File:The soldier's story of his captivity at Andersonville, Belle Isle, and other Rebel prisons (1873) (14593443839).jpg

Identifier: soldiersstoryofh00ingoss (find matches)
Title: The soldier's story of his captivity at Andersonville, Belle Isle, and other Rebel prisons
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors: Goss, Warren Lee, 1835-1925 Nast, Thomas, 1840-1902, illustrator
Subjects: Andersonville Prison
Publisher: Boston : I.N. Richardson & Co.
Contributing Library: Lincoln Financial Foundation Collection
Digitizing Sponsor: The Institute of Museum and Library Services through an Indiana State Library LSTA Grant

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imprisonment which, with the great ma-jority, ended only with death — was calculated to excitepity in the hardest heart. Many were hopping on rude crutches; others, withamputated arms and shattered shoulders, moved as faras possible from their staggering companions, and wereconstantly pressed back into the surging mass by thebayonets of the brutal guard. Several blind men wereguided by the arms of the wounded, who leaned uponthem for support. Others, confused and uncertain,groped and staggered every step like the palsied.Here, says Rev. Mr. Marks, who was a witness ofthe scene, one, wounded in the leg, had thrown awayIds torn and bloody pants, and was limping along withnothing but his crimson bandages ; another, wounded inthe chest and arm, had thrown off his blood-stiffenedshirt, and, with the upper portion of the body bare,moved along in the crowd, leaning upon a less injuredcompanion. Such was the crowd that left the depot and slowlymoved around the canal. One would think such a
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CART STREET PRISON. 25 spectacle was calculated to excite pity, but in this caseit excited scoffs and derision. Even the children tookthe tone of their elders, and one little fellow, about sixyears of age, perched exultantly upon a gate, condensedin the single sentence of, Weve got you, you d—dYankees you! a whole volume of rebel hate andtriumph. If we did not then believe ourselves to bethat description of a Yankee, we had occasion to changeour opinion when we arrived at our destination. Onour way an officer rode up to us, tinselled with gold lacein a most extraordinary manner, — doubtless some of-ficer of the home guard,—and sneering, asked if thatwas Falstaffs army of recruits ! No, replied oneof the boys at my side, who understood the insult, weare not; but here they come; pointing to a detach-ment of dilapidated rebels coming around a cornerwith the shuffling, unmilitary gait which is peculiar tothe Johnnies. The officer rode away without any moreattempts at wit. In the mea

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