Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Tuesday, August 4, 1864

Several men of our regiment are failing fast. H. D. Merritt is an object of pity and getting worse. We have cut his hair close to keep the myriads of lice out. He has lost all disposition to try to save himself. About 400 of Gen. Stoneman's command captured in the vicinity of Macon, were turned in here today. They report Maj. Gen. Stoneman captured. His expedition to that point with the intention of coming here has proved disastrous. Rations suspended. Sick ordered to the gate at night; and ordered to be brought again in the morning. None to go who can walk.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 97

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Wednesday, August 5, 1864

Sick come to the south gate in horrible crowds. Every inch of ground covered. What sights, what groans! Nine hundred admitted outside, the remainder carried groaning back about noon to be returned in the morning. Oh, for the Messiah, the hem of whose garment they might touch and be healed!

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 97

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

At daylight a man shot and instantly killed. He had no particular stopping place, had become partially crazed; in the night had crept beyond the dead line and fell asleep. As soon as seen, the guard shot him while yet asleep. He had just been seen by two of our men who were calling him to come out. He lay until "dead call" and was carried out. Those who have helpless friends are eager to get them out. So at an early hour this morning they are crowded forward. Regulators are clearing every passage to make room for the sick. The main street on which I stop from the gate to the east, is filled with prostrate men. There is a greater number than yesterday. The doctors are making special efforts and one said yesterday, "The sick must all come out. The condition of the prison will breed pestilence that will spread through the country." It is through their importunity that this movement is made. They appear frightened. I heard another say, "Conditions are shameful." Long have doctors complained that their government furnishes neither medicine nor decent quarters; that men can not be successfully treated on such fare and in these quarters. One told Steward Brown that men could not live long on the rations given us; that well men will soon be sick. They have 'some new tents up; some are being carried thither in army wagons. The Rebel sergeant who counted us today said:

"Captain don't care how many Yankees die; he says he has killed more men than Joe Johnston," then added: "What did you'ns come down heah for if you'ns didn't want tough fare? But we can't help it."

After two hours laying in a crowd, "no sick call," is announced. The sick are being returned to all parts of the prison. I am living on rice alone, draw some, trade meal for some.

Report is rife that our government has offered the Richmond dignitaries to accept a parole of all prisoners, especially sick, and take care of prisoners of both parties. Undoubtedly this is the disposition of our government. This evening I met an intelligent talker who knows what he sees more than most men. Having frequently met him, I inquired his name. "Buerila," he replied; "I am from Illinois, have been a prisoner ten months, came here from Florida; I will stay ten more, I will be eaten up by lice and maggots before I will ask our government to get on its marrow bones to these Rebels. I am glad to see Lincoln stand square on his feet. I was a Douglas man, not that he was a better man, but had had more experience. I knew both personally and now believe Lincoln the best man for the place. If I can get into God's country in time he will get my vote." I referred to the report; he said:

"I asked the old Dutch if that thing was true myself. The old bummer looked mad, but answered more than I expected: 'Py Cot ve vills to no such ting! Py Cot, ve vill starf every son of a pitch! Now, I tells you, you vills all tie pefore ve vills parole ye-an pefore exchange. Py Cot, your Covment is too tevilment. Ve cot you foul!' Turning his horse around to go away, he said: 'Py Cot, you as vell pe schoot as stay here, and ve no trust damn Yankees.'"

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 97-8

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

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

A PRISONER'S SONG.

Strident, yet more strident,

Sound the notes of war.

In our hearts confident

Behold the end afar.

Patient, yet more patient,

We'll bear the pains of fate.

Awake, oh, spirits latent,

And ward the blows of hate!

Higher, and yet higher,

Raise the hope of love;

Let faith new strength inspire

And make us stalwart prove.

Calmer, and yet calmer,

Wait we for the light,

Through savage din and clamor,

The passing of this night.

Freedom, on forever,

O, swiftly onward stride,

Enslaving bonds to sever,

And in this land abide!

Steady, and more steady,

Let our armies go;

They are strong and ready,

They move-it seems so slow!

Starving, we are starving!

We are sinking in distress;

Disease is gnawing-carving;

Our foes do sore oppress.

Help us to see the sunlight

Of victory and feel

Treason's bane has ceased to blight,

E'er death our eyes shall seal.

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

"There is a Divinity that shapes our ends,

Rough hew them as we will."

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

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

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

STACK ARMS.

 

See, an officer in quest of men,

To do some work the Rebels need;

Invites us from this prison pen

To work for them while brothers bleed!

Foreswear our country, Southron? No!

For its cause is true and high!

Join the hosts of Freedom's foe?

Far better starve; in prison die!

