Communications.

At the conclusion of the campaign which resulted in the fall of Atlanta, Hood spent a short time in recruiting his defeated and discouraged army . In the latter part of Sept., 1864, under direct order from Jeff Davis, he began to abandon the site of Georgia and started northward. To Hood’s soldiers Davis said: “Be of good cheer, for within a short time your faces will be turned homeward, and your feet pressing Tennessee soil.” He well knew the power and the magic in the simple word “Home” It makes the sick well, the weak, strong and the coward brave. Thus he urged them onward. A ---- of blood and fire in northern ---- was flittering before his eyes. A sortie into Tennessee might not only destroy Sherman’s communications it might cross the Ohio and in the sack of Cincinnati and Louisville make up for the loss of Atlanta. Anticipating these movements, Gen. Sherman strengthened the garrisons in his rear, our own regiment garrisoning. Big Shanty Ackworth and also guarded a trestle and bridge on the Western & Atlantic railroad a few miles south of Allatoona, Ga. We were not a part of the garrison proper of Allatoona, and in accounts of the battle, there is no mention made of the 15th Ill. Infantry. Besides there was only a few of us, about 60 veterans and a few recruits. On our retreat to Allatoona we were joined by fugitives from companies C and D who were farther down the railroad. We were then distributed along the skirmish line. This much in explanation of how e came to be captured. We had understood that Hoods army had crossed the Chattahoochee river on a pontoon bridge at Powder Springs. Just how we heard these things I cannot tell, but the rank and file frequently had important information in regard to the movements of the enemy before the officers, whose business it was to b e posted on such affairs. I suppose any of the old boys of company F or E remembers the scout who came to one of our picket posts, and when taken before Col. Rogers, was held as a deserter when he should have been help on his way to Gen. Sherman’s head quarters was at Dallas and the bulk of his army north of the Chattahoochee river; none of the officers believed it however, they laughed at such “scares”. That nigh Armstrong’s cavalry swooped down on our pickets and captured the reserve post, and overturned bodily fully an eighth of a mile of the railroad track showing plainly that there was a large body of the enemy in close proximity to us. We had about 30 men mounted who acted as scouts. They were mounted on old plugs, picked up among the citizens and old government pelters that had been condemned. Some wag called them the “Forty thieves,” a name that stayed with them as long as they kept their chargers. Well this force of mounted infantry started out after the Johnneys the next morning, and returned at night with the loss one killed and three wounded. What loss they inflicted upon the enemy is not known. They brought back a prisoner, one of Armstrong’s cavalry. This man was as strong and lusty a rebel as I ever saw. One of our captured pickets having made his escape came in minus hat, blouse and shoes and socks, the colonel had the cavalry boots and socks taken from this prisoner in retaliation. Upon some of the bo s murmuring this treatment of a prisoner, the colonel compromised the matter by giving the Johnny his stocking back. About this time Gen. Garrard’s (union) cavalry came up along the railroad on a scout. They wen into camp near us and the next day went back towards Atlanta. Now I would like to ask comrade Dick Eby what earthly good that scouting did. We told them there was lots of Johnnies out on the Sandtown road. But it was the same old story, an infantry soldier could not tell a man on a “hoss” anything. “Why good Lord men we have scouted all over that country, and there a’nt a reb this side of the the Chattahoochee.” Just so; within a dozen miles lay the advance on Hood’s army ready for a dash upon Allatoona and its one million rations. As was expected the rebels broke the railway and telegraph line at Big Shanty and moved rapidly north destroying the track towards Allatoona.

Our own company fell back after discovering that French’s division of infantry were surrounding us, and went into the rifle pits in front of Allatoona. You have all doubtless read about the battle of Franklin where Wagner’s brigade remained too long outside the works, and the rebels followed them right over the earthworks. It was something similar here. Instead of our skirmishes being ordered in we were kept out until the last minute, then French’ s division swept over us like a cyclone and dashed over everything and like a great tide-wave swept clear up close to the breastworks and some of the Johnnies got into the big wood shade where the hardtack was stored. But the fire of Tourtellotts veterans was too hot for them here and there by companies and regiments they began to recoil and fall back to the shelter of the oaks and pines out of range. And now let the dispatch of Co. Rogers to Gov. Yates tell the rest. In those terrible days almost every one bought and read the daily papers especially those who had relatives in the field my mother kept the paper containing the dispatch announcing our capture, and gave it to me on my return from the war. Thus is what she read.

“Capture of the 14th and 15th Illinois infantry.

Allatoona, Ga., Oct. 7th, 1864.

To Gov. Yates, Springfield, Ill.

“The 14th and 15th were taken prisoners during the fight on the 5th, inst. The boys fought nobly even clubbing their muskets before surrendering. Everything else favorable.”

Geo. C. Rogers Col.

*Note- Col. Rogers of the 15th Ill. commanded the (temporary) consolidated remnants of the 14th and 15th Illinois infantry (the twin regiments who served the entire war together) was absent on duty on a court martial at Atlanta at the time of our capture, else it would not have happened.

C. P.

This brief dispatch was all. It meant a great deal to us however. knowing as the most of us did, that the complications in regard to exchange, it meant imprisonment until the end of the war. It meant partaking of and witnessing more human misery and wretchedness for the next seven months than we were ever to see again. In my last communication I said that French’s division charged the union works at Allatoona. as a matter fact however it was only two brigades. The lay of the land preventing the using the whole division. We were taken in charge by a detachment of the 6th Mississippi infantry and taken to the rear of the rebels lines; while going to the rear we saw the rebel surgeons, at work and the stretcher bearers bearing away the wounded and the dead. I remember it have me a grim sort of satisfaction to look around and to see the windrows of dead and the ambulances and wagons loaded with the wounded. Not that I was of a cruel murderous disposition- but the Johnnies were apparently sweeping everything before them, and seemed so confident of taking Allatoona that when we saw them fairly blown away from the breastworks by the hot breath of the cannon and saw them come back crushed and broken we knew that if Allatoona was taken they would pay dearly for it. We passed by a group of officers and the guards pointed out Gen. Hood, Gen. Stewart who was the corps commander and Gen. French. They were accompanied by their staff officers. Empty sleeves were conspicuous. We were started for Dallas in a hurry it seemed to me, and after getting out on the road a mile or so our guardians marched us aside into the timber. We were formed into line and the Johnnies proceeded to search us for concealed “weapons.” Nothing was found on the veterans, but the recruits were as usual well fixed with only knives, six shooters and fat knapsacks. It one has never saw a raw recruit ready for his first march. I would advise him by all means to read the history of Si Klegg. Everything that can be of use on an imaginary use is carried along the consequence is on the first march after nearly killing themselves with their enormous loads they throw them away. I remember a march our regiment made once behind some new troops with big bugly knapsacks. It was a hot day in September, 62, and the road and fence corners were fairly lined with underwear, paper collars, extra blankets, overcoat's and cooking utensils. Our recruits were nice boys all quite young and reckless of danger. I remember when the bullets began to sing “where is he, where is he” about our ears two little, fellows by the name of Pitman jumped up out of the rifle pit and whenever they saw the dirt fly they would hunt for the minnie ball. But they had not learned the soldiers lesson that the less they carried with the exception of what was absolutely necessary was the wisest plan, well, these Mississippi infantrymen were kind in their way. They knew what was before us better than we did and very obligingly took everything which they thought would impede our progress or be a burden to us while marching. I have thought sometimes, that they went a trifle too far in their kindness of heart. For instance I thought a fellow could carry a few photographs without material discomfort cut an old pious looking reb assured that “you'ns have a fearful long march before you hit thar and if ye don’t wap yer traps with we’uns, the cavalry will take ‘um sure when they git ye.” It will be observed that the cavalry had a rather unsavory reputation as foragers especially those who wore the gray. Even our own “rough riders” were considered remarkably good providers while on the Meridian raid I saw a cavalryman with his horse so covered with the “forage” that all you could see was the horses feet and his head sticking out form the load. Three of us were out on a sort of a scout for contraband of war when we met this industrious horse soldier. He had first laid on the horse a lot of dry corn blades enough for any ordinary animal to carry and then on top of this everything he could lay his hands on. We could see chickens and a goose, smoked side meat, hams, shoulders, pans, kettles and old sacks innumerable; suspended from the horses neck was a banjo and an old fiddle and dragging behind, fast to the horses tail, was a half grown hog. In reply to our question said; “do you suppose I am going to let the damned confederacy keep all this truck.” I refused to go further as it was apparent that this man had cleaned out the entire neighborhood. As a matter of fact I never went foraging. Again on that raid as with that soldier for a competitor it would have been useless. I have always regretted that I did not follow him to camp and obtained his name. all I know of him is that he belonged to the 11th Missouri cavalry.
TO BE CONTINUED.

[CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.]

The night of Oct. 5th we went into camp a few miles northwest of Lost mountain whose immense shadowy form loomed high above the surrounding forests. The Johnnies told us our own force held Kensaw mountain which was about 10 miles south cast and they frankly informed us that they expected an attack any minute form Kilpatrick who they call Kill Devil. Earlier in the day we could see Kenesaw mountain and could see troops of some kind moving on its summit. We arrived at Dallas about noon the next day Oct. 6th. Here on the 28th of May Gen. McPherson with the ever victorious army of the Tennessee defeated the rebels under Joe Johnson. This place was now Hoods headquarters. Here we found company “B” who were stationed at Big Shanty and “C” and “D” who were at Ackworth. The Boys of company “B” were stripped of nearly everything. They informed us that the rebels made them burn their own and the rebel dead who fell in the fight at Big Shanty. Just as they placed one of their number in his last resting place, a lot of drunken rebels threw the body of a dead negro into the grave with the dead soldier. We drew our first rations of the confederacy which consisted of a sanitary cup of coarse corn meal. Three of these cups hold two quarts. I borrowed a tin kettle of a good natured reb and made a dish of mush which was dinner and supper both. After our dinner(?) we were marched to the provo marshals and they took down our names, company, regiment, when and where captured etc. Besides our four companies there were a lot of union citizens wood choppers and railroad men, making in all 370 prisoners. I would like to call Brother Bryant’s attention to this fact viz., that of this 370 men more than 33 per cent were not soldiers-but civilians. Now it this was an average case the rebel government could not have held anywhere near the amount of Union soldiers they claimed. If Gen. Hood had made the special exchange which they told us he was about to do he would have got 370 men fit for duty, and Gen. Sherman less than 200. While they were making out our exchange lists as they told us, one of their fighters came up to the guard he and began to fight with his mouth and in a few minutes he had Sherman’s army destroyed, Grant and the army of the Potomac gobbled, and the confederacy established and wound up by saying that it was a fact that one reb could lick a heap of Yankees if he had a chance. Our color sergeant told hem to come in and see him and perhaps he could find one Yank that would keep him busy to say nothing about the rest of the heap. the fighting Johnny said he did not mean fist fight but in the field. From what I had seen and read of the rebels during my short career as a solder I saw few of them that I would be afraid to meet singly in the “field” or in a “fist fight” either. Thus was the general feeling in Shermans army. The rank and file would have liked nothing better than to have met Johnson’s army out in an open field man for man. It would have only been a question of time, and a mighty short time at that.
We were started for Newman the nearest railroad point in the afternoon guarded by eight hundred cavalry. I asked a rebel cavalry man who was riding sidewise close to me-why they required so many guards for so small a body of prisoners. He said nothing but placed his thumb to his nose and gyrated his fingers significantly. We went into camp on a little creek that emptied into the Chattahoochie river. All that weary afternoon the Johnny that rode near me kept up a sort of half talk half song. These were his words:

“On Tombigbee river so bright I was born
In a hut made of husks of the tall ye low corn
It was thar i fust met with my Julie so true,
And I rowed her about in my gum tree canoe.”

I had a dim idea that I was fond of vocal music, but as we tramped on mile after mile and the minutes run into hours, and the singer kept right on telling me about the “Tombigbee river and the yellow corn” only the one single solitary verse I finally came to the conclusion that there was no music in my soul. The last thing I heard as I went to sleep was “on Tombigbee river so bright I was born etc.” Twenty-five years have passed since that time but the memory of that song is still fresh and bright. It is the only song I never with to hear again. It rained that night a cold autumn rain. We were soon wet to the skin. I stood up after the water filled the little depression made by my body on the ground. I put my hands in my pockets but they were partly filled with water too. The wind sobbed and sighed among the pines and the steady monotonous patter of the rain seemed to pierce our marrow and to freeze our very souls.
We started in the morning without anything to eat through the rain and mud, passed through a little hamlet called Lisckskillet and crossed the Chattahoochee river on a fine pontoon bridge just as the sun set. The rain had ceased and the sky cleared. We had nothing to eat all day and were hurried on by our mounted guards who were afraid of Kilpatrick “exchanging” us. How far we marched that day I never knew, it seemed to me about a hundred and fifty miles. Here we got some rebel hard tack and it was the hardest tack I ever tried to eat. here we met the advance of Cheatham’s army corps. That night as we were about to lie down on the sand to sleep two fine looking young rebs came inside the guard line to see if there were any Ohio boys among the prisoners. They seemed to take an particular fancy to my tentmate Lewis Dillery, who was an Ohio boy, and myself. They told us that their mother was an Ohio woman and came south before the war to teach school and married, and she lived in this state (Ga.). Their father was dead and they had been conscripted “but we are just as loyal as you ar;” they said; “We are going with them just as long as they go towards the north, and then we will lite out for mother’s folks in Ohio.” C. P.

TO BE CONTINUED

Andersonville
[CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.]

We got near the union lines to say “good bye Mr. Johnny.” But we preferred imprisonment to serving an hour under the dirty white flag with the red cross and stars. I forgot to ask their names or the number of their regiment, but have often wondered whether they escaped the appalled slaughter at Franklin and Nashville, and reached their relatives beyond the Ohio in “Suels county”. I never expected to hear from those boys again but I did, as will be shown farther on. A large part of the rebel army was encamped around us and earlier in the night we heard the bugle calls in the various camps. The calls were about the same as ours. What soldier has not listened to the silvery toned bugle as it sounded the cavalry tattoo as it seemed to say

“Say I cutcher will you fight mit Sigel
Swi glass lager beer, yah, yah, yah.”
“Say Deutcher will you fight mit Sigel
Swi glass lager beer, yah, yah, yah.”

