Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Monday, June 14, 1864

Northeast storm badly affects weak men. I know of twenty who since yesterday have sunk to utter helplessness; others have died within a few hours. Their clothes are besmeared with wet sand and soaked with water. The sand where we lay is wet as dough. Our rations are so insufficient that we are continually hungry. Got boiled rice again at night, totally unfit to eat. Several bushels are poured into large kettles, greasy and nasty, and cooked with less care than if it were hog feed. I believe hogs would loathe it. If it is merely economy to feed us so, it is crowding them down closely to the provision line. Rumors of the renomination of Lincoln and the nomination of Fremont on a side line. It is a Rebel lie or a Yankee blunder, much talked about. If it is so, the action of the Fremont wing is disapproved. I never strongly believed in Fremont, but the cause he essayed to represent, he will not see sacrificed for per

Northeast storm. Badly affects weak ultra anti-slavery men add themselves to the pro-slavery party North, and defeat the policy of the government? They cannot succeed; they can only defeat. The feeling here is for Lincoln. Twelve men escape; it is reported six guards are gone. Tunnels are found and being filled. Rice and meal rations.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 74-5

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, June 9, 1863

Still at our camp of the 6th inst., with plenty of wood and abundance of good spring and lake water; no improvement in the rations. Yesterday I went to Yazoo and bought rice, sugar and molasses, upon which the mess is living high. No news of the enemy, but cannonading is heard every day in the direction of Vicksburg. Heavy bodies of troops are arriving every day at Jackson, and it is thought that we will make an advance before long. The health of our brigade is pretty good.

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

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Daniel L. Ambrose: December 20, 1864

After the fall of Fort McAllister, we obtain some supplies, but for the seventy thousand hungry soldiers they soon run out. For the last week the troops have been subsisting upon corn and rice, the rice being obtained from the shocks in the swamps, and hulled out by the soldiers. Everything in the country for fifty miles around has been foraged. The army is still investing Savannah—the siege still going on. It will be over soon however, as a great battle will be fought where Count Pulaski's Monument stands; for Sherman's army is now in a good condition to sweep Savannah from the earth. The next forty-eight hours will tell the tale.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 286

Diary of 1st Lieutenant Daniel L. Ambrose: December 21, 1864

This morning we walk through the Seventh's camp, and everywhere we see the men with their clubs hulling out rice; this is all they have, but they are in fine spirits, all seem firm; seem confident and hopeful that this the most daring march in the military history of the nineteenth century, will be successful.

SOURCE: Daniel Leib Ambrose, History of the Seventh Regiment Illinois Volunteer Infantry, p. 287

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, April 15, 1863

I have allowed a huge gap to occur in this Diary, for which I can offer a poor excuse. I have been sick with head-ache for about three weeks, until a few days ago, when it left me, and simultaneously with its departure disappeared also the feeling of lassitude with which I have been almost prostrated; but I again feel my usual flow of spirits and a desire to place on record the doings of the Forty-first. Since the bombardment of this place on the night of the 14th of March, our daily life has been somewhat interesting, compared with what it was before. The Yankee vessels remained below the point a week or ten days, occasionally throwing a shell into our midst, and finally disappeared entirely; but soon after our old acquaintance, the "Essex," hove in sight, evidently with the intention of paying us a protracted visit. During the last month, our regiment has been worked every day at the rate of two hundred and fifty men to the detail, and, when not on fatigue duty, we have drilled constantly. Our rations have improved greatly in quality, but not in quantity. We now draw bacon, meal, rice, sugar, molasses and peas, and fish are also very plentiful, but dear. For a while, after the poor Texas beef gave out, we drew spoilt pork, but it was preferable.