We fight for section, Southron? No;

We fight that liberty may spread

O'er all the land that freemen know,

Where, too long, the slave had tread.

We fight for justice in the land

Where freeman's voice has been suppressed;

It shall be heard, from strand to strand,

And every wrong shall be redressed.

Patriotic to fight for wrong

Because 'tis in your section built?

To fight this evil to prolong

Does but enhance the master's guilt.

Patriotism knows no line

That shall Freedom's law restrain;

The die is cast, 'tis God's design

That slavery shall no more remain.

Ah, heed the call of destiny!

The black and white shall both be free;

And stack your arms, for liberty

O'er North and South alike shall be.

Stack arms, brave Southrons, and repent

You ever raised them 'gainst the right.

You know the force of brave dissent;

'Tis murder now to longer fight!

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

They lead you wrong, in Slavery's ways,

More hateful than King George's crown

Our fathers spurned in other days.

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

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Wednesday, August 10, 1864

Soldiers and negroes are rebuilding the fallen wall. Prisoners stand at a distance often shouting: "That is good for you, Rebs"; "That's the way your Confederacy will fall; Grant and Sherman are making bigger holes than these." "Ho, Reb, what are you doing with dat nigger dar; 'pears to us you're reduced to the level of the nigger." "It's hard enough to starve on cob-meal and be hunted by dogs, but when you come to build bull-pens for us with niggers, working by your sides, you are hyenas, you are black abolitionists, you are barbarians." Plenty of other taunts are indulged till men get sick of it.

Two new walls are being built outside of the main one. The most hopeful believers in immediate exchange, are puzzled as to what it means. Tunnelling cannot be successfully done more than sixty or eighty feet horizontally, the air becoming insufferable. The vacuity is necessarily small, just admitting a man as he draws himself along. It cannot be larger for fear of exposure, besides the dirt is dug with hands, sticks, etc., and passed to the opening to be carried to the swamp, or whereever it can be concealed. It cannot be ventilated for that might be a key to discovery. Likely these new walls are to obstruct the digging of tunnels.

For several days barracks have been in course of erection in the north part, the work being done by our men on parole who bring the lumber in on their shoulders. They are allowed an extra ration and occasionally opportunities to trade for their benefit. What do these barracks mean? Are we to stay here all winter? men asked. At the rate they go up, I think we will, if we wait for them. Some say they are for hospitals.

Steward Brown, who is an Englishman and not a soldier, on parole, expresses the belief that it was fortunate for prisoners that Stoneman's expedition failed, for it was the intention of Gen. Winder to use the Florida battery on the prison had any considerable Union force approached Andersonville within seven miles, and had so ordered in the regular way in writing, on July 27th.

[Note-Here is the order. It was found on file among the records at the Confederate War Department at Richmond, and is with other records in possession of the government, so it is plain Steward Brown knew his statement was true. This is the diabolical order:

 

Order No 13.

 

Headquarters Military Prison, Andersonville, Ga., July 27, 1864.

 

The officers on duty and in charge of the Battery of Florida Artillery at the time will, upon receiving notice that the enemy has approached within seven miles of this post, open upon the stockade with grapeshot, without reference to the situation beyond these lines of defense.

 

JOHN H. WINDER, 

Brigadier  General Commanding.]

Five men sunstruck and reported dead; most of us are stupefied by heat. For more than a month it has been almost unbearable. The dazzling rays reflected by sand flash through us like flames of fire. The stench of the filthy earth rises hot and vapory to our nostrils. Oh, that I might feel the shade of the beautiful forest yonder, whose green trees look pityingly over upon us! How relieved we would be by an hour of repose on the fresh earth beneath them!

Go to the gate to help William Kline. A number of the sick are carried through the gate and laid in the yard by the stockade. A Rebel sergeant soon ordered us back, no doctors appearing. The sick had been notified at roll call to go for treatment, and their feeble spirits were animated with hope. Some wept bitterly and sank into despair at the disappointment. The Confederate sergeant, in answer to questions, remarked, "They might as well go to hell as to the hospital. It is a right hard place; the doctors can do nothing."

Naturally we believe the word hospital means something. In this horrid distress men long for its benign influence; many are consoled with the thought of being admitted, even when we know it is a cruel, wicked mockery.

Near the sinks a sentry fired tonight, the ball grazing a man's thigh, near where I walked, and whizzed by into the swamp. No rations today; nothing to eat. Men have loitered near the gate since noon hoping for something but in vain. We lay down to-night hungry, sick and sad. Not a crumb of anything all night, all day and all night again, with no certainty of anything to-morrow.

ODE TO WIRZ.

 

Cheating them who truly trust

Is a coward's villainy;

But when we yield to whom we must,

We suffer viler tyranny:

If venom doth full license wield

To feed the vengeance and the hates

No virtue has for years concealed,

And which a misled South elates.

