Andersonville National Historic Site ⓘ

Research about Andersonville and the American prisoner of war story is ongoing. The National Park Service works cooperatively with scholars and others to learn more.

Park staff maintain a bibliography of sources which provides links to many primary sources.

If you have a project idea that can add new historical information or challenge existing notions about Andersonville, contact park staff .

Research Library The park maintains a collection of books and manuscripts relative to the American Civil War, the Camp Sumter military prison, northern and southern prisons during the Civil War, and prisoners of war throughout American history, the Andersonville National Cemetery, and the development, interpretation, and administration of Andersonville National Historic Site. Library holdings include books, bound volumes, vertical files, manuscripts, and other materials.

The library is open for public research by appointment only. Appointments must be made at least two weeks in advance . The library may be reserved for research Monday through Friday from 9:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m.

Is help available to researchers? Reference assistance about holdings is available, but staff are unable to undertake lengthy research investigations.

Place is perhaps the most important factor of the visitor experience at Andersonville. The landscapes and monuments of the park provide us with a tangible viewscape to appreciate the people and stories that illustrate the prisoner of war experience here and elsewhere in our nation's history.

Andersonville National Cemetery The initial interments, beginning in February 1864, were the nearly 13,000 men who died in the nearby military prison. Today the cemetery contains over 20,000 interments. Veterans of the Spanish-American War, World War I, World War II, the Korean conflict, the Vietnam War, and more recent conflicts are buried in the cemetery. The cemetery remains an active burial ground for our nations veterans and their families. Learn More....

National Prisoner of War Museum The National Prisoner of War Museum explores the stories and experiences of prisoners of war throughout American History. This facility doubles as the park's visitor center. The distinctive design of the building intentionally invokes military prison of WWII. Former prisoners of war partnered with the park to create and develop the museum, the only museum solely dedicated to interpreting the American prisoner of war experience.

One hundred fifty years ago, this Nation was embroiled in a Civil War by far more serious than any encountered before or since. Americans faced each other on the battlefield and many were lost in the bitter struggles, but thousands were taken captive, and many were prisoner at Andersonville. In fourteen months of operation at the end of the Civil War, some 45,000 American soldiers were held prisoner on these grounds, and nearly 13,000 of them died in captivity.

The story of captivity is often very grim. Men and women, isolated from their comrades and loved ones, must be strong in mind and spirit to endure such circumstances. Andersonville can tell that story – the story of brave Americans who, confronted with adversity beyond imagination, struggled to retain their devotion to their country. Regardless of time period or location, the experience of captivity reflects the complexities of war for both the nation and for those individuals held prisoner. The staff at Andersonville National Historic Site works with former prisoners of war, descendants, and researchers to tell these complicated stories. These stories range from examinations of the legal status of prisoners of war, attempts to hold those who violate the laws of war accountable , to exploring popular mythology of Civil War prisons , to the heartfelt tale of a young girl who reached out to a nation to honor her father . These are only a few of the many stories told here at Andersonville, with many more still be discovered.

Federico Fernandez Cavada was born in Cienfuegos, Cuba in 1832. His father, Isodoro Cavada, died in 1838 and Federico was sent to live with his mother, Emily Gatier, in Philadelphia. In Philadelphia the young Cavada was educated and became an engineer. A staunch abolitionist, Cavada enlisted, along with his brother Adolfo, in the Union Army at the outbreak of the Civil War, in which he served as an engineer. Assigned to a hot air balloon observation unit, Cavada spent a good deal of time in 1862 drawing maps and sketches while floating above Confederate positions in Virginia.

By July of 1863 Cavada had achieved the rank of Lt. Colonel and was in command of the 114th Pennsylvania Infantry. On July 2, 1863 the regiment was engaged in fierce fighting at the Battle of Gettysburg and Cavada was captured by Confederate forces. After a march of nearly two weeks, he found himself held in the infamous Libby Prison in Richmond, VA. Cavada was held as a prisoner of war until the Spring of 1864, when he was exchanged. Later that year he published his prison memoir, Libby Life: Experiences of a Prisoner of War in Richmond, VA, 1863-1864 . Complete with his own illustrations, Cavada's book gave a detailed narrative of the prisoner of war experience from his capture until his release.

After the Civil War, Cavada was appointed as a consul in Cuba. In 1869 he resigned, and joined the Cuban resistance against Spanish rule in the Cuban Ten Years War. Although he survived his prisoner of war experience in Libby Prison, he would not be so fortunate in Cuba. Captured by Spanish forces, he was executed by firing squad in July of 1871.

