andersonville-第115章

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jerked　a　gun　from　a　guard　and　fired；　but　his　aim　was　still　bad；　and　the
bullet　sang　over　our　heads；　striking　in　the　bank　above　us。　　He　posted　of
to　get　another　gun；　but　his　fit　subsided　before　he　obtained　it。




CHAPTER　　LXXIII。

CHRISTMASAND　THE　WAY　THE　WAS　PASSEDTHE　DAILY　ROUTINE　OF　RATION
DRAWINGSOME　PECULIARITIES　OF　LIVING　AND　DYING。

Christmas；　with　its　swelling　flood　of　happy　memories；memories　now
bitter　because　they　marked　the　high　tide　whence　our　fortunes　had　receded
to　this　despicable　statecame；　but　brought　no　change　to　mark　its　coming。
It　is　true　that　we　had　expected　no　change；　we　had　not　looked　forward　to
the　day；　and　hardly　knew　when　it　arrived；　so　indifferent　were　we　to　the
lapse　of　time。

When　reminded　that　the　day　was　one　that　in　all　Christendom　was　sacred　to
good　cheer　and　joyful　meetings；　that　wherever　the　upraised　cross
proclaimed　followers　of　Him　who　preached　〃Peace　on　Earth　and　good　will　to
men；〃　parents　and　children；　brothers　and　sisters；　long…time　friends；　and
all　congenial　spirits　were　gathering　around　hospitable　boards　to　delight
in　each　other's　society；　and　strengthen　the　bonds　of　unity　between　them；
we　listened　as　to　a　tale　told　of　some　foreign　land　from　which　we　had
parted　forever　more。

It　seemed　years　since　we　had　known　anything　of　the　kind。　　The　experience
we　had　had　of　it　belonged　to　the　dim　and　irrevocable　past。　　It　could　not
come　to　us　again；　nor　we　go　to　it。　　Squalor；　hunger；　cold　and　wasting
disease　had　become　the　ordinary　conditions　of　existence；　from　which　there
was　little　hope　that　we　would　ever　be　exempt。

Perhaps　it　was　well；　to　a　certain　degree；　that　we　felt　so。　　It　softened
the　poignancy　of　our　reflections　over　the　difference　in　the　condition　of
ourselves　and　our　happier　comrades　who　were　elsewhere。

The　weather　was　in　harmony　with　our　feelings。　　The　dull；　gray；　leaden　sky
was　as　sharp　a　contrast　with　the　crisp；　bracing　sharpness　of　a　Northern
Christmas　morning；　as　our　beggarly　little　ration　of　saltless　corn　meal
was　to　the　sumptuous　cheer　that　loaded　the　dinner…tables　of　our　Northern
homes。

We　turned　out　languidly　in　the　morning　to　roll…call；　endured　silently　the
raving　abuse　of　the　cowardly　brute　Barrett；　hung　stupidly　over　the
flickering　little　fires；　until　the　gates　opened　to　admit　the　rations。
For　an　hour　there　was　bustle　and　animation。　　All　stood　around　and　counted
each　sack　of　meal；　to　get　an　idea　of　the　rations　we　were　likely　to
receive。

This　was　a　daily　custom。　　The　number　intended　for　the　day's　issue　were
all　brought　in　and　piled　up　in　the　street。　　Then　there　was　a　division　of
the　sacks　to　the　thousands；　the　Sergeant　of　each　being　called　up　in　turn；
and　allowed　to　pick　out　and　carry　away　one；　until　all　were　taken。　　When
we　entered　the　prison　each　thousand　received；　on　an　average；　ten　or
eleven　sacks　a　day。　　Every　week　saw　a　reduction　in　the　number；　until　by
midwinter　the　daily　issue　to　a　thousand　averaged　four　sacks。　　Let　us　say
that　one　of　these　sacks　held　two　bushels；　or　the　four；　eight　bushels。
As　there　are　thirty…two　quarts　in　a　bushel；　one　thousand　men　received　two
hundred　and　fifty…six　quarts；　or　less　than　a　half　pint　each。

We　thought　we　had　sounded　the　depths　of　misery　at　Andersonville；　but
Florence　showed　us　a　much　lower　depth。　　Bad　as　was　parching　under　the
burning　sun　whose　fiery　rays　bred　miasma　and　putrefaction；　it　was　still
not　so　bad　as　having　one's　life　chilled　out　by　exposure　in　nakedness　upon
the　frozen　ground　to　biting　winds　and　freezing　sleet。　　Wretched　as　the
rusty　bacon　and　coarse；　maggot…filled　bread　of　Andersonville　was；　it
would　still　go　much　farther　towards　supporting　life　than　the　handful　of
saltless　meal　at　Florence。

While　I　believe　it　possible　for　any　young　man；　with　the　forces　of　life
strong　within　him；　and　healthy　in　every　way；　to　survive；　by　taking　due
precautions；　such　treatment　as　we　received　in　Andersonville；　I　cannot
understand　how　anybody　could　live　through　a　month　of　Florence。　　That　many
did　live　is　only　an　astonishing　illustration　of　the　tenacity　of　life　in
some　individuals。

Let　the　reader　imagineanywhere　he　likesa　fifteen…acre　field；　with　a
stream　running　through　the　center。　　Let　him　imagine　this　inclosed　by　a
Stockade　eighteen　feet　high；　made　by　standing　logs　on　end。　　Let　him
conceive　of　ten　thousand　feeble　men；　debilitated　by　months　of
imprisonment；　turned　inside　this　inclosure；　without　a　yard　of　covering
given　them；　and　told　to　make　their　homes　there。　　One　quarter　of　themtwo
thousand　five　hundredpick　up　brush；　pieces　of　rail；　splits　from　logs；
etc。；　sufficient　to　make　huts　that　will　turn　the　rain　tolerably。　　The
huts　are　in　no　case　as　good　shelter　as　an　ordinarily　careful　farmer
provides　for　his　swine。　　Half　of　the　prisonersfive　thousandwho　cannot
do　so　well；　work　the　mud　up　into　rude　bricks；　with　which　they　build
shelters　that　wash　down　at　every　hard　rain。　　The　remaining　two　thousand
five　hundred　do　not　do　even　this；　but　lie　around　on　the　ground；　on　old
blankets　and　overcoats；　and　in　day…time　prop　these　up　on　sticks；　as
shelter　from　the　rain　and　wind。　　Let　them　be　given　not　to　exceed　a　pint
of　corn　meal　a　day；　and　a　piece　of　wood　about　the　size　of　an　ordinary
stick　for　a　cooking　stove　to　cook　it　with。　　Then　let　such　weather　prevail
as　we　ordinarily　have　in　the　North　in　Novemberfreezing　cold　rains；　with
frequent　days　and　nights　when　the　ice　forms　as　thick　as　a　pane　of　glass。
How　long　does　he　think　men　could　live　through　that？　　He　will　probably　say
that　a　week；　or　at　most　a　fortnight；　would　see　the　last　and　strongest　of
these　ten　thousand　lying　dead　in　the　frozen　mire　where　he　wallowed。　　He
will　be　astonished　to　learn　that　probably　not　more　than　four　or　five
thousand　of　those　who　underwent　this　in　Florence　died　there。　　How　many
died　after　releasein　Washington；　on　the　vessels　coming　to　Annapolis；　in
hospital　and　camp　at　Annapolis；　or　after　they　reached　home；　none　but　the
Recording　Angel　can　tell。　　All　that　I　know　is　we　left　a　trail　of　dead
behind　us；　wherever　we　moved；　so　long　as　I　was　with　the　doleful　caravan。

Looking　back；　after　these　lapse　of　years；　the　most　salient　characteristic
seems　to　be　the　ease　with　which　men　died。　　There；　was　little　of　the
violence　of　dissolution　so　common　at　Andersonville。　　The　machinery　of
life　in　all　of　us；　was　running　slowly　and　feebly；　it　would　simply　grow
still　slower　and　feebler　in　some；　and　then　stop　without　a　jar；　without　a
sensation　to　manifest　it。　　Nightly　one　of　two　or　three　comrades　sleeping
together　would　die。　　The　survivors　would　not　know　it　until　they　tried　to
get　him　to　〃spoon〃　over；　when　they　would　find　him　rigid　and　motionless。
As　they　could　not　spare　even　so　little　heat　as　was　still　contained　in　his
body；　they　would　not　remove　this；　but　lie　up　the　closer　to　it　until
morning。　　Such　a　thing　as　a　boy　making　an　outcry　when　he　discovered　his
comrade　dead；　or　manifesting　any；　desire　to　get　away　from　the　corpse；　was
unknown。

I　remember　one　who；　as　Charles　II。　　said　of　himself；　was
〃an　unconscionable　long　time　in　dying。〃　　His　name　was　Bickford；　he
belonged　to　the　Twenty…First　Ohio　Volunteer　Infantry；　lived；　I　think；
near　Findlay；　O。；　and　was　in　my　hundred。　　His　partner　and　he　were　both　in
a　very　bad　condition；　and　I　was　not　surprised；　on　making　my　rounds；　one
morning；　to　find　them　apparently　quite　dead。　　I　called　help；　and　took　his
partner　away　to　the　gate。　　When　we　picked　up　Bickford　we　found　he　still
lived；　and　had　strength　enough　to　gasp　out：

〃You　fellers　had　better　let　me　alone。〃　　We　laid　him　back　to　die；　as　we
supposed；　in　an　hour　or　so。

When　the　Rebel　Surgeon　came　in　on　his　rounds；　I　showed　him　Bickford；
lying　there　with　his　eyes　closed；　and　limbs　motionless。　　The　Surgeon
said：

〃O；　that　man's　dead；　why　don't　you　have　him　taken　out？〃

I　replied：　〃　No；　he　isn't。　　Just　see。〃　　Stooping；　I　shook　the　boy
sharply；　and　said：

〃Bickford！　　Bickford！！　　How　do　you　feel？〃

The　eyes　did　not　unclose；　but　the　lips　opened　slowly；　and　said　with　a
painful　effort：

〃F…i…r…s…t　　R…a…t…e！〃

This　scene　was　repeated　every　morning　for　over　a　week。　　Every　day　the
Rebel　Surgeon　would　insist　that　the　man　should　betaken　out；　and　every
morning　Bickford　would　gasp　out　wit