A brutal knave were he who slay

A child that slumbered on his knee;

But we are thrown within his sway

Who lacks sense and magnanimity,

And glories in a brutal way

Toward men who fight 'gainst slavery.

Looking at the swamp with its deposit of ordure, intensely alive with billions of flies and maggots, today, it came to me that not only the early but the late bird can catch worms and catch them continually, if fool enough to visit the place. But no bird have I yet seen in this foul realm. Mingled with a sense of disgust, I am prone to wonder. Out of this mass I see a new creation, an emerging of animate life of low order. The flies that feed on the excreta, deposit germs from which, in connection with the deposit, when operated on by solar energy, the sun being the battery, these lives germinate in form of maggots totally unlike the fly, unlike any worm I ever noticed. These millions of loathsome things, squirming in roasting sun, in a few days develop into winged insects larger and darker than maggots, an inch long. From among a cloud of flies and acres of worms I see them rise and fly from the filthy bed of their inception, seemingly seeking existence elsewhere. Interest was first incited in these low fledglings, when they appeared on ground bordering the swamp, where they fell in the mush when men were at repast. Indeed there is life, or principles of life in matter dead. Here is a low order of exhibition of Nature's power to evolve and produce phases of animation degrees above their physical source.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 103-5

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop, Thursday, August 11, 1864

Recent improvements in camp are timbers laid across the swamp on the west side north of the stream for 20 rods, this will help escape the filth in passing from north to south. A flume and bridge has been made which improves washing facilities; also a road from the north to the stream in the east part. We have more variety of food but scanty allowance, to-wit: corn bread, rice, a curious kind of bean, old and wormy. For several days a small piece of poor beef has come with cooked rations, hardly a mouthful, and in lieu a little sorghum molasses. We have built bake ovens of sand and clay. When several of us have raw meal, we club together to bake it, it being sweeter baked than smoked on a small fire. It economizes fuel, encourages the hope it will not have to be eaten raw. There are five very sick men within a few feet, groaning day and night. It is remarkable with what tenacity life clings to emaciated, corrupted frames.

Williams of the 111th N. Y., of Lyons, N. Y., a boy of education, talent and refinement, a nephew of Hon. Alex. Williams, visited us. He is declining rapidly and engages our sympathy It is a joy to cheer such a sweet spirit. He showed us the likeness of a beautiful girl, remarking that he never expected to see her again, and wept bitterly. We all parted with him regretfully. (He died in September).

I was again struck today by one of the daily duties of men. Passing from north to south through camp I see them stripped, examining clothing for lice. Immediately after roll call they "have a louse," or a "skirmish" or a "peeling off" as they express it from head to heels to give the "gray backs" a cleaning out. These pestering varmints infest clothing, sticking along the seams. Where the torments come from, how they grow in a day, or an hour, is a mystery. Drawing our minds down to hunting lice is humiliating; but the man who don't isn't respectable; we feel disgraced in his company Once a day is tolerable, twice better, three times makes a man of the first order. Neglect this, and he is soon over run, pitied, loathed, hated, sneered and snarled at. Lice polute and sap his blood, he loathes himself and dies. They crawl in droves over the sick, herd in his ears, gnaw him, shade in his hair deep as the hair is long. Talk about "gophers" in the army, no name for this! They sap the life of the strongest. Men who fight their lice effectually every day are brave, meritorious. But wouldn't we be pretty guests for parlor bedrooms! Trousers under the pillow! What would the tidy chambermaid say at Hotel Eagle?, Charming guests for ladies, lousy, brown, yellowed bloated, dirt-eating, wallowing Yankees! And we do laugh though it is not a laughing matter. But I am the only bachelor in our notable family of eight; should we be wafted to Northland from Dixie tonight, no one would be obliged to submit to my embraces. Poor, indeed!

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 105-6

Diary of Dr. Alfred L. Castleman, December 17, 1861

This is the anniversary of my advent to this noisy, scheming world of vanity and trouble. What wonderful changes have taken place on this continent, in the life time of a little man like me. I will not attempt to write them here; the changes in myself, are sufficient to keep me constantly in remembrance (without a written journal) of the changes going on around me. I hope those of the world are more palpably for the better, than those which I experience. Some malicious representations have been made in camp, today, as to the condition of my hospital, and as to my proper disposal of its funds. I have written to the Brigade Commander, demanding an immediate and thorough investigation. In consequence of the long time that I could get no settlement with the Commissary, I advanced for the sick, and the hospital is considerably my debtor. I hope I shall succeed in getting a thorough examination.