We started on again early in the morning for Newman with the cavalry as guards. They were not sos bad as their infanty had pictured them. But they were very anxious to “swap” especially hats and boots. We arrived at Newman about the middle of the day and did not leave there until night, and during that time we were bothered by soldiers and citizens to ”swap.” They seeded to think that a “Yank” was a sort of walking Yankee nation wagon. What ever we had they wanted by fair means or foul. I sold an old citizen a photograph of my father for the picture of President Lincoln. He gave $50 in rebel money for it. He also gave me $50 for a picture of my young brother which I assured him was a “right pert” likeness of “Tad” Lincoln. I had a picture of my mother which I carried through Andersonville and have at this time. In a short time the old butter nut who had invested in the picture business came around with another picture of Mr. Lincoln which in reality was the likeness of an old gentleman who lived at Jefferson, Ill. “Hows this Yank, said he, “these pictures don’t favor one another a blame bit,” and he was right too. I assured him that they were both photographs of Mr. Lincoln, the one I sold him was taken in the autumn of 1860 and the other one was taken while Mr. Lincoln was United States minister to Great Britain. This explanation proved to be entirely satisfactory as I heard him repeating my story almost verbatim to his better half and three or four grown up girls. I hope the readers of the Republican will not think that I was an untruthful soldier. On the contrary I was never an expert in that line to my own disadvantage.

Our surgeon left us here and we were informed that we might write to our friends in the North and he would take our letter Richmond by whence they would be forwarded to our lines. Our instructions were to use one half sheet of note paper and write nothing about the war politics or how we were treated. The letters to be left unsealed and placed inside another envelop directed to the Hon. Robt. Ould commissioner of exchange at Richmond, Va. At dark we were loaded one hundred men to a car and again started south. I quote from my old diary.

“Oct 9th 1864. This morning we found ourselves in the pleasant little city of West Point, Ala. It is situated on the Chattahoochie river fifty three miles north of Columbus, Ga. They say today is Sunday but it does not look like it. A large portion of the population have turned out to see “the first installment of Sherman’s army. We were to march from this place to Columbus. Our cavalry guards left us here and were replaced by a Battalion of Alabama reserves mounted infantry. These reserves are not a soldierly looking set of men by any means. Old men with stiff limbs and young boys, not so tall as their muskets. They were armed with a peculiar weapon called Columbus rifle, which was nothing more than an ordinary musket with the barrel shortened to make it easier to carry on “Crittur back”. We drew two days rations which consisted of ---o ROUND hard tacks and a piece of bacon almost large enough to grease the hard tack. I well say here that the hard tack or more properly speaking hard bread issued by our government to its soldier, were SQUARE (giving him a square meal) and about three-fourths of an inch thick. They were very hard when first backed and the longer they were kept the harder they got to be. When the war broke out it was said there was some hard tack on hand from the War of 1812. And there was some reckless individuals who asserted with profane emphasis that they had seen hardtack B. B. (before Christ,) impressed on them. Four of these biscuits were a days ration of bread --- “our lines” and now in this con------acu. we got ONE HALF as many to last TWICE IS LONG. Well we started at three o’clock in the afternoon on what proved to be the most weary, toilsome soldier killing march I was ever upon. The march from Vicksburg to Jackson, Miss. in July, 1863 was hot and dusty and the fleeing rebels had led their broken down animals into the streams and shot them, thus spoiling the water and making a terrible journey. But the devil in human shape who had us under control almost run us the whole fifty three miles. The next day after a halt, one of the boys whom the rebels call a soldier left his rifle behind and went on a mile or more when the captain discovered him. The poor frightened child was put under arrest and made to march in the rear and “totte” a heavy fence rail. The three men whose memory I most detest and abhor are Jeff Davis, Henry Wirz and this rascally Capt. Meadows. If any of your readers have read Pope Pius 9th’s, anathema against Victor Emmanuel they can imagine my feelings towards those wretches. It one wishes to peruse this anathema I would refer them to Brother Bryant or Comrad T. L. Curos, of Battle Creek, Nebr. We arrived at Columbus that night completely used up. How we ever survived that awful march I cannot tell to this day. We were placed in the yard of the second Baptist church while the guards were dismounted just outside on the pavement.

C. P.

[CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.]

We threw ourselves down on the soft cool grass completely worn out. What a painting dirty crowd we were. Dust a half an inch thick, covered from head to foot. The church yard occupied the whole square and on all sides were crowds of men, women and even children. But even here in Columbus were people with souls. they passed in plenty of clean cold water and how good it felt to bathe our aching heads and tired blistered feet. Although it was against orders, others gave us words of cheer saying: “You, Sherman men will soon be exchanged” others tossed over the fence pieces of meat, crackers and pieces of tobacco. It was said that Capt. Meadows shot a person for giving one of the prisoners something to eat. We got a copy of the Columbus Sun the next day; it announced our arrival as the vanguard of Sherman’s army instead of 379 our numbers were increased to 3,700. The people of Columbus seemed to be unanimous in regard to the success of the rebellion. An old reb with hair like dried grass and watery blue eyes, and shirt collar that looked like a dried leaf did his best to get into an argument with me. He said: “You Yank what are youns fighten weuns fur, youns can never sujugate us, sah” “Subjugate” was a powerful word in the confederacy. “Do you see that sun up thar sah” pointing his skinny shaking finger up towards the source of light, well sha just as shuah as that thar sun shines just so shuah uouns can never subjugate the southern people, sah.
We drew two days rations and were loaded on the train one hundred men to a car. These cars were not coaches by any means, but small dirty freight cars. If they had put us on platform cars it would have been better, as it was we were shut in like so many cattle. We were told by the guards that we were going to Macon. About 2 p.m. we arrived at Fort Valley the intersection of the Macon and Southwestern railway. Our train was switched on to this track, and we headed straight south. We began to grow uneasily. We had been told all along that we were going to Macon to be exchanged, that Sherman and Hood had made a special exchange as they had done a short time before. This did not look like going to Macon. We passed through an almost endless forest of pines, the country growing more gloomy and dreary with every mile of our progress. At about 5 p.m. we stopped at a station built of pine timber set in the ground and one or two other buildings of like manufacture. We were soon hustled off the train and marched up on to a low ridge in front of a large wall tent. We asked no questions nor was there any need; one glance at the surrounding scenery tood us where we weree. By picking up a few prisoners here and there along our rout our number were increased to over 600 men, and in all that number, not one spoke a word as we marched from the train to the tent on the ridge. A great cold hand seemed shutting down on our hearts as we stood there in line. About us for some distance the timber had been cut away with here and there piles of brush, and off to our left was a rebel camp, while in the immediate foreground was a large pen or pens, they looked to us one inside the other. Inside we could see men in a continuous stir and a ceaseless movement, constantly crossing the mixing together of thousands passing to and fro sending forth a monotonous sough intermingled with the dull hum of countless confused voices rising from the overcrowded space. However we hand not long to wait a tall cadaverous man dressed in gray jacket and pants appeared. He had a small deep set gray eye, some might call them yellow, and projecting front teeth like the fangs of a wild animal. He wore a sword, and stuck in his belt was two large army revolvers. This was the infamous Capt. Wirtz. As soon as he cast his eyes upon us he cried “sergents search the tam rascals, tam em; I learncs em to burn Atlanta.” I happened to be among the gartherest away from the monster, and with those around began to secrete what little I had. I pulled my stockings up around the bottoms of my pants and droped my knife, pocketbook etc. into the depths thus formed. All the time this chivalrous southern officer was running up and down the line and such swearing I never heard before. I used to think that no one could compare with an army teamster for profanity, but this man could distance anything I ever hear of. We were robbed of everything we did not hide, and were marched down the little slope to the pen. Then the ponderous gates swung back and for the first time in my life, I realize what a precious thing freedom was. Our guards led us through the dirty crowds that throng about us to an open space and there left us.