During the intervals between the appearance of the Yankee vessels, we have managed to pass off the time very well. The weather has been beautiful, and our minds have been kept about as busy as our hands, between hope and expectation—hope that we may get marching orders, while we have been anxiously expecting the re-appearance of the Yankee fleet. As yet no marching orders have come for us, but the gunboats have made their appearance above and below. The first intimation we had of their coming was from an order for the regiment to take position on the river bank, to act as sharpshooters during the engagement. The fleet above, after a stay of a few days, during which they sent up rockets and fired signal guns to the lower fleet, steamed up the river. After being gone over a week, they re-appeared a few days since. The situation now is: we are menaced above by three formidable vessels, while the fleet below is in plain view and very busy. The probability is that an attack may be made at any hour. We are ready for them.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 165-6

Diary of Private W. J. Davidson, January 21, 1863

Yesterday I was on guard for the first time since I went soldiering. I cannot say that I particularly like the fun, but it gives one an opportunity of thinking over past sins, and meditating new ones. To-day I have been cooking, and, to the great joy of my mess, I made a good pot of coffee out of rice and sweet potatoes. The small-pox is on the decline.

SOURCE: Edwin L. Drake, Editor, The Annals of the Army of Tennessee and Early Western History, Vol. 1, p. 21

Congressman Horace Mann, March 13, 1850

MARCH 13, 1850.

The hallucination that seizes the South on the subject of slavery, is, indeed, enough to excite our compassion; but an excuse of their conduct to themselves on this ground, would, perhaps, enrage them more than any thing else. I would be willing to offer them any pecuniary indemnity which they might desire. Indeed, I had thought of bringing forward some such idea in my speech; but I feared they would only scout it.

I do not think Mr. Webster can be honest in the views expressed in his speech. I would struggle against a belief in his treachery to the last minute; but this speech is in flagrant violation of all that he has ever said before.

You are in an error in supposing that the exclusion of slavery from the Territories will affect the growth of cotton or rice unfavorably. Slaves are in great demand now for the cotton and rice fields. No production of the Territories would come in competition with their great staples. It is a fear of losing the balance of power, as they call it; and no doubt, in some cases, a fear that this is only a beginning of a war upon slavery in the States themselves. On this latter point, they will not be pacified by any declarations made by the North. Then, again, on this subject they are not a reasoning people.

To recur to Mr. Webster again. He has said some things it was quite unnecessary to say, and some things not true. Look at his interpretation of the admission of Texas! The act was, as he has quoted in his speech, that four new States—no more might be formed from Texas: those south of 36° 30′ might be slave States, and those north must be free States. Now, he says we are bound to admit four slave States. But we are bound to admit only four in the whole. Why, then, admit all these four as slave States, and then others, that is, if we get the consent of Texas, as free States? No: we are to admit but four in the whole; and, as one or two of these are to be free, there must not be four slave. He therefore not only proposes to execute that ungodly bargain, but to give one or two slave States to the South as a gratuity.

So his offer to take the proceeds of the public lands to deport free blacks is of the greatest service to slavery. It is just what the South wants, to get rid of its free blacks. It would enhance the value and the security of the slave property so called. Had he proposed to give the proceeds of the lands to deport manumitted slaves, that would encourage manumission, and be of real service to humanity. Indeed, the more I think of the speech, the worse I think of it.

SOURCE: Mary Tyler Peabody Mann, Life of Horace Mann, p. 295-6

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, January 16, 1864

Camp near Orange Court House, Va.,

January 16, 1864.

The army is filling up with conscripts, absentees and others, and if we get also the principals of the substitutes our army will soon be very formidable. Mose Cappock has returned, although his wound has not quite healed. I believe if we whip the Yankees good again this spring they will quit in disgust. Their cause is not just, like ours, and they are sure to become discouraged more readily.

The people of Richmond have had a great time recently, feasting and fêting General Morgan. Men who saw him there tell me he is very young, handsome and attractive, but is modest and has a most pleasing address. I learned that when he passed through Newberry the people made him come out of the train and let them all take a good look at him.

An officer in our regiment was cashiered for forging a furlough, sure enough. I feel very sorry for him and think he should go to the Yankees the first chance he gets, for he is ruined wherever this thing becomes known.