SOURCE: Alfred L. Castleman, The Army of the Potomac. Behind the Scenes. A Diary of Unwritten History; From the Organization of the Army, by General George B. McClellan, to the close of the Campaign in Virginia about the First Day January, 1863, p. 65

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, December 3, 1862

In the morning I visited the sick in the hospital & at 9 Oc took the street cars and went into the citty to procure some things for the mess. I had an interview with Genls Curtis & Fisk. Called at Genl Fremonts residence he is absent. I saw the 118th Illinois Reg on their way to Memphis. evening I spoke in the Barracks of Co F text Matthew 11th 28th K. P. Morrison & our Chaplain followed me we had a good time I visited the 33 Reg Iowa Vol in their barracks to day.

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 97

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, December 7, 1862

In the morning I visited our sick in the hospital 10 Oc attended preaching by the Chaplain in the 4th ward hospital at the fair grounds, text eternity. 2 Oc our Chaplain preached in Barracks of Co, H evening Capt Mahan preached in our barracks Co G. text the Lord hath given his people a banner we had a good time. I am uneasy about me Dear Son Amandus

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 98

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, December 16, 1862

10 Oc I got of duty was up near all night last. this day I spent mostly visiting the sick in hospitals 4 Oc was on dress perade evening attended preaching in Co K Capt Noble Barracks. Dr Ball preached text we love him because he first loved us &c we had a good time.

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 99

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, December 18, 1862

I visited the Rever Vernon Dr Elliott Hiram Fate & saw Mrs Wm Thompson of Keosauqua Iowa I promenaded the citty & visited the Batterries. 4 Oc I was on battallion drill, Noon we had orders to be ready to march by 8 Oc morning with 4 days rations all seem keen to be off, we will have to leave 150 of the Reg in hospital of our company we will leave 7 men

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 99

Diary of 2nd Lieutenant Benjamin F. Pearson, December 19, 1862

At daylight I visited our sick in the hospitals talked & consoled them all I could bid them good bye at 7½ Oc we took leave of Benton Barracks marched to the packet landing & took passage on the packets Warsaw & Jenny Dean for Helena Arkansaw & at 3¼ Oc we started from the levve at St. Louis, our Co is on the Warsaw we laid up for the night 20 miles below St Louis near the Sulphor Springs

SOURCE: Edgar R. Harlan, Currator, Annals of Iowa, 3rd Series, Vol. 15, No. 2, October 1925, p. 99

Diary of 2nd Sergeant Richard R. Hancock: Friday, May 30, 1862

Between daylight and sunup about twelve hundred Federal cavalry surrounded Booneville, a. small village station on the Mobile and Ohio Railroad. There was one train of cars there and about five or six hundred Confederates, including the sick and their nurses, but there was no armed force there to defend the place. So the Federals had quietly taken possession of the place, set fire to the depot and train of cars, and had collected all the Confederates that were able to travel, and perhaps a number that were not really able, and formed them in line ready to march off, when about eighty of our battalion came upon the scene. Small as our squad was, we made a daring charge and released the prisoners. How they (the prisoners) did come yelling towards us! We then dropped back into the woods near by, and after a little skirmishing, the Federals withdrew in time for us to save two boxes of cars and also the engine. The train was loaded with arms and ammunition. Our loss was one killed (Culwell), three wounded, and it was said that the Federals carried off two prisoners, though the prisoners were not from our battalion. The Federal loss was two killed, several wounded, and nine prisoners. How those prisoners whom we released did appreciate being set at liberty! And they did not forget it, but continued to express their gratitude to our battalion when they happened to meet with any of us along through the war. The release of five or six hundred prisoners, in the hands of twelve hundred Federals, by not exceeding eighty Confederates, was no small feat.

The Confederate Army was moving south along the Mobile and Ohio Railroad, in the direction of Booneville. So there was no little excitement in Confederate ranks on account of the explosion of the bombshells in the burning cars, being taken for heavy cannonading. However, they soon learned better, for it was not long before the head of the column passed Booneville. Our sick had to get out, or be taken out, of the depot to avoid being burned alive, so they were lying about on the ground, some dead and others in a dying condition; so the scene was anything but a pleasant one to look upon. Our battalion moved back to the same place we camped the night before.

SOURCE: Richard R. Hancock, Hancock's Diary: Or, A History of the Second Tennessee Confederate Cavalry, p. 172-3

Official Reports of the Campaign in North Alabama and Middle Tennessee, November 14, 1864-January 23, 1865: No. 12. — Reports of Surg. J. Theodore Heard, Medical Director, Fourth Army Corps, of operations November 29-30 and December 15-16, 1864.

No. 12.

Reports of Surg. J. Theodore Heard, Medical Director, Fourth Army Corps, of operations November 29-30 and December 15-16, 1864.

