Showing posts with label Scurvy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scurvy. Show all posts

Saturday, February 18, 2023

Dr. Spencer G. Welch to Cordelia Strother Welch, April 5, 1863

Camp near Rappahannock River, Va.,        
April 5, 1863.

The weather has been more disagreeable since the beginning of April than at any previous time this winter. The wind has blown almost incessantly and furiously at times. To-day is one of the windiest and most disagreeable that I ever saw. It is awful. I hope the wind will subside by night, or I am afraid it will blow my tent down. Yesterday when it was nearly night snow began falling, and with it there was a hurricane of wind, which continued through the night, and was terrific at times. I expected the tent to come down on Billie and me every moment, but it stood the gale finely, although it kept up a horrible flapping all night. The wind is still blowing to-day and the snow is several inches deep. Such weather as this will delay “Fighting Joe” Hooker's movements for some time, and it is so much the better for us.

There is now some scurvy in the army, which is caused by a lack of a vegetable diet. It is not serious yet and is easily cured if the men can get vegetables to eat.

We received orders from General Lee to be ready for an active campaign on the first of the month, by getting rid of all our surplus baggage. About one week ago I saw a Yankee balloon up on the other side of the river, and was told that General Lee had one up at the same time, but I did not see it. I do not believe we shall have so severe a campaign this spring and summer as we had last year, but I am more than willing to endure all the hardships again to be as victorious as we were then. You need have no apprehension that this army will ever meet with defeat while commanded by General Lee. General Jackson is a strict Presbyterian, but he is rather too much of a Napoleon Bonaparte in my estimation. Lee is the man, I assure you.

Dr. Kilgore and a great many others are extremely tired of this war, and he has succeeded in getting transferred to Macon, Ga. The surgeon who has taken his place is Dr. Tyler, a son of the former President of the United States. When the Thirteenth Regiment was formed there were six doctors and two bookkeepers in the medical department, and now every one of them has gone but myself.

I am glad that George is so bright and intelligent.

SOURCE: Dr. Spenser G. Welch, A Confederate Surgeon's Letters to His Wife, p. 46-8

Sunday, September 27, 2020

Dr. Seth Rogers to his Daughter, Sunday Evening, January 18, 1863

January 18, Sunday evening.

Such a transparent day and cool north winds make even South Carolina endurable, while it lasts, I mean. When General Hunter gets here we expect to nullify the State. . . . In our camp most curious problems present themselves, as how to keep people from scurvy without vegetables and fresh meat; how to have a good fire in tents without a fireplace, stove or ventilation; how to make bread without yeast and without oven. How to treat the sick without medicines,—how to amputate limbs without knives, — all these and many other similarly knotty questions the surgeon of the First Regiment of S. C. Vol's. has to consider, — sometimes when he ought to be sleeping. This is not said complainingly. Our men rarely complain and those jeering white soldiers who saw their firm tread in the streets of Beaufort, yesterday, must have discovered a reason for their patience, this silent waiting.

There was a Destiny in the silent, dignified bearing of our men, yesterday. I never in my life, felt so proud, so strong, so large. . . . Hurrah! Hurrah! — the Quartermaster just in with despatch from signal officer announcing arrival of the Arago, and a gun boat at Hilton head, and General Hunter has come.

SOURCE: Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society, Volume 43, October, 1909—June, 1910: February 1910. p. 345-6

Friday, December 27, 2019

Captain Charles Wright Wills: August 8, 1864

August 8, 1864.

Never was army better cared for than this. No part of it has been on short rations during the campaign. Extra issues of dessicated potatoes, mixed vegetables, etc., have bundled the advance guard of General Scurvy neck and heels outside the pickets. Extraordinary dreams of green corn, blackberries, new potatoes, etc., have done very much towards keeping up the health and morale of the army, and as much towards reconciling us to this summer sun, that ripens said goodies.

