Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Saturday, August 20, 1864

For nine days I have been prevented from making usual notes. Little passed I care to recall; I force myself to write today. I know no one who takes a general note of things; it is with hesitancy as well as difficulty, that I do. I cannot say that mine is more than meager penciling. They are samples of the best and some of the worst things that I note. Two of the sick mentioned the 11th, died the 13th; the others on the 15th. One had turned gray since I first saw him. He had money but could not save himself. His was the common complaint. He died within four feet of me suddenly falling; was from Pennsylvania. Another old prisoner died today of squalor within a few feet of us. The mortality, notwithstanding the removal of so many of the worst cases, has increased. The average is over 100 per day this month. On the 15th, 140; the 17th, 128 died. I am told by a man who is on duty at the hospital. The sick again admited to the gate for prescription; but three taken to the hospital out of several hundred applicants. It is the most disagreeable task one ever had to do, to cary a sick man before the doctor and then it amounts to nothing.

H. D. Merritt of our company was taken out in an awful condition on the 14th. He is from Sodus, Wayne county, N. Y. Fourteen of Company F have died; eleven more are in bad condition. (This does not include myself.) Madison hurt his foot a few days ago; his blood is so weak that it does not heal. Gangrene set in; it has eaten to the bone. The limbs of others are so affected as to be unable to walk. Most of them were strong heavy men, but we have to carry them to sick call. Gangrene is one of the frightful phases of these diseases. W. M. Townsend of the 111th N. Y. received a slight scratch on his thigh which has spread to a large and painful sore. It is by great precaution it is kept from being maggoty. The 12th I accidentally found Hanson, a young German of our company whom I had not seen for a long time, he belonged to another detachment. He was helpless but could talk; had fallen in the swamp, was completely daubed. His gums are rotted with scurvy; the backs of his hands and feet raw from sunburn; maggots actually crawling in his flesh. I got Sergeant Burton and went to the gate begging aid. At last got the answer, "You Yanks do something for your own selves." We returned to Hanson, lifted and gave him water, cleansed his wounds, found his detachment sergeant, borrowed a ragged blanket to cover him; could do no more. He died August 16th.

Tunnel was discovered not long since this way: It had been completed to the point where they wished to come out. The head man was pulling down the dirt when suddenly it broke away covering him, and down came a gray jacket with a Rebel in it, gun and all. The relief guards were just being mounted and one of them stepped upon the exact spot where they were to escape.

A Rebel paper I saw today spoke of Major Currill, Commissioner of Exchange, visiting our fleet in Mobile Bay, having reference to sending packages. Fighting at Richmond and other places, and close work at Atlanta. They abound in speculations on the Presidential campaign, and in extracts from the New York World, Herald, News and Albeny Argus and from their view argue the South's success. The World has an article on "The Failure of Grant," denouncing his whole course; and claims that "Grant is played out," though he has punched Lee back into his Richmond ditches and is still operating. Southern Rebels do not claim Grant is a failure. They keep up a bold front which they consider a political as well as a military necessity; but their own admissions, in general tones, are evidences of their strait. To me it seems they have ceased to hope for that degree of success from their armies that can save the little prestige they have abroad, much less secure their recognition, so turning to political bickerings, presenting their armies in the feigned attitude of triumph and strength but base their hope on the election. They believe that a party that could expiate their crimes in the past, would do even more in the future, if raised to power to look down on a forest of Rebel bayonets instead of threatening, sophistical politicians to whom they had succumbed. But they are a mere shell full of dead and rotting strength that has passed its zenith. The Southern heart is burning to ashes; they would negotiate for a respite to replenish the flame, not for Union. Oh, let the North be true in this crisis! Rebels would despair of success before January.

They do not give wood enough to ten men for one. Men go to extremes to obtain it, stealing dead men from their friends to carry out with the hope of getting it. Four men are permitted to go and can bring in quite a jag. Then some will trade half of their scanty rations for a stick to cook the other half. A few will trade a day's rations for a ten cent bit of tobacco. A few so far lose their reason as to throw clothing away, becoming disgusted with lice; add themselves to disgusting sights by going naked. All capable of being degraded so as to lose self respect, become so. God only knows the wickedness and woe of such a state!

