Читать книгу And Then They Prayed - Barry Loudermilk - Страница 9

Private William Tannahill (1864)

“When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, And their tongue faileth for thirst, I the LORD will hear them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them. I will open rivers in high places, and fountains in the midst of the valleys: I will make the wilderness a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water.”

Proverbs 3:20(NLT)

“The prisoner’s cry of thirst rang up heaven, God heard and with his thunder, cleft the earth and poured out his sweetest waters here.” These words, etched on a stone monument, tell the story of one of the greatest acts of God’s Divine intervention in America’s history. It was a miracle witnessed by hundreds, recorded in the journals of dozens, and ultimately saving the lives of thousands; but, other than this lone marble structure testifying to this miracle that took place in August of 1864, little recognition is given to it by modern historians or the National Park Service. American history revisionists, the government, and even the movie industry have chosen to ignore it rather than try to explain an event that can only be defined as an act of God’s hand. If it was not for a monument erected over a century ago, it is quite possible this story would be forgotten.

Today, the site of the largest and most deadly of all Civil War prison camps, Andersonville, is a solemn peaceful park with low rolling hills and serene beauty. Where Union prisoners once hastily assembled shelters called “shebangs,” there is now a lush meadow where deer graze in the evenings and squirrels search the grass for fallen pecans. The place where many prisoners of war, dying of starvation, thirst and disease, spent the last miserable moments of their lives, is today a National historic park where marble and granite monuments dot the beautiful landscape. The areas where prisoners secretly dug wells in search of water and constructed tunnels to escape the torturous conditions, are now mere indentions in the earth surrounded by wrought-iron fences and historical markers. The prison ground, once encompassed by stockade walls, is now surrounded by a paved roadway where visitors can view the site without leaving the comfort of their air conditioned vehicles. Other than a small replica of the stockade wall that surrounded the twenty-six acre prison camp, little evidence of the horrors and suffering of Andersonville remains today.

The surreal beauty of this historic park challenges the mind of the visitor to imagine that this peaceful landscape was once the site of horrible deprivation, disease, and death. Just north of the prison site is the Andersonville National Cemetery where neatly aligned stone monuments mark the graves of the nearly 13,000 men who succumbed to the deplorable conditions of Andersonville. Separated from the other graves stand six small stone markers. These are the graves of the infamous Raiders, whose rampant theft, violence and murder caused additional suffering among their fellow soldiers in the camp. Signs erected around the park prohibiting recreational activities remind visitors that this is a sacred and honored place. Those who visit Andersonville expecting to see a reconstructed prison camp with high pine log stockade walls surrounding a mud soaked prison ground and artifacts from the Civil War, will leave disappointed. Time has replaced the horrors of war with the peace and beauty of nature, but to those who were imprisoned here in 1864, Andersonville was a literal hell on Earth.

In late 1863, Confederate officials determined that, with Union forces moving closer to Richmond, the Confederacy’s primary prison camps should be moved southward to more secure areas. A site in Sumter County, Georgia, ten miles north of Americus was chosen. The new Confederate Prison Camp at Andersonville, conveniently located along the Southwestern Railroad, would provide a milder winter climate, a more abundant food supply, and generally better conditions for the Union soldiers who would be imprisoned there. Work began on Camp Sumter in January, 1864 and the first prisoners arrived in February. The twenty-six acre prison ground, which was no more than an open, muddy field, was surrounded by fifteen foot stockade walls of hewn pine logs. At thirty-yard intervals sentry boxes or “pigeon roosts” as the prisoners called them, were erected on top of the walls where armed Confederate guards stood watch twenty-four hours a day. To further discourage prisoners from attempting escape, a line of posts were erected about nineteen feet inside the stockade walls, marking an inner perimeter area that prisoners were forbidden to enter. This prohibited area was known as the “deadline,” and the prisoners knew that anyone who crossed this line was immediately shot by the guards.

Andersonville was originally constructed to hold about 10,000 Union prisoners; however, with over four hundred prisoners arriving daily, by August of 1864 the camp held more than 33,000 prisoners. By this time, Andersonville faced more than just overcrowded conditions. The need to supply the Confederate soldiers fighting on the front lines, and the interruption of transportation in the south by advancing Union forces, caused a critical shortage of food, clothing, and other supplies. Captain Henry Wirtz, the Camp Commander, was faced with the impossible task of managing an overcrowded prison with inadequate food and supplies. Whether it was simply the result of circumstances beyond his control, or deliberate actions, Captain Wirtz would eventually be tried and executed for his mismanagement of the prison camp and the mistreatment of the Union Soldiers at Andersonville.

Living conditions at Camp Sumter were less than ideal. There were no barracks or bunkhouses constructed inside the stockade. Prisoners were forced to construct their own shelters from materials brought into the camp with them, or obtained from Confederate guards. As the prison population grew, the entire camp from wall to wall was filled with canvas tents and crudely constructed structures called “shebangs” where the prisoners, who were lucky enough to have them, could find some shelter from the searing heat and the torrential rain falls common to south Georgia. Food rations, given once a day, consisted of barely enough nourishment to keep a man alive, and often the food was spoiled, rotten or infested with insects or worms. In describing the condition of prisoners at Andersonville, Sergeant David Kennedy, a prisoner from the 9th Ohio Cavalry wrote in his personal diary, “Would that I was an artist and had the material to paint this camp and all its horrors, or the tongue of some eloquent statesman and had the privilege of expressing my mind to our honorable rulers at Washington, I should glory to describe this hell on Earth where it takes seven of its occupants to make a shadow.”

Although malnutrition, sickness and exposure attributed to many deaths, the lack of clean water was the cause of most. A slow moving stream that flowed through the middle of the prison, Stockade Creek, was the only source of water for the entire prison population. This creek, which was actually nothing more than a stagnant marsh, was intended to be the prisoner’s sole source of drinking water, but it was also commonly used for laundry, bathing, and as the prison’s only latrine. With over 33,000 men using Stockade Creek as a latrine, the water became a breeding ground for many deadly diseases, and was so contaminated by human waste, it emitted a terrible odor. In fact, the residents in Americus, ten miles away, complained of the nauseating stench.

Drinking the water from Stockade Creek would ensure a prisoner an early transfer, from the prison to the cemetery. Nearly ninety-five percent of all deaths were caused by diarrhea and dysentery contracted by prisoners drinking from or washing in the water of Stockade Creek.

The death rate at Andersonville was astounding. By August of 1864 more than one hundred prisoners were dying each day. The need for fresh water was critical, and many prisoners turned their efforts away from digging escape tunnels to digging fresh water wells. Although some succeeded in finding very small quantities of water, their wells quickly dried up. Some prisoners, so desperate for water, would break down and drink from Stockade Creek. Those that did were soon carried to the prison hospital or the dead-house to await burial. Others, so crazed by their thirst, purposely walked into the deadline, where they were shot to death by prison guards. For these soldiers, death was better than life inside the walls of Andersonville.

In early August, a young private of the Seventh Iowa Regiment, William Tannahill, witnessed a fellow prisoner purposely walk into the deadline, where he was immediately shot and killed by prison guards. The sight of comrades being driven to commit suicide made Private Tannahill desperate to find relief for the prisoners’ thirst. Tannahill, a Christian man, along with a few others, immediately organized prayer meetings, where they purposed to specifically pray for God to send water. Josiah Young, another soldier from Iowa, joined Tannahill’s prayer group and on August 9, William Tannahill, Josiah Young and several other prisoners began praying for God to send relief for the thirsty and dying men at Andersonville.

The men gathered in an area known as “the Tabernacle,” which was nothing more than a hole in the ground created from the roots of a tree that had been blown down during a storm. Within about an hour after beginning their fervent prayers, the sound of thunder was heard in the distance. As the men continued their appeal to heaven, the wind began to howl through the nearby pine trees, as a tremendous thunderstorm moved in over the camp.

The sky rapidly darkened as the storm clouds began pouring down rain in torrents. Prisoners, unmindful of the wind and driving rain, began setting out pots, cups, dishes, hats, anything to catch the rainwater. This rain, as with many previous storms, would provide some temporary relief; but as soon as the storm passed, the sun would quickly evaporate most of the precious rainwater.

The rain continued to come down so heavily that part of the camp around Stockade Creek began to flood. The flood waters soon turned the stagnant swamp into a swirling current, washing the disease infested water downstream and out of the stockade.

The unexpected rainstorm was indeed cleaning the camp, but William Tannahill and his prayer group were praying for a source of fresh water, so they continued to pray. Suddenly, a tremendous clap of thunder erupted and a bright bolt of lightning burst from the sky and struck the ground just inside the stockade wall. It was then that hundreds of prisoners witnessed a miraculous sight. At the very spot where the lightning struck, a spring of clear water began bubbling up from the ground. John L. Maile of the 8th Michigan Infantry, described it as “a spring of purest crystal water shot up into the air in a column and falling in a fan like spray went babbling down the grade…Looking across the deadline we beheld with wondering eyes and grateful hearts the fountain spring.”

Although the spot where the lightning struck and the spring erupted was inside the deadline, Confederate guards allowed prisoners to construct a wooden trough to carry the water into the prison grounds. The spring, which they appropriately named Providence Spring, provided enough fresh water to supply the needs of the entire camp. It can only be imagined the number of lives that were saved by the astonishing emergence of the pure water spring; yet, not only lives, but many men’s souls were also saved as they witnessed the miracle of Providence Spring. The incident so affected one young prisoner from Decatur County, Tennessee, that he dedicated his life to preaching, and continued his ministry for fifty years.

With money raised by former prisoners, a marker was purchased in 1901 and placed at the site where Providence Spring had suddenly appeared. Though Andersonville is now void of stockade walls, deadlines, stagnant marshes, death-houses, shebangs and other reminders of the miseries encountered there, about halfway across the grassy field stands a lone stone monument marking the only remaining original artifact of the camp; the monument marks Providence Spring, the answer to men’s prayers, which still flows today.