We draw supplies of clothing monthly as regularly as when in garrison, and a ragged soldier is a scarcity. At least 30 days' rations are safely stored in our rear, making us entirely unmindful of railroad raids, for, if necessary, we could build the whole road in that time. The heat has not troubled us much, save during a few days' marching.

We have had hardly three days without a rain for a month. We have done a great amount of work since our last battle, have constructed nine lines of works, and it will take at least two more before we get the position that I think Howard wants. We keep those poor Johnnies in a stew all the time. Our artillery is any amount better than theirs, and it plays on them from morning until night. Nothing worries troops so much, though compared with musketry it is almost harmless. I guess their ammunition is short, for they don't fire one shot to our 40. I think we'll like Howard first rate. If he is as good as McPherson, he'll do.

Four divisions are on their way to reenforce us. I don't think we need them, but the more, the merrier.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 288-

Friday, May 31, 2019

Captain Charles Wright Wills: July 7, 1864


July 7, 1864.

The shooting still continues in our front, but hear no Rebel artillery. The water here is excellent, and everybody seems to get a few blackberries. We also stew grapes and green apples, and everything that ever was eaten by anti-cannibals. There is so much confounded fighting to be attended to that we can't forage any, and though fresh beef is furnished to the men regularly there is some scurvy. I have seen several black-mouthed, loose-toothed fellows, hankering after pickles. Teamsters and hangers-on who stay in the rear get potatoes, etc., quite regularly. I do not believe the Johnnies intend fighting again very strongly this side of the river. Our scouts say that between the river and Atlanta the works run line after line as thickly as they can be put in. Per contra, two women who came from Atlanta on the 6th say that after we get across the river we will have no fighting, that Johnston is sending his troops to Savannah, Charleston, Mobile and Richmond, except enough to fight us at different river crossings. Our scouts also say that the Rebels are deserting almost by thousands, and going around our flanks to their homes in Tennessee, Kentucky, etc. I have not been in a house in Georgia, but several citizens I have met in camp said they had heard many soldiers say they would never cross the river with Johnston since the charge of the 27th.

Harrow has kept our brigade in reserve, and I think he will continue to do so unless a general battle is fought. We have suffered more heavily than any other two brigades in the army, and when we started we were one of the smallest. I am willing to see some of the others go in a while, though I want to help if Johnston will stand a fair fight in open ground. The chigres are becoming terrific. They are as large as the blunt end of a No. 12 and as red as blood. They will crawl through any cloth and bite worse than a flea, and poison the flesh very badly. They affect some more than others. I get along with them comparatively well, that is, I don't scratch more than half the time. Many of the boys anoint their bodies with bacon rinds, which the chigres can't go. Salt-water bathing also bars chigres, but salt is too scarce to use on human meat. Some of the boys bathing now in a little creek in front of me; look like what I expect “Sut Lovegood's” father did after plowing through that hornet's nest. All done by chigres. I believe I pick off my neck and clothes 30 varieties of measuring worm every day. Our brigade quartermaster yesterday found, under his saddle in his tent, a rattlesnake, with six rattles and a button.

This is the 68th day of the campaign. We hope to end it by August 1st, though if we can end the war by continuing this until January 1st, '65, I am in. Reinforcements are coming in every day, and I don't suppose we are any weaker than when we left Chattanooga. The Rebels undoubtedly are, besides the natural demoralization due to falling back so much must be awful. My health is excellent. Remember me to all the wounded boys of the 103d you see.