The winter has been unusually severe so far, but I am perfectly comfortable in every way, except that our diet is becoming anything else but bountiful or extravagant. We draw a little coffee and sugar occasionally. For breakfast this morning I had a cup of "Pure Rio," some ham, rice, biscuit and butter, but I have a hankering for such things as syrup, sweet potatoes, sauer-kraut, and the like. I do hope it will not be a great while before I can have such things.

Edwin still has some of the good things to eat which he brought from home in his trunk. His servant, Tony, stole some of his syrup to give to a negro girl who lives near our camp, and Ed gave him a pretty thorough thrashing for it. He says Tony is too much of a thief to suit him and he intends to send him back home. I had to give Gabriel a little thrashing this morning for "jawing” me. I hate very much to raise a violent hand against a person as old as Gabriel, although he is black and a slave. He is too slow for me, and I intend to send him back by Billie when he goes home on furlough.

I must close, as Gabriel is bringing in my dinner. I will write to you again in a few days.

SOURCE: Dr. Spencer G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 86-8

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: October 30, 1864

Bright and beautiful.

Some firing was heard early this morning on the Darbytown road, or in that direction; but it soon ceased, and no fighting of moment is anticipated to-day, for Gen. Longstreet is in the city.

My son Thomas drew a month's rations yesterday, being detailed for clerical service with Gen. Kemper. He got 35 pounds of flour (market value $70), 31 pounds of beef ($100.75), 3 pounds of rice ($6), one sixth of a cord of wood ($13.33), salt ($2), tobacco ($5), vinegar ($3)—making $200 per month; clothing furnished by government, $500 per annum; cash, $18 per month; $4 per day extra, and $40 per month for quarters; or $5000 per annum.

Custis and I get $4000 each-making in all $13,000! Yet we cannot subsist and clothe the family; for, alas, the paper money is $30 for one in specie!

The steamers have brought into Wilmington immense amounts of quartermaster stores, and perhaps our armies are the best clad in the world. If the spirit of speculation be laid, and all the men and resources of the country be devoted to defense (as seems now to be the intention), the United States could never find men and material sufficient for our subjugation. We could maintain the war for an indefinite period, unless, indeed, fatal dissensions should spring up among ourselves.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 318-9

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: August 14, 1864

Hot and dry.

Rumors of a fight down the river yesterday, driving the enemy from Deep Bottom, and grounding of the Richmond. Guns were heard, and I suppose we made a demonstration both by land and water.

Cavalry (Hampton's) still pass northward. They ride as if they grew to the horses.

As they trot past, they can be seen cutting and dividing large round watermelons, and none are permitted to fall. Occasionally a staring negro in the street is astonished by the crushing of a rind on his head.

I never saw melons and other fruit so abundant; but they are held so high I cannot indulge.

Mr. Seddon draws 75 pounds rice per month, his family being fifty; and gets 12 pads cotton yarn from the State distribution. I shall get 104 pounds rice, at 50 cents—retail price, $2; and perhaps 1 pad-5 pounds-yarn for $15; my family being seven.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 264

Dr. Seth Rogers to his daughter Dolly, January 30, 1863

ALBERTI's Mills, 40 miles from FERNANDINA.

January 30, 1863. 

This river is rebellious to the last degree. It is very crooked and sluggish and black and got us aground so many times in the long, sleepless night that rebel pickets might have picked off many of our men and officers. Again and again we had to turn points at right angles and we were never more than two rods from one or the other shore. Often the sides of our boat were swept by the boughs of the mournful looking trees. The shores are generally low and marshy, and the moss droops so low as to give the appearance of weeping willows. It is now eleven, A.M. and we are starting homeward. Oh, it is a queer night, so queer that more than once I laughed outright, when I thought of the curious fact that T. W. H. and I were so industriously trying to get a peep at real rebels, while they would undoubtedly do something to get a peep at us. In my time I have seen considerable mismanagement of one kind and another, but do not remember that I ever dreamed that so much of that article could be employed in one night on board a steamboat. Among the boat's officers there was no mutual understanding, and it is fortunate for us that the rebels did not know it. But at daylight we did reach Alberti's Mills, and then came for me an hour of fitful, dreamy sleep. I had made three vigorous efforts to sleep during the night, but enjoyed the calm moonlight and strange scenery and spice of danger too much for drowsiness. We passed picket fires and felt the possibility that our return might be obstructed, or greatly harassed. Very few officers have voluntarily dared such a responsibility as that resting on our Colonel, but he patiently and vigilantly met all the obstacles and had his pickets and skirmishers so arranged. . . .

Evening and Ben Deford again, thank God!

 I had written thus far when the rebels began firing from the shore and I found myself among our soldiers, who replied with spirit and precision that sent more than one poor fellow to the dust.

Captain Clifton of the John Adams was shot through the head and died instantly. The Major's [J. D. Strong] head escaped by about two inches.

Strange to say no other accidents occurred in this nor in the subsequent firing from the bluffs on the Florida shore. The first attack was from the Georgia bluffs. They were both desperate, but of short duration. One fellow actually jumped on the flat-boat in tow, and was immediately shot by one of our soldiers. I afterwards asked Robert Sutton what he himself was about during the conflict, and found that he was deliberately shooting from the pilot house, with two guns, having a man to load one while he fired the other. But now I will go back to the sunrise. As I was saying, the pickets and skirmishers were so placed that there was no escape for the white families at Alberti’s Mills. The Colonel had gone ashore and a little after sunrise sent for me to go off and take with me some copies of the President's proclamation. I found a little village, all included in the A. estate, and the mansion was occupied by Madame A. and her family. She was a New Yorker by birth and her deceased husband was a native of Philadelphia. Mr. B., former business partner of his - A.'s was at the house on a visit, ill with chronic bronchitis. He, being an important person, must be made prisoner, unless too feeble to be removed from the house. I found, on examination, that he could be taken with us without danger to himself. Madame A. spent much time trying to convince me that she and her husband had been wonderfully devoted to the interests of their slaves, especially to the fruitless work of trying to educate them. The truth of these assertions was disproved by certain facts, such as a strong slave jail, containing implements of torture which we now have in our possession, (the lock I have), the fact that the slaves have “mostly gone over to the Yankees,” and the yet other fact that Robert Sutton, a former slave there, said the statement was false. The statement of a black man was lawful in Dixie yesterday. I called Madame A.'s attention to a former slave of hers, whom she remembered as “Bob,” but never before knew as Robert Sutton, corporal in the army of the United States. Robert begged me to forgive him for breaking through my order that he should not exert himself at all till the danger of inflammation of the brain should be averted. The white bandage about his head was conspicuous at the points of danger through all the twenty-four eventful hours of our expedition. It finally devolved upon him and Sergeant Rivers¹ to examine the persons of our six rebel prisoners, for concealed weapons of defense. This last process was so very anti-slavery, that I fancied the rebels enjoyed it somewhat less than I.

I am told that thirteen riderless horses went back to camp after that fight in the woods the other night; that the lieutenant [Jones] in command and five others were killed and many others wounded. Could our party have known the exact state of affairs, the camp might have been destroyed and many prisoners taken. But it was safer and wiser for infantry not to follow cavalry in the night. Our comrades on the Ben Deford greeted us heartily and the Provost Marshal was in readiness to take charge of our prisoners. We shall probably take Mr. B. to Beaufort with us. He is a wealthy and influential rebel and may become a very important hostage when Jeff Davis begins to hang us. We brought off two or three negroes, and rice, corn, sheep and other valuable things, strictly contraband of war. I wanted the Colonel to take a piano already boxed, and in a store-house at the wharf, but we had no room for it. I thought it would especially please Miss Forten to have it in her school.

_______________

¹ Prince Rivers.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 352-4

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: February 12, 1864

It is warm to-day, and cloudy; but there was ice early in the morning. We have recaptured twenty-odd of the escaped prisoners. 

A bill has passed Congress placing an embargo on many imported articles; and these articles are rising rapidly in price. Sugar sold to-day at auction in large quantity for $8.00 per pound; rice, 85 cents, etc. 

There is a rumor that Gen. Finnegan has captured the enemy in Florida. 