C. P.

Andersonville.
[CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.]

Andersonville! What is it that has given to that place its frightful celebrity? Why is it that the rebel inspectors themselves have denounced it as “a place the horrors of which it is difficult to describe?”

Andersonville is situated in Sumpter county, Georgia on the Southwestern railroad about 62 miles south of Macon. It is merely a watering station between Oglethorp and Americaus. It is pronounced by the railroad employee to be the most dismal and solitary part of the state, being an immense forest many miles in extent. Hugh pines rearing their gigantic heads above the smaller trees, seeming to keep guard over the track and the iron monster that condescends to stop occasionally at the little depot. Here in this isolated spot where no city rears its glittering spires to gladden the eye of the weary captive out of the way of general travel- yea hidden from the eyes of the world was deemed a proper place to carry out the hellish designs of Jeff Davis and his fellow conspirators. The climate here is such that the Mercury rises as high as 110 in the shade. In the winter it descends below 20 and ice two inches thick occasionally forms. On the side of a red clay hill and near the railroad a clearing was made in the woods, the site of the prison. At the base of the hill there ran a little brook about five feet wide and four inches deep; it issued from an adjacent swamp, a matted morass of tangled growth of swamp-myrtle, with tussocks of grass and decaying logs of wood. The borders of the stream were miry, the flow sluggish, the water impregnated with decaying vegetable matter, had a taste of the mould through which it filtered. The prison was extended a certain distance up an opposite hill, so that the brook flowed through its bounds, entering on the west side, and running out on the east. The prison was thus an open field; on which the pines and oaks had been cut down. It was in the form of an oblong square 1,514 (of my steps) long and 260 steps wide. Its walls were comp--- of logs, the trunks of trees, so as to be 24 feet in length, one end firmly bedded in the ground, the other being roughly pointed with an ---- these logs were fitted as closely as possible side by side. Outside of this as an additional security, was another lower stockade. After a while it was deemed necessary build still another stockade outside of tall about eight feet in hight. At the angles of the prison, artillery was placed so as to cover all the area, and on top of the miner stockade forty-four sentry boxes, from which a fell view was obtained. Within the stockade and parallel to it, at a distance of thirty feet posts three feet high and ten feet apart were ranged; along their tops were tacked a four inch strip. This was known as the “Dead line.”

The sentinels, in their boxes on the platforms above, were ordered to shoot without notice, any one who transgressed this line. It was not necessary that the entire body should be exposed- an arm or a hand extended beyond it was enough. This rule was rigidly enforced. From the interior of the prison everything was cleared; not a tree nor a bush was left, not even a blade of grass. I cannot remember of ever seeing any green thing growing inside the stockade. The entire prison was as bare of vegetation as Broadway is between Main and State Street. There, was no protection from the intolerable heat of the summer sun nor the freezing rains of the winter. On the 15th of February 1864, the first gang of prisoners of war, 850 in number were turned into the stockade. The locomotives incessantly brought additions. By the end of May there were more than 13,000; in August there were confined in this narrow space not less than 35,893 prisoners of war. The rations at that time were two ounces of bacon or boiled beef with the water in which it had been boiled one small sweet potato, a piece of bread, two and one-half inches square an thick, composed of corn and peas ground into meal, but not sifted. If one of a squad of prisoners were missing, the rest were deprived of rations for that day. At the time I entered the prison. Oct. 12th 1865, no beef was issued, neither was sweet potatoes, nor any other kind of potatoes. All the meat we ever had in Andersonville was now and then a piece about as large as a man’s hand, and this to one mess of twenty-five men. In lieu of the meat and potatoes we were issued one half pint of cooked beans to a man every twenty-four hours. Some of the men dug holes in the slope of the hill large enough to crawl into. The earth taken from these excavations was used by others to plaster up low shanties they made of sticks and brush. Some made temporary coverings of ragged blankets and portions of their clothing, under which they sought refuge from the sun and the rain. Others reduced to despair, sat sullenly all day long, and lay down at night wherever exhaustion overtook them. When the rains set in the tread of so many thousands covered the ground with slush a foot deep; the whole surface was like a cesspool. Into the brook there flowed the filth and excrements of more than 35,000 men. The banks of the stream was covered with a rotting mass and appeared to be alive with maggots. Through this reeking mass wandered about, elbowing and pushing one another, the shoeless, hatless, famished captives, many of them with scarcely a tatter to cover them.