Although Cavada is the most prominent Hispanic prisoner held during the Civil War, he was not the only one to suffer in captivity for his new country. Juan Castaño was a Spaniard living in Buffalo, NY when he enlisted in the 140th New York as a substitute in 1863. Captured at Bristoe Station in October 1863, Castaño was first held in Richmond before being transferred to Andersonville in the Spring of 1864. He died of diarrhea on May 17, 1864 and is buried in grave 1,177 in Andersonville National Cememtery. Osceola Pochontas was born around 1838 in Mexico. Prior to enlistment in the Union Army he worked as a seaman, which might help explain how he ended up in Connecticut sometime after 1860. Pochontas enlisted in Company L of the 1st Connecticut Cavalry on January 6, 1864. He was captured on May 5, 1864 at Craig's Church, VA and sent to Andersonville. He died on October 11, 1864 of scurvy and is buried in grave 10,676 in the Andersonville National Cemetery. To date, Pochontas and Castaño are the only documented Hispanic soldiers to be held at Andersonville Prison.

The contributions made by Hispanics during the Civil War are often overlooked. They risked their lives and their freedom in order to ensure that the nation would be preserved. Their stories, which are still being discovered and told, provide inspiration and reflection as the legacy of the Civil War belongs to all Americans.

Few images are as synonymous with Andersonville as the photographs of emaciated prisoners; so thin that you can see all of their bones and joints. They often remind us of images we see from the concentration camps of the 1930s and '40s. But who are these men? Are they even Andersonville prisoners? What do these photos tell us about the Civil War prison experience?

Although some of these images are 1865 photographs of Andersonville survivors, many of these famous photographs are actually of recently released prisoners from Richmond in early 1864. After the prisoner exchange cartel broke down, large numbers of Union soldiers captured in late 1863 were crammed into warehouses around Richmond and on Belle Isle. This rapid influx overwhelmed the Confederacy's ability to feed them or provide medical care. The Confederate army quickly began to search for a replacement prison and Andersonville was selected in the fall of 1863. Construction on the new prison began in January 1864 and the first prisoners arrived from Richmond in February. These transfers continued throughout the spring of 1864. By April 1864, most of the enlisted prisoners remaining in Richmond were those too sick to move. Many of these sick prisoners were paroled and turned over to Union hospitals for medical care.

In early May 1864 The Congressional Committee on the Conduct of the War held a series of hearings investigating the treatment of prisoners of war in Richmond . Many of the worst cases of these returned prisoners were photographed and these images were widely distributed as propaganda. The committee reported that:

Though nearly all the patients now in the Naval Academy hospital at Annapolis, and in the West hospital, in Baltimore, have been under the kindest and most intelligent treatment for about three weeks past, and many of them for a greater length of time, still they present literally the appearance of living skeletons, many of them being nothing but skin and bone; some of them are maimed for life, having been frozen while exposed to the inclemency of the winter season on Belle Isle…

…finding it impossible to describe in words the deplorable condition of these returned prisoners, have caused photographs to be taken of a number of them, and a fair sample to be lithographed and appended to [this] report, that their condition may be known by all who examine it.

Today, after 150 years, our memory of Civil War prisons is dominated by Andersonville, and we often assume that all of these photos are of Andersonville survivors. But for Americans in early 1864, it was Richmond that was seen as the worst of the prison sites. These photographs of emaciated prisoners from Richmond remind us that suffering in Civil War prisons was not limited to Andersonville. Starvation, diarrhea, suffering, and death haunted prisoners regardless of when they were captured or where they were held. Photos like these are nearly universal to the prisoner of war experience throughout our history.

The Camp Sumter military prison, commonly called Andersonville, was built in 1864 to hold Union prisoners of war captured by the Confederate army. Soldiers and civilian support personnel from 26 states and the District of Columbia were imprisoned at Andersonville. This population, which numbered over 45,000 by the end of the war, reflected the diverse nature of the United States; in addition to men from several foreign countries and African-American soldiers was a small population of American Indian soldiers.

In prisoner John Ransom's post-war account of his prison experiences, his survival depended greatly upon his friendship with "Battese", who he described as a Minnesota Indian. It is likely that this name is an alias, as he cannot be located in an examination of Minnesota military records.

The largest identifiable group of American Indians held at Andersonville were members of Company K, First Michigan Sharpshooters. Company K was composed primarily of Native Americans of the United States, especially members of the Ojibwa, Odawa, and Potawatomi nations. Seven of these men perished while held prisoner, and are buried in the Andersonville National Cemetery. In 2010 a small group of American Indians of several tribes from Michigan paid tribute to these men.

Father Peter Whelan became chaplain of the Montgomery Guards, an Irish company raised in Savannah for the First Georgia Volunteer Regiment at age 60. Having been a prisoner of war himself following the fall of Fort Pulaski, Whelan had some idea of what prison life was like. He came to Andersonville in June 1864 and remained for four months during the hottest season of the year, and the period of greatest mortality. He ministered to the sick and dying in such heat that he had to cover his head with an umbrella.

When six of the raiders were sentenced to hang, he tried to get a stay of execution. Failing at that, he prayed for them as the trap was sprung.

After his departure in late September, he borrowed $16,000 in Confederate money and purchased ten thousand pounds of flour, which was baked into bread and distributed at the prison hospital.