Gen. Lee says his army is rapidly re-enlisting for the war. 

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

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: January 7, 1864

Gen. J. E. Johnston dispatches from the West that the meat is so indifferent, the soldiers must have an additional quantity of rice.

Beef sells to-day at $1.25 per pound by the quarter. And yet an Englishman at the best hotel yesterday remarked that he never lived so cheaply in any country, his board being only three shillings (in specie) per diem, or about $20 Confederate States notes.

A dozen china cups and saucers sold at auction to-day for $160. Col. Preston, Conscription Bureau, several members of the cabinet, etc. feasted at a cost of $2000! It is said that the Jack was turned up and Jeff turned down in a witticism, and smiled at nem. con. But I don't believe that.

We have a light snow, the first time the earth has been white this winter.

I am reminded daily of the privations I used to read of in the Revolutionary War. Then thorns were used, now we use pins, for buttons. My waistbands of pantaloons and drawers are pinned instead of buttoned.

Gen. Jno. H. Morgan arrived this evening, and enjoyed a fine reception, as a multitude of admirers were at the depot.

About the same hour the President rode past my house alone, to indulge his thoughts in solitude in the suburbs of the city.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 125

Diary of John Beauchamp Jones: January 9, 1864

Cold and clear. Gen. Longstreet has preferred charges against Major-Gen. McLaws and another general of his command, and also asks to be relieved, unless he has an independent command, as Gen. Johnston's headquarters are too far off, etc. The Secretary is willing to relieve him, but the President intimates that a successor ought to be designated first.

Beef was held at $2.50 per pound in market to-day—and I got none; but I bought 25 pounds of rice at 40 cts., which, with the meal and potatoes, will keep us alive a month at least. The rich rogues and rascals, however, in the city, are living sumptuously, and spending Confederate States notes as if they supposed they would soon be valueless.

SOURCE: John Beauchamp Jones, A Rebel War Clerk's Diary at the Confederate States Capital, Volume 2, p. 126

Gerrit Smith to Wendell Phillips, 1855

Considerable as have been the pecuniary sacrifices of abolitionists in their cause, they fall far short of the merits of that precious cause. It is but a small proportion of them who refuse to purchase the cotton and sugar and rice that are wet with the tears and sweat and blood of the slave. And when we count up those who have sealed with their blood their consecration to the anti-slavery cause, we find their whole number to be scarcely half a dozen.

In none of the qualities of the best style of men — and that is the style of men needed to effectuate the bloodless termination of American slavery — have the abolitionists shown themselves more deficient than in magnanimity, confidence, charity. They have judged neither the slaveholders nor each other, generously. . . . The quarrels of abolitionists with each other, and their jealousy and abuse of each other would be far less had they more magnanimity, confidence, charity. Many of them delight in casting each other down, rather than in building each other up. Complain of each other they must; and when there is no occasion for complaint, their ill-natured ingenuity can manufacture an occasion out of the very smallest materials. Were even you, whose trueness to the slave is never to be doubted, to be sent to Congress, many of your abolition brethren would be on the alert to find some occasion for calling your integrity in question.

. . . It is no wonder that slaveholders despise both us and our cause. Our cowardice and vacillation, and innumerable follies have, almost necessarily, made both us and it contemptible. The way for us to bring slaveholders right on slavery is to be right on it ourselves. The way for us to command the respect, ay, and to win the love of slaveholders, is to act honestly, in regard to slavery and to all things else. Do I mean to say that slaveholders can be brought to love abolitionists? Oh yes! and I add, that abolitionists should love slaveholders. We are all brothers; and we are all sinners too; and the difference between ourselves, as sinners, is not so great, as in our prejudice on the one hand and our self-complacency on the other, we are wont to imagine it to be.