I wandered to a locality new to me, a few days ago. I came to a quartet of Tennesseeans who told their war experiences; of persecutions their people suffered for being Unionists; how they fled from home to escape Rebels who were savage against all who refused to support secession. Their madness knew neither law nor friendship; their frenzy neither justice nor mercy. They, with a hundred others, armed themselves and one day cut their way through an armed mob claimed to have been sent by Governor Isham Harris, who designed to massacre or capture them. They marched many miles to join Buell's army, and had several fights with gorillas. They were captured in Rosecrans' operations near Chattanooga, in 1863; wintered at Danville, Va.; came here in March, seven stopping together. Three have died. Prison hardships affect them severely. The character of these sturdy mountain people, their honest, intelligent patriotism in connection with this crisis, also their general history, inspire these lines:

THE MEN OF TENNESSEE.

 

God save from woes of Anderson

  The men who bravely stayed

By Lincoln's flag, for country one,

  Where slavery's power had swayed;

Eschewed the leaders of the South,

  Of low and high degree,

And deemed the flag ensign of truth,

  Brave men of Tennessee.

 

They lived upon their native soil;

  They loved it well and true;

They lived by faithful, honest toil;

  They loved the peace they knew.

But they were those who weighed events

 As they should pondered be;

They saw conflicting sentiments

  Distracting Tennessee.

 

And when the Union of the States

 Was threatened by its foes,

With the Union they allied their fates

  Secession to oppose.

When driven from their homes away,

  By the powers of slavery,

They joined the Union's armed array,

Grand men of Tennessee.

 

They spurned the rule that would disrupt

  The Nation's life they loved;

They spurned the rule, wrong and corrupt,

 As patriots true behooved,

And leaving homes they loved behind,

Engulfed in war's red sea,

They showed great strength of heart and mind,

  These men of Tenneessee,

 

They nobly tendered strength and life,

   If human blood must shed,

Against secession's valorous strife

  By Southrons madly led,

And side by side with Northern men

  They fought most valiantly-

Here brook the ills of prison pen

  Brave men of Tennessee.

 

Behold them suffer here and die

  Within dark Sumter's walls!

The earth their bed, the roof the sky,

  Where woes their hearts appal!

And yet all offers they resent

  That promise them to free;

By loyalty invite torment-

  True men of Tennessee.

 

O, hail the men who know the right

 And for it stand and fall;

Who will not swerve at Treason's might

  Though death may claim them all;

And here in prison pine and rot,

  Though today they could be free!

No truer men have ever fought,

  Than men of Tennessee.

 

The valor of some Spartan band

  From ancient time men laud;

But the acts of these, of Jackson's land,

 Who will their deeds applaud?

I see them dying day by day

   'Mid scenes of misery;

No voice to praise, where death has sway,

  These men of Tennessee.

HOSPITALS, THEIR HISTORY.

Noting the indisposition or inability of doctors to clear the stockade of sick—victims conspicuous for their wretchedness—I have applied my mind to learn facts regarding so-called hospitals. It is no mystery that men sicken in the stockade. Coarse, unpalatable food, a mixture of meal containing cob and bran doctors call it meal and husk—often musty and bitter, stirred in filthy water in large batches, often souring before baking or while baking with green wood, no salt, no yeast, no soda, often partially raw, often over-roasted with a crust hard and tasteless. If changed to rice, that is colored with the dirty water and often uncooked. Exposed to all weather and until some wells were dug, all drank and washed in the same small stream, always roiled and more and more, night and day, being poisoned by drainage from without and within. Thirst becomes feverish, unbearable; to drink is to pollute our bodies with the offal, intermixed, made more stenchful and rotten by heat and rain. Nothing could be more unsanitary, more conducive to disease. What are the hospital facilities to cope with rapidly developing conditions absolutely adverse to health in strongest men? I find these facts, attested by appearances and results. No Confederate doctor or officer pretends to dispute.

This is the history of so-called hospitals here to date and they must continually grow worse. When the prison was built most of its early prisoners were from prisons farther north, Danville and about Richmond, where they were under roofs. Coming here in February and March they readily chilled through. Some refuse of the timber from which the stockade was built was appropriated by prisoners for fuel and shelter, and before hot weather and an increase of prisoners, both air and water might have been an improvement on their former abode. But old prisoners broke down and the first hospital was erected inside of poles and brush. This was the best hospital the place has ever had. The poles or logs were left several inches apart, and as sickly men were put in them the place became as odious and no more commodious than a backwoods hog-pen. A portion had a lose floor, no beds, no bunks, no blankets, no straw. The storm and wind beat through the space between the logs and rendered patients that retained sensitiveness or desire to live, uncomfortable. A few prisoners had threadbare blankets, or remnants, with the U. S. brand, but no other was provided whether prisoners had a U. S. rag or not.