The prisoners never forgot him and many recalled him in their memoirs. Father Whelan died 6 February 1871 at the age of sixty-nine.

Today few Civil War figures are as controversial as Henry Wirz. To some people, he is a martyr or a scapegoat for a failed Confederacy. To others he is the vilest criminal of the war. Few scholars have attempted to tell Wirz's story, leaving it open for supporters and detractors alike to create a mythology to fit their respective agendas. Today, people often approach Wirz with a confirmation bias. They see in his story only that which fits what they already believe. In truth, Wirz was an incredibly complicated figure whose path to Andersonville and the gallows began years before the prison ever opened.

Henry Wirz was born in 1822 in Switzerland. In 1849 he immigrated to the United States and attempted to go into business as a physician in New York City. Failing at this, he moved to Connecticut and then to Northhampton, Massachusetts where he worked as a translator in several small factories. There he took a job working at a water-cure establishment before moving to Kentucky to work as a homeopathic physician. He operated water-cure establishments in Cadiz and Louisville until 1857, when he moved to Louisiana to "take charge of" Cabin Teele, a 2,200 acre plantation owned by Levin R. Marshall. At Cabin Teele, Wirz continued to practice homeopathic medicine while overseeing the hundreds of slaves in bondage there. This was Wirz's first experience with controlling large numbers of people, a skill that would serve him later.

At the outset of the Civil War, Wirz enlisted in the 4 th Battalion of Louisiana Infantry, organized in his home of Madison, Louisiana. In the aftermath of Bull Run in July 1861, the unit was sent to Richmond, where Wirz was assigned to guard duty at Howard's Factory Prison. He immediately began to organize prisoners, and developed a reputation for efficiency and callousness. He was, as one prisoner wrote in 1862, "the essence of authority at the prison… [he] thought himself omnipresent and omniscient." By the fall of 1861, Wirz attracted the attention of General John Winder, who at that time was in charge of the Richmond prison system. Winder placed Wirz on detached duty as a part of his prison management team. In November 1861 the Richmond newspapers reported that Sergeant Henry Wirz was one of seven men on the city's Prison Board, charged with ensuring the security of all military prisons in Richmond. Serving with Wirz on this board was Captain George C. Gibbs. Three years later the two men worked together at Andersonville, and Gibbs later testified against his colleague.

Wirz's time on the Richmond Prison Board was relatively short-lived. In late November, 1861 he was sent to the prison at Tuscaloosa, Alabama to serve as the assistant to Captain Elias Griswold. At Tuscaloosa, like at most prisons that Wirz worked, prisoners remembered him with mixed feelings. Some recalled that he was instrumental in securing shelter in an unused hotel. At the same time one wrote that, "We have a Sgt Wertz over us as big a tyrant as ever was." Inconsistency proved to be a theme of Wirz's prison management, as one Richmond prisoner described, "He was a good fellow at times, and a very bad one at others. He would show his angular smile of half-stubborn good humor today, and curse us in his fragmentary English tomorrow." Regardless of how prisoners felt about him, the citizens of Tuscaloosa felt Wirz was a competent leader deserving of promotion. When Captain Griswold was transferred, they petitioned General Winder to place Wirz in command of the prison in Tuscaloosa.

In the late spring of 1862, the prisoners from Tuscaloosa were transferred elsewhere for exchange, and Wirz was sent back to Richmond. On June 1, 1862 he was reassigned to serve as the Provost Marshall of Manchester, a community in Richmond that was later consolidated into the city. After only a few days Wirz requested another duty assignment and was placed on General Winder's staff and promoted to Captain, effective June 12, 1862. Within a few months, he was in command of Belle Isle & Libby Prison in Richmond, an assignment which brought him greater responsibilities and a higher profile within the Confederate military prison system. In September he was ordered to go south and locate missing records of Federal prisoners. Reporting directly to Robert Ould, Confederate agent of exchange, Wirz traveled as far as Houston, Texas between September 1862 and the spring of 1863. Upon his return he held a variety of positions, including Chief of Secret Police in Richmond, none of which he liked. He volunteered to deliver recently acquired weapons and ammunition from Charleston to the trans-Mississippi department. In mid-March 1863, Wirz applied for a medical furlough in order to seek treatment for an arm injury that he sustained at some point in the summer or fall of 1862. Wirz claimed that he was injured at the Battle of Seven Pines while serving as an aid to General Joe Johnston. However, his service records are unclear as to the details of this injury, and he was not yet commissioned as an officer when this battle took place. All that is certain is that he sustained a deep tissue injury to his right arm, and that this injury prompted him to request a furlough for medical treatment. What was supposed to have been a four month furlough to Europe for medical care was eventually extended by several months.