SOURCE: Charles Wright Wills, Army Life of an Illinois Soldier, p. 274-6

Saturday, January 12, 2019

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: December 21, 1864

Got up bright and early. Never slept better. Getting rested up. We talk continually. Both Bucks are great talkers, especially David. Cooked and ate our breakfast, and would you believe it the ham is all gone. incredible, the amount of food we eat. Wonder it don't make us all sick. Sweet potatoes getting low. Dave fixing up his dead fall for hogs. Has rolled some heavy logs together forty rods away from our house, and fixed up a figure four spring trap, with the logs for weight to hold down the animal which may be enticed into it. Has scattered corn in and around the trap, and we wait for developments. Hogs are very shy of us and surroundings. Are apparently fat and in good order. Plenty of roots and shack which they eat, and thrive thereon. Buzzards are very curious in regard to us. They light on the limbs in the trees, and if their support is a dead limb it breaks and makes a great noise in the still woods. Two or three hundred all together make a terrible racket, and scare us sometimes. The weather is very fine, and this must be a healthy climate. Dave is going out to-day to look around. As I have said before, he is a scout and understands spying around, and won't get caught. If we had a fish hook and line or a net of some sort could catch fish to eat. That would be a grand sport as we can see nice large fish in the water. The main road is away about one and a half miles we think by the sound of the teams which occasionally rumble along. Often hear shouting on the road as if cattie were being driven along toward Savannah. Once in a while we hear guns fired off, but it is no doubt hogs being killed. We also hear folks going up and down the river, but cannot see them. After dark we have no fire as that would expose us, it is so much plainer to be seen in the night. The river is wide; should think a third of a mile, as we can view it from away up the stream. The cane that grows in the river is the same as we have for fish poles at the North, and are shipped from the South. Have added some repairs to the house and it is now water tight, we think. Made a bed of soft boughs, and with our three blankets have a good sleeping place. Dave got a tall cane and fastened up on the house, and for a flag fastened on a piece or black cloth—the best we could do. That means no quarter; and it is just about what we mean, too. Don't believe we would be taken very easy now. I am getting fat every day, yet lame, and have come to the conclusion that it will be a long time before I get over it. The cords have contracted so in my right leg that they don't seem to stretch out again to their original length. That scurvy business came very near killing me. Later. — I also went out of our hiding place, and saw away out in a field what I took to be a mound where sweet potatoes were buried. Came back and got a pair of drawers, tied the bottom of the legs together, and sallied forth. The mound of potatoes was a good way back from the house, although in plain sight. I crawled up, and began digging into it with a piece of canteen. Very soon had a hole in, and found some of the nicest potatoes that you can imagine, of the red variety, which I believe are the genuine Southern yam. Filled the drawers cram full, filled my pockets and got all I could possibly carry, then closed up the hole and worked my way back to camp. Eli was alone, Dave not having returned from his scouting trip. Had a war dance around those potatoes. Believe there is a bushel of them, and like to have killed myself getting them here. After I got into the woods and out of the field, straightened up and got the drawers on my shoulders and picked the way to head-quarters. We don't any of us call any such thing as that stealing. It's one of the necessities of our lives that we should have food, and if we have not got it, must do the best we can. Now if we can catch a porker will be fixed all right for some days to come. Think it is about the time of year for butchering. We don't expect to be here more than two or three days at fartherest, although I shall hate to leave this beautiful spot, our nice house and all. Listen all the time for the expected battle at the bridge, and at any unusual sound of commotion in that direction we are all excitement. Later.—Dave has returned. He went to the main road and saw a negro. Was lucky enough to get a Savannah paper three days old in which there was nothing we did not know in regard to Sherman's coming. The negro said yankee scouts had been seen just across the river near the bridge, and the main army is expected every day. The rebels will fall back across the river and contest the crossing. Fortifications are built all along clear to Savannah, and it may be reasonably expected that some hard fighting will take place. Savannah is the pride of the South and they will not easily give it up. Dave did not tell the negro that he was a yankee, but represented himself as a conscript hiding in the woods to keep from fighting in the rebel army. Was glad to see supply of potatoes and says I will do. Has freshly baited his trap for hogs and thinks before night we will have fresh pork to go with the potatoes. Later. — We went around a drove of hogs and gradually and carefully worked them up to the trap. Pretty soon they began to pick up the corn and one of them went under the figure four, sprung it and down came the logs and such a squealing and scrambling of those not caught. The axe had been left near the trap standing up against a tree, and Dave ran up and grabbed it and struck the animal on the head and cut his throat. How we did laugh and dance around that defunct porker. Exciting sport this trapping for fresh pork. In half an hour Dave and Eli had the pig skinned and dressed. Is not a large one probably weighs ninety pounds or so, and is fat and nice. Have sliced up enough for about a dozen men and are now cooking it on sticks held up before the fire. Also frying some in a skillet which we are the possessor of. When the hogs run wild and eat acorns, roots and the like, the meat is tough and curly but is sweet and good. We fry out the grease and then slice up the potatoes and cook in it. Thanks to Mr. Kimball we have plenty of salt to season our meat with. The buzzards are after their share which will be small. And now it is most night again and the “Astor House” larder is full. Seems too bad to go to bed with anything to eat on hand, but must. That is the feeling with men who have been starved so long, cannot rest in peace with food laying around. My two comrades are not so bad about that as I am, having been well fed for a longer period. Have sat up three or four hours after dark, talking over what we will do when we get home, and will now turn in for a sound sleep. It's a clear moonlight night, and we can hear very plain a long distance. Can also see the light shining from camp fires in many directions, or what we take to be such.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 149-52