HEADQUARTERS FOURTH ARMY CORPS,                

MEDICAL DIRECTOR'S OFFICE,        

Nashville, Tenn., December 12, 1864.

SIR: I have the honor to submit the following report of the operations of the medical department of the Fourth Army Corps at the battles of Spring Hill and Franklin, November 29 and 30, respectively:

On the morning of the 29th of November the Fourth Corps (three divisions) and the Twenty-third Corps (two divisions) were in position on the north bank of Duck River, opposite Columbia, Tenn. The enemy, or the larger portion of the rebel army, was upon the south bank and confronting our lines. At 9 a.m. the Second Division, Fourth Corps, marched for Spring Hill, accompanied by and guarding all the trains of the army, with the exception of twenty ambulances left with the First and Third Divisions, Fourth Corps, which divisions were ordered to remain with the Twenty-third Corps until dark and then withdraw with the rest of the army. About 2 p.m., the head of column being within one mile of Spring Hill, the general commanding was informed that the cavalry of the enemy was pushing back our cavalry and rapidly approaching the town. The troops were at once pushed forward at double-quick, passed through the town, charged the enemy, checked him, and finally caused him to retire. The division was then placed in position to protect the pike on which the trains were moving. About 4 p.m. the right brigade (Third Brigade, Brigadier-General Bradley) was furiously attacked by what afterward proved to be two brigades of rebel infantry. The attack was continued until nearly dark, when our right gave way toward the pike, followed by the enemy. Fortunately, however, all trains had then passed and were parked north of the town, where also division hospitals were temporarily established and the wounded rapidly cared for. A few wounded were unavoidably lost when the right gave way. One hundred and fifteen wounded were brought to hospital. Shortly after dark orders were given to break up hospitals, load ambulances, and be ready to move with the other trains at a moment's notice. The rest of the army reached Spring Hill about 10 p.m., and continued their march through the town toward Franklin. The hospital and ambulance trains moved at the same time, reaching Franklin at 10 a.m. November 30, without loss, although several times attacked by the enemy's cavalry. The wounded and sick were shipped by rail to Nashville early in the afternoon. The two divisions of the Twenty-third Corps, with the First and Second Divisions of the Fourth Corps, remained south of Harpeth River and intrenched themselves; the Third Division, Fourth Corps, crossed to the north side of the river, and was not engaged in the battle of Franklin.

At about 1 p.m. November 30 the enemy appeared in force opposite our lines. At 3.30 p.m., as it was determined to withdraw at dark toward Nashville, orders were given to send all trains, except half the ambulances of each division, to Nashville. Soon after the trains were fairly on the road the enemy commenced a furious attack upon the entire lines. Six distinct assaults were made, and, by hard fighting, were repulsed, with great loss to the enemy. As soon as the firing commenced orders were sent for the hospital wagons to be parked in the nearest field, and the tents to be temporarily pitched, all ambulances to return and cross the river. Efforts were then made to obtain a train of cars for the wounded; the commanding general, however, did not deem it best that one should be telegraphed for. Owing to the intense darkness and imperfect provision for crossing and recrossing the river, the movements of ambulances were necessarily retarded. The wounded were collected at hospital as rapidly as possible. The town was thoroughly searched for wounded. Orders were issued for the withdrawal of troops at 12 o'clock. The ambulances worked constantly until 11 p.m., and were then loaded to their utmost with wounded collected at hospitals. Such slight cases of disease as remained were loaded upon army wagons. The hospitals and ambulance trains were the last to draw out, and were closely followed by the troops; 550 wounded were brought off. From all that can be ascertained it is probable that from 75 to 100 wounded of this corps were left in the hands of the enemy. Many rebel wounded fell into our hands, but were left for want of transportation. The ambulance train reached Nashville at 9 a.m. December 1, and the wounded were placed in general hospital. The following casualties occurred in the ambulance corps of Fourth Army Corps.*

Lists of wounded and tabular statements of wounded have already been forwarded.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

J. THEO. HEARD,        

Surgeon, U. S. Volunteers.

Surg. GEORGE E. COOPER, U.S. Army,
        Medical Director, Department of the Cumberland.

HEADQUARTERS FOURTH ARMY CORPS,                

MEDICAL DIRECTOR'S OFFICE,        

Huntsville, Ala., January —, 1865.