By February 1864, Wirz returned and reported to General Winder. Winder, having worked with Wirz before, assigned this experienced officer to the new prison at Camp Sumter Military Prison at Andersonville. Colonel Alexander Persons of the 55 th Georgia Infantry commanded the post when Captain Wirz arrived in early March. Wirz bore a letter from General Winder instructing Persons to give command of the prison's interior to Wirz, whom he called "an old prison officer, a very reliable man and capable of governing prisons." Complicating the situation, the Confederate government sent Major Elias Griswold, whom Wirz had worked for in Tuscaloosa, to Andersonville with similar orders to take charge of the stockade around the same time. This mix up was resolved later in the month, and Wirz formally took command of the prison stockade on March 27, 1864.

Wirz immediately began to reorganize the prison to make it more secure and to improve efficiency. He ordered the construction of a deadline to keep prisoners away from the stockade walls. Drawing on his experience documenting prisoners in 1862, he ordered a daily headcount to be taken. Throughout his time at Andersonville he was frustrated by unclear lines of responsibility. He was charged with daily operations inside the prison – this included taking roll, security, and the issuing of rations and supplies. However, a separate officer was in command of the overall Confederate post of Camp Sumter. Each guard regiment had their own command staff of officers that outranked Wirz. The quartermaster's office operated independent of these two commands, as did the hospital. Wirz could request guards or rations, but had no direct authority to acquire these necessities, although he could order them withheld. Wirz's letters to his superiors in Richmond belie his desperation to solve this command debacle. In an effort to alleviate these bureaucratic struggles, General John Winder reported to Andersonville in the summer of 1864. However, he lacked a clear command directive, and the presence of a brigadier general further complicated the chain of command at the prison.

As in Richmond and Tuscaloosa, Wirz displayed inconsistent behavior towards the captives in his care. At times, he proved helpful and sympathetic. On other days he flew into what one prisoner described as a "spasmodic rage." Unable to carry out his orders to maintain the stability and security of the stockade by military means, Wirz used his reputation and behavior to maintain order. Threats were an important tool in his arsenal of control, and he used them liberally. Prisoners who feared him were less likely to challenge the delicate security of the site. He maintained control by employing techniques such as withholding food from individuals and squads. Supplies sent from the north were distributed to guards and a small number of paroled prisoners. Rumors that he murdered prisoners were commonplace. Threats to kill prisoners were even more common; threats that sometimes were fulfilled. In one instance Wirz ordered a guard to shoot a prisoner, which the sentinel did. Wirz later testified that he meant the order as a threat and that he did not think that the guard would actually do it. His experience on a plantation before the war influenced how he punished prisoners – plantation hounds and iron shackles were used to capture and punish escaped prisoners. Verbal threats created an aura of fear. He routinely made statements in front of his staff and prisoners that were intended to cement his tough reputation. For example, one Confederate soldier testified that Wirz ordered a prisoner into the stocks during a rainstorm. The soldier, observing the prisoner was drowning, placed an umbrella over the prisoner and approach Wirz, who replied, "Let the damned Yankee drown." Wirz was unable to control the bureaucracy that plagued the Confederate military prison system, so he controlled the prisoners in the only way he could – through intimidation and punishment.

It was these actions towards the prisoners that ultimately doomed Wirz. As early as 1861, he predicted that he would be hanged for his treatment of prisoners in Richmond, long before he ever imagined the existence of Andersonville. He was arrested at the prison site on May 7, 1865. In a statement to General John Wilson the day of his arrest, Wirz denied responsibility for the atrocity of Andersonville, referring to himself as "…the tool in the hands of [his] superiors."

He was taken to Washington, DC and held in the Old Capitol Prison. He was charged with conspiracy to kill or injure prisoners in violation of the laws of war, which stipulated the prisoners could not be denied access to available food, water, clothing or medical supplies. He was also charged with multiple counts of murder. A few of these murder charges accused Wirz of personally killing prisoners, but most stemmed from orders that he gave to others. His trial received national attention, as the country demanded justice for the deaths of 13,000 American soldiers. Far more soldiers died in captivity at Andersonville than at any battlefield, a fact that was not lost on former prisoners or the northern public. Wirz's attorneys argued that he did all he could, given the difficult circumstances. The shortage of supplies and medical care were well beyond Wirz's authority, and dozens of letters document Wirz's efforts to solve the logistical problems. However, nearly 150 former prisoners, guards, Confederate officials, civilians, and medical staff , testified that Wirz had indeed violated the laws of war by not only withholding available food and supplies, but also by issuing orders that directly resulted in the death of prisoners of war.

One of the great paradoxes of the Wirz Trial is that both prosecution and the defense sought to prove that Wirz was following orders; the prosecutors hoped to convict higher ranking Confederate officials and Wirz hoped to absolve himself by passing responsibility up the chain of command. As in nearly every military tribunal, the "following orders" defense did not work. Wirz could blame the poor logistics and overcrowding on his superiors. But he could not escape his own orders and actions, and was convicted of conspiracy and murder. He was hanged on November 10, 1865 and was eventually buried in the Mount Olivet Cemetery in Washington, DC.