This was the original provision and remained the only hospital until the middle of May, or a few days later, when prisoners began to come from the spring campaigns and were so packed about this hospital pen that the air was infected and it was removed to its present locality to make room. We arrived here from the Wilderness fields in Virginia just two days after this change; but even then the place where it had been, was covered with men fresh from our armies little heeding that the very earth which they had been forced to accept as their abode, was soaked with the filth of the lately removed wards of death, for, then as now, there was no means of disposal of excreta of men who were slowly wasting and unable to seek the swamp or stream, except in illy provided open excavations within the 'hospital" or death-pen. The hospitals now simply consist of old canvas appropriated from other use, ragged or patched, open at the sides, without floors, beds, bunks, stoves or straw. Men lay on the earth in ghastly rows. The ground where they lay is saturated with offal of wasting bodies. The sickening exhalation is constant. Patients have no clothing except that worn during their imprisonment and in active service, never but a single suit, in many cases not much of that, no blankets, except where prisoners happened to retain them on coming to prison. Patients are sickly visages of squalor, decaying bodies, while yet their minds retain dreary existences. There are fleshless skeletons with skin drawn over them; on some bones have broken or worn through the skin. Limbs of others whose flesh has not vanished, are swollen with dropsy and scurvy, discolored, yellow and brown. In many cases ulcers appear—sores from wounds that never heal, and gangrene is having an unchecked if not undisputed reign. Myriads of lice and flies swarm over helpless men; maggots infest gangrenous sores that may have originated from a scratch, a sunburn or from ulcerous eruption caused by corrupted blood.

These matters, seemingly, have reached an uncontrollable stage. There is scarcity of medicine, scarcity of physicians. Nurses are dumbfounded; if they have any sense of the situation they are in despair; can do little to comfort and it seems that those detailed have no adaptation for the work. Except now and then one, would they be retained and for just that reason, in a hospital well ordered for work. From first to last there is nothing provided, nothing arranged, nothing expected but death, and the quicker the better. If doctors had ordinary skill, and nurses had any idea of sanitation, some police regulations would be visible. If this were so and the Richmond government had meant to do anything but murder, better facilities would be provided. I have met a doctor or two apparently of skill, good sense, and humane intent; but they seemed to have despaired of doing justice to their profession or to patients, lacking means and having to contend against conditions which no skill and no medical supplies can meet until conditions change. They have no hope of that. There are some bunglers in charge with a slight knowledge of surgery ready to improve their quack skill by revolting practice. Amputation has been performed where no hope was possible or expected, and in cases where there was a lingering hope, yet the bodily condition of patients did not justify amputation. In no case as I can hear, has gangrene been cured by amputation. Slight wounds are not healable owing to weak blood. Some of these fellows are perfectly brutal, and enlisted in this capacity rather than be conscripted and carry a musket. These conditions are known at Richmond. The prison has been inspected by military and civil officials of high rank. Reports of surgeons, Drs. Reeves, Pelot and Thomburg in preceding months expressly stated not only general conditions but that there were men that were living masses of putrifaction; hospitals without bunks, beds or straw; as above stated, speaking of corn bread raw and sour and the effects of such diet on sick and well that they could not practice successfully, that sickness could not be prevented nor patients cured until made comfortable; appealing for "beds if any in Dixie." All was unanswered. Confidentially these facts are told me by a doctor.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 107-13

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Wednesday, July 23, 1864

Weather severely hot as it has been learned that a break by the prisoners is planned, and warns them for three weeks. A supply of sumach buds must have arrived and are given out freely to be steeped and drank for scurvy. A sergeant belonging to a work squad outside was shot by a guard, wounding him in the arm and hip and wounding another man, He took hold of the guard's gun. Some on parole get too intimate with Rebels; value principles less than extra rations. That such men have to be shot to remind them that they are dealing with traitors does not so much matter. While washing my shirt at the creek this afternoon the centry [sic] fired, the shot whizzing by my head as I stooped, striking in the bank and spattering mud in the faces of four of us. Lots of shooting has been done by guards for over a week and several men have been killed and wounded. Limbs are amputated at the hospital for slight injuries, The arm of one of our men hit by a sentry a few days ago was promptly sawed off. Another tunnel found; dogs are seeking a trail. New forts are plainly to be seen. Negroes work all night. Reported fighting at Atlanta and that some of our forces are expected at Macon.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 92-3

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Thursday, July 24, 1864

Before day the dog horn and the yelping of hounds was heard. Men on parole about the depot had attempted to escape. Two trains of wounded from Hood's army passed here. Rebels report a victory, then admit a loss. Frederick, of my Company, died this afternoon. He has been ailing but we did not think him dangerously ill. He was carried out at 5 o'clock and is the 51st man who has died since 7 a. m. in prison.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 93

