Camp Ford: A Prisoner of War Stockade at Tyler Texas

Ironically, after reading Kantor’s Andersonville, I discovered the existence of another prisoner of war camp, Camp Ford, within easy driving distance. It is located four miles northwest of Tyler, Texas, just off Loop 271. On my way to visit my parents in Kemp, Oklahoma, I stopped and checked it out. The marker at the site says:

Camp Ford

On this site during the Civil War was located Camp Ford, the largest prisoner of war compound for Union troops west of the Mississippi River, named in honor of Col. John S. ‘Rip’ Ford who originally established a training camp here in 1862. It was converted in the summer of 1863 to a prison camp.

It first consisted of four to five acres enclosed by a stockade sixteen feet high. In the spring of 1864 following the Confederate victories at Mansfield, Louisiana and Mark’s Mills, Arkansas the enclosure was doubled to accommodate the large influx of prisoners. Approximately 4700 Federals were confined here during this period. This overcrowded condition was somewhat relieved through a series of prisoner of war exchanges between the North and the South.

Union soldiers representing nearly one hundred different regiments plus sailors from gunboats and transports were confined here. In addition there were imprisoned Union sympathizers, spies, and even Confederate deserters.

The prisoners constructed their own shelters ranging from log huts and burrows called “shebangs” to brush arbors and tents made of blankets. A spring located about 100 yards southwest of this marker furnished an ample supply of good water. Their meager rations, essentially the same as that of their guards, usually consisted of beef and corn meal and were sometimes supplemented by vegetables purchased from nearby farms.
Although escape attempts were frequent, very few were successful due to the long distance to Union lines and the difficulty in eluding the tracking hounds used by the Confederate guards.

Even though conditions were primitive it compared favorably with the other Civil War prison camps. Camp Ford continued to serve as a prison until the surrender of the Trans-Mississippi Department in May, 1865. It was later destroyed by Federal occupation troops.

You can read more about Camp Ford here:  http://www.texasbeyondhistory.net/ford/index.html

MacKinlay Kantor’s novel, Andersonville, won the 1956 Pulitzer Prize. A friend, knowing my interest in the Civil War, gave me the novel a few weeks ago. Expecting the worst and expecting the usually heard information on Andersonville and the treatment of prisoners of war there, I plowed into it. I was surprised to find a balanced novel that uses a Southern protagonist and that reflects decades of research.  Unless the reader allows them to slip by, the historic facts in the novel help tell the real story of Andersonville. For example, the novel reveals how Wirz really did try his best in an impossible situation, how the Northern leaders refused to allow prisoner exchange, even when our representatives pointed out to them how the South could not adequately take care of so many prisoners, and how the thugs among the Northern prisoners victimized the Union soldiers far more than their jailers.  The characters who walk through the novel’s 760 pages represent nearly every strata of American society during the Civil War, making the novel to be a panorama of our nation.

Kantor’s writing style reminded me of Cormac McCarthy—it is intense, with vivid interior and exterior realism.  If you want to know the facts of Andersonville you can find them elsewhere, but if you want to experience Andersonville from both a Southern and Northern perspective, you need to read this novel.

I love Shakespeare’s sonnets. Every one of them written in perfect Elizabethan rhyme scheme in perfect iambic pentameter. Which is your favorite sonnet? Here’s Sonnet 29 that has always meant a lot to me, more so these days for some reason.

When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d,
Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least:
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee,–and then my state
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings’.

I found the sonnet online here: http://www.albionmich.com/inspiration/whenindisgrace.html

I was looking through some old poetry and thinking about how the biographies of some writers I’ve read revealed that they had tendencies to self-destruct. I found this poem I wrote years ago and decided to post it today.

The Saboteur

I am a saboteur.
I know how to derail things,
Lose things, waste things,
And generally screw up.
I juggle knives with amazing ineptness.
I try to dance with nitroglycerin and
Play Russian Roulette with one empty chamber.
I fight with the sun in my eyes.
I can pull the grenade pin and
Then change my mind.
I have cut the wrong wire!
My training has been
Brutal but effective.
I am one you should fear.
I am a  saboteur.

I’ve been listening to Evanescence again today. This song from the Evanescence CD Fallen has been replaying through my head all afternoon while I was doing yard work, so I thought I’d post the lyrics in today’s blog.  Amy Lee has such a fantastic lyric writing ability.  This is a song of despair, a cry for deliverance. I think a movie could be written based on it. I found the lyrics here: http://endor.org/evanescence/lyrics.asp?Submit=View+Lyrics&AlbumID=4&SongID=33
Tourniquet

i tried to kill the pain
but only brought more
i lay dying
and i’m pouring crimson regret and betrayal
i’m dying praying bleeding and screaming
am i too lost to be saved
am i too lost?

my God my tourniquet
return to me salvation
my God my tourniquet
return to me salvation

do you remember me
lost for so long
will you be on the other side
or will you forget me
i’m dying praying bleeding and screaming
am i too lost to be saved
am i too lost?

my God my tourniquet
return to me salvation
my God my tourniquet
return to me salvation

my wounds cry for the grave
my soul cries for deliverance
will i be denied Christ
tourniquet
my suicide

I never miss reading a book by Vicki Hendricks. I discovered her on John Dufresne’s blog. (If you’re a writer, his blog is a great one to consult regularly) He praised her writing extensively. As I respect Dufresne, I decided to read her books. So far I’ve read, Miami Purity, Sky Blues, Voluntary Madness, and Iguana Love. I was delighted to find that her newest novel, Cruel Poetry, was out. I just received it in the mail and am eager to read it. I’ll let you know how the read went. If you want to know more about this fascinating author or more about her earlier novels, visit her Web site here:

http://www.vickihendricks.com/