C. P.

When the hot weather came, this pestiverous mass baked in the sun; a surgeon reports that in August and September there were more than 3,000 sick lying on the bare ground partially naked; some had broken limbs, some were gangrened, some suffering with scurvy, some with chronic diarrhea. There were some, such is the expression of an eye witness, “coated with lice.” “The lice only that man’s body were as think as a garment- a living mass, then fleas, and incredible clouds of mosquitoes deprived them of sleep, and drove them mad. The death rate had reached at this awful period 81-2 each hour of the 24. As they died, they were dragged to the prison gates and stripped of what little clothing they might have on their emaciated forms, by some wretched survivors and then hauled away by wagon loads. They were buried without coffins, thrown into a ditch with quick lime. In any instances, so says a rebel (officer) their fingers were mutilated with an ax to remove any finger ring they might have. Raw rations were issued to a very large proportion, who were entirely without cooking utensils, and furnished with so limited a supply of fuel that they were compelled to dig with their hands in the marsh for roots. I saw one of my own comrades with an old shovel hunting for fuel in this manner. At a short distance I was unable to see him as he was so deep in the earth. he succeeded however in getting quite an armful of pine roots. During the hot weather, the condition of things became so dreadful that, on passing up an down the railroad, if the wind was favorable, the smell of the stockade could be perceived for two miles. Starvation drove the prisoners to such fearful straits that they were frequently seen picking up particles of food that had passed undigested through the bodies of others, and wiping and eating them. It was the men who were the most afflicted with scurvy, and who were crawling on the ground, did this. This may seem to the reader like an exaggeration but I have no desire to impose on the credulity of any one. I have seen this done and will vouch for its awful truth. Well might colonel Chandler, the inspector general of the rebel army, who was ordered to examine into the conditions of things, report. “It is a place, the horrors of which it is difficult to describe- it is a disgrace to civilization.” But it was not alone physical suffering; there was a still more awful spectacle. In hundreds of the captives reason was entirely overthrown. One of the older prisoners upon hearing the old familiar cry of, Fresh, fish, fresh, fish” with which the new arrivals were greeted, came and got into conversation with us. He wished to know, if any of the 8th Illinois cavalry were with us. We informed him that the most of us were illinois men and that Plumleigh was from Kane county, the county that the 8th was organized in. Well this cavalry man told me that there was one of his comrades who was crazy, he was at one time a pious man but now he would swear like a pirate. Not long afterwards I had an opportunity of seeing and hearing him. It was a fine moonlight nigh and he stood there with clinched fists swearing and cursing at the moon. This unfortunate young man lived through the terrible winter, and went back to Illinois, where I subsequently met him. He recovered in a measure but never was a sane man. Her never remembered anything of his prison life nor any of his friends and comrades. In the winter of 1866 while at a revival meeting of the Methodist church where there was considerable excitement he hat up to tell his experience. he told the listeners that while in the army how he fgought against the pleadings of the “Still small voice, “ and then raising his voice “the Lord rolled on a heavier burden,” then he stopped suddenly and a wild frightened look came into his eyes and he raised his arms towards the great chandelier ablaze with light, and broke out into a torrent of oaths and curses, and foaming and shrieking he was borne away. But to return, thus were the soldiers of the United States converted into wild beasts. They who had hitherto been orderly became riotous; many, who had entered religious men, became reckless of conscience and conduct; their blasphemies were intermingled with hideous laughter and magical imprecations often they tried, with fiendish cunning, to get possession of the food and clothing of their comrades. They even did not scruple to murder them. Some with outstretched arms cursed the sky, some, idiotic, marched about in listless apathy; some shouted insane defiance,to imaginary foes, some might be seen , with animal cunning, hiding in a hole in the ground, or in their tatters, a clutched and often gnawed bones. All ideas of personal decency were gone. To such a state of desperation had the inmates been brought that life was of no value to them. Many voluntarily crossed the dead line in order to be shot. Attracted by the smell of this living carrion, flocks of vultures, the “turkey buzzard” of the south, soared high in the air over this den of human putridity, or gorged with human flesh, sat nodding on the dead pines of the adjacent forests. It your readers are shocked, as well they may be at the above recital let me assure them that I have not told halt of the reality. I have as yet said nothing of the punishments inflicted- the stocks, the gang, bucking and gagging, nothing of the hospitals, nothing of the capture of fugitives and their rending by blood hounds; nothing of 435 wretches shot for passing beyond the dead line, nothing of the murders committed by the jailer with his own hand, and for which he was subsequently tried by the government and hanged.

One more incident and then I well give a very brief outline of my prison life and close, as it is painful for me to revert to those awful times. Let us read what was recorded by a soldier of the 47th New York infantry. A pious man he had secreted in his tatters, as his chief consolation, a testament, and on its margin, here there, had written with a bit of pencil:

“March 26th no rations issued to day. March 27th, rations not issued till 3 o’clock. April 2, rations issued at 5 p.m.; meal and mule flesh; April 10, no meat; April 27, man shot for getting over dead line; May 2; the singular cripple Chicamanga shot dead by Wirtz; May 15, or friend the cavalry man shot; July 3, no rations; July 4, rations full of maggots, had to be thrown away; July 13, man shot at dead line; August 6, man went to the brook, reached over the dead line with a pole and cup, and was shot; water colored with his blood; Sept. 10, my god, my god! why hast thou forsaken me?
______
Note.- The date 1835 in last week issue should have read 1864.

C. P.

Andersonville.
(CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.)

When I first entered the prison there were about 26 negro prisoners here, there are only two left. The rest have died. Lying on the ground so much has made me so stiff and lame that I can barely walk.

One bright sunny morning word was sent into the prison for us to send out our strongest men with axes to cut wood and they would furnish teams to haul it inside. As soon as the wood choppers were outside of gates they were surrounded by the guards and ordered to throw down their axes as they belonged to the confederacy. The men were then sent back into the prison. These old axes we had picked up in one place or another, bought them of the guards etc. When we went from one prison to another the handles would be taken out and with the ax secreted under the clothing or rolled up in blankets. This was one of the most contemptible tricks played on us yet by the barbarians of the confederacy. In some sort of a way we heard rumors of the capture of Savannah but the rebels strenuously deny it. The prisoners were brought in who said they were captured near Savannah while out foraging. They say that Savannah was taken before Christmas. How clean and bright they look compared with us. The great majority of the prisoners have a disease of the bones of the legs and arms which seems to be very painful. Some strong men will cry out with pain so as to be heard at a distance. It seems worse at night. I have not been troubled with it much. Still I have been kept awake several nights. While lying thus awake I listened to the rebel guards making the night more hideous with their singing and their cries imitative of animals. One of the rebs in particular never let night go by without telling us that if we “Traveled to the South in the old Mississippi state we should be sure to find at a certain log cabin on a stream where a colored damsel would be found waiting at the gate.” It made no difference to him if it rained or not he kept at it, all winter and it would be no surprise to me if he was singing it yet. There was one particularly bad reb who made life a burden to any one who tried to sleep within a half a mile of his post. He was known among his comrades as “The Bull of the woods.” he could imitate anything from the hooting of an owl to the braying of a jackass. I have a grudge against him yet.

I had my hair cut and give one day’s ration of bread in payment.
I saw the place where the rebels caved in the big tunnel. this tunnel was commenced and destroyed before I entered the prison. It started in about 10 feet from the surface and only lacked a few nights work of completing when one of the men at work upon it informed the rebels of its existence when it was filled up. The traitor was taken outside to escape “the wrath to com.” But the rebs soon got tired of him and sent him back inside at the same time threatening the camp with loss of rations, if they harmed the traitor.

He was let run for a while, but caught one night, his head shaved and a pen knife blade heated red hot and the letter “T” burned deep into the forehead. He sas allowed to go about the prison every one calling him traitor. Finding his life a hell on earth he crossed the “dead line” and besought the sentinel to put an end to it. The guard did not hesitate but raising his musket and fired. As he lowered his gun he called: “corporeal of the guard post number 10.” the other guards took up the cry “corporal of guard post number ten Yank killed”. The corporal came and ascertained the cause of the shooting, had the body removed and the guard released and furloughed as was the usual customs.
I made it a practice to walk around the stockade morning and evening. One day while going the rounds saw an old man on guard who I had scraped a sort of speaking acquaintance with. I never asked him his name. I called him “Johnny and he called me “Yank.” I asked him if there was any news. Yes, said he “there’s a heap of good news.” What is it, I asked, thinking it was some rebel victory. “Wal” said he “Sherman has captured Branchville, that’s up in South Karliney an now he’ll go an’help Grant take Richmond an’ that I reckion will be the end of this cursed war, an’ I will git home in time to plant corn yet.” He further told me to come around after dark and he would give me a Macon paper. “I know,” said he, “that its again the rules to give you’ans papers, but be’ans you are a good christian I will do it for you.” In a joking mood, one day I had told this simple minded old Georgia Cracker that I was young preacher and that my father was a preacher also. The religion I preached was “Liberty and Union one and Inseparable.” I got the paper that night. It was a fact, Sherman had taken Branchville with a vast amount of rolling stock and other supplies. It would seem by this that the war could not last many months longer. There was nothing in Sherman’s front that could impede his progress and by the Fourth of July he would reach grant, and together they would make short work of Lee and the rebel army of northern Virginia. I thought I could stand it that long, although I was getting very weak. My clothes were very ragged. On the seat of my pants I have a large patch of tent cloth and this was showing signs of rapid decay. The crown of my hat was entirely gone and I took one of the blue cuffs of my jacket to replace it. The other cuff was doing faithful service on my right knee. My shoes were in a sad state of demoralization. In fact my wardrobe was about “playing out,” still the news of our own generals success put new life in all of us and I determined to live through it even if I had to give up after I got to “God’s country.” I did not want to die and leave my body to mix with the hated soil in that desolate place.

