The committee bought all the land the owners would release and hoped to raise through the Northern posts and their friends a permanent fund for the care of the grounds.
The plan proved a failure. The G. A. R. in the South is very poor. Its members are mostly colored men who are able to make little more than their living.
On the property was a mortgage of about $750, which was paid by the Woman’s Relief Corps, but money for the care of the place was lacking. The grounds were then offered to the United States Government on the condition of providing perpetual care. As Andersonville is not a battlefield, the authorities declined the proposition.
On two occasions a like proposal was made to the National G. A. R. Encampment, but these veterans decided that the time is not far distant when they can care only for themselves.
With better success the responsibility was tendered to the Woman’s Relief Corps, which felt that if there is a place on God’s earth that should be held sacred, it is that prison pen. The officials accepted the obligation, trusting to woman’s patriotism for support and care, and they have not trusted in vain.
The adage that “God helps those who help themselves” has been true in our case. When we accepted the sacred trust and looked the ground over, I found a large corner of the original pen and three forts we did not own. We bought the extra grounds and the forts, paying for them several hundred dollars more than they were worth. We ventured for all or nothing—and all it was.
This occurred in 1895, and in that year I was elected President of the W. R. C. At the convention we raised by personal contributions $700 as a beginning.
During several years each member was asked to give from three to five cents; some responding, others refusing. Now all bills are paid from the general fund of the National organization.
We own eighty-eight and one-half acres of land, including the seven forts; all the earthworks and rifle pits; also the wells dug by the men in trying to reach water. These are in as perfect condition as when the war closed.
Not a well has caved in or a fort changed in shape. That hard, red clay seems as unyielding as stone.