Johnson's Island was the site of a Union Prisoner of War Camp on Lake Erie half a mile off the Ohio shore. Drainage on the sandstone island was poor, increasing the incidence of disease. Shelters provided only marginal protection from bitter cold and snow. Numbing winds blowing off the water made conditions terribly harsh for the Southerners who were not used to cold weather. Although available, prisoners' rations were reduced to starvation in 1864 in retaliation for lack of rations in the Confederate prison camps. Some 15,000 men were imprisoned here and some died and were buried there.
Years later, a group of Italian, stonemasons worked quarrying the stone on the island. They were new to this country and had little knowledge of the country's history or of the history and past use of the island, where they were working. To relieve the monotony of the task, the men sang songs from their native land. Late in the evening, a particular tune would start to be hummed as they finished their day's work. It was as though the tune, a song unknown to them, came out of their mouths against their will. It also seemed that there were many others humming along with them, but there was no one else there. It was always the same tune, and always toward evening. The men grew increasingly nervous about the mysterious humming and some were so afraid that they quit the job and left the island.
The superintendent, determined to find out why the men were quitting, finally confronted them. Reluctantly, they told him about the strange song they they hummed. The boss ridiculed them for being afraid and asked them to sing the song. They could not sing it, they had no words, just the tune. In unison, the Italian stonemasons hummed the song that they were being compelled to hum every evening. The astonished superintendent recognized the tune. It was "Dixie's Land," perhaps being sung or hummed by the soldiers from the South who were imprisoned there long ago.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Raiders
WOW! It has been one crazy place around here. Things are finally slowing down and I hope it stays that way at least for awhile! Sorry I haven’t got any new posts up for you to read since January…among other things I have 2 books that I have to get read so I can post the reviews for you…Busy! Busy! Busy!
Anyway, I do have several new posts that I am working on. They will be in 3 parts…Here is #1.
Ghost stories are part of southern folklore traditions. Stories are handed down and told and retold as part of our heritage, not to be taken too seriously, but enjoyed for what they are…entertainment. In the stories, whether called haunts or ghosts their manifestations take many forms. Most ghost stories deal with the spirit of someone who has met a violent and untimely death. They may be seen, heard, felt or even smelled. Other tales concern encounters with groups of human spirits, animals, or even machines. Some seem to want to make contact; some are oblivious to the present world going on around them. They all seem to have a reason to be in the place where they are encountered. With the death and destruction caused by the War Between the States, it is no wonder that stories abound of spirits of the dead from that time. Although the location of a “haunting” could be anywhere, battle grounds and prison sites seem to be especially popular settings for such tales.
It was July, 1990, when two friends, Bill, a native Southerner, and Currie, s displaced Northerner who was a Vietnam veteran, decided to visit the site of the infamous prison Camp Sumter, at Andersonville in Georgia. Built in early 1864, the prison was built to hold 10,000 Union prisoners who were sent from prisons around Richmond, Virginia. It was to be a more secure place with a more abundant and dependable food supply. However, due to the breakdown of the prisoner exchange system, over the 14 months of its existence, more than 45,000 Union prisoners were confined there, with as many as 32,911 at one time. Moreover as the resources of the Confederate government were depleted, the prison was unable to provide even basic housing, food, supplies or medical care for the detainees. Thirteen thousand Union prisoners died of starvation, disease and exposure. The dead were buried on the site now know as Andersonville National Cemetery.
On the way, Bill told Currie the story of the Raiders, a gang of thieves and murderers who preyed on their fellow Union soldiers imprisoned at Camp Sumter. They would have been thugs in any society, but in the confines of the prison, they assaulted, beat and killed their fellow prisoners for food or material possessions. With no civil authority to keep order, the Raiders’ numbers grew into the hundreds. They organized themselves into detachments led by “Chieftains.” At the end of June, word came from Captain Henry Wirz, who was in charge of the prisoners, that if the prisoners wished, the Raiders would be taken outside of the prison and dealt with. On June 30, an order came from General John H. Winder allowing the prisoners to try the Raiders and mete out punishment. Punishment ranged from beating to wearing a ball and chain to running the gauntlet. The six ringleaders of the Raiders were rounded up, tried by a jury of prisoners and hanged for their deeds by them. Their graves, set apart from the graves of the honored dead Union soldiers, are the only ones not marked with individual American flags each year on Memorial Day.
Arriving after the park gates closed for the evening, Bill and Currie parked just outside the fence and spread their sleeping bags out in the back of the van. They planned to get an early start exploring the site the next day.
Just after midnight, Currie awakened by a sense of uneasiness and a very unpleasant and pungent odor. The odor was growing increasingly worse. It became a sickening stench. Thinking that the odor emanated from something inside the van, he opened the door hoping for some relief, only to discover that it was much worse outside. He now remembered the smell from his duty in Vietnam the mingled smells of raw sewage, oppressive jungle heat, gangrene, open sores. Reeling from the sickness that was overwhelming him, he stumbled back to the van. Bill was up, also awakened by the stench. As they discussed what the odor could b and its origin, Bill thought he heard a noise, like a chant that grew louder and louder. Currie heard it too. They thought they could make out the words “Hang them…Hang them…Hang them.” The sound finally began to fade, and the odor in the air lifted. They did not sleep a wink the rest of the night.
