall, and tell their reasons very well for thinking so. We gird up our loins and decide that we will try to live it through. Rowe, although often given to despondency, is feeling good and cheerful There are some noble fellows here. A man shows exactly what he is in Andersonville. No occasion to be any different from what you really are. Very often see a great big fellow in size, in reality a baby in action, actually sniveling and crying and then again you will see some little runt, “not bigger than a pint of cider,” tell the big fellow to “brace up” and be a man. Statue has nothing to do as regards nerve, still there are noble big fellows as well as noble little ones. A Sergt. Hill is judge and jury now, and dispenses-justice to evil doers with impartiality. A farce is made of defending some of the arrested ones. Hill inquires all of the particulars of each case, and sometimes lets the offenders go as more sinned against than sinning. Pour receiving punishment.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 86-7

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: June 19, 1864

A young fellow named Conely tramps around the prison with ball and chain on. His crime was trying to get away. I say he tramps around, he tramps away from the gate with it on at nine in the morning, and as soon as out of sight of the rebels he takes it off, and only puts it on at nine o'clock the next morning to report at the gate duly ironed off. They think, of course, that he wears it all the time. Jimmy Devers looks and is in a very bad way. Too bad if the poor fellow should die now, after being a prisoner almost a year. Talks a great deal about his younger brother in Jackson, named Willie. Says if he should die to be sure and tell Willie not to drink, which has been one of Jimmy's failings, and he sees now what a foolish habit it is. Michael Hoare stands it well. When a man is shot now it is called being “parolled.”

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

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

Ran very slow through the night, and are in the vicininy of Macon, Ga. Will reach our prison to-night. Received a pone of corn bread apiece weighing about two pounds, which is liberal on their part Two more days such riding as this would kill me The lice are fairly eating us up alive, having had no chance to rid ourselves of them since leaving Richmond. One of the guards struck Hendryx during the night. We were talking on the all important subject, and the guard hearing us chatting away to ourselves struck over into the croud where the noise came from and hit George in the back part of the head. He didn't speak for a minute or two and I was afraid it had killed him, which happily proved to the contrary. As soon as it came daylight he showed the brute where he had struck him, and took the occasion to dress him down a little, whereupon the rebel threatened that if he said another word to him he would blow his head off. A drizzling rain has set in.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 39-40

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: February 5, 1864

Have been reading over the last few pages of my diary. It sounds well, but the rebel flag still floats over Belle Isle. Our escapade was a grand fizzle, and all hands have been punished in more ways than one in the last few days. Bossieux suspected something going on among us and had us secretly watched, and long before we had made a move toward fulfilling our projected plans we were thrown into a guard house on the island; next morning taken out of it, and underwent a severe cross-questioning He found our rebel clothing, food we had packed, found the lock to the boat broke, and numerous other signs of an abandonment. Well, the result has been that we were bucked and gagged twice a day for an hour each time, and for four hours each of us carried a big stick of wood up and down in front of the gate, a guard to prick us with his bayonet if we walked too slow to suit him. Then Hendryx has been strung up by the thumbs. Nights we have been thrown into a damp, cold guard house to shiver all night. Every day now for six days we have walked with our sticks of wood so many hours per day, and last night were turned inside with all the prisoners to stay, Bossieux says, till we rot, he can place no dependence in us.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 30

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: January 6, 1864

Still prisoners of war, without the remotest idea as to how long we are to remain so. Some of the paroled Yankees on the outside curse and treat the inside prisoners more cruel (when they have a chance,) than the rebels themselves. Blass, a Spaniard, who has been a prisoner over a year and refuses to be exchanged, is the lieutenant's right hand man. He tied up a man a few days ago for some misdemeanor and whipped him. He is afraid to come inside, knowing he would lose his life in a jiffy. He also raises the rebel flag at the island mornings, and lowers it at night.. It is a dirty rag, and the appearance of it ought to disgust any sensible person.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 24

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: January 3, 1864

Received a letter from Michigan Not quite so cold, but disagreeable weather. Nine men bucked and gagged at one time on the outside, two of them for stealing sour beans from a swill-barrel. They would get permission to pass through the gate to see the lieutenant, and instead, would walk around the courthouse to some barrels containing swill, scoop up their hats full and then run inside; but they were caught, and are suffering a hard punishment for it.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 23

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 26, 1863

News of exchange and no officers over from Libby to issue clothing. Extra quantity of wood. Rebels all drunk and very domineering. Punish for the smallest kind of excuse. Some men tunneled out of the pen but were retaken and were made to crawl back through the same hole they went out of and the lieutenant kept hitting them with a board as they went down and then ran back and forward from one hole to the other and as they stuck up their heads would hit them with a club, keeping them at it for nearly an hour. A large crowd of both rebels and Yankees collected around to see the fun.

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

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: November 28, 1863

Very cold and men suffer terribly with hardly any clothing on some of them. A man taken outside to-day, bucked and gagged for talking with a guard; a severe punishment this very cold weather.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 14