SIR: I have the honor to submit the following report of the operations of the medical department of this corps during the battles of December 15 and 16, near Nashville, Tenn.:

On the morning of December 14 orders were received to be ready at 6 a.m. December 15 to move upon the enemy's position. The hospitals of this corps, which, since the 2d of the month, had been located near the city on the Franklin pike, were ordered to be broken up and the hospital train to be parked on the Hillsborough pike, there to remain until further developments; the sick were transferred to general hospital. At 7 a.m. December 15 the troops of this corps moved out by the Hillsborough pike in front of the line of works occupied by them during the two weeks previous, and formed as follows: First Division on the right, connecting with the left of Maj. Gen. A. J. Smith's command; Second Division on the left of the First; and the Third Division on the left of the Second and somewhat retired. The hospitals of the corps were at once established directly on the Hillsborough pike, and about a quarter of a mile in rear of the line of works. The site selected was the lawn in front of a large brick house; water was abundant and good. Detachments from each division ambulance train were close in rear of the troops; the remaining ambulances were parked in rear of the works and ready to move out when required; the stretchermen were with their respective regiments. During the fighting of the 15th ultimo the line of this corps was advanced nearly two miles. The loss in wounded was not severe, being only 203 men. The wounded were promptly removed from the field and cared for at division hospitals. The majority of the wounds were caused by conoidal balls. After dark, the fighting having ceased and all operations and dressings having been attended to, the wounded were transferred to general hospital. As the position of the corps had now changed from the Hillsborough pike to the Franklin pike, the hospital train was ordered to be loaded and ready to move at daylight on the 16th ultimo.

On the morning of the 16th ultimo the position of the troops of this corps was as follows: The Third Division on the left of the Franklin pike, connecting with the right of Major-General Steedman's command; Second Division in center; and the First Division on the right, connecting with the command of Maj. Gen. A. J. Smith. The hospitals were located on the right and left of the Franklin pike at "The Springs," about two miles in advance of the old line of works; the ambulances were near the troops. The fighting of to-day was much more severe than that of yesterday, although the casualties were wonderfully slight. Four hundred and ninety-five men of this corps were wounded and taken to hospital. Shell wounds were of more frequent occurrence than on the previous day. At night the wounded, after being attended to, were ordered to be transferred to general hospital and the hospital trains to be loaded and ready to move at early day, either for the establishment of the hospitals near the troops in the event of another battle, or to be ready to follow the corps in case, as was probable, the enemy should retreat.

The medical and ambulance officers of the corps deserve great praise for the faithful and efficient manner in which they performed their arduous duties. With little or no rest for fifty hours, they yet cheerfully and fearlessly continued at their posts. I can truly say that I have never seen wounded more promptly removed from the field or better cared for in division hospitals. Medical and hospital supplies were abundant and rations plenty. There were no casualties in the ambulance corps or among medical officers.

The following number of wounded of other commands was received into hospitals of this corps, viz: Rebels, 15; Twelfth U.S. Colored Troops, 2; Thirteenth U.S. Colored Troops, 40; Fourteenth U.S. Colored Troops, 1; One hundredth U.S. Colored Troops, 3; total of other commands, 61.

Inclosed are lists of rebel wounded received into hospitals of this command.

The battle reports of division hospitals have been forwarded.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant,

J. THEO. HEARD,        

Surgeon, U.S. Volunteers, Medical Director.

Surg. GEORGE E. COOPER, U.S. Army,
        Medical Director, Department of the Cumberland.

_______________

* Nominal list (omitted) shows 1 killed, 3 wounded, and 1 missing.

SOURCE: The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series I, Volume 45, Part 1 (Serial No. 93), pp. 174-7

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 7, 1863

It was with a bounding heart, brimful of gratitude to God, that I stepped on board the Dakota and bade farewell to Haines Bluff on the second day of August. We have three hundred sick and wounded on this boat and are short of help. Quite a number who started as nurses are sick. Four men died the first night. We ran the boat ashore, dug a grave large enough for all, and laid them in it, side by side. Our Chaplain read the burial service, and we hastened on board to repeat the ceremony, the next morning, for some one else. It seems hard—even cruel—but it is the most solemn burial service I ever witnessed. Nine have died since we started, and one threw himself overboard in the frenzy of delirium and was drowned. We kill a beef every evening. Two nights in succession the best part of a hindquarter has been stolen. The boat hands were questioned, and a huge Irishman acknowledged the theft. He was court martialed and sentenced to be "banked." The boat was stopped opposite a wilderness. No human habitation was in sight. He was forced to pack his bundle, take to the woods and run his chance with hunger and the Rebels.