C. P.

(CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.)

It will be remembered that I said in a previous number that the ground sloped each way towards the center of the prison through which flowed the sluggish creek. On the north side, and close to the western wall or stockade, and a few rods up the hill from the creek was a fine spring of water. There has been considerable fiction in regard to this spring since the war, and it has acquired the name of “providence Spring;” and is also said to have spouted out in a supernatural manner. I was not long in finding out its history. It seems that in the later part of June, one of the most fearful storms ever known swept over the prison; The little creek became a river, and great masses of driftwood came surging down against the prison wall. The stockade formed a dam and the water raised rapidly when with a crash a hundred feet or more of the stockade went down. With loud cries the prisoners swarmed about the gap where the torrent was rushing through. A regiment of the reserves was got under arms and stood through the terrible storm guarding the gap in the wall. After the storm subsided the spring was noticed. I have no doubt some of the prisoners thought it an act of providence. So would I, if it had been placed outside of the deadline. It being inside the deadline a great many prisoners were shot in their efforts to get the water. While out for wood, some poor fellow with a great big soul brought in a big pine limb and with great labor made a spout and also go permission for the officer of the guard to put in in place at the spring- thus bringing the water under dead line where all could get it without the risk of getting an ounce ball through their bodies. I have always thought that this poor unknown prisoner finished up and completed what Providence began. Who this man was the oldest prisoner could not tell. I tried hard to find out but could not. Perhaps he is there yet sleeping; under the shadow of the flag for which he suffered and died. I have mentioned the murders that took place in the prison. They became so numerous that the prisoners became alarmed and determined to stop it. There was an organized band of desperadoes who styled themselves “raiders”; whenever any new prisoners or “fresh fish” as they called them came in they found out who had anything worth stealing when it any resistance was made the victims were killed. A large police force was organized and armed with big clubs and succeeded in arresting a lot of the raiders. The regulators wanted to turn them over to the rebs for punishment but old Wirts said he did not care if the damn Yankees did kill one another. A court martial was held and nine of the ring-leaders was condemned to died by hanging. Wirts sent in material for a scaffold but would have nothing further to do with it. Eight of them were hung in the usual manner- but one of them broke his rope and started a a wild race for life. He was soon recaptured and dragged back to the scaffold- rope readjusted and in five minutes he was as dead as his comrades in crime. I find this entry in my old journal:

Andersonville Ga. Nov. 8th, 1861
Away up in our norther homes they are voting for the different presidential candidates today. Some one proposed holding an election here in the prison. Polls were opened in the different divisions and at night the votes were counted. Lincoln and Johnson carried every division except one. “Honest old Abe” carried Andersonville by about 15,000 majority. When the boys began to cheer, the rebel officers climbed up into the sentry boxes and wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Some one told them that Lincoln was elected. They said you dog gone fools don’t you know if old Abe is elected you’ll stay here till die.”
At 4 p.m. on the 11th of November we were ordered to march to the station and we went out through the ponderous gates- over the sand ridges, across the little creek past Wirts' headquarters, to the little depot.
Here we found several trains awaiting us. We were loaded in freight cars, 100 men to a car making it so crowded that we could not sit down but were packed like sardines in a box. The doors were fastened or the outside, and we would have perished for the want of fresh air had we not cut holes in the side of the car. The train slowed up as we run through Fort Valley and one of the 14th Ill. boys, who was in the car just ahead of us succeeded in prying open the door of the car and as the rain ran slowly by some empty freight cars standing on a side track. He sprang out of the train and into one of them. A rattling you they from the guards, who were stationed on the top of the train, riddled the old box car, but as the train was not stopped we knew little of the result. The train arrived at Macon at midnight and stayed about two hours. The guards opened the doors on the sides of the cars and as it was a bright moonlight night the streets seemed crowded with people. One of the company “A” boys had traded his uniform for a suit of rebel gray and as the people began to crowd up to the car he jumped out and walked off. We expected to see him halted but his disguise was too perfect. There were a good many young fellows out with their girls to see the Yankees. I asked one of these where the rail road run too? “It don’t run nary place,” said he; “I’ve lived here now nigh on to fourteen years and it ain’t run nary place yet.” This made the boys all laugh, rebs and all, and the girls to snicker. I did not laugh, the boys say I swore, may be I did, it is a long time ago, and if I did I have forgotten it. After daylight every few miles, we could see signboards with this inscription upon them: “Americans rails on this side, English on the other.” On the otherside of the track the signs read like this “English rails this side American on the other. This made it plain that the track was laid with American and English railroad iron.

At 4 o’clock p.m. we arrived at a junction called by the rebs Millen. It is the junction of the railroads from Macon and Augusta, both roads taking the track from here to Savannah. We left the train and marched about half a mile to a large stockage. Close by the gates I saw for the first time in my life, the stocks. There were several prisoners in them two or three of whom were dead. The commander of this prison pen is one Capt. Cameron, a Scotchman, who seems a fit companion for the human devil, Wirts. While the guards were counting us he was pursuing us. After being counted and cussed, we were marched through the folding gates, and were once more in a “pen.” Once more I quote from my old journal.
“Nov 14th, 1864.- It was very cold last night, so cold that I was obliged to get up and run across the pen two or three times, and after warming up in this manner I found my way back to where my comrade lay shivering on the ground and lay down beside him,”

C. P.

(CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.)

The prison here at Millen is kept in better order than the one at Andersonville, it is about the same in size with a nice stream running through it and trees along the banks. Strange as it may appear, rebel recruiting officers come in and are quite successful in getting recruits. Even some of our regiment disgraced themselves by desertion. Their excuse is they do it to save their lives. While here in Millen prison I saw one of the most dreadful sights of my prison life. I got up very early one morning and went down by police headquarters. As it was hardly daylight, scarcely anyone was stirring. This is what I saw. A soldier, a boy not more than 14 years was tied to a tree. At first I thought he was asleep and so he was, but it was the sleep of death. I routed out the police and when they found out the boy was dead, they wanted to know “what in hell I was staying around there for,” by this time fully a thousand or more prisoners were crowding around us and I mixed in with them. The corpse was taken down and carried down to the gate to await the arrival of the dead wagon. Someone had accused this child of stealing a tin cup, for this the chief of police had him tied to the tree with two cross pieces nailed to it, one above his head and one nearer the ground. His hands were stretched out and tied to the top piece and his feet to the bottom piece with the weight of his body resting on his wrists and ankles. It rained during the night and was cold for the time of year and in the morning he was dead. I told our orderly sergeant what I had seen, and he advised me to say nothing and bide my time. For said he, “there is a God in Israel say what you will” and He will right this wrong.
While in Millen I traded my blue blouse for a rebel jacket it was the genuine rebel gray with blue collar and cuffs, and wooden buttons. We have some of those buttons to this day. While we were here there was an exchange of sick and wounded. I had a talk with a rebel surgeon who told me that it was a prelude to a general exchange. Prisoners who have money or other valuables are buying themselves out by bribing the rebel officers who put them in as sick or nurses. The weather is wet and cold but we are hopeful, we are going to be exchanged.
Nov. 27th.- We got orders to march to the station. It looked to me at the time of this movement that something more than an exchange as the rebels have camp equipage quartermaster stores cannon etc., more like a stampede than anything else. While awaiting the train the guards got out a lot of cauldron kettles and began making ugly on large scale. As seen as the must began to boil the prisoners began to fish it out of the kettles with pieces of boards and sticks and shovels. There were no guards on duty except around the stores. At dark we were loaded on the cars and as the men were counted by torch light. I have always thought there must have been a big mistake as we were packed in so we could hardly move. In spite of these discomborts some of the boys sang “Homeward Bound” and “Just Before the Battle” and other songs. We arrived in Savannah in the afternoon of the 22nd. The train was stopped outside the city and a guard of cavalry, trotted along on each side as we run slowly into the city. I got hold of a Savannah paper the next day and I read Gov. Brown’s proclamation to the people of Georgia. By this it appeared that Gen. Sherman, who we last heard of, was chasing Hood through the mountains of Northern Alabama, was now sweeping down upon Savannah like some mighty torrent.
This kind of news braced up the boys wonderfully. The rebels say they sent a flag of truce to Fort Punski and tried to have us exchanged ---- --- officers would nor receive us. All day we have seen the rebs hauling siege guns from the river forts back to the rear to stop Shermans army. At night we are again put on to a train and headed southward. We were on open platform cars and as we started before sunset, we could see the defenses of the city on the southwest. They were of great strength. We crossed the Oguchee river and we got a passing glimpse of Fort McAllister. At a little distance from the track we saw several Palmetto trees. They look to me like huge cabbages. It was very cold, one man is said to have frozen to death though there was no frost. The train stopped about midway. We were ordered off and went into camp by the side of the track. Shortly after daylight we were marched about a quarter of a mile into the fine forest. As we passed the depot I saw it was numbered “6” and the work “Blackshire” painted upon its side. There was no sign of a village or other building only the straight railroad an somber pines. A camp was formed in the woods about three acres in extent among the trees which were as thick as they could stand. There was no stockade, nothing but a line of guards. The prisoners are not allowed within 20 feet of this line. Wertz was left behind at Andersonville.
Our rations were the best in quality and quantity that we had while in the confederacy. There being no roll call afforded splendid opportunities for “flanking.” “Flanking” is done in this wise:

A man would give his name and company in a certain hundred, and then go and give a fictitious name in some other hundred. I know one man who thus drew rations in seven different hundreds. I drew rations in my own name in my own hundred, and under the name of Chas. D. Knight 115th Pennsylvania infantry in another.

My comrade L. C. Dilley was “getting even with the confederacy in the same manner. The rebels had about 5,000 prisoners here and were issuing rations to 11,000. The officers tried hard to stop the flanking but without a daily roll call it was impossible and this cannot be had as all the roll are back at Millen.

C. P.

Communicated
Andersonville.

(CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.)

The weather was very bad, raining the most of the time. In this latitude it will rain about a week or ten days at a time, when the wind will shift suddenly to the northwest, the mercury drops down below the freezing point, the sky will become clear and ice will form sometimes two inches in thickness. A few hours of sunshine however warms things up and the half clad wretches come out of their holes to dry and warm themselves. A few days of sunshiny weather, each day warmer than its predecessor when the rain sets in again. Such is the weather at Andersonville. Upon one of those cold freezing nights some poor half frozen wretch tore down a piece of the deadline and used it for firewood. This was reported to Wirtz who stopped the rations until the man who tore down the deadline was given up. One weary day dragged itself away but the man could not be found. No food had passed our lips for 48 hours. That night I was mocked in dreams by sights of plenty; I thought in my sleep that I was free and far away from the land of starvation, of slaves and blood hounds. About nightfall of the second day the division sergeants were called together to hear a proposition form one of the prisoners. This man volunteered to go out and tell Wirtz that he was the man who tore down the deadline. He brought witnesses to show he was not the man who did it. But if the division sergeants would give his six extra rations each he would “shoulder the blame and take the consequences .” this was agreed to; if he had asked for the rations of the whole prison he would have got them as no one expected to see him again. In about an hour after he went out the rations came in and were soon issued and devoured. A little after dark the “volunteer” came in little the worst for his adventure. This is the story he told to the crowd that thronged around him. The guards with fixed bayonets took him direct to the presence of the monster, appointed by Jeff Davis to torture us. It appeared that Wirtz, by some means had found out that the man had volunteered to suffer that his comrades might have food. Then his appearance was enough to soften the hardest heart. This brave cavalry soldier had nothing upon his wasted frame but a pair of government draws. No hat or cap, neither shoes nor stockings, nothing but a pair of old dirty draws. He told Wirtz that he was almost frozen and that he only took a small piece when he might have taken more. Wirtz ordered him to be put in the stocks for two hours, but the officer of the guard let him off earlier. Not long after this Gen. Howell Cobb came inside the stockade accompanied by Wirtz. They were followed by a hungry mob of prisoners and saluted with cries of “Corn Bread!” “Corn Bread!” This aroused the devil in Wirtz and the rations were stopped for two days. The consequence was that more than two hundred of miserable wretches died in one night. It took two six mule teams one half day to haul away the skeleton like forms to the grave yard.
While out for wood one day one of the guards told us of a fierce battle in Tennessee at a place called Franklin.
A man shot at the spring today. He put his hand on the deadline while filling his pail and the guard seeing it, deliberately shot him. I have not tried to keep any account of the members killed. The Franklin prisoners came in the other day. One of them from the 79th Illinois was put into our mess. The next morning after these prisoners came in one of them in his sleep rolled under the deadline. One of the guards seeing him lying there raised his musket and without any warning sent a bullet tearing through the sleeping man’s body. He was not instantly killed and as he rolled about in his agony, getting further under the line the guard threatened to shoot him again if he was not taken out. His blood made a little puddle but was soon drank up by the thirsty sand.
“Jeff Davis could you hold it in the hollow of your hand?”
Four men were suffocated by their dugout in the bank caving in on them. As they lay by the gate awaiting the arrival of the dead wagon they presented a ghastly spectacle.
There is a character here called Limber Jim.” he claims to belong to the 113th Illinois, but wears rebel uniform and goes in and out of prison as he pleases, and I see nothing about him indicating the prisoner of war. He is kind to the prisoners and seems to be well liked. He was at one time chief of police.

C. P.

Andersonville.

(CONTINUED FROM LAST WEEK.)