Thursday, March 8, 2018

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

Am now living splendid; vegetable diet is driving off the scurvy and dropsy, in fact the dropsy has dropped out but the effect remains. Set up now part of the time and talk like a runaway horse until tired out and then collapse. Heard that all the prisoners are going to be sent to Millen, Ga. Wrote a few lines directed to my father in Michigan. Am now given more food but not much at a time. Two poor fellows in our tent do not get along as well as I do, although Land is doing well and is going to be a nurse. The hospital is not guarded very close and Mike Hoare cannot resist the temptation to escape. Well, joy go with him. Dosed with quinine and beastly to take. Battese on his last visit to me left the two first books of my diary which he had in his possession. There is no doubt but he has saved my life, although he will take no credit for it. It is said all were moved from Andersonville to different points; ten thousand went to Florence, ten thousand to Charleston and ten thousand to Savannah; but the dead stay there and will for all time to come. What a terrible place and what a narrow escape I had of it Seems to me that fifteen thousand died while I was there; an army almost and as many men as inhabit a city of fifty thousand population.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 100

Saturday, February 24, 2018

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


Sent word to Battese by a convalescent who is being sent to the large prison, that I am getting well. Would like to see him. Am feeling better. Good many union men in Savannah. Three hundred sick here, with all kinds of diseases — gangrene, dropsy, scurvy, typhoid and other fevers, diarrhea, &c. Good care taken of me. Have medicine often, and gruel. Land does the writing.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 98

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

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

Can eat better — or drink rather; Some rebel general dead and buried with honors outside. Had another wash and general clean up; ocean breezes severe for invalids. Am visited twice a day by the rebel surgeon who instructs nurses about treatment. Food principally arrow root; have a little whisky. Sleep great deal of the time. Land, my acquaintance and mess-mate, is lame from scurvy, but is not weak and sick as I am. When I think of anything, say: “Land, put her down,” and he writes what I tell him. Everything clean here, but then any place is clean after summering in Andersonville. Don't improve much and sometimes not at all; get blue sometimes; nature of the beast suppose; other sick in the tent worry and make me nervous.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 97

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

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

Am troubled with poor sight together with scurvy and dropsy. My teeth are all loose and it is with difficulty I can eat. Jimmy Devers was taken out to die to-day. I hear that McGill is also dead. John McGuire died last night, both were Jackson men and old acquaintances Mike Hoare is still policeman and is sorry for me. Does what he can. And so we have seen the last of Jimmy. A prisoner of war one year and eighteen days. struggled hard to live through it, if ever any one did. Ever since I can remember have known him. John Maguire also, I have always known. Everybody in Jackson, Mich., will remember him, as living on the east side of the river near the wintergreen patch, and his father before him. They were one of the first families who settled that country. His people are well to do, with much property. Leaves a wife and one boy. Tom McGill is also a Jackson boy and a member of my own company. Thus you will see that three of my acquaintances died the same day, for Jimmy cannot live until night I don't think Not a person in the world but would have thought either one of them would kill me a dozen times enduring hardships. Pretty hard to tell about such things. Small squad of poor deluded Yanks turned inside with us, captured at Petersburg. It is said they talk of winning recent battles. Battese has traded for an old watch and Mike will try to procure vegetables for it from the guard. That is what will save us if anything