As we were running leisurely along, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon of yesterday, my curiosity was aroused by our boat running suddenly against the shore and sticking there. All hands were called, and, with the aid of soldiers, she was soon shoved off, and on we went again. A Sergeant asked the Mate why we landed there. His reply was, "Something wrong in the wheel house." One of our boys asked a darkey the same question. "Well, boss, I 'specs dey see a rabbit ober dere, an' t'ink dey kotch 'im." Soon after, as two comrades and myself were sitting in the bow enjoying the cool breeze, my attention was attracted by the glassy stillness of the water in front of us. Pointing to the right, I said, "Yonder is the safe place to sail." The words had scarcely left my mouth when we felt a sudden shock, the bow of the boat was lifted about two feet, a full head of steam was turned on, which carried us over the obstruction. We had "struck a snag." Soon after, we anchored for the night, as the pilot was "too sick" to run the boat.

The sick from our regiment are doing well. I never saw wounded men do so nicely. Of five who came as nurses, four are on the sick list. As for myself, I have not been so well in years.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 74-5

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 11, 1863

Louisville, Ky. Again in Louisville—eleven hundred miles nearer home than one week ago and yet how far. Still, it is joy to feel I am comparatively near. We reached Cairo on the evening of the seventh, took on fresh supplies, and left next day at noon for Cincinnati, which place we expect to reach some time tomorrow. We are now—3 p. m. taking on coal, and will start in a few minutes.

The Ohio is very low-in places not more than three feet deep. We have brought up against sand bars and been forced to back off perhaps fifty times since leaving Cairo. From this place to Cincinnati, I am told, there are no obstructions. The most difficult part of our way was from New Albany to Louisville. We were six hours in making three miles last night. It was nothing but "Back 'er and try again" for about a mile, and then we had a canal with three locks to pass through.

We have had no deaths since the seventh, and our sick and wounded boys are doing nicely. These fresh northern breezes are more exhilerating than wine, and the hope that they may be sent to their homes to recruit their health is more healing than medicine.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 75-6

Diary of Musician David Lane, August 12, 1863

Cincinnati, Ohio. We arrived here at 9:30 this morning. My day's work is, at last, completed, at 9 p. m. This has been a busy day. In fact, I have not been idle or had much rest, by day or night, since July fourth, and yet I am fresh and vigorous as in days of old. The sick and wounded all removed the worst cases to the General Hospital in this city, the convalescents to Camp Denison, eighteen miles out, while a few return to their regiments.

The Seventeenth passed through here today, and is now in camp near Covington, on the opposite bank of the river.

I expect to join them in the morning, and look for a handful of letters.

People call the weather here very hot, but it is not Mississippi heat, and I enjoy it. The mornings and evenings are delightfully cool, while there it is constant, relentless heat both day and night. Here a coat is comfortable in the morning—there one needs no cover day or night.

SOURCE: David Lane, A Soldier's Diary: The Story of a Volunteer, 1862-1865, pp. 76-7

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Sunday, July 3, 1864

New prisoners report favorable progress by our armies. Yesterday there was a powerful rain lasting ten hours. In this part the soil is red and hard, surface flat, and water stood from two to four inches deep. We stood up all night to keep out of it. Those too feeble to do this, were drenched and drowned. It was with great physical and mental effort that I was able to endure the strain as I have been feeble several days.

Four crazy men have been wandering through camp several days. I noticed one today without any clothing, having been naked for two weeks. He lay within four rods of the south gate, arms extended, exposed to the sun, in full view of everybody. His whole body was blistered, his countenance frightfully distorted, giving utterance to unintelligible sounds, frothy matter oozing from his mouth and nostrils, his eyes appearing blind. Another prisoner shot through the hips last night by a guard. One lay near the brook delirious, burning with fever; another near him was unable to speak; one-half buried in the swamp, covered by a mass of maggots and flies. Those who brought him out said his eyes, ears, nose and mouth were filled. Near the sink, in almost every passage, lay half-rotting skeletons, evincing all the signs of deprivation and symptoms of pestilence, and yet alive. All of this and I have not been out of my usual course. Neither do I mention those who have a slight covering to turn the sun. There are hundreds who would require the best treatment to be saved, and perhaps could not be saved. In this absence of medical treatment we resort to simple means to cure ourselves. A very limited supply of red root and white gum bark can be found, on our new lot, and pine bark, which are used to check the almost universal complaints, diarrhoea, dysentery and urinary troubles. I observed several men today had buried their limbs to the knees, as a remedy for scurvy. But the truth is there is no remedy for this condition under the circumstances. Never could we imagine anything so horrible! We might write volumes, and fail to describe the horrible reality. Our people would disbelieve it, and "pooh" as if it were a fabulous tale. Tonight some have a season of prayer near us. One or two most excellent prayers were offered, prayers that would grace pulpits, bearing an earnestness of the soul's devotion. It seemed so much like home, like steadfast faith and adoration, a reflex of the all-reaching Providence, that we felt it good to be there; that hearts are still alive, the finer sympathies not entirely stifled. How much better to see men in such communion, seeking consolation from heaven, than to see them worse than brutes, or fighting demons! No rations today.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 83

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Saturday, July 9, 1864

SCENES AMONG SICK.—RAIDERS CONVICTED.

