English Diary 2

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7th. Rained hard last night and is still raining. Our drinking water is thick with mud and filth. I sometimes think everything is coming on us to hurry us off, Well, probably the sooner out of such misery the better, but I will keep up as long as there is a spark of life left in me. A great many get discouraged and die when they could prolong their lives with a little courage. But it is only a matter of time, as six months is considered a prisoner's life in a Confederate prison, although it has been eight months since I was captured. I am a mere skeleton.

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8th. Received a pound of bread today, the first we have had since we came here, three ounces of beef, and a bucketful of rice to be divided among ninety men. How we wretches enjoyed it! The bread was made of yellow meal and somewhat resembled fruit cake the flies taking the place of the raisins. Nearly all the old prisoners now have scurvy, the gums turning black and swelling bevond the teeth, and pouching out the cheek; the teeth become loose and drop out. The mouth becomes cancerous and the patient lingers and dies. In others the limbs turn black and swell to the greatest capacity of the skin, black watery sores open, gangrene sets in, and death shortly follows. The whole prison was a hell of torture and insanity. You could hear praying and groaning mingled with the laugh of the lunatic and cursing. The sun is growing hotter and the raiders bolder. The guards are more numerous, the stocks more terrible and the chain-gangs are full of victims. The ground swarms with all kinds of vermin, and millions upon millions of mosquitoes come from the surrounding swamps to feast on our emaciated bodies; their buzzing hum adds to the bedlam of the prison, and with the hooting of the owls and the mournful notes of the whip-poor-wills, howled a requiem, broken only by the crack of the muskets of the murderous guards, or the sounds of their voices as they cry out the hour of the night from their perches on the stockade. I have lain on the battle-field in the solemn hours of the night, surrounded with dead and dying and listening to the piteous, agonizing cries of the wounded, but it is nothing compared to this den of misery and woe, the memory of which will be ever present to those who experienced it. Nearly one-half of the old prisoners are dead and nearly all of those living are prostrated with scurvy and gangrene. There is a place outside the stockade where; some of the sick are taken, but they are so poisoned by the stench of the prison, that nearly all die. Unless one was there, it is hard for the mind to grasp the magnitude of this hell on earth. There are nearly 30,000 young men who had been pronounced sound and healthy and the best material in the land, condemned to this hell of torture and misery. There seems to be no relief; we must rot in this living grave. The raiders are having everything their own way; it is a common thing to find dead men in the morning with throats cut or heads crushed in. The raiders got so bold that gangs of them go about in daylight and rob by the wholesale; great talk of organizing the prisoners into regulars or prison police.

bedlam - a scene of uproar and confusion

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9th. Eighteen prisoners brought in today from Sherman's army. They bring good news as to the movement of our troops. They say our forces captured four thousand rebels the day they were captured.

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12th. About two hundred more prisoners the last day or two. Rebels greatly excited about something. A cripple was shot for going inside the dead-line. Taylor, of Co. D, died today. Rations same with the exception of a pint of vinegar for each ten men.

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13th. John Moore, of my company, died today. About fifty prisoners today from Dalton. They say Dalton is in the hands of our army, and that Sherman is marching on Atlanta. The average deaths for the last week has been about sixty per day.

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14th. About a hundred and thirty prisoners came in today — captured at Dalton. They bring good news concerning the movement of our troops.

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15th. We can see wagons haulaway the bodies from the dead-house, like so much dirt; as many as twenty bodies piled on one wagon. Upwards of fifteen hundred men have died since we came here.

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16th. One thousand old prisoners from Danville, Va just arrived.

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17th. About seven hundred and fifty more prisoners, mostly from the army of the Potomac. They were greatly surprised to see so many prisoners here. Raining hard. There are millions and millions of all kinds of vermin here, flies, bugs, maggots and lice, some of them as large as spiders. If they once get the best of you, you are a goner. A great many of the prisoners are hopelessly crazy, starvation, disease and vermin being the cause.

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18th. Rations for the last week have not taken any change. Weather getting warm. Thousands coming in all the time; more guards placed on duty.

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19th. Corn bread and about three ounces of bacon for today. Some fifteen hundred prisoners came in last night and this morning — mostly from the Army of the Potomac. Great many prisoners suffering from scurvy; some of them are all doubled up and cannot stretch either limb; some have their gums rot and teeth drop out.

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20th. What a sad looking place this is this morning; a heavy rain and thunder storm last night and we were almost drowned. No tents or shelter of any kind, and the rain poured down in unceasing torrents. Some of the new prisoners who made tents of their blankets found them of little use. Culberson, Webb, Gallagher and myself compose the party of my company who have held together so long. Culberson's days, poor fellow, are numbered; he was taken outside to the hospital this morning. A few months ago he was a large, hearty, fine-looking fellow, but now — a total wreck. It is not always the largest and the strongest that can stand it the longest. I am weary and sick; sick in body and mind, and don't care whether I write any more or not.

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21st, Fifty prisoners arrived yesterday, captured in Florida. Raining hard today. The raiders killed a man last night. Prisoners dying of dropsy; when they are dead, their bodies swell up as large as barrels. There is quite a fight over a dead man's pants; when a prisoner dies, his shoes, stockings, shirt, pants and cap are stripped from him. One prisoner will almost kill another to gain possession of them.

dropsy - old-fashioned or less technical term for edema

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24th. Quite a number of visitors here today to see a real live Yankee; he is quite a curiosity, especially in this predicament.

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25th. Five hundred more prisoners today from Gen. Sickel's command. Getting very warm and vermin multiplying; our water is full of maggots and filth.

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26th. Raining hard again today. Mud and filth are our bed fellows. Six hundred more prisoners this afternoon. I am somewhat crippled, myself, but manage to try and wash and keep clean, that is the principal thing. One hundred have died within the last 24 hours.

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27th. Rations, half a loaf of corn bread and two ounces of bacon. Prisoners complaining of our government allowing its soldiers to remain so long in misery and suffering.

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28th Eleven hundred prisoners arrived last night, chiefly from the army before Richmond. A great many deaths yesterday but could not learn the number. The rebels are now trying to conceal the number of deaths, but before they were glad enough to tell us how many died. Evidently they are getting alarmed.

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29th, Bread today. They say they must get meal to one half and bread to the other half on alternate days. Raiders are getting worse every day. Some prisoners escaped from the guards yesterday while out after fire-wood; Captain Wirz started the blood hounds after them.

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30th. An order from Capt. Wirz has been read, that each Sergeant who passes men outside the gate must sign a paper for the safe return of the men thus detached, and any violation of that order on the part of the squad will he punished by stopping their rations until the escaped have been brought back.