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Thursday, July 14, 1864

Report that Lee is moving forces northward; Ewell at Harper's Ferry; and a cavalry raid into Maryland. Whether this is to attract attention for political effect, or is a military movement is a question. While writing, sergeants of detachments have been called by Capt. Wirz and notified that he has if attempted he will kill every man in camp. Reports of two cannon startled the prisoners this afternoon, and we turned out to see Rebel soldiers pouring into line double quick. It was soon evident that it was practice. They formed on the hill, deployed skirmishers who indulged in a vigorous fire, interspersed with several volleys of musketry from a brigade, showing how they would do if Kilpatrick came, or if prisoners break out.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 91-2

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 Malvina S. Waring, March 20, 1865

A great joy has come to me this day, an unlooked-for, an inexpressible joy! A card was brought to me, and I took it with a sigh, because so many cards are brought in and we have so little time for rest. But the name upon that particular card made my heart thump and thump so fast I thought it would thump clean out of my body. It was my dear brother's name—the scout, who has been in prison two years, first at Camp Chase and recently at Fort Delaware. Without stopping as usual to give a last touch to my hair, I rushed into his presence and into his arms. He's the rowdiest, shabbiest, patchiest looking fellow you ever saw, but as handsome as ever, and the same old darling. We talked and talked; we crowded the talk of two long years of separation into two short hours of face to face. It is a thrilling romance, the way he escaped from prison. In a dead man's shoes it was! That man's name was Jesse Tredway, and he died in his bunk after his name had been entered on the list of exchange. My brother put his dead comrade in his own bunk and said nothing. He answered to his name in the roll call and quietly took his place in the ranks of the outgoing prisoners. The details of that journey homeward, the recital of his adventures and narrow escapes from detection all along the route, is something to be heard from his own lips in order to be appreciated. The recital made the blood tingle in my veins and then suddenly run cold; made my pulses throb and then suddenly cease almost to throb at all. Think of it! The recklessness of the deed, and his subsequent anxiety and fear of detection every moment. In the soft veil of the night, in the white light of the morning, under the noonday sun, under the midnight stars, even in the stillness of sleep, never to be rid of the fear of detection. His very life hung upon the issue, for he had made up his mind to shoot down the first man who remanded him back to prison. Thank God! he was never detected, never remanded back! He will now journey on without delay, on foot, for the most part. He has no money to pay his passage—but what of that? It is a pleasure to him to walk on God's fair earth again, no longer a shut-up animal in a cage; the earth is full of a new glory for him, the glory of sweet liberty. The exile has returned to his home.

SOURCE: South Carolina State Committee United Daughters of the Confederacy, South Carolina Women in the Confederacy, Vol. 1, “A Confederate Girl's Diary,” p. 282-3

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: December 19, 1864

The darkest and most dismal day that ever dawned upon the earth, except one. There was no light when the usual hour came round, and later the sun refused to shine. There was fog, and afterward rain.

Northern papers say Hood has been utterly routed, losing all his guns!

A letter from Mr. ——— to ——— dated Richmond, December 17th, 1864, says:

"I have the honor to report my success as most remarkable and satisfactory. I have ascertained the whole Yankee mail line, from the gun-boats to your city, with all the agents save one. You will be surprised when informed, from the lowest to the highest class. The agent in your city, and most likely in your department, has yet to be discovered. This is as certain as what we have learned (his arrest, I mean), for the party in whose hands the mail is put coming from your city is known to us; and we have only to learn who gives him the mail, which can be done upon arrest, if not sooner, to know everything. What shall be done with the parties (spies, of course) when we are ready to act? If you ever intimate that trials are tedious, etc., the enemy seize citizens from some neighborhood as hostages, when their emissaries are disturbed. I will dispatch, if it be authorized, and that will end the matter. The lady I spoke to you of is the fountain-head. What to do with females troubles me, for I dislike to be identified with their arrest.

 

"I request that a good boat, with three torpedoes, and a man who understands working them, be sent to Milford to report to me at Edge Hill. Let the man be mum on all questions. I would meet him at Milford, if I knew the day (distance is twenty-five miles), with a wagon, to take him, torpedoes, and boat to the point required. I must be sure of the day.

 

"Have the following advertisement published in Monday's papers:

 

“‘YANKEES ESCAPED! $1000 REWARD!—A Yankee officer and three privates escaped from prison on Thursday night, with important matter upon their persons. The above reward will be givenfor their detection.'