For nearly one hundred fifty years Henry Wirz has remained a polarizing figure. In 1866, President Andrew Johnson ordered a halt to further military tribunals, saving most of Wirz's named co-conspirators from suffering a similar fate. In the bitter years of Reconstruction, many Southerners turned to Wirz, the most prominent Confederate to be punished for war crimes , as a symbolic martyr of their Lost Cause. Several former Confederates associated with the prison, including Surgeon Randolph Stevenson and Lt. Samuel Davis published books in defense of Wirz. Prisoners continued to publish memoirs vilifying the side of the man that they saw from inside the stockade – a cruel tyrant that threatened them and their comrades. In the heat of these acrimonious debates, conflicting mythologies emerged. Stories were fabricated – stories that Wirz had personally killed hundreds of men, or that the supposed star witness perjured himself , thus proving Wirz's innocence. Every story imaginable to absolve Wirz was concocted – placing blame on Generals Grant or Sherman , or even on the prisoners. A monument was erected in memory of Henry Wirz in the town of Andersonville that further reinforced these increasingly popular notions. In response, prisoners and their descendants further exaggerated the cruelties of Wirz. In the absence of scholarship on the man or the trial, these myths have permeated the popular understanding of Andersonville.

Whether or not Wirz violated the existing laws of war is not subject to debate. The existing legal frameworks of the day stipulated that prisoners must be given access to the same supplies available to the armies in the field. Wirz's own staff members, including his colleague from Richmond who also worked at Andersonville, George Gibbs, testified that Wirz failed to meet that legal obligation. His threats to kill or injure prisoners as a means of control by intimidation backfired on him and reinforced the belief that he was withholding things not to exact a degree of control, but to purposefully torment and kill his captives. The real debates and legacies of Henry Wirz are much bigger than his own actions in the prisons of Virginia, Alabama, and Georgia. Did the difficult circumstances of managing an overcrowded prison in a crumbling Confederacy justify Wirz's decisions and behavior? Should Wirz have been tried by a military tribunal or civil court? Was he legally protected from prosecution? What responsibilities do officers bear for their commands? These are difficult issues that have resurfaced again and again in our history. The legality and process of military justice continue to divide us well into the 21 st century.

Many of the published materials on Henry Wirz were influenced by the political agenda of their authors, and these books and articles frequently perpetuate inaccurate myths of Andersonville and Henry Wirz. Therefore, this article was based on primary source materials from 1861-1865 including:

During the Civil War there was no official system in place to document missing or dead soldiers. As the war ended Clara Barton, the "Angel of the Battlefield" who had achieved fame as a nurse during the war, took it upon herself to fill this void. She began to receive letters from family members trying to find out the fate of their loved ones who had not returned home. Each of these letters led to a painstaking process of researching the whereabouts of these missing soldiers and to respond to the family members' inquiries.

In June of 1865 a young clerk named Dorence Atwater contacted Barton and requested copies of her lists of missing soldiers. Atwater had been a prisoner at Andersonville and had been paroled to work in the hospital, where he diligently maintained a copy of the death records. Ecstatic, Barton contacted Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton and asked to accompany the US Army's expedition to Andersonville to identify the graves there.

At Andersonville in July and August of 1865, Atwater and Barton poured through the letters she had received, and began to search for these missing soldiers in the Andersonville Death Register and captured hospital records. While laborers worked to erect headboards in the cemetery, Barton wrote dozens of letters informing families that their loved ones had died at Andersonville. At the end of the expedition, Barton was given the honor of raising the American flag for the first time over the recently established Andersonville National Cemetery.

After returning from Andersonville, Barton set up the Missing Soldier's Office in Washington in 1865. She hired numerous clerks, including Dorence Atwater, to respond to the more than 60,000 letters that she received. By the time the Missing Soldiers Office closed in 1867, Barton and her staff had identified more than 20,000 missing soldiers, including nearly 13,000 who had died at Andersonville Prison.

Because of her fame as a nurse, she received much of the credit for the work of the Missing Soldiers Office and the Andersonville expedition. In a post war speaking series she was hailed as the "Heroine of Andersonville" and toured the nation displaying artifacts that she had collected at the prison site and lectured on the sufferings of the prisoners. She was even inducted as an honorary member of the Andersonville Survivor's Association, and the army's expedition to Andersonville to identify the graves quickly became known as Barton's expedition, even though she had only accompanied the previously planned endeavor and had worked primarily writing letters - not identifying graves as has often been claimed.

Barton's greatest contribution to the Andersonville story is through her work in the Missing Soldiers Office and her support of Dorence Atwater. Atwater was court-martialed and jailed in the fall of 1865 related to a dispute over the ownership of the Andersonville Death Register. It was through Barton's efforts that he was finally released and she then supported his publication of the Death Register. Barton is often mistakenly given credit for identifying the graves at Andersonville. However, she deserves a great deal of credit for her efforts to account for the missing soldiers, both at Andersonville and across countless battlefields.