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 88-9

Monday, October 16, 2017

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: July 17, 1864

Cords contracting in my legs and very difficult for me to walk — after going a little ways have to stop and rest and am faint, Am urged by some to go to the hospital but don't like to do it; mess say had better stay where I am, and Battese says shall not go and that settles it. Jimmy Devers anxious to be taken to the hospital but is pursuaded to give it up. Tom McGill, another Irish friend, is past all recovery; is in another part of the prison. Many old prisoners are dropping off now this fearful hot weather; knew that July and August would thin us out; cannot keep track of them in my disabled condition. A fellow named Hubbard with whom I have conversed a good deal, is dead; a few days ago was in very good health, and its only a question of a few days now with any of us. Succeeded in getting four small onions about as large as hickory nuts, tops and all for two dollars Confederate money. Battese furnished the money but won't eat an onion; ask him if he is afraid it will make his breath smell? It is said that two or three onions or a sweet potato eaten raw daily will cure the scurvy. What a shame that such things are denied us, being so plenty the world over. Never appreciated such things before but shall hereafter. Am talking as if I expected to get home again. I do.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 87-8

Friday, September 22, 2017

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: July 9, 1864


Battese brought me some onions, and if they ain't good then no matter; also a sweet potato. One half the men here would get well if they only had something in the vegetable line to eat, or acids. Scurvy is about the most loathsome disease, and when dropsy takes hold with the scurvy, it is terrible. I have both diseases but keep them in check, and it only grows worse slowly. My legs are swollen, but the cords are not contracted much, and I can still walk very well. Our mess all keep clean, in fact are obliged to or else turned adrift. We want none of the dirty sort in our mess. Sanders and Rowe enforce the rules, which is not much work, as all hands are composed of men who prefer to keep clean. I still do a little washing, but more particularly hair cutting, which is easier work. You should see one of my hair cuts. Nobby! Old prisoners have hair a foot long or more, and my business is to cut it off, which I do without regards to anything except to get it off. I should judge that there are one thousand rebel soldiers guarding us, and perhaps a few more, with the usual number of officers. A guard told me to-day that the yanks were “gittin licked,” and they didn't want us exchanged; just as soon we should die here as not; a yank asked him if he knew what exchange meant; said he knew what shootin' meant, and as he began to swing around his old shooting iron we retreated in among the crowd. heard that there were some new men belonging to my regiment in another part of the prison; have just returned from looking after them and am all tired out. Instead of belonging to the 9th Michigan Cavalry, they belong to the 9th Michigan Infantry. Had a good visit and quite cheered with their accounts of the war news. Some one stole Battese's wash board and he is mad; is looking for it — may bust up the business. Think Hub Dakin will give me a board to make another one. Sanders owns the jack-knife, of this mess, and he don't like to lend it either; borrow it to carve on roots for pipes, Actually take solid comfort “building castles in the air,” a thing I have never been addicted to before. Better than getting blue and worrying myself to death. After all, we may get out of this dod-rotted hole Always an end of some sort to such things.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 80