 

'Let me hear from you through Cawood's Line, upon receipt of this. Respectfully, etc. ———”

 

We have the spectacle now of three full generals-Johnston, Beauregard, and Bragg without armies to command; and the armies in the field apparently melting away under the lead of subordinate, if not incompetent leaders. So much for the administration of the Adjutant-General's office.

Governor Smith is still exempting deputy sheriffs, constables, etc.—all able-bodied.

It is rumored on the street that we intend evacuating Savannah. How did that get out—if, indeed, such is the determination? There are traitors in high places—or near them.

It is also rumored that the Danville Railroad has been cut. I don't believe it—yet.

There is deep vexation in the city—a general apprehension that our affairs are rapidly approaching a crisis such as has not been experienced before. There is also much denunciation of the President for the removal of Gen. Johnston from the command of the Army of Tennessee.

Hon. Mr. Foote declared, Saturday, that he would resign his seat if the bill to suspend the writ of habeas corpus, now pending, became a law. There is much consternation—but it is of a sullen character, without excitement.

The United States Congress has ordered that notice be given Great Britain of an intention on the part of the Federal Government to increase the naval force on the lakes; also a proposition has been introduced to terminate the Reciprocity Treaty. Gen. Dix orders his military subordinates to pursue any rebel raiders even into Canada and bring them over. So, light may come from that quarter. A war with England would be our peace.

At 2 P.M. it was rumored that Charleston is taken and Beauregard a prisoner. Also that Gen. Jos. E. Johnston (in the city) says Richmond will be evacuated in ten days. I do not learn what gold sells at to-day! I suspect some coup d'état is meditated.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 357-9

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, September 1, 1863

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,

September 1, 1863.

We still remain quiet in our old camp, with no sign of an enemy anywhere. I see no indications of our leaving here soon, but there is no telling. It is unreasonable for us to suppose we shall not have another battle here this summer. Old Lee is no idler; and, if the Yankees do not push a battle on him soon, he is almost sure to push one on them.

A little fellow returned to our regiment a few days ago who had made his escape from the Yankee prison at Fort Delaware. He traveled all the way back at night, and during the day kept safely hidden and rested. He had a most thrilling experience, which was full of just such hair-breadth escapes and wonderful adventures as I used to read about in histories when I was a boy, but which I did not believe at that time. I can believe them all now, for I see just such things occurring with us almost daily.

My new servant, Gabriel, arrived yesterday from South Carolina, and he seems well pleased so far. My brother and I had a great many questions to ask him about home. Billie is just like he used to be—fond of making fun of people. He wanted to know if Gabriel kissed Malinda when he left her, and he joked him about a great many things. Gabriel bought a watermelon in Richmond and brought it to us. It is the first one we have tasted in two years.

I got a new pair of shoes from the Government for six dollars. Billie's shoes are good yet, because I lent him a pair of mine to march in, and he wore them out and saved his own. Marching on these turnpike roads is very hard on shoes, and our army becomes barefooted in a short time.

We are living just as well as we could wish. I bought a bushel of potatoes yesterday, and we have plenty of meal, some flour, one ham and some rice.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 76-7

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: March 2, 1864

A slight snow on the ground this morning—but bright and cool. Last night, after I had retired to bed, we heard a brisk cannonading, and volleys of musketry, a few miles distant.

This morning an excitement, but no alarm, pervaded the city. It was certainly a formidable attempt to take the city by surprise. From the number of disgraceful failures heretofore, the last very recently, the enemy must have come to the desperate resolution to storm the city this time at all hazards. And indeed the coming upon it was sudden, and if there had been a column of 15,000 bold men in the assault, they might have penetrated it. But now, twenty-four hours subsequently, 30,000 would fail in the attempt.

The Department Clerks were in action in the evening in five minutes after they were formed in line. Capt. Ellery, Chief Clerk of 2d Auditor, was killed, and several were wounded. It rained fast all the time, and it was very dark. The enemy's cavalry charged upon them, firing as they came; they were ordered to lie flat on the ground. This they did, until the enemy came within fifteen yards of them, when they rose and fired, sending the assailants to the right and left, helter-skelter. How many fell is not yet known.

To-day Gen. Hampton sent in 77 prisoners, taken six miles above town—one lieutenant-colonel among them; and Yankee horses, etc. are coming in every hour.

Gov. Vance writes that inasmuch as Judge Pearson still grants the writ of habeas corpus, and discharges all who have put substitutes in the army, on the ground of the unconstitutionality of the act of Congress, he is bound by his oath to sustain the judge, even to the summoning the military force of the State to resist the Confederate States authorities. But to avoid such a fatal collision, he is willing to abide the decision of the Supreme Court, to assemble in June; the substitute men, meantime, to be left unmolested. We shall soon see the President's decision, which will probably be martial law.