Strong these men had been;

In vast army camps had duty done;

Had useful service in field and fort performed,

Some also on the sea and river fleets.

Strong on marches and in battles' strife;

Strong in perilous trenches behind belching guns

On skirmish lines at opening frays,

And bravely stood the shock of charging lines

That brought the battle's final test.

—From The Vision of North.

More than a week since a sick call. The Doctor came to the gate this morning; and many sick go forward. Crowds are carried who cannot walk and are laid over a large space. Still in a bad state and quite weak, I go, hoping to get a prescription, for "camphor pills," which sergeants of "nineties" draw, after the examination. Doctor comes in and looks them over hastily, going among them some, touching a few as though he felt squeamish. Two hours would be required, at least, to get along with the "nasty job," the doctors think, and only wink at them at that. I could not endure the hot sun, the awful stench, the sight of those sickening objects. I soon lost faith, if I had any, that I should be healed by a slight hem touch. I came to doubt, upon viewing the condition of so many others, whether I needed anything. More curious than charitable charity is a cripple here, begins and ends at home. I looked them over, and was not curious.

"Here pity doth most show herself alive

When she is dead." —Dante.

There were stronger forms and more robust constitutions than mine, weaker than infants; more loathsome than if they were dead; so they soon must be once a part of the bone and sinew of the Union army! What ten times worse than ghastly expressions! What pitiful complaints! What peevish, unmanly cries, calling for the doctor to "Come quick, for Christ's sake, quick!" constantly begging for water! Aghast, I stepped hurriedly, shamblingly, but carefully over those wasted, corrupted bodies, once beautiful caskets of immortal spirits, and hastened here and sit down with the boys under the shade of the blanket, my heart sinking, is it not hardening with gloom? I shudder while I write lest my fate shall be like theirs.

"What did you get, North?" they asked.

"Nothing; didn't try."

"You ought to."

"It wouldn't amount to shucks."

"Perhaps it would; at any rate, get all you can out of the Confederacy."

"That would do."

"Then go back and try."

"That makes me think of a man standing all night in the cold to freeze an ugly dog. The soundest man in the bull-pen would be sick to stand in that dying crowd an hour."

"That's what's the matter."

Tonight some of the sick are still at the gate; no attention paid, but ordered left till sent back. Many of the worst cases were admitted to hospital, a large number carried back by friends. Out of those who remain, six have died during the day; others on the verge of death. Doctors claim they have no means to care for the sick, therefore neglect them, let them rot rather than parole and send them to our lines. They are not admitted to the hospital, which is little better than this den, until in a condition of death; nor are we allowed to go out for brush and timber to build shelter here though thousands would volunteer for that service and the timber is all about us.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, pp. 86-7

Diary of Corporal John Worrell Northrop: Sunday, July 10, 1864

Hot, showery day, renders the condition of the sick more appalling. It is believed that more than two-thirds of the 700 men at the gate in response to the sick call, are victims of starvation. Healthful action of the stomach and other organs of the body is destroyed; the food supplied imparts no nutriment though appetite craves it. Men eat whole rations ravenously, while unable to walk, which is not retained, sometime two minutes,—if it is, it is an internal fire and blood and decayed flesh come with temporary relief. Others loathe it, strain to vomit at sight, and so remain till death. Those not so afflicted are more or less infected with scurvy, dropsy, urinary disorders or these combined.

It is announced tonight that six raiders have been convicted and condemned to death and are to be hanged tomorrow in the prison shortly after noon. The names of these convicts are Cary Sullivan, of 76th N. Y. regiment; William Collins, alias Moseby, 88th Pennsylvania; Charles Curtis, 5th Rhode Island artillery; John Sarsfield, 144th N. Y.; Patrick Delaney, 83rd Pennsylvania; A. Muir, alias Jack the Sailor, U. S. navy. Sullivan's given name, announced by the regulators as Terrence, was carried on the company roll as Cary. It is understood that these men were professional bounty jumpers, going out for the money they could get, and were captured outside of the line of duty. We know Sullivan deserted our regiment while it was forming for expected battle, on the night of October 10th, 1863, and was captured by Rebel cavalry that was flanking our infantry a few hours prior to the beginning of Meade's great retreat to Centerville, Va. To carry out this grim project Sergeant Keys and immediate assistants have got the use of timbers and tools and secured a few carpenters to build a scaffold.

SOURCE: John Worrell Northrop, Chronicles from the Diary of a War Prisoner in Andersonville and Other Military Prisons of the South in 1864, p. 87