When
Sneden's train arrived at Andersonville on the last day of February 1864,
the Confederates had just finished the stockade and received the first
contingent of prisoners only four days before. General John Henry Winder,
the provost marshal in Richmond, would arrive that summer to take command--first
of Andersonville and eventually of all Confederate prisons east of the
Mississippi. The local commandant for most of Andersonville's notorious
history was Captain Heinrich Hartmann Wirz, a profane, controversial Swiss
native whose iron regime repeatedly enraged the POWs. Wirz was given pitiful
resources and a hopeless situation to manage. Fairly or not, he became
the universal object of loathing on the part of Union prisoners and the
northern public in general. Because Wirz was such a prominent presence
at Andersonville, Sneden, writing his memoir years later, mistakenly places
Wirz on the scene when his train arrived. Wirz, in fact, did not reach
the prison until early March, as Sneden later notes.
February 29, 1864
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Our
guards told us on leaving Macon that we were going to Anderson,
where there was a nice large field all fenced in, which was full
of shade trees and grass with a brook running through it, and that
"it was too good for you Yanks anyway." And as the train drew up
in front of a long row of log houses on the track, we were informed
that we must "tumble out right smart away." The log house was the
depot, and we were at our journey's end. We had been five days and
nights on the cars and all were glad enough to get out of them,
over twenty were so sick and feeble that their companions had to
lift them out of the filthy cars and lay them on the ground. Out
beyond a clearing in the woods we saw a high fence between two hills,
but no trees in the enclosure. In a few minutes a long line of Rebel
guards perhaps five hundred strong filed along the track, headed
by a round shouldered black visaged officer on an iron gray horse.
This was Capt Wirz the Rebel jailor and commandant of the prison.
He wore on old slouch hat, his beard and hair was black, mixed with
gray, and he had a villainous look of authority. As with many oaths
he ordered us all out of the cars to form [a] line. He and all the
guard were dressed in common gray home spun clothes with horn buttons,
and no military insignia whatever, from a belt. Wirz carried two
large revolvers.
All the guards had muskets with bayonets
fixed. The guard formed line in a bungling unmilitary way, and we
were formed in column of fours, and started across over the sand
hills towards the prison, while Wirz rode at the head of the column
swearing and cursing at us for not going faster, and at the guard
for not making us do so. "Pick up the damned Yanks with your bayonet"
he would order. We struggled down and into ravines which were full
of loose sand, and up small hills covered with stumps and fallen
trees, until we were all out of breath. Many a comrade had to hold
up and support his fellow in misery before we had gone the distance
to the gate of the prison, which was about 800 to 1000 feet. As
we all had been robbed when captured and by in Richmond, there was
nothing left for Wirz. We had among us some greenbacks yet, which
he did not suppose we had, so nothing was taken from us. We were
about 750 men all told, all tired, hungry, weak, and depressed mentally.
So that we could hardly drag one foot after the other our confinement
of five days in the box cars, crowded in like sheep, cramped our
limbs so that they ached all over. We reached one of the gates of
the prison and were marched into the enclosure at dark. And the
high strong gates shut us out from the world!
Here we were met by three or four
hundred of our comrades who had arrived here before us, getting
here on 15th February. They had come from Richmond and Belle Island
before we had started. It was so dark in a few minutes that we could
do nothing but build little fires from the pine brush which lay
all around us, and crouch in groups over them all night. There were
hundreds of tree stumps from two to three feet high sticking out
of the ground and a great many trees whose branches had been lopped
off by the Negroes while building the stockade. By building a fire
against one of these stumps we had one that lasted for many hours
without replenishing it as the pitch pine gave out a great heat
and made a good blaze. All the prisoners who came here before we
did were in a half starved, ragged and dirty condition. The pitch
pine smoke made them look like Negroes. All had tales of the horrible
situation and the brutal treatment by Wirz. The night was cold but
starlit, lanterns flashed once in a while from where the headquarters
of Wirz were on a hill in a double log house which was surrounded
by a log breastwork and a battery of eight guns. A dismal swamp
ran through the middle of the enclosure through which ran a sluggish
brook. Many of our fellows during the night got stuck in the mud
while getting water. We had no rations and were very hungry.
We slept on felled trees and on the
ground around our fires as we were cramped and tired out. Many kept
talking all night to our newfound companions in misery. None seemed
to have met before in any other of the Rebel prisons. I with Walsh,
Halley, Rhinehart and Colvin slept on our blankets with overcoats
on, shoes under our heads (army style) before a large blazing pine
stump and kept warm all night. Rebel sentinels on top of the stockade
called the hours and all's well from the number of his post all
night.
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