Last night, when it was supposed probable that the prisoners of war at the Libby might attempt to break out, Gen. Winder ordered that a large amount of powder be placed under the building, with instructions to blow them up, if the attempt were made. He was persuaded, however, to consult the Secretary of War first, and get his approbation. The Secretary would give no such order, but said the prisoners must not be permitted to escape under any circumstances, which was considered sanction enough. Capt. —— obtained an order for, and procured several hundred pounds of gunpowder, which were placed in readiness. Whether the prisoners were advised of this I know not; but I told Capt —— it could not be justifiable to spring such a mine in the absence of their knowledge of the fate awaiting them, in the event of their attempt to break out, —— because such prisoners are not to be condemned for striving to regain their liberty. Indeed, it is the duty of a prisoner of war to escape if he can.

Gen. Winder addressed me in a friendly manner to-day, the first time in two years.

The President was in a bad humor yesterday, when the enemy's guns were heard even in his office.

The last dispatch from Gen. Lee informs us that Meade, who had advanced, had fallen back again. But communications are cut between us and Lee; and we have no intelligence since Monday.

Gen. Wilcox is organizing an impromptu brigade here, formed of the furloughed officers and men found everywhere in the streets and at the hotels. This looks as if the danger were not yet regarded as over.

The Secretary of War was locked up with the Quartermaster and Commissary-Generals and other bureau officers, supposed to be discussing the damage done by the enemy to the railroads, etc. etc. I hope it was not a consultation upon any presumed necessity of the abandonment of the city

We were paid to-day in $5 bills. I gave $20 for half a cord of wood, and $60 for a bushel of common white cornfield beans. Bacon is yet $8 per pound; but more is coming to the city than usual, and a decline may be looked for, I hope. The farmers above the city, who have been hoarding grain, meat, etc., will lose much by the raiders. . .

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 163-5

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: February 13, 1864

Bright, beautiful weather, with frosty nights.

The dispatches I cut from the papers to-day are interesting. Gen. Wise, it appears, has met the enemy at last, and gained a brilliant success—and so has Gen. Finnegan. But the correspondence between the President and Gen. Johnston, last spring and summer, indicates constant dissensions between the Executive and the generals. And the President is under the necessity of defending Northern born generals, while Southern born ones are without trusts, etc.

INTERESTING FROM FLORIDA.

 

OFFICIAL DISPATCH.

 

Charleston, February 11th, 1864.

To Gen. S. Cooper.

 

Gen Finnegan has repulsed the enemy's force at Lake City— details not known.

 

G. T. Beauregard.

 

SECOND DISPATCH.

 

Charleston, February 11th—11 A.m.

To Gen. S. Cooper.

 

Gen. Finnegan's success yesterday was very creditable—the enemy's force being much superior to his own. His reinforcements had not reached here, owing to delays on the road. Losses not yet reported.

 

G. T. Beauregard.

 

 

REPULSE OF THE ENEMY NEAR CHARLESTON.

OFFICIAL DISPATCH.

 

Charleston, February 12th, 1864.

 

Gen. Wise gallantly repulsed the enemy last evening on John's Island. He is, to-day, in pursuit. Our loss very trifling. The force of the enemy is about 2000; ours about one-half.

 

G. T. Beauregard.

Every day we recapture some of the escaped Federal officers. So far we have 34 of the 109.

The President sent over a "confidential" sealed letter to the Secretary to-day. I handed it to the Secretary, who was looking pensive.

Dr. McClure, of this city, who has been embalming the dead, and going about the country with his coffins, has been detected taking Jews and others through the lines. Several live men have been found in his coffins.

Again it is reported that the enemy are advancing up the Peninsula in force, and, to-morrow being Sunday, the local troops may be called out. But Gen. Rhodes is near with his division, so no serious danger will be felt, unless more than 20,000 attack us. Even that number would not accomplish much—for the city is fortified strongly.

It is rumored by blockade-runners that gold in the North is selling at from 200 to 500 per cent, premium. If this be true, our day of deliverance is not distant.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the ConfederaStates Capital, Volume 2, p. 148-9

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: February 14, 1864

Clear and windy. There is nothing new that I have heard of; but great apprehensions are felt for the fate of Mississippi—said to be penetrated to its center by an overwhelming force of the enemy. It is defended, however, or it is to be, by Gen. (Bishop) Polk.

I hear of more of the escaped Federal officers being brought in to-day.