Thursday, September 21, 2017

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: July 8, 1864

Oh, how hot, and oh, how miserable. The news that six have been sentenced to be hanged is true, and one of them is Moseby. The camp is thoroughly under control of the police now, and it is a heavenly boon. Of course there is some stealing and robbery, but not as before. Swan, of our mess, is sick with scurvy. I am gradually swelling up and growing weaker. But a few more pages in my diary. Over a hundred and fifty dying per day now, and twenty six thousand in camp. Guards shoot now very often. Boys, as guards, are the most cruel. It is said that if they kill a Yankee, they are given a thirty days furlough. Guess they need them as soldiers too much to allow of this. The swamp now is fearful, water perfectly reeking with prison offal and poison, still men drink it and die. Rumors that the six will be hung inside. Bread to-day and it is so coarse as to do more hurt than good to a majority of the prisoners. The place still gets worse. Tunneling is over with; no one engages in it now that I know of. The prison is a success as regards safety; no escape except by death, and very many take advantage of that way. A man who has preached to us (or tried to) is dead. Was a good man I verily believe, and from Pennsylvania. It's almost impossible for me to get correct names to note down; the last named man was called “the preacher,” and I can find no other name for him. Our quartette of singers a few rods away is disbanded. One died, one nearly dead, one a policeman and the other cannot sing alone, and so where we used to hear and enjoy good music evenings, there is nothing to attract us from the groans of the dying. Having formed a habit of going to sleep as soon as the air got cooled off and before fairly dark, I wake up at two or three o'clock and stay awake. I then take in all the horrors of the situation. Thousands are groaning, moaning and crying, with no bustle of the daytime to drown it. Guards every half hour call out the time and post, and there is often a shot to make one shiver as if with the ague. Must arrange my sleeping hours to miss getting owly in the morning. Have taken to building air castles of late, on being exchanged. Getting loony, I guess, same as all the rest.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 78-80

Thursday, September 7, 2017

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: July 2, 1864

Almost the Glorious Fourth of July. How shall we celebrate? Know of no way except to pound on the bake tin, which I shall do. Have taken to rubbing my limbs, which are gradually becoming more dropsical. Badly swollen. One of my teeth came out a few days ago, and all are loose. Mouth very sore. Battese says: “We get away yet.” Works around and always busy. If any news, he merely listens and don't say a word. Even he is in poor health, but never mentions it. An acquaintance of his, says he owns a good farm in Minnesota. Asked him if he was married — says: “Oh, yes.” Any children? “Oh, yes.” This is as far as we have got his history. Is very different from Indians in general. Some of them here are despisable cowards — worse than the negro. Probably one hundred negroes are here. Not so tough as the whites. Dead line being fixed up by the rebels. Got down in some places. Bought a piece of soap, first I have seen in many months. Swamp now in frightful condition from the filth of camp. Vermin and raiders have the best of it. Capt. Moseby still leads the villains.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 74-5

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

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

Capt. Wirtz sent inside a guard of fifteen or twenty to arrest and take out quite a number of prisoners. They had the names and would go right to their quarters and take them. Some tell-tale traitor has been informing on them, for attempting to escape or something Wirtz punishes very hard now; so much worse than a few months ago. Has numerous instruments of torture just outside the gate. Sores afflict us now, and the Lord only knows what next. Scurvy and scurvy sores, dropsy, not the least thing to eat that can be called fit for any one, much less a sick man, water that to drink is poison, no shelter, and surrounded by raiders liable to cut our throats any time Surely, this is a go. Have been reading over the diary, and find nothing but grumbling and growlings. Had best enumerate some of the better things of this life. I am able to walk around the prison, although quite lame. Have black pepper to put in our soups. Am as clean perhaps as any here, with good friends to talk cheerful to. Then, too, the raiders will let us alone until about the last, for some of them will get killed when they attack the “Astor House Mess,” Am probably as well off as any here who are not raiders, and I should be thankful, and am thankful. Will live probably two or three months yet. “If t'weren't for hope the heart would break,” and I am hopeful yet. A Pennsylvanian of German descent, named Van Tassel, and who has “sorter identified himself with us” for two or three months, died a few moments ago The worst cases of the sick are again taken to the hospital — that is, a few of the worst cases. Many prefer to die among their friends inside. Henry Clayton also died to-day. Was at one time in charge of our Division, and an old prisoner. Mike Hoare still hangs on nobly, as also do many other of my friends and acquaintances. Dorr Blakeman stands it unusually well. Have had no meat now for ten days; nothing but one-third of a loaf of corn bread and half a pint of cow peas for each man, each day. Wood is entirely gone, and occasionally squads allowed to go and get some under guard. Rowe went out to-day, was not able to carry much, and that had to be divided between a hundred men. One of the most annoying things is being squadded over every few days, sick and all. It's an all day job, and have to stand out until we are all tired out, never getting any food on these days.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 72-3

