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watched the prisoners from a platform upon the stockade, and artillery was posted on each corner.
Lt.-Col. J. F. Iverson, of the Fifth Georgia, was commandant of the prison, and is favorably spoken of, so far as personal intercourse with the prisoners is concerned.
But his subordinate, a red-headed fellow named
Barrett, a lieutenant, was another fiend of the Wirz type, ferocious, brutal, and unmerciful.
He made life a torment to all. Let us see what a resident of the
South thought of Florence Prison:—
dear sir,—Inclosed you will find an account of the terrible sufferings of the
Yankee prisoners at
Florence, South Carolina.
In the name of all that is holy, is there nothing that can be done to relieve such dreadful suffering?
If such things are allowed to continue, they will most surely draw down some awful judgment upon our country.
It is a most horrible national sin, that cannot go unpunished.
If we cannot give them food and shelter, for God's sake parole them and send them back to Yankee-land, but don't starve the miserable creatures to death.
Don't think I have any liking for the
Yankees; I have none.
Those near and dear to me have suffered too much from their tyranny for me to have anything but hatred to them; but I have not yet become quite brute enough to know of such suffering without trying to do something even for a Yankee.
Yours respectfully,
The indorsement upon this letter, referring it, shows that
President Davis,
J. W. Campbell,
acting Secretary of War,
General Winder, and other high officials saw it. It covered an article from a correspondent of the Sumter Watchman from which the following is taken:—
‘The camp we found full of what were once human beings, but who would scarcely now be recognized as such.
In an open field [this was just before the stockade was erected], with no inclosure but the living wall of sentinels who guard them day and night, are several thousand filthy, diseased, famished men, with no hope of release but death.
A few dirty rags stretched on poles give them a poor protection from the hot sun and heavy dews.
All were in rags, and barefooted, and crawling with ’
