Later a stockade was erected parallel to the first, and some ten or twelve rods beyond. Tunnels could not be carried so far with the means available. They were dug with knives and the dirt was taken out in haversacks or bags drawn in and out by a cord. The work of digging was usually carried on at night. During the day a sick man lay over the tunnel’s mouth in a tent or under a blanket. That the roll-call sergeant might not discover the fresh earth, it was sifted early in the morning from the pocket and down the trouser leg of a comrade, who walked unconcernedly about. The little grains of earth which he dropped were soon trodden under foot.
To increase the difficulty of tunnel escape, slaves and teams were employed to build piles of pitch-pine along the cleared space beyond the outer stockade. At night, when these were lighted, a line of fires was made which illuminated a wide area. From these fires arose columns of dense smoke, which in the sultry air of a midsummer night hung like a pall over the silent city of disease and starvation. Yet the city was not wholly quiet, for undertones of thousands of voices that murmured during the day at night died away into the low moans of the sick and the expiring, or rose into the overtones of the outcry of distressful dreams. In the edge of the gloom beyond the fires, patrols paced to and fro until the dawn. Every evening the watch-call sounded, “Post number one, nine o’clock and all is well.” This cry was repeated by each sentinel until it had traveled around the stockade back to the place of starting. “Nine and a half o’clock and all is well,” was next spoken, and likewise repeated. Thus every half hour from dark to daylight the time was called off, and this grim challenge greeted our ears every night until the survivors bade the Confederacy good-bye. Not that our captors benevolently wished to increase the sense of the shortness of the time until our release, but to be assured that the guards were keeping awake.
CHAPTER III.
THE PRISON COMMISSARIAT.
The least that can be said of the prison sustenance is that it was exceedingly slim. But while the per diem rations dealt out to an Andersonville prisoner were too small for proper maintenance, and much of the time inferior in quality, yet the thirty-two thousand to thirty-five thousand men who had to be fed were as a rule promptly served.
To secure this result effective organization was necessary. It was accomplished as follows: Groups of two hundred and seventy men were named detachments and duly numbered. Every detachment was divided into the first, second and third nineties, each of which was in charge of one of our own sergeants. The nineties, in turn, were divided into the first, second and third thirties, which also were in charge of a sergeant or corporal.
At ten o’clock every forenoon a drum call was beaten from the platform at the south gate. At this signal the prisoners fell into line by detachments, forming as best they could in the narrow paths that separated the small tents, blanket shanties or dug-outs. At the same moment a company of Confederate sergeants entered the two gates for the purpose of counting and recording the number of the prisoners. To each of these officers a certain number of detachments were assigned. The men, unsheltered from the fierce sun-heat, had perforce to remain standing during the entire count. If a number less than that of yesterday was in evidence, the Federal sergeant had to account for the deficit. Sometimes a number of men were too ill to stand up, so the line was held the longer while the Confederate official viewed the sick where they lay.
The bodies of those who had died since the count of the previous day were early in the morning carried to the south street and laid in a row until the ration wagon could haul them to the burying trench. On a card attached to the wrist of the deceased was written by the detachment sergeant, his name, regiment and date of death. These names were taken by the enumerator, who verified the record as the bodies were carried through the gate. Such was the scarcity of clothing that garments of any value were taken by comrades from the dead before interment.