March 10.—Still traveling, and unloaded nights to sleep by the track. Rebel citizens and women improve every opportunity to see live Yankees. Are fed passably well. Lewis feeling poorly. Watch a chance to escape but find none.
March 13.—Ran very slow through the night, and are in the vicinity of Macon, Ga. Will reach our prison to-night. Received a pone of corn bread apiece weighing about two pounds, which is liberal on their part. Two more days such riding as this would kill me. The lice are fairly eating us up alive, having had no chance to rid ourselves of them since leaving Richmond. One of the guards struck Hendryx during the night. We were talking on the all important subject, and the guard hearing us chatting away to ourselves struck over into the crowd where the noise came from and hit George in the back part of the head. He didn’t speak for a minute or two and I was afraid it had killed him, which happily proved to the contrary. As soon as it came daylight he showed the brute where he had struck him, and took the occasion to dress him down a little, whereupon the rebel threatened that if he said another word to him he would blow his head off. A drizzling rain has set in.
ANDERSONVILLE.
ARRIVAL AT THE WORST OF ALL PRISONS—BEGINNING OF A SUMMER THAT KILLED THIRTEEN THOUSAND MEN—BAD WATER, BAD FOOD, AND MOST INHUMAN TREATMENT—IN THE CLUTCHES OF WIRTZ AND HIS PICKED OUT REBEL AIDS—THE TRUTH AND NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH—A SEASON OF INTENSE SUFFERING.
Camp Sumpter, Andersonville, Ga., March 14.—Arrived at our destination at last and a dismal hole it is, too. We got off the cars at two o’clock this morning in a cold rain, and were marched into our pen between a strong guard carrying lighted pitch pine knots to prevent our crawling off in the dark. I could hardly walk have been cramped up so long, and feel as if I was a hundred years old. Have stood up ever since we came from the cars, and shivering with the cold. The rain has wet us to the skin and we are worn out and miserable. Nothing to eat to-day, and another dismal night just setting in.
March 15.—At about midnight I could stand up no longer, and lay down in the mud and water. Could hardly get up. Shall get food this morning, and after eating shall feel better. There is a good deal to write about here, but I must postpone it until some future time, for I can hardly hold a pencil now. Later: Have drawn some rations which consisted of nearly a quart of corn-meal, half a pound of beef, and some salt. This is splendid. I have just partaken of a delicious repast and feel like a different person. Dr. Lewis is discouraged and thinks he cannot live long in such a place as this.
March 16.—The prison is not yet entirely completed. One side is yet open, and through the opening two pieces of artillery are pointed. About 1800 Yankees are here now. Col. Piersons commands the prison, and rides in and talks with the men. Is quite sociable, and says we are all to be exchanged in a few weeks. He was informed that such talk would not go down any longer. We had been fooled enough, and paid no attention to what they told us. Our mess is gradually settling down. Have picked out our ground, rolled some big logs together, and are trying to make ourselves comfortable. I am in the best of spirits, and will live with them for some time to come if they will only give me one-quarter enough to eat, and they are doing it now, and am in my glory. Weather cleared up, and very cold nights. We put on all our clothes nights and take them off day-times. The men do most of their sleeping through the day, and shiver through the long nights.