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cleaner and better patched than those of other prisoners of the stockade.
Through exposure to the sun and rain they were much blacker than the common Southern negroes, and many were the exclamations of surprise among the guards at this fact.
“The blackest niggers I ever, saw,” was the common expression on seeing them.
I have said the negroes were mostly wounded and mutilated; when there had been a case of amputation, it had been performed in such a manner as to twist and distort the limb out of shape.
When a negro was placed in a squad among white men, it was usually accompanied with an injunction addressed to the sergeant of the squad, “Make the d-d nigger work for and wait upon you; if he does not, lick him, or report him to me and I will.”
I never knew an instance, however, where a sergeant required of the black any service not usually allotted to others, and that in drawing and distributing rations. ..
With the exception of Major Bogle, there were no commissioned officers intentionally placed in Andersonville.
Others were there by their own act; but the prison was intended for enlisted men only. . . . Major Bogle at one time was engaged in a tunnelling operation, in which he plotted to release all the prisoners of the stockade.
It failed through the treason of some one in the secret, though it came near being a success.
The
Major Bogle referred to by
Goss was
Archibald Bogle, major of the 1st North Carolina (colored); he was wounded and captured at
Olustee.
His wounds were a slight one in the body and a very severe one in the right leg, which fractured both bones.
He says,—
‘On the 14th of March, 1864, I came to the stockade feeling very faint.
I heard there was a hospital inside the stockade, and I got some men to help me up there.
I was on crutches at the time.
I went in, and one of our own men who was acting hospital steward, commenced to bind up my leg, and was binding it when Surgeon White came in and ordered him to desist, saying at the same time, “Send him out there with his niggers;” or something to that effect, and using an oath at the same time.
I said nothing, but merely looked at him. The hospital steward finished the dressing of my leg, and it was cared for by our men afterward.
I was in full uniform. . . . While I was there I demanded to have my rank recognized.
I made several demands.
I was used in every respect the same as private soldiers, only worse. . . . When I got to Millen an officer came to me and got my name, rank, and regiment.
The officer commanding at Millen, Captain Bowles, put me in the stockade again and refused to put my name on the register, saying at the same time that I should never be exchanged.
I left Andersonville on the 18th of November, I believe.’
