The following was posted on REP-AM I thought it would be worth sharing. Back from Andersonville The following article appeared in The Waterbury American on Jan. 6, 1865. We had a call a day or two since from Robert K. Reid, of this city, a member of Company A, 7th C.V., who was taken prisoner in action near Petersburg on the 15th of May last, together with his son Robert and several others, Mr. Reid being slightly wounded in the arm at the time. They were first taken to the notorious Libby prison in Richmond, where they remained about a week, when they were transferred to the Rebel prison-pen at Andersonville, Ga. He was an inmate of that hell upon earth four months, enduring all the barbarities and sufferings which has given that notorious and beastly link of inhumanity a name of infamy that the lapse of ages can never erase. On the 27th of September he with others were transferred to the stockade near Savannah, where they remained a few weeks, after which they were removed to a prison-pen near Millen, Ga. When he arrived, after his exchange on the 24th of November last, at the General Hospital at Annapolis, Md., he was a mere skeleton, deprived of the use of his limbs, and even now, after the best of care at the Hospital, and since his arrival home, he is merely able to hobble about upon crutches, though we are happy to say he is improving gradually. Mr. Reid, who is a respectable and reliable man, kept a daily diary of the transactions in that prison of filth, disease and death, at Andersonville, which not only confirms the statements made by other sufferers, but gives a still deeper dye to the accounts hitherto published. The prison was a mere stockade surrounding about fourteen acres, into which 26,000 prisoners were consigned just as if they had been cattle, with no covering but the sky, exposed to all weathers, without blankets, no covering but the clothes on their backs, and scantily supplied with rations, so putrid in some instances that a hog would reject them. The filth, exhalations, and the vermin of the camp no language can describe. There were frequently 3,000 on the sick list, who had to obtain their medicines, such as they were, by crawling to the Doctors quarters, but as they were furnished with no proper food or medical attention, most of them lingered a few days and died, and were buried like dogs. Sometimes three hundred died in a day, from sheer want of care, medicines and proper nourishment. Mr. Reids son Robert died from that cause, in his fathers arms, who was unable to procure anything for his comfort from the hard-hearted Rebel officials. He speaks of the dead line and the wanton killing of prisoners who approached it, though not crossing it, imploring for water. One poor fellow, who through weakness stumbled and fell over the line, was shot dead by the guard. Two Rebel women coming into the camp one day, one of them expressed a wish to see a Yankee shot, and without hesitation a Rebel soldier was directed to gratify the lady, and, raising his piece, the infernal deed was done, at which she expressed her satisfaction in decided terms. The journal of Mr. Reid is full of interest, and we may allude to it hereafter. He is a true-hearted soldier and a patriot. Having first served out his time in the 23d Regt. C.V., he enlisted in the 7th, and is now as enthusiastic in the good cause as ever, and hopes to join the Invalid Corps as soon as his health permits.
Posted on: Fri, 02 Jan 2015 23:21:19 +0000
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