Since 1899 monuments and memorials have been placed at Andersonville National Cemetery and the Historic Prison site to remember the men who suffered and died here, as well as American POWs from other conflicts.

The bulk of these monuments were built between 1899 and 1916 and split between the National Cemetery and the prison site . In most cases, the monuments were built with funds appropriated by state governments.

A second series of monuments were placed by the Womans Relief Corps into the 1930s. The state monuments were placed at the prison site under the direction of the Woman's Relief Corps, the national auxiliary of the Grand Army of the Republic, in the years from 1899 to 1916. A smaller number of monument at each location commemorate the work of the Woman's Relief Corps or broader themes. Because so little remains of the historic prison, the monuments form a prominent part of Andersonville's physical and emotional landscape. The final large monuments were placed in the national cemetery in the 1970s and 1980s.

Since the late 1980s, memorial plaques have been placed around the site of the National Prisoner of War Museum. The courtyard behind the National Prisoner of War Museum also serves as a memorial space, and features a large sculpture.

The National Cemetery, located 300 yards north of the prison site established in 1864, is an integral part of the significance of Andersonville Prison Site. The 12,920 men who died at the prison camp are buried in the cemetery. The first burial took place on February 27, 1864, only three days after prisoners first arrived. Graves for the Union prisoners were trenches 3 feet deep and between 100 and 200 feet long.

Following the end of the Civil War, the burying ground for the prison was designated an national cemetery on July 26, 1865. The cemetery is a 27.15 acre site, approximately 300 yards northwest of the prison site. Principal characteristics and features of the cemetery landscape include the 4-1/2 foot high brick wall that surrounds the site and is an integral part of both the aesthetic and historical scene; the regular and rhythmic rows of marble headstones ; the large canopy trees; and the large monuments that are spaced around the entire site.

Since the 1870s approximately 7,000 American servicemen and their families have joined the prisoner burials and made Andersonville National Cemetery their final resting place. Their stories of sacrifice are separated by a hundred years in the history books, but at Andersonville their stories are separated by only a few hundred paces.

The idea of a museum to commemorate the sacrifices of all American prisoners of war took root in 1970 when the United States Congress passed legislation to establish the Andersonville National Historic Site.

This legislation mandated that the new historic site should tell the story of Andersonville and other Civil War era prisons, protect the physical features of the historic prison site and Andersonville National Cemetery, and should “interpret the role of prisoner of war camps in history and to commemorate the sacrifices of Americans who lost their lives in such camps”.

For a number of years, the park maintained a small historic building as the POW museum, with exhibits developed by park staff. In the mid-1980s park staff began to work with American Ex-Prisoners of War (AXPOW) a national organization of former POWs and their families, setting in motion the idea that a National Prisoner of War Museum should be a part of this National Park Service unit. It was not until the 1990s when Congress appropriated funding for planning and development of the Museum that the project began in earnest.

The NPS and AXPOW continued to work closely together to raise funding and corroborate on both design for the building and for the interpretive exhibits. The overwhelming goal for the project was that the Museum would be a fitting visitor center for the public and give visitors a total understanding of the story of all POWs.

As the project continued, another partnership group joined the effort. The Friends of Andersonville, a group of local and national supporters of the park, became involved in the fund raising process and also served as a petitioner to the state of Georgia for assistance with construction of a new entrance road for the park which would lead directly to the site of the new Museum. Finally in the summer of 1996, construction of the building began.

April 9, 1998 not only commemorated the 56th anniversary of the fall of Bataan during World War II, but marked a new era of interpretation at Andersonville NHS. Thousands of former prisoners of war and their families along with national and local supporters of the park gathered to dedicate the National Prisoner of War Museum.

The history of prisoners of war is as old as the history of warfare. In primitive times, the captured warriors were considered the personal property of the captor and were forced into slavery. During the Middle Ages, when the concept of ransom was developed, it became beneficial for warriors to capture wealthy soldiers. Holding prisoners required expenses for their upkeep; therefore, prisoners were not kept unless it was expedient to the captor to do so. Soldiers of little status or wealth were killed to reduce the enemy's numbers.

During the 17th and 18th centuries, more modern thinking on the status of prisoners of war began to develop as war began to be considered strictly a relationship between states. Individual soldiers were enemies only so long as they were armed and the captors only rights over prisoners were to keep them from returning to the battle lines. This way of thinking resulted in more humane treatment for those officially classified as prisoners of war.

Captured Americans during the Revolution were not accorded this special status as prisoners of war. The British considered the freedom fighters to be criminals and thus treated them harshly. American prisoners were held in extremely crowded ships off the coast where thousands died from starvation and exposure.