The correspondence between the President and Gen. Johnston is causing some remark. The whole is not given. Letters were received from Gen. J. to which no allusion is made, which passed through my hands, and I think the fact is noted in this diary. He intimated, I think, that the position assigned him was equivocal and unpleasant in Tennessee. He did not feel inclined to push Bragg out of the field, and the President, it seems, would not relieve Bragg.

Mr. Secretary Seddon, it is now said, is resolved to remain in office.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 149-50

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: February 15, 1864

We have over forty of the escaped Federal officers. Nothing more from Gens. Wise and Finnegan. The enemy have retreated again on the Peninsula. It is said Meade's army is falling back on Washington.

We have a snow storm to-day.

The President is unfortunate with his servants, as the following from the Dispatch would seem:

"Another of President Davis's Negroes run away. — On Saturday night last the police were informed of the fact that Cornelius, a negro man in the employ of President Davis, had run away. Having received some clew of his whereabouts, they succeeded in finding him in a few hours after receiving the information of his escape, and lodged him in the upper station house. When caught, there was found on his person snack enough, consisting of cold chicken, ham, preserves, bread, etc., to last him for a long journey, and a large sum of money he had stolen from his master. Some time after being locked up, he called to the keeper of the prison to give him some water, and as that gentleman incautiously opened the door of his cell to wait on him, Cornelius knocked him down and again made his escape. Mr. Peter Everett, the only watchman present, put off after him; but before running many steps stumbled and fell, injuring himself severely."

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 150

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: February 11, 1864

Night before last 109 Federal prisoners, all commissioned officers, made their escape from prison—and only three or four have been retaken! 

The letter of Mr. Sloan, of North Carolina, only produced a reply from the Secretary that there was not the slightest suspicion against Gen. W., and that the people of North Carolina would not be satisfied with anybody. 

Eight thousand men of Johnston's army are without bayonets, and yet Col. Gorgas has abundance. 

Governor Milton, of Florida, calls lustily for 5000 men—else he fears all is lost in his State. 

To-day bacon is selling for $6 per pound, and all other things in proportion. A negro (for his master) asked me, to-day, $40 for an old, tough turkey gobbler. I passed on very briskly. 

We shall soon have martial law, it is thought, which, judiciously administered, might remedy some of the grievous evils we labor under. I shall have no meat for dinner to-morrow. 

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 147-8

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: January 26, 1864

Gen. Lee recommends the formation of several more brigades of cavalry, mostly from regiments and companies in South Carolina, and to this he anticipates objections on the part of the generals and governors along the Southern seaboard; but he deems it necessary, as the enemy facing him has a vastly superior cavalry force.

The prisoners on Belle Isle (8000) have had no meat for eleven days. The Secretary says the Commissary-General informs him that they fare as well as our armies, and so he refused the commissary (Capt. Warner) of the prisoners a permit to buy and bring to the city cattle he might be able to find. An outbreak of the prisoners is apprehended: and if they were to rise, it is feared some of the inhabitants of the city would join them, for they, too, have no meat—many of them—or bread either. They believe the famine is owing to the imbecility, or worse, of the government. A riot would be a dangerous occurrence, now: the city battalion would not fire on the people—and if they did, the army might break up, and avenge their slaughtered kindred. It is a perilous time.

My wife paid $12, to-day, for a half bushel of meal; meantime I got an order for two bushels, from Capt. Warner, at $10 per bushel.

The President receives visitors to-night; and, for the first time, I think I will go.

Mr. Foote, yesterday, offered a resolution that the Commissary-General ought to be removed; which was defeated by a decided vote, twenty in the affirmative. Twenty he relied on failed him. Letters from all quarters denounce the Commissary-General and his agents.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 135-6

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 10, 1864

The grand change has come and a car load of prisoners go away from here to-day. Although the Bucks and myself were the last in prison, we are determined to flank out and go with the first that go. Our destination is probably Charleston, from what I can learn. We three will escape on the road, or make a desperate effort to do so, anyway. Can walk much better now than ten days ago, and feel equal to the emergency. Fine weather and in good spirits, although many here are tired of being moved from place to place. More guards have come to take charge of us on the road, and it looks very discouraging for getting away, & though “Dave” says we will make it all right Place great reliance in him, as he has caution as well as the intention to escape. So like Hendryx, and added to it has more practical quiet common sense. Eli Buck and myself acknowledge him as leader in all things. Now comes the tug of war.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 134-5