SOURCES: Octavius Brooks Frothingham, Gerrit Smith: A Biography, p. 230-1

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 15, 1864

Jocko's hut was not across the river as I supposed and wrote yesterday, but on the same side we were on. At about ten o'clock last night we went to his abiding place as directed and knocked. After a long time an old black head was stuck out of the window with a nightcap on. The owner of the head didn't know Jocko or anything about him; was short and crusty; said: “Go way from Dar” Kept talking to him and he scolding at being disturbed. Said he had rheumatics and couldn't get out to let us in. After a long time opened the door and we set down on the door step. Told him we were yankees and wanted help. Was the funniest darky we have met yet. Would give something for his picture as he was framed in his window in the moonlight talking to us, with the picturesque surroundings, and us yankees trying to win him over to aid us. Finally owned up that he was Jocko, but said he couldn't row us across the river. He was lame and could not walk, had no boat, and if he had the river was so swift he couldn't get us across, and if it wasn't swift, the rebels would catch him at it and hang him. Talked a long time and with much teasing. By degrees his scruples gave way, one at a time. Didn't know but he might row us across if he only had a boat, and finally didn't know but he could find a boat To get thus far into his good graces took at least three hours. Went looking around and found an old scow, fixed up some old cars, and we got in; before doing so however, he had warmed up enough to give us some boiled sweet potatoes and cold baked fish. Rowed us way down the river and landed us on the noted Miller plantation and a mile in rear of the negro houses. Jocko, after we forced our acquaintance on him with all kind of argument, proved to be a smart able bodied old negro, but awful afraid of being caught helping runaways. Would give something for his picture as he appeared to us looking out of his cabin window. Just an old fashioned, genuine negro, and so black that charcoal would make a white mark on him. Took us probably three miles from his hut, two miles of water and one of land, and then started back home after shaking us a dozen times by the hand, and “God blessing us.” Said “Ole Massa Miller's niggers all Union niggers,” and to go up to the huts in broad day light and they would help us. No whites at home on the plantation. We arrived where Jocko left us an hour or so before daylight, and lay down to sleep until light. I woke up after a while feeling wet, and found the tide had risen and we were surrounded with water; woke up the boys and scrambled out of that in a hurry, going through two feet of water in some places. The spot where we had laid down was a higher piece of ground than that adjoining. Got on to dry land and proceeded to get dry. At about ten o'clock Dave went up to the negro huts and made himself known, which was hard work. The negroes are all afraid that we are rebels and trying to get them into a scrape, but after we once get them thoroughly satisfied that we are genuine Yanks they are all right, and will do anything for us. The negroes have shown us the big house, there being no whites around, they having left to escape the coming Yankee army. We went up into the cupola and looked way off on the ocean, and saw our own noble gunboats. What would we give to be aboard of them? Their close proximity makes us discuss the feasibility of going down the river and out to them, but the negroes say there are chain boats across the river farther down, and picketed. Still it makes us anxious, our being so near, and we have decided to go down the river to night in a boat and see if we can't reach them It is now the middle of the afternoon and we lay off from the huts eighty rods, and the negroes are about to bring us some dinner. During the night we traveled over oyster beds by the acre, artificial ones, and they cut our feet. Negroes say there are two other runaways hid a mile off and they are going to bring them to our abiding place. Later, — Negroes have just fed us with corn bread and a kind of fish about the size of sardines, boiled by the kettle full, and they are nice. Fully as good as sardines. Think I know now where nearly all the imported sardines come from. Negroes catch them by the thousand, in nets, put them in kettles, and cook them a few minutes, when they are ready to eat. Scoop them out of the creeks The two other runaways are here with us. They are out of the 3d Ohio Cavalry. Have been out in the woods for two weeks. Escaped from Blackshear and traveled this far. I used to know one of them in Savannah. We do not take to them at all, as they are not of our kind. Shall separate to night, they going their way and we going ours. Have secured a dug-out boat to go down the Ogechee River with to-night. The negroes tell us of a Mr. Kimball, a white man, living up the country fifteen miles, who is a Union man and helps runaways, or any one of Union proclivities. He lays up the river, and our gunboats lay down the river. Both have wonderful charms for us, and shall decide before night which route to take. Are on rice plantation, and a valuable one. Before the “wall” there were over fifteen hundred negroes on this place. Cotton is also part of the production. Have decided to go down the river and try to reach our gunboats It's two very hazardous undertaking, and I have my doubts as to its successful termination.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 141-3

Captain Charles Wright Wills: June 6, 1864

June 6, 1864.

