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Sacrifice remembered 144 years later
Published May 14, 2009
Margaret and I recently traveled through the fields of south Georgia.
Our goal was to see what remains today of the infamous Civil War (War of Northern Aggression) prison called Andersonville.
So named by those who fought for the Union army, it was officially Camp Sumter.
Before arriving at the Americus Garden Inn B&B, where we were to spend our nights, we stopped in perhaps the most well-known hometown of any U.S. president, Plains, Ga.
In the Plains Inn antique store, amid a glut of Jimmy Carter memorabilia, I found a wonderful old 1880s cookbook containing recipes and helpful hints, even training a child not to speak unless spoken to.
Margaret found a nice brass tray and lantern for an exceptionally modest cost.
We also ran into a feller who could tell more jokes faster than an old Gatlin gun could spit bullets.
At the B&B, we were welcomed and given a tour of the restored 1847 plantation home by our hostess, Susanne. You’ll never meet a person more concerned with your safety and personal happiness than Susanne. And if you enjoy culinary delights, her cooking will please your palette.
Nearby, Mrs. Mac’s, a 1950-60s themed restaurant with good food, great prices and friendly atmosphere surrounded by gas station memorabilia, provided an enjoyable meal experience.
A visit to the Andersonville prison site and POW museum will leave a lasting emotional impression, especially if you watch the 20-minute film about the prison before touring the 26-acre plot that witnessed about 45,000 Union prisoners pass through its stockade gates.
Regardless of your sympathies, Union or Confederate, it will gnaw at your insides as you consider the enormity of what took place there.
My personal goal was to find the grave of one of my Yankee ancestor cousins, 24-year-old Corp. Warren B. Thorndike, of the 19th Maine Volunteer Infantry.
He was captured on June 22, 1864, on Jerusalem Plank Road during the siege of Petersburg, Va., and was eventually imprisoned at Andersonville prison.
He survived nearly nine months of unimaginable horror before succumbing to scorbutus (scurvy) on March 20, 1865.
In the cemetery near the rear of section H, amid the final resting place of 13,000 prisoners, I found grave No. 12,716.
Warren was one of many young men who left his home never to return.
Standing there in the warm noontime Georgia sun, amid row after row of white marble tombstones, a totally unexpected feeling of profound sorrow flooded my soul.
Warren was the same age as my youngest child.
As I stood there, I believe I felt the heart-rending pain of many, if not all, of the parents whose child never returned from that terrible conflict.
Oh, for the day when we will “study war no more.”
George Jones is a staff writer for The Sand Mountain Reporter. His e-mail address is boaz(at)sandmountainreporter.com.
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