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

A car load went at about noon, and are pretty well thinned out. Over half gone — no one believes to our lines now; all hands afraid of going to Charleston. Believe I shall try and escape on the journey, although in no condition to rough it. Am going to engineer this thing to suit myself and have a little fun. Would like to be out from under rebel guard once more. When I can look around and not see a prison wall and a gun ready to shoot me, I shall rejoice. Have edged up to another comrade and we bunk together. Said comrade is Corporal Smith, belonging to an Indiana regiment. While he is no great guns, seems quite a sensible chap and a decided improvement on many here to mess with. The nights are cool, and a covering of great benefit. My being the owner of a good blanket makes me a very desirable comrade to mess with. Two or three together can keep much warmer than one alone. It is said that a number of outsiders have escaped and taken to the woods. Another load goes to-night or early in the morning. My turn will come pretty soon. Nothing new in our situation or the prospects ahead Food scarce, but of good quality. More go and I go to-morrow.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 118

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

Last night I talked with a guard while Mike Hoare went out of his tunnel and got away safely from the hospital. The guard was on the inside and I hobbled to where he was and engaged him in conversation and Mike crawled away. It seems that Mike learned of some union Irish citizens in the city and his idea is to reach them which he may do, as there are scarcely any troops about the city, all being to the front. Now I am alone, best friends all gone one way or the other. The only acquaintances here now are Land and Sergt. Winn, with whom I became acquainted in Andersonville. Not like my other friends though. It is said there are half a dozen hospitals similar to this in Savannah which are filled with Andersonville wrecks. They have need to do something to redeem themselves from past conduct. Don't believe that it is the Confederacy that is taking such good care of us, but it is the city of Savannah; that is about the way it is as near as I can find out.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 105

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 15, 1863

I learn an order has been issued to conscribe all commissary and quartermasters' clerks liable to military service. There will be, and ought to be, some special cases of exemption, where men have lost everything in the war, and have women and children depending on their salaries for subsistence; but if this order be extended to the ordnance and other bureaus, as it must be, or incur the odium of injustice, and the thousand and one A. A. Gr.'s, there will soon be a very important accession to the army.

Major Joseph B——, who was lately confined with over 1000 of our officers, prisoners, on Johnson Island, Lake Erie, proposes a plan to the Secretary of War whereby he is certain the island can be taken, and the prisoners liberated and conveyed to Canada. He proposes that a dozen men shall seize one of the enemy's steamers at Sandusky, and then overpower the guards, etc. It is wild, but not impracticable.

We hear nothing to-day from the enemy on the Rappahannock or at Fortress Monroe.

Our army in Western Louisiana captured some forty Yankee cotton-planters, who had taken possession of the plantations after driving their owners away. The account states that they were “sent to Texas.” Were they not sent into eternity?

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 15

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: July 12, 1864

Good order has prevailed since the hanging. The men have settled right down to the business of dying, with no interruption. I keep thinking our situation can get no worse, but it does get worse every day and not less than one hundred and sixty die each twenty-four hours. Probably one-fourth or one-third of these die inside the stockade, the balance in the hospital outside. All day and up to four o'clock P. M., the dead are being gathered up and carried to the south gate and placed in a row inside the dead line. As the bodies are stripped of their clothing in most cases as soon as the breath leaves, and in some cases before, the row of dead presents a sickening appearance. Legs drawn up and in all shapes. They are black from pitch pine smoke and laying in the sun Some of them lay there for twenty hours or more, and by that time are in a horrible condition. At four o'clock a four or six- mule wagon comes up to the gate and twenty or thirty bodies are loaded on to the wagon and they are carted off to be put in trenches, one hundred in each trench, in the cemetery, which is eighty or a hundred rods away. There must necessarily be a great many whose names are not taken. It is the orders to attach the name, company and regiment to each body, but it is not always done. I was invited today to dig in a tunnel, but had to decline. My digging days are over. Must dig now to keep out of the ground, I guess. It is with difficulty now that I can walk, and only with the help of two canes.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 85

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: June 23, 1864

My coverlid nobly does duty, protecting us from the sun's hot rays by day and the heavy dews at night. Have no doubt but it has saved my life many times. Never have heard anything from Hendryx since his escape. Either got away to our lines or shot. Rebels recruiting among us for men to put in their ranks. None will go — yes, I believe one Duffy has gone with them. Much fighting. Men will fight as long as they can stand up. A father fights his own son not ten rods from us. Hardly any are strong enough to do much damage except the raiders, who get enough to eat and are in better condition than the rest. Four or five letters were delivered to their owners. Were from their homes. Remarkable, as I believe this is the first mail since our first coming here. Something wrong. Just shake in my boots — shoes, I mean, (plenty of room) when I think what July and August will do for us. Does not seem to me as if any can stand it After all, it's hard killing a man. Can stand most anything.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 70