“Two guards seized me, took my knife, hat, blanket, and shoes; this was done quickly, and I was ordered to keep quiet and go to the further end of the pen, where some guards had my stripped comrades herded in a corner like a flock of shorn sheep; some had lost all but their shirts and drawers; they skinned us of all the clothes that were not too much worn; then put us on a freight train, gave us some corn-bread, when we started for Richmond, the capital of the Confederacy.”
Sergeant Samuel S. Boggs, 21st Illinois Infantry, captured at Chickamauga, Georgia and moved to Andersonville from the prison at Danville, Virginia in March 1864. He was exchanged in August 1864. (From Eighteen Months a Prisoner Under the Rebel Flag by S.S. Boggs, published by the Public Library Board of Allen County, Indiana.) 

“Within the circumscribed area of the stockade the Federal prisoners were compelled to perform all the functions of life, cooking, washing, the calls of nature, exercise, and sleeping…[A] considerable breadth of land along the stream…was low and boggy, and was covered with the excrements of the men and thus rendered wholly uninhabitable…The pines and other small trees and shrubs…were in a short time cut down by the prisoners for firewood, and no shade tree was left in the entire enclosure of the stockade…[T]he Federals constructed for themselves small huts and caves and attempted to shield themselves from the rain and sun, and night damps and dew…The irregular arrangement of the huts and imperfect shelters was very unfavorable for the maintenance of a proper system of police.”
Dr. Joseph Jones, Medical College of Georgia. (From his testimony at the trial of Captain Henry Wirz in John Ransom's Andersonville Diary by John Ransom, published by Berkley Books.)  

“[I] walk around camp every morning looking for acquaintances, the sick, &c. Can see a dozen most any morning laying around dead. A great many are terribly afflicted with diarrhea, and scurvy begins to take hold of some. Scurvy is a bad disease, and taken in connection with the former is sure death. Some have dropsy as well as scurvy, and the swollen limbs and body are sad to see.”
Brigade Quarter Master John L. Ransom, 9th Michigan Cavalry and prisoner at Andersonville. (From John Ransom’s Andersonville Diary by John Ransom, published by Berkley Books.)  

Thursday, Nov. 24, 1864—“There is said to be a National Thanksgiving Day in the United States; I feel thankful to almighty God that my life has been spared so long, and that my condition is so much better than that of thousands around, and pray fervently that I may be spared to see my friends at home once more.”

Sunday, January 22, 1865—“Scurvy breaking out in my mouth, and skin generally disordered. Frightened!”

Monday, January 30, 1865—“All very sick - almost helpless.”

Wednesday, February 1, 1865—“No improvements in our condition - terrible coughs and cramps in the bowels, verging on to chronic diarrhea and inflammation of the bowels.”
Eugene Forbes, 4th New Jersey Volunteer Infantry, died at Andersonville on February 7, 1865. (From Death Before Dishonor, the Andersonville Diary of Eugene Forbes, edited by William B. Styple, published by Belle Grove Publishing.)  

“[The prisoners] still keep killing each other thay hung six yesterday thay fight all most every night in the stockade.”
Joseph Williams, Confederate guard at Andersonville. (From Civil War Soldiers: Their Expectations and Their Experiences by Reid Mitchell, published by Viking.) 

“Can see the dead wagon loaded up with twenty or thirty bodies at a time, two lengths, just like four foot wood is loaded on to a wagon at the North, and away they go to the grave yard on a trot. Perhaps one or two will fall off and get run over. No attention paid to that; they are picked up on the road back after more. Was ever before in this world anything so terrible happening? Many entirely naked.”
John L. Ransom 
“I have read in my earlier years about prisoners in the revolutionary war, and other wars. It sounded noble and heroic to be a prisoner of war, and accounts of their adventures were quite romantic; but the romance has been knocked out of the prisoner of war business, higher than a kite. It's a fraud.”
John L. Ransom

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