G. D. Wilson. 11178. Co. B, 2d Ohio.
Marion Ross. 11179. Co. A, 2d Ohio.
Perry G. Shadrack. 11181. Co. K, 2d Ohio.
John Scott. 11182. Co. K, 21st Ohio.
Leaving here, I passed over a continuous battle field to Atlanta. Official records show that from Chattanooga to Atlanta, inclusive, more than 85,000 men were killed and wounded and more than 30,000 captured from Sept. 15, 1863, to Sept. 15, 1864. Arriving at Andersonville, I found the same depot agent in charge that was here in war times. His name is M. P. Suber; he is 76 years old, and has been agent here 31 years. Geo. Disher, who was a conductor, and handled the prisoners to and from the stockade, is still connected with the road. I arrived at 2 o’clock, and after eating my first square meal in this place (although I had been a boarder here 12 months), I started out to hunt up my old stamping-ground. The stockade is about half a mile east of depot. Here it was the 40,000 Northern soldiers were confined like cattle in a pen. This prison was used from February, 1864, to April 1865—14 months.
The stockade was formed of strong pine logs, firmly planted in the ground and about 20 feet high. The main stockade was surrounded by two other rows of logs, the middle one 16 feet high, the outer one 12 feet. It was so arranged that if the inner stockade was forced by the prisoners, the second would form another line of defense, inclosing 27 acres. The great stockade has almost entirely disappeared. It is only here and there that a post or little group of posts are to be seen. These have not all rotted away, but have been split into rails to fence the grounds. The ground is owned by G. W. Kennedy, a colored man. Only a small portion of the ground can be farmed. The swamp, in which a man would sink to his waist, still occupies considerable space. In crossing the little brackish stream I knelt down and took a drink, without skimming off the graybacks, as of old. Passing on, not far from the north gate I came to Providence Spring, that broke forth on the 12th or 13th of August, 1864. The spring is surrounded by a neat wood curbing, with a small opening on the lower side, through which the water constantly flows. Not the slightest trace is left of the dead-line.
The holes which the prisoners dug with spoons and tin cups for water and to shelter from sun and rain are still to be seen, almost as perfect as when dug. Also the tunnels that were made with a view to escape are plain to be seen. Relics of prison life are still being found—bits of pots, kettles, spoons, canteen-covers, and the like. I had no trouble in locating my headquarters on the north slope. You can imagine my feelings as I walked this ground over again after 24 years, thinking of the suffering and sorrow of those dark days. Visions of those living skeletons would come up before me with their haggard, distressed countenances, and will follow me through life.
A half mile from the prison-pen is the cemetery. Here are buried the 13,714 that died a wretched death from starvation and disease. The appearance of the cemetery has been entirely changed since war days. Then it was an old field. The trenches for the dead were dug about seven feet wide and 100 yards long. No coffins were used. The twisted, emaciated forms of the dead prisoners were laid side by side, at the head of each was driven a little stake on which was marked a number corresponding with the number of the body on the death register. The register was kept by one of the prisoners, and 12,793 names are registered, with State, regiment, company, rank, date of death and number of grave. Only 921 graves lack identification. I found 35 of my regiment numbered, and quite a number whom I knew had died there lie with the unknown. The head boards have been taken away, and substantial white marble slabs have been erected in their places. The stones are of two kinds. For the identified soldiers the stones are flat, polished slabs, three feet long, (one-half being under ground), four inches thick and 12 inches wide. On the stone is a raised shield, and on this is recorded the name, rank, state and number. For the unknown the stone is four inches square and projects only five inches above the ground. The rows of graves are about 10 or 12 feet apart. There are a few stones that have been furnished by the family or friends of the dead. Aside from the few, so many stones alike are symbolic of a similar cause and an equal fate. The cemetery covers 25 acres, inclosed by a brick wall five feet high. The main entrance is in the center of the west side. In the center of a diamond-shaped plot rises a flagstaff, where the Stars and Stripes are floating from sunrise to sunset. The cemetery presents a beautiful appearance. The grounds are nicely laid out and neatly kept, under the supervision of J. M. Bryant, who lives in a nice brick cottage inside the grounds.
I will close by quoting one inscription from a stone erected by a sister to the memory of a brother.
“They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat.