spoken, and likewise repeated. Thus every half hour from dark to daylight the time was called off, and this grim challenge greeted our ears every night until the survivors bade the Confederacy good-bye. Not that our captors benevolently wished to increase the sense of the shortness of the time until our release, but to be assured that the guards were keeping awake.

CHAPTER III.

THE PRISON COMMISSARIAT.

The least that can be said of the prison sustenance is that it was exceedingly slim. But while the per diem rations dealt out to an Andersonville prisoner were too small for proper maintenance, and much of the time inferior in quality, yet the thirty-two thousand to thirty-five thousand men who had to be fed were as a rule promptly served.

To secure this result effective organization was necessary. It was accomplished as follows: Groups of two hundred and seventy men were named detachments and duly numbered. Every detachment was divided into the first, second and third nineties, each of which was in charge of one of our own sergeants. The nineties, in turn, were divided into the first, second and third thirties, which also were in charge of a sergeant or corporal.

At ten o’clock every forenoon a drum call was beaten from the platform at the south gate. At this signal the prisoners fell into line by detachments, forming as best they could in the narrow paths that separated the small tents, blanket shanties or dug-outs. At the same moment a company of Confederate sergeants entered the two gates for the purpose of counting and recording the number of the prisoners. To each of these officers a certain number of detachments were assigned. The men, unsheltered from the fierce sun-heat, had perforce to remain standing during the entire count. If a number less than that of yesterday was in evidence, the Federal sergeant had to account for the deficit. Sometimes a number of men were too ill to stand up, so the line was held the longer while the Confederate official viewed the sick where they lay.

The bodies of those who had died since the count of the previous day were early in the morning carried to the south street and laid in a row until the ration wagon could haul them to the burying trench. On a card attached to the wrist of the deceased was written by the detachment sergeant, his name, regiment and date of death. These names were taken by the enumerator, who verified the record as the bodies were carried through the gate. Such was the scarcity of clothing that garments of any value were taken by comrades from the dead before interment.

In the early summer prisoners were occasionally detailed under guard to carry the dead some distance from the gate. On the return they were allowed to gather up chips which had accumulated from the hewing of stockade timbers. The quantity a man, weakened by hunger and disease, could bring in would sell for five dollars, U. S. currency. Competition to get out on one of these details became so intense that the privilege was discontinued.

At four o’clock in the afternoon rations of corn bread and bacon were issued on the basis of the morning count of those who are able to stand up. Two army wagons drawn by mules entered the north and south gates simultaneously. They were piled high with bread, thin loaves of corn bread or Johnny cake, made of coarse meal and water by our men who had been paroled for that work.

A blanket was spread upon the ground and the quantity for a detachment was placed thereon in three piles; one for every ninety, according to the number of men able to eat. In like manner the sergeants of nineties sub-divided the piles to the thirties.

The writer had charge of a division of thirty and distributed as follows: His blanket was spread in front of his shelter tent and on it he spread the bread in as many pieces as there were men counted in the morning.

Each man had his number and was intently watching the comparative size of the portions. “Sergeant,” cries one, pointing to a cube of bread, “That piece is smaller than the one next to it.” A crumb is taken from the one and placed upon the other. The relative size of any piece may be challenged by any member of the thirty, for his life is involved.

The equalization is finally completed to the satisfaction of all. The sergeant then takes up a piece in his hand and says, “Whose is this?” A designated comrade looking the other way calls a number. The owner steps up and takes his portion. This process is repeated until all are served. Some four or five pounds of bacon are then cut on a board into small pieces and issued in like manner.

The cube of bread and morsel of meat constitute the ration for twenty-four hours. One-half may be eaten at once; the remainder should be put in the haversack for breakfast. If any one yields to his insatiable hunger and eats the whole for supper he has to fast until the following evening and must then deny himself and put away the portion for the next morning’s breakfast. Experiment proved that strength was better sustained by taking the scanty ration of food in two portions than by eating the whole at once.

When the number of prisoners exceeded fifteen thousand, the facilities of the cook-house were inadequate. Therefore raw rations were issued alternately every two weeks to each side of the prison. In this form the amount per capita daily was a scant pint of corn meal and a scrap of uncooked bacon.

Occasionally boiled rice and cow beans were substituted for the meal, but these were very difficult to issue in accurate portions. Sometimes a quantity of this glutenous food was carried in a sleeve of a shirt or in the trouser’s leg tied at the end.

The supply of fuel for cooking was wholly inadequate. Often the ration of wood was ironically called a “toothpick.” It would be split into small short splinters and two men would sometimes combine their portions. Water in a quart tin cup setting on small blocks of clay could be brought to a boil before the wood under it was consumed. Into this water meal was stirred and, if the blaze could be yet further economized, partially cooked mush was the outcome. The sick could not, however, do this work for themselves. Many ate meal uncooked, but the experiment soon ended life.

It may be observed that many of the Andersonville prisoners were well supplied with money. The Federal armies were reclothed and paid off in the spring of 1864. The new recruits and re-enlisted veterans, in many instances, had with them bounty money when captured. Greenbacks could be pressed into the sole of a shoe, or placed inside a brass button. In various ways money was concealed about the person.

The authorities at Andersonville allowed supplies to be sold to the prisoners for Federal money. Numerous small restaurants flourished in the stockade. From small clay ovens they supplied fresh bread and baked meats. Irish and sweet potatoes, string beans, peas, tomatoes, melons, sweet corn, and other garden products were abundantly offered for sale. New arrivals were amazed to find these resources in the midst of utter destitution and starvation.

As this sketch is of the nature of personal experiences, the writer might tell how, in his case, the question of increasing the food supply was solved. A ration of fresh beef received by his thirty consisted of a shank bone on which a small amount of lean meat remained. This latter was cut into portions about the size of a