I will try and send you this to-day. Our postmaster never calls for letters, though we could send them if he would. I will try hereafter to send oftener, though you must not feel anxious about me. I will take the best care I can of myself (and do my whole duty). I yet think that to be connected with such a campaign as this is well worth risking one's life for. It occasionally gets a little old, but so does everything in this life, and altogether I don't know but that it wears as well as any of life's pleasures. Do you remember when I was at home how little I knew about good eatables? Here it is a great advantage to me. For five weeks we have been living on “hard tack,” pickled pork and coffee, varied by not half a dozen meals of beef, not even beans or rice. Nearly every one grumbles, but I have as yet felt no loss of appetite, and hardly the desire for a change.

Nearly all the prisoners we capture say they are done fighting and shamefully say, many of them, that if exchanged and put back in the ranks they will shirk rather than fight. It would mortify me very much if I thought any of our men that they captured would talk so. It seems to me that the Confederacy is only held together by its officers exercising at least the power of a Czar, and that should we leave it to itself it would crumble. Well, I am calculating that this campaign will end about the 15th of July, in Atlanta. I cannot hope for a leave of absence again until my time is out, unless I resign, and if active campaigning continues, as some think it will, until the war is over, of course I will have no chance to do the latter. Cousin James is near me here, and I expect to see him soon.

Passed Charlie Maple on the road yesterday; also saw Clegget Birney. He is a splendid looking boy. They say the 7th Cavalry will soon be here; also the 8th Illinois. I will try to write you every week hereafter.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 255-6

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

We are now three miles from yesterday's resting place, and near the Miller plantation. Soon as dark last night we went to the negro huts and found them expecting us. Had a jubilee. No whites near, but all away. The Buck boys passed near here before when out in the woods, and knew of many darkys who befriended them. Had a surfeit of food. Stayed at the huts until after midnight, and then a woman brought us to this place. Tonight we go to Jocko's hut, across the river. A darky will row us across the Little Ogechee to Jocco's hut, and then he will take us in tow. It is a rice country about here, with canals running every way. Negroes all tickled to death because Yankees coming. I am feeling better than yesterday, but difficult to travel. Tell the boys they had better leave me with the friendly blacks and go ahead to our lines, but they won't. Plenty to eat and milk to drink, which is just what I want. The whites now are all away from their homes and most of the negroes. Imagine we can hear the booming of cannon, but guess we are mistaken. Dave is very entertaining and good company. Don't get tired of him and his talk. Both of them are in rebel dress throughout, and can talk and act just like rebels. Know the commanders of different rebel regiments. They say that when out before they on different occasions mixed with the Southern army, without detection Said they didn't wonder the widow woman knew I was a Yankee. Ain't up to that kind of thing.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 138-41

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 4, 1864

Another delightfully cool morning. There are not a great many guards here to watch over us, and it would be possible for all to break away without much trouble. The men, however, are so sure of liberty that they prefer to wait until given legitimately. Would like to have seen this guard hold us last summer at Andersonville. Fresh meat again to-day. Rebels go out to neighboring plantations and take cattle, drive them here, and butcher for us to eat. Rice is also given us to eat. Have plenty of wood to cook with. Have traded off the old missmated pair of brogans for a smaller and good pair, and feel quite like a dandy. Have some money to buy extras. Have plenty of food yet from that given me at Doctortown. Divide with the Bucks, or rather, it is all one common mess, and what any one owns belongs equally to the others. Rebels glum and cross, and sometimes we laugh at them, and then they swear and tell us to shut up or they will blow our heads off. Blackshear is a funny name and it is a funny town, if there is any, for as yet I haven't been able to see it. Probably a barn and a hen-coop comprise the place. Cars go thundering by as if the Yanks were after them About every train loaded with troops. Go first one way and then the other. Think they are trying to keep out of the way themselves.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 131-2