Initially during the Civil War, a system of paroles and exchanges was used. Paroled prisoners were released to their homes after signing a document pledging not to bear arms until formally exchanged. A formal exchange system was developed with the two sides meeting on the battlefield and exchanging men of equal rank.

Accusations and confusion about the number of equivalent prisoners and the South's refusal to exchange black prisoners led to a break-down of the exchange system in mid-1863. After this cessation of the exchange system, the number and size of prison camps increased drastically. The prison that was to hold the most number of men at one time, Camp Sumter, commonly called Andersonville, has since come to be considered the epitome of prison camp suffering. However, the debilitating problems at Andersonville of overcrowding and inadequate food, shelter and sanitation were present in almost all the 150 Civil War military prisons, though not on the same scale.

Concern over the treatment of civilians, prisoners and soldiers led to President Lincoln's request to Professor Francis Lieber of Columbia College to develop a set of uniform rules for treatment of prisoners of war. The 1863 "Lieber Code" on treatment of prisoners accorded basic rights to the POWs and designated a POW to be the "prisoner of the government and not the captor."

From the first Geneva Convention in 1864, to Hague Conferences in 1899, 1907, and 1914, international rules of war and universal standards for the treatment of prisoners were developed. The Geneva Convention of 1929 provided that prisoners must be treated humanely, the captive nations must supply information about any prisoners held and must permit visits to prison camps by representatives of neutral states. Of the 46 nations attending the convention, these provisions were signed by 33 nations.

The 1949 Geneva Convention that was signed by 57 nations greatly expanded and detailed rules of conduct for the protection of prisoners throughout their captivity. Humane and decent treatment of prisoners is to be a right and is not subject to the whim of the captor. The prisoners of war are to be clearly recognized as victims of events and not criminals.

Conditions confronting and treatment accorded prisoners of war are affected by such factors as climate and geography, a nation's concept of the armed forces, its view of reprisals as a "legitimate" activity of war, its acceptance or rejection of international conventions on the rights of human beings, and something as simple as the whim of individual captors. Tremendous suffering has been endured by prisoners because of cultural differences between countries. For example, during World War II, because Russia and Japan considered those that surrendered to be totally disgraced, they treated their prisoners with utmost contempt.

Despite the standards developed after the Civil War, American prisoners of war have endured many hardships. Many prisoners have lived for months and years with a crushing sense of doom, seeing their comrades dying from disease, starvation, exposure, misguided bombardments, lack of medical care, and murder by firearm, bludgeon, bayonet, and sword. Thousands have suffered through forced marches on little or no rations, while exposed to extreme weather and cruel brutalization. If too injured or ill to keep up, men were left to die. They have been victims of such war crimes as torture and mutilation, beatings, and forced labor under inhumane conditions. Prisoners have been targets of intense interrogation and political indoctrination. Most prisoners of war carry physical or psychological scars from their experiences as captives.

Just as the responsibilities of the captor nation have changed and evolved over the years, so has the responsibility of the individual prisoner. By 1952, the United Nations Command recognized that a prisoner of war can still be "an active soldier determined to fight on", implying that surrender need not necessarily be an offer of peace. In 1953 United States soldiers were issued orders that anyone taken prisoner is duty bound to try to escape. The Code of Conduct, issued on executive order by President Eisenhower in 1955, requires the military prisoner to give only name, rank, service number, and date of birth. Among its six articles are ones which require the captive to continue to resist the enemy and to escape if at all possible.

Captain Henry Wirz was still at his post when U.S. Cavalry Captain Henry E. Noyes arrived at Andersonville in early May 1865 with orders for his arrest. Noyes took Wirz to Washington in late May. General Lew Wallace presided over a military commission which tried Wirz for: (1) conspiring with Jefferson Davis, Howell Cobb, John H., Richard B., and W.S. Winder, Isaiah H. White, R. Randolph Stevenson, and others to "Impair and injure the health and to destroy the lives.., of large numbers of federal prisoners.., at Andersonville" and (2) "murder, in violation of the laws and customs of war." Lasting two and a half months , during the course of the trial nearly 150 former prisoners, civilians, and confederate officers, officials, and guards testified about conditions at the prison.

One of the great paradoxes of the Wirz Trial is that both prosecution and the defense sought to prove that Captain Wirz was following orders; the prosecutors hoped to convict higher ranking Confederate officials and Wirz hoped to absolve himself by passing responsibility up the chain of command. As in nearly every military tribunal, the "following orders" defense did not work. Wirz could blame the poor logistics and overcrowding on his superiors, but he could not escape his own orders and actions. He was convicted of conspiracy and murder. The sentence was carried out on November 10, 1865, in the courtyard of old Capitol Prison.

The dramatic trial began an ongoing dialogue over whom to hold responsible for the conditions at Andersonville and the high number of deaths. Captain Henry Wirz's conviction and subsequent execution is still debated to the present day.

The military prisons of the Civil War, especially the most famous one, have long been the subject of mythology and misconception, beginning in the years immediately following the end of the war.

The following pages will present a common myth or assumption about Andersonville & other Civil War prisons, and then explore its origin and accuracy. Many of these posts will challenge what you've always read, been told, assumed, or believed about Civil War prisons.

Myth: The first prisoners arrive at Andersonville on February 25, 1864 Myth: Prisoners at Andersonville called their shelters 'Shebangs.' Myth: Andersonville is the only prison that is preserved or discussed. Myth: Henry Wirz was the only person convicted or executed by the US government during the Civil War Myth: Union prisoners didn't galvanize and join the Confederate service. Myth: The deadline was unique to Andersonville. Myth: The Raiders were a dominant force throughout the history of the prison. Myth: General Grant stopped the exchanges. Myth: "My ancestor escaped from Andersonville." Myth: It's Always August at Andersonville. Myth: The guards died at the same rate as the prisoners. Myth: Clara Barton established the National Cemetery and led the expedition to identify the graves. Myth: General Sherman's March to the Sea destroyed the supplies needed by prisoners at Andersonville, and he could have liberated 30,000 prisoners if he marched south instead of to Savannah . Myth: The Mystery of Felix de la Baume Myth: You Starved Our Prisoners and We Took Care of Yours Who Are These Men? The Andersonville Prisoner Photographs

The tradition of annually decorating soldiers graves began in the years immediately following the Civil War. First suggested by the ladies of Columbus, Georgia in 1866, the custom went national in 1868 through the adoption of a May 30 th date by the Grand Army of the Republic, a Union Veterans organization.

Like many communities throughout the nation, Lafayette, Indiana had been home to a military prison during the Civil War. In February 1862, Confederate prisoners of war, largely from the 32nd and 41st Tennessee Regiments, were held in warehouse buildings for about one month. Prisoners who died there during the prison's short-lived operation were buried in the Greenbush Cemetery. In the spring of 1868, the committee organizing the ceremony in Lafayette received a wreath from a local girl. Attached to the wreath was a short note:

Will you please put this wreath upon some rebel soldier's grave. My dear papa is buried at Andersonville, and perhaps some little girl will be kind enough to put a few flowers upon his grave. Jennie Vernon

Twelve-year old Jennie Vernon was the daughter of Sergeant Samuel James Walker Vernon, Company K of the 7 th Pennsylvania Cavalry. Sgt. Vernon was captured on October 17, 1863 carrying dispatches to General Sherman. He died on June 24, 1864 at the Camp Sumter military prison near Andersonville, Georgia. Sgt. Vernon is buried in Andersonville National Cemetery, in Section K, grave number 2428, in what is now Andersonville National Historic Site. Jennie Vernon married Dr. Charles Crain in Lafayette, Indiana on October 1, 1879, and resided there for the remainder of her life.

It is not known if Jennie's gesture was reciprocated in 1868. Her story had been forgotten until recent research into the origins of Memorial Day by Dr. Richard Gardiner of Columbus State University. Today, we remember Jennie Vernon's considerate act in memory of her father and all of the fallen soldiers of the Civil War, North and South.

Soils Overlaying a formation of sands and clays is the Tallahatta formation of fine to medium-fine sands. Bauxite and kaolin are mined and processed immediately outside the park. Soils are generally deep and well drained sandy loam or loamy sand. However, the soils are highly erodible when the protective vegetative cover is removed.

Water Resources Sweetwater Creek and Prison Branch are the two streams associated with the park. Sweetwater Creek has an average flow of 47 cubic feet per second and drains an area of approximately 47 square miles. Prison Branch has an average flow of 1 cubic foot per second and drains a 975-acre subcatchment of Sweetwater Creek. These two streams ordinarily flow in well-defined channels, but there are areas where the distinct banks disappear and broad wetlands take their place. There is a swampy area where the two join just east of the park. The 100-year floodplain of Prison Branch extends into the park.

The two streams are classified forpropagation of game and fish, shellfish, and other aquatic life. Water quality in the streams is in conformance with environmental standards.

Vegetation Approximately 135 acres of the park landscape are intensively managed, consisting mainly of lawn and ornamental shrubs and trees. In the unmaintained, natural sections of the park, the vegetation is primarily an oak/hickory/pine association.

The most prominent exotic plant within the site is kudzu. No endangered or threatened plant species are known to occur within the park.

Wildlife Mammals found in the park include deer, squirrels, skunks, and cottontails. Birds are abundant and include warblers, owls, and hawks. Cottonmouth moccasins, rattlesnakes, and copperheads can be found.

Sweetwater Creek and Prison Branch contain fish species common to the Flint River Basin, including a number of shiners, carp, catfish, sunfish, yellow perch, and minnows.

The park lies within the range of the red-cockaded woodpecker, the American bald eagle, and the American alligator. These species are listed as endangered by the Fish and Wildlife Service and the state of Georgia. However, since habitat suitable for these species is lacking within the park, these animals are not expected to be found.