The next morning, they told the park ranger about their strange experience the night before. He told them that it was July 11th, the anniversary of the date that the Raiders were hanged. Could they have experienced the ghosts of the prisoners reliving the events that had occurred on that date over 130 years before? Or maybe it was just the wind howling through the trees and blowing the fumes from the nearby paper mill in their direction.
I personally haven’t toured Andersonville prison, I will someday but my parents have. The day they were there, as they were leaving, it was dusk the prison had just closed and they were walking to their car…all of the sudden my dad stopped, got a severe chill and his hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. Needless to say, they walked very fast to their car!
Anyway, I do have several new posts that I am working on. They will be in 3 parts…Here is #1.
Ghost stories are part of southern folklore traditions. Stories are handed down and told and retold as part of our heritage, not to be taken too seriously, but enjoyed for what they are…entertainment. In the stories, whether called haunts or ghosts their manifestations take many forms. Most ghost stories deal with the spirit of someone who has met a violent and untimely death. They may be seen, heard, felt or even smelled. Other tales concern encounters with groups of human spirits, animals, or even machines. Some seem to want to make contact; some are oblivious to the present world going on around them. They all seem to have a reason to be in the place where they are encountered. With the death and destruction caused by the War Between the States, it is no wonder that stories abound of spirits of the dead from that time. Although the location of a “haunting” could be anywhere, battle grounds and prison sites seem to be especially popular settings for such tales.
It was July, 1990, when two friends, Bill, a native Southerner, and Currie, s displaced Northerner who was a Vietnam veteran, decided to visit the site of the infamous prison Camp Sumter, at Andersonville in Georgia. Built in early 1864, the prison was built to hold 10,000 Union prisoners who were sent from prisons around Richmond, Virginia. It was to be a more secure place with a more abundant and dependable food supply. However, due to the breakdown of the prisoner exchange system, over the 14 months of its existence, more than 45,000 Union prisoners were confined there, with as many as 32,911 at one time. Moreover as the resources of the Confederate government were depleted, the prison was unable to provide even basic housing, food, supplies or medical care for the detainees. Thirteen thousand Union prisoners died of starvation, disease and exposure. The dead were buried on the site now know as Andersonville National Cemetery.
On the way, Bill told Currie the story of the Raiders, a gang of thieves and murderers who preyed on their fellow Union soldiers imprisoned at Camp Sumter. They would have been thugs in any society, but in the confines of the prison, they assaulted, beat and killed their fellow prisoners for food or material possessions. With no civil authority to keep order, the Raiders’ numbers grew into the hundreds. They organized themselves into detachments led by “Chieftains.” At the end of June, word came from Captain Henry Wirz, who was in charge of the prisoners, that if the prisoners wished, the Raiders would be taken outside of the prison and dealt with. On June 30, an order came from General John H. Winder allowing the prisoners to try the Raiders and mete out punishment. Punishment ranged from beating to wearing a ball and chain to running the gauntlet. The six ringleaders of the Raiders were rounded up, tried by a jury of prisoners and hanged for their deeds by them. Their graves, set apart from the graves of the honored dead Union soldiers, are the only ones not marked with individual American flags each year on Memorial Day.
Arriving after the park gates closed for the evening, Bill and Currie parked just outside the fence and spread their sleeping bags out in the back of the van. They planned to get an early start exploring the site the next day.
Just after midnight, Currie awakened by a sense of uneasiness and a very unpleasant and pungent odor. The odor was growing increasingly worse. It became a sickening stench. Thinking that the odor emanated from something inside the van, he opened the door hoping for some relief, only to discover that it was much worse outside. He now remembered the smell from his duty in Vietnam the mingled smells of raw sewage, oppressive jungle heat, gangrene, open sores. Reeling from the sickness that was overwhelming him, he stumbled back to the van. Bill was up, also awakened by the stench. As they discussed what the odor could b and its origin, Bill thought he heard a noise, like a chant that grew louder and louder. Currie heard it too. They thought they could make out the words “Hang them…Hang them…Hang them.” The sound finally began to fade, and the odor in the air lifted. They did not sleep a wink the rest of the night.
The next morning, they told the park ranger about their strange experience the night before. He told them that it was July 11th, the anniversary of the date that the Raiders were hanged. Could they have experienced the ghosts of the prisoners reliving the events that had occurred on that date over 130 years before? Or maybe it was just the wind howling through the trees and blowing the fumes from the nearby paper mill in their direction.
I personally haven’t toured Andersonville prison, I will someday but my parents have. The day they were there, as they were leaving, it was dusk the prison had just closed and they were walking to their car…all of the sudden my dad stopped, got a severe chill and his hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. Needless to say, they walked very fast to their car!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)