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

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

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

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

Saturday, August 19, 2017

Diary of 1st Sergeant John L. Ransom: June 24, 1864

Almost July 1st, when Jimmy Devers will have been a prisoner of war one year. Unless relief comes very soon he will die. I have read in my earlier years about prisoners in the revolutionary war, and other wars. It sounded noble and heroic to be a prisoner of war, and accounts of their adventures were quite romantic; but the romance has been knocked out of the prisoner of war business, higher than a kite. It's a fraud. All of the “Astor House Mess” now afflicted with scurvy and dropsy more or less, with the exception of Battese, and myself worst of any. Am figh ting the disease, however, all the time, and the growth is but slight. Take exercise every morning and evening, when it is almost impossible for me to walk Walk all over before the sun comes up, drink of Battese's medicine made of roots, keep clear of vermin, talk and even laugh, and if I do die, it will not be through neglect. Carpenter, the teamster who sold me the boots, is about gone, and thank the Lord he has received his sixty cents from me, in rations. Sorry for the poor fellow. Many who have all along stood it nobly now begin to go under Wm. B Rowe, our tall mess-mate, is quite bad off, still, he has an iron constitution and will last some time yet.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 70-1

Friday, August 4, 2017

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

I am sick; just able to drag around. My teeth are loose, mouth sores, with gums grown down in some places lower than the teeth and bloody, legs swollen up with dropsy and on the road to the trenches. Where there is so much to write about, I can hardly write anything. It's the same old story and must necessarily be repetition. Raiders now do just as they please, kill, plunder and steal in broad day light, with no one to molest them. Have been trying to organize a police force, but cannot do it. Raiders are the stronger party. Ground covered with maggots. Lice by the fourteen hundred thousand million infest Andersonville. A favorite game among the boys is to play at odd or even, by putting their hand inside some part of their clothing, pull out what they can conveniently get hold of and say “odd or even?” and then count up to see who beats. Think this is an original game here, never saw it at the North. Some of the men claim to have pet lice which they have trained. Am gradually growing worse. Nothing but the good care I have taken of myself has saved me thus far. I hope to last some time yet, and in the mean time relief may come. My diary about written through. It may end about the same time I do, which would be a fit ending.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 67

Saturday, July 22, 2017

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

Eight months a prisoner to-day. A lifetime has been crowded into these eight months. No rations at all. Am now a hair cutter. Have hired the shears. Enough to eat but not the right kind. Scurvy putting in its work, and symptoms of dropsy. Saw Hendryx at the bake house up stairs window, looking over the camp. , Probably looking to see if he can locate his old comrades among the sea of human beings. Wirtz comes inside no more, in fact, does very few rebels. The place is too bad for them.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 64

Friday, July 14, 2017

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

Sabbath day but not a pleasant one. Nearly a thousand just came in. Would seem to me that the rebels are victorious in their battles. New men are perfectly thunderstruck at the hole they have got into. A great many give right up and die in a few weeks, and some in a week. My limbs are badly swollen with scurvy and dropsy combined. Mouth also very sore. Battese digs for roots which he steeps up and I drink. Could give up and die in a short time but won't. Have got living reduced to a science.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 62

Thursday, July 13, 2017

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

No more news. It really seems as if we're all to die here. My mouth getting sore from scurvy and teeth loose. New prisoners coming in every day and death rate increasing. I don't seem to get hardened to the situation and am shuddering all the time at the sights. Rainy weather.

SOURCE: John L. Ransom, Andersonville Diary, p. 61