By a survivor of Andersonville
July 27 1904 Morris Chronicle
Now another misfortune comes to me (at least at the time it seemed such). We had drawn our rations in a company of which a sergeant by the name of Stephen Racker had charge. By some means he had been enabled early to obtain his release on parole, and had been given outside charge of the burying squad, and needing a couple more men he obtained on the same terms release for his assistance Henry Bishop and George Foster. The men employed in this work received additional rations and had better accommodations in every way, thereby increasing their chance of existence, and while of course I rejoiced at the good fortune which had come to them, I fear that I had to whistle again over my loss of comrade and friend; but a young man who had witnessed our parting, came to me almost immediately and wished to share my company, he said his name was Edward Van Conner, and was a Pennsylvanian. He had a good blanket he would share with me. I liked his straight-forward frankness, looked him over briefly, and the bargain was made. I never had any cause to regret our meeting. We remained together during the whole time of our imprisonment, until we reached Parole Camp, Maryland, six months later.
A thought of all this remaining time reminds me events must be hastened. Incidents and descriptions must be abbreviated, sentiment eliminated, else I fear patience and interest will be worn threadbare long before we shall escaped the Confederacy.
I will tell one more little incident connected with my own experience. While we were both sleeping one night with our cup in which we cooked our rations, resting as we supposed safely between us, it was stolen, leaving us nothing in which to draw or cook our rations except a battered half canteen which had already seen far too much service. Something must be done. Of course I could not bring myself to attempt replacing it. We could not eat the raw material or cook it without a dish. Neither of us had one cent of money or aught to part with that would bring it. All that remained was to trade our rations could we find the wealthy owner of a kettle to part with and willing to barter. This was finally accomplished, and a bargain was made for the insignificant sum of two day's rations I should receive an old two quart pail, of which the original bottom had been burned out and replaced by an artist in camp with a piece of old tin, doubtless from the side of some other burned out dish. The work was quite well done without solder by locking the edges together. I was to give him one ration then and after two days give the other. I will say the debt was honestly paid, myself bearing the whole expense, necessitating two fasts of forty-eight hours each, In which I had not a mouthful, and strange to say I did not suffer or miss the food more than I would to-day one of the three meals to which I am accustomed. I have wondered many times why this is so, and yet am unable to give satisfactory answer to myself.
The transfer of prisoners from Andersonville must have commenced, I think, early in October and by the close of the month the prison was nearly emptied. The main portion was rushed our probably as fast as facilities would permit until only four or five thousand remained. Our party was of this number. At the time I think none were aware of the object or destination and we thought it very hard lines that our comrades should all be paroled or exchanged perhaps, and we still be compelled to remain. Later when we learned it was simply the exchange of one pen for another we did not feel so badly. Finally the gates were opened for us and without tears or lamenting (as we thought) we shook the dust of Andersonville from our feet forever, and boarded a north-bound train. (Ah, how ignorant and shortsighted we were.) It was but a brief ride and we were ordered from the train and marched inside a stockade near Macon, Georgia. This prison had been devoted to the confinement of Union officers. It was built in the same manner as Andersonville though not as large and did not bear evidence of dense packing which had existed there. A fine stream of water ran through one corner, affording convenience for drinking and washing sufficient for our number.
There were some trees remaining near the stream, but the season of sun and heat were passed even for this southern climate. It must have been about the first of November when we were brought here. There were cold nights, cold winds and cold rains; without clothing and shelter our suffering had not ceased. It would have been a comfortable camp with shelter, food and clothing, but our stay here was brief.
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