Can This Be Hell?

Can This Be Hell?

Staff Sergeant Edgar Riley thought his capture at Gettysburg was horrendous until he arrived at Andersonville Prison. The train he was on took him further and further south. He asked one of the guards: “ Where am I being taken?” The guard smiled a toothless grin: “You be goin to Andersonville, I sure don’t envy you Yank.” The train came to a halt, the door opened, the prisoners saw light for the first time in four days. Riley formed the three men from his platoon who were still alive, into a line.. Corporal Martin O’Donnell, had a leg wound, that made no difference: “Forward March” yelled Captain Toliver CSA. The column of prisoners marched one mile, there they entered the north entrance, where hell began and ended for the men. Sergeant Riley and his group were led to a small area next to the swamp. The smell of feces and urine was strong, the stories Riley had heard about Andersonville were all true. His red hair shining in the sunshine, and green eyes wide with horror. He strode over to Toliver: “Captain, I have a man with a ball still wedged in his leg, is there a physician here?” Riley had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach: “Sergeant, there are no medical facilities here; the best we can do is that old gray bearded man. He is as close to a doctor as we have here.” Riley was horrified, no medical personnel, no clean water, no place to bathe. Men were laying on top of one another. The hot Georgia sun streaming down on them; what kind of hellhole was this? Sergeant Hiram Glass watched Riley’s face: “Staff Sergeant, beggin your pardon, you be lookin a bit bewildered. My name is Glass, Hiram Glass. Dig holes in the ground it is cooler in the summer, and will keep you warm in the winter...it is the only way to survive. There ain’t hardly any food, most of the men are starvin'. I won’t bother you no longer, oh one last thing be careful of Toliver.” Glass strode toward the center of the camp and disappeared. Riley thought, ‘Time will kill all of us here in hell.’ Each prisoner had his own way of determining his outcome. Some men ate anything they could find from scrubs to snails, sometimes maggots, anything to keep the hunger at bay. Riley found himself doing the same things, then one afternoon, Glass appeared once again: “Riley, I don’t know about you, but I hate it here. Between the heat and the smell, I want to escape.” Riley glared at Glass. “What are ye asking of me, Glass?” Glass was breaking: “I need you to cover for me; I plan to get over the deadline and run like hell.” Riley replied: “You've been here too long, Glass; that is crazy.” Glass pleaded: “You gotta help me, Riley. You have connections, I know you do.” Riley stood up from his place on the ground: “Glass, I can’t even help myself, how am I gonna help you?” Two days later, Toliver strode toward Glass, grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the “dead line”. “Y’all want to escape? Glass, you are so dumb? I ain’t gonna force ya to go, but I am warnnin you; don’t try it again.” Toliver then used a bull whip, giving Glass twenty lashes. Glass was angry, very angry; he decided that Riley had turned him into Toliver. His mind said revenge! Riley sat silently listening as the bull whip whistled through the air, he had no desire to know who the victim was. He only wanted some clean clothes, but there were none. His skin crawled with lice; his clothes were the same ragged ones he had worn since his arrival in the hell hole a year ago.

Glass strove over to Riley one afternoon: “You turned me in, didn’t you, Riley? I got twenty lashes and a trip to the dead line. I ain’t a vengeful man, but you best be stayin outta my way.” Riley laughed it off; he had no intention of baiting Glass. The man was insane to think he could escape this place of horror. Time continued; food became even more difficult to acquire. Most of the prisoners suffered from malaria, dysentery, or typhoid fever. They were malnourished, walking skeletons. Glass found Riley and punched him in the gut before the guards noticed. The guards rushed over and pulled Glass off of Riley. Riley was agitated but had the good sense to walk away. Glass tried to break free of the men holding him, determined to kill Riley soon. Toliver watched Riley as he disappeared into the sea of broken men. He had to admit to himself that Riley behaved like a good soldier. He did not cause trouble, did what he was told. He questioned why Glass hated the man. Out of view of the guards, three men began digging a tunnel under the fence. Glass was one of those men, Riley another, and the third man was a young drummer boy of twelve. Each night they dug with old spoons or their hands; whatever they could find and use. Glass still did not trust Riley, but if they escaped alive he had someone beside himself to tell about these horrors; Riley’s motives were the same as Glass’s; he never did understand the drummer boy’s motivation. They devised a plan; it made perfect sense: the drummer boy was going out the tunnel first. Then Riley, finally Glass. The only problem was they were tunneling under the dead line. Lumber began to disappear; no one had any idea where it went. The three men decided they should shore up the tunnel. They were almost finished with the tunnel; the Georgia sun felt hotter than it did here in the summer. Men were sick; dysentery was on the rise. Glass, his stomach rumbling, sought relief; he cried softly as the pain from starvation gripped him. Riley made his way to Glass: “Glass, you okay? We go tonight, we must.” Glass nodded his agreement. The sun, a big red ball, began to set. The drummer boy crawled through first; he pulled on the rope to let Glass know it was safe. Glass repeated the gesture for Riley. They were free; they huddled together and began to determine which way to go. They knew they would not be missed: “Glass, we gotta make our way back to Union lines; it ain’t gonna be easy. We are gonna stay off the main roads. With luck we should be near Union lines sometime tomorrow night. The three began walking when they heard the thunder of hooves. The drummer boy climbed a nearby tree: “They are ours, we made it!” He quickly shimmed back down the tree; the three prisoners walked out into the moonlight; they yelled: “Hey, we are Union prisoners, escaped from Andersonville, we need food and water.” A red-bearded man halted the column, climbed down from his horse; the three quickly came to attention when they noted the stars on his shoulder straps, of General William T. Sherman. Three cavalrymen rode up; each pulled one of the men up, and they rode double back to camp. The general sent word for the men to come to his tent after they were fed. The three strode toward the tent that was pointed out to them: “Come,” came the order: “How bad was the prison? Justice will be meted out once this war is ended.”

Writers notes: Andersonville was liberated in May of 1865. Henry Wirtz, the commandant of the inner stockade, was tried by a military tribunal, presided over by Union General Lew Wallace. He was tried and found guilty of war crimes. Wirtz was convicted, found guilty, and hanged on November 10, 1865.