6th day, 10th mo. 21st. Lay as quiet as possible all day. The nights are very cool.
7th day, 10th mo. 22d. Last night was very cool, but I got a good night's rest. To-day was blustery and cold, but clear. At ten o'clock the hospital was moved inside of the stockade, and to the northwest corner of it. All who were able to walk were sent ahead, and after getting in were taken across the creek and put in charge of a corporal. I took a walk around and bought two Confederate dollars worth of sweet potatoes for my dinner; traded all my beans for salt; then took a walk to the hospital grounds, and found our steward and nurses, who told me to bring my things. Burns and I put up a tent as before and prepared for a cold night; ate a little boiled rice. The steward gave me four spoonsful of canned tomatoes and a biscuit for my supper.
1st day, 10th mo. 23d. Was cool; lay about, and kept warm in the sun and tent.
2d day, 10th mo. 24th. Lay in the tent most of the time. A Mason, ward-master, came to see me. A rebel Lieutenant was looking around for us. The backs of my hands are so badly chapped I can hardly do any thing.
It appears that from inability or some other cause, Charles Smedley was unable to give us any further account of his trials and sufferings; and that the 24th of the 10th month, 1864, was the last day he was able to write. I have deemed it appropriate to add the following account of his last days, (obtained from Richard Dobbins, who was the steward or ward-master, referred to by Charles, and who attended him until near his last moments,) as a finale to his own history, as given in his diary.
Joel Smedley.
Having had some acquaintance with Charles Smedley—the writer of the foregoing diary—for some time previous to his decease, at the request of his father, I shall endeavor to give some account, from memory, of the last days of his existence; also, a brief account of my own experience while in the hands of the rebels, as their prisoner.
My name is Richard Dobbins, a native of western Missouri. I belonged to Company H, 18th Regiment Iowa Volunteers—was taken prisoner at the battle of Missionary Ridge, Nov. 25th, 1863—was sent to the Libby prison, in Richmond, Va., where I remained a short time—Then I was sent to Belle Island, where I suffered very much from cold and starvation. I often thought of death, which stared me in the face daily; though I was not worse off than the majority of the other prisoners. I remained there until the 16th of March, 1864, when I was sent with others to Andersonville, in Georgia, where I suffered very much; not so much from starvation as on the island, but from the rain and cold; also from smoke, from the burning of pine wood. We were of course thinly clad, some destitute of blankets, some of shoes, some of pants, while others had scarcely any clothes on them. The majority of us had been searched and robbed of all our good clothing, money, watches, boots, &c. It seemed as though we could expect nothing but death to relieve us from our sufferings. Over twelve thousand of the prisoners died at Andersonville.