Note.- In your issue of January 30th I see a great many misstatements by Brother Bryant. As he is an honest man, he has done this through ignorance. His article is too long and windy for me to take up serial tin but will only notice the large mistakes. If Brother Bryant had studied history with the same attention he gave law and theology, he would not have let his admiration for a dead traitor lead him into so many mistakes. He says “the crowded condition of Andersonville was owing to the refusal of Mr. Stanton to exchange prisoners.” now this is not true. The following letter indicates the condition of the subject in the summer of 1862.

War Dep’t Washington City
July 12, 1862,

The president directs me to say that he authorizes you to negotiate a general exchange of prisoners with the enemy. You will take immediate measures for that purpose, observing proper precaution against any recognition of the rebel government and confining the negotiation to the subject of exchange. The cartel between the United Sates and Great Britain has been considered a proper regulation as to the relative value of prisoners.

Edw..rd M. Stanton
Sec. of War.

Maj. Gen. John A. Dix
Fortress Monroe.

Accordingly on the 22nd of July a cartel was agreed upon by Gens. Dix and Hill representing the two governments. It was substantially based on that between the United States and Great Britian in 1812. It provided for the equal exchange of prisoners on each side in ten days after their capture, those for whom no exchange could be provided were to be paroled. The first violation of this cartel was by the rebel authorities in relation to the United States troops in Texas. In the early part of 1861 these troops had been seized, disarmed and imprisoned and by the direct order of Davis, the humane man that Brother Bryant calls him, were held as hostages to secure the good treatment of such rebels as might thereafter be captured by the United States. They were in this condition when the cartel was executed and were entitled to immediate delivery if not to exchange, but they were not delivered until the 23rd of April, 1863 nine months instead of ten days. Then there was the negro question, the rebel congress passed a resolution declaring that all commissioned officers of colored troops thereafter captured, should be treated as criminals inciting servile insurrection, to be dealt with according to the laws of the state they were captured in notwithstanding the cartel of exchange, these men were to be hung instead of exchanged or paroled. What would the author of “the Blood of Abel” have our government do in cases like this. Our authority might just as well arranged a cartel for exchange with the Apache Indians. The rebel government recognized at once the serious consequences that would ensue from he Emancipation Proclamation and the employment of negro troops, and it refused to exchange negro prisoners. The United States could assent to no such determination. This, therefore at once embarrassed the execution of the resolution and eventually led to its suspension. The rebel position was one of difficulty. The conscription failed to replenish their armies they must have back their prisoners of war for that purpose but considering the social ideas of the south they could never face their people with the admission that black soldier and a white one were equal, they therefore resolved to put such a pressure on the prisoners in their hands that our government might be compelled to yield its point and submit to the exchange of white prisoners alone. This was kept up until the fear of the recapture of the prisoners at Andersonville impelled Gen. Joe. Johnston himself to telegraph to Richmond. “I strongly recommend the distribution of the United States prisoners at Andersonville immediately.” On the same day they instructed their agent to accept the offer made to him several times to exchange the prisoners of war, office for officer and man for man. About the same all well cool suggested to the rebel secretary of war that all the democrats who were imprisoned at the South should be found out , and released on the condition of their voting the democratic ticket, upon their return to the North. Now then, for the nut he wishes us to crack- he (Bryant) says: the Union prisoners, held during the war of the South, was 276,000 and the rebel prisoners was 220,000. On that basis he proceeds to figure out his percentage of deaths. But he has been about as exact in this statement as in his others. The true number of rebels captured during the war and sent North was 222,847, the whole number of National troops during the same time and sent South was 126,950. This does not include the numbers paroled by agreement or exchanged and delivered immediately after capture nor does it include the numbers captured and paroled at the final surrender. The number of rebel prisoners who died form all causes (including wounds received in battle) while in the custody of United States, was in the ratio of one in eight and twenty seven hundredths (1.8 27-100). The United States prisoners who died in the department of the South was in the ratio of one in three and forty four one hundredths (1.3 44-100). It is proper to add that the lost ratio refers only to those United States soldiers which had up to that time been actually interred at the rebel prisons at the South, and as this work was still going on and additions were constantly being made to this number, the true ratio will not be less than three United States soldiers to one rebel soldier . I think this effectually cracks that “nut.”
So then in spite of Brother Bryant’s special pleading latin quotations of Rheils Apocoypse and the Colossus and Calico and Julius Caesar and Lord knows who the fact still remains, that Jeff Davis the arch traitor, head and front of that living hell of Andersonville.
I have been compelled to fill your columns with these facts and figures but I will not let the government I fought for be insulted and slandered and stand a silent listener.
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Note- The figures in this article and many of the facts are taken from Draper’s history of the civil war which I obtained through the courtesy of state senator J. C. Robinson. C. P.

It seems that my last communication rather stirred up Mr. Bryant. Very well. Since that time I have seen an article from Belford’s Magazine from the pen of old Jeff himself. Of course, I understand that this time is not opportune for harsh criticism. But I cannot stand idly by and listen to shilly shally nonsense in defense of Jeff Davis’ Andersonville infamy. Davis like Bryant seems to think, that because time has cooled the passions and softened the prejudices he can place upon the face of facts a mass of misrepresentation which will save his posthumous reputation from the obloquy of that abomination of desolation. He holds our government responsible for the delay in exchanging prisoners. It is true, there was one delay in the outset in recognizing the rebels as belligerents. But after that was arranged the whole responsibility was shifted to rebel shoulders, and there is remained until the end. Davis accuses our government of not fulfilling their “obligations,” but he does not say in what manner. They would not recognize the “nigger” as a soldier and it would have been monstrous for the government to put men into the field and then withdrawn its protection. But that is not the point anyway, its the treatment of the prisoners that is being discussed. Davis claims that the prisoners were given substantially the same rations as their soldiers. It consisted he says of meat and meal. There was scarcely any meat issued during my whole imprisonment. The meal was often alive with worms, perhaps the worms were the meat old Jeff referred to. Out of the 35,000 at Andersonville one in three died, while of the soldiers within one half mile of the stockade only one in 400 died. Davis admits that dogs were used to hunt down the bring back prisoners but says: they were not bloodhounds but deer or fox hounds. I care very little about the KIND of hound, but I have seen them and they were what were called bloodhounds, and three or four savage bull dogs who not being able to keep up with the pack kept with the horsemen, and when the poor wretch was run down they went straight at his throat. Davis might have added that during the war, an official report sent to Richmond by that monster of cruelty, Wirtz (his companion in H--l) reported the capture by dogs of twenty-five prisoners in one month before they were out one day. The report does not specify the species but they were evidently dogs that understood their business. The horrors of that prison pen were so great that the survivor can scarcely, to this day, endure to recall them. Davis was refused amnesty because he was held responsible for those atrocities. Winder was sent to Andersonville against the protests of many humane southerners, his record for inhumanity being notorious. A committee of congress investigated this whole matter some years ago and arrived at a unanimous conclusion, the democrats concurring in a report characterizing the history of Andersonville as “a tale of horror, woe and death before unheard of and unknown to civilization;” adding, “no pen can describe, no painter sketch, no imagination comprehend its fearful and unutterable iniquity.” It would seem that the concentrated madness of earth and hell had found its final lodgment in the breasts of Jeff Davis and his junta and that the prison at Andersonville had been selected for the most terrible human sacrifices the world has ever seen.”