Georgia travel | Travel Thru History

Andersonville Cemetery – “Is This Hell?”

Georgia, USA

by Hannah Murray

Andersonville National Park is a somber place to visit. If you go late afternoon during the middle of the week, as I did one sunny August day, the park is eerily quiet and still. Instantly you feel the weight of history: it is sacred ground.

I had been driving along the Antebellum Trail in Georgia for several days, and after resting for a couple of nights in Atlanta, I drove down to Andersonville via the beautiful town of Macon. Andersonville, a former Prisoner of War site for Union soldiers, currently sits on Highway 49, almost in the middle of nowhere. The drive is worth it, though. The park operates the National Prisoner of War Museum, a unique and fascinating place that is designed to resemble a prison itself: inevitably, I felt a sense of foreboding when entering the building. The museum teaches the visitor the meaning of a POW and what it means to live behind enemy lines. It is dedicated to the half a million Americans, men and women, who were POWs in all conflicts since the American Revolution. During the Civil War, 220,000 Confederates and nearly 127,000 Unionists were held as POWs, bringing the total to nearly 347,000 people. To put that in perspective, more soldiers were held as POWs in the Civil War than in World War Two. The museum displayed the key to one of the prison gates, a powerfully blunt reminder of the entrance to a place with so much horror and death.

After a short walk around the museum, it is possible to drive around the park in a short auto-tour. There are several points to stop, read the interpretive boards and walk around this important historic site. There are several memorials, paid and maintained by the individual states such as Wisconsin, Ohio and Illinois.

Andersonville was originally named Camp Sumter. It was built in early 1864, as Confederate officials wanted a larger space to house thousands of federal prisoners from Virginia and Georgia. In its short life, the camp confined 45,000 soldiers. Over 13,000 died from starvation, disease, overcrowding and poor sanitation. Half of all Union prisoner deaths occurred at this horrific site. From February, four hundred Union soldiers arrived every day and by the end of June, 26,000 men occupied a space that was originally designed for 10,000. One of the first stops was the entrance to the North gate. You can walk up the hill and follow the footsteps of where Union soldiers entered the prison for the first time. This was an incredibly powerful experience. One soldier exclaimed on his arrival, “is this hell?” I stood there for a while, trying to imagine the sights and smells those soldiers faced. Of course, nothing I could imagine would come close: people complained about the stench of the prison ten miles away. At its height, 130 prisoners died every single day. It was such a high rate that coffins could not be built fast enough. Instead, bodies were dumped in mass graves. Opposite the North gate, there stands a large empty field, originally the place where the prison hospital stood. Many soldiers refused to go, knowing they would never come out. Now all you can hear is the wind rustling through the tall grass.

As the circular loop goes round, the last stop informs the visitor about sheltering the prisoners. The Confederate army could not supply adequate food or clothing, and soldiers were expected to make their own tents out of any material they could find, a small sheet or ripped trousers which was meant to protect them through rain or shine. Many had no shelter at all. Unsurprisingly, it was a “hell on earth.”

When Union General Sherman came close to marching in the area, the Confederates moved the soldiers to other prisons in Georgia. The camp commandant, Captain Henry Wirz was the only man to be executed for war crimes after the Civil War had ended. He was charged with conspiring with officials “to impair and injure the health and destroy the lives…of federal prisoners.” He was hanged on 10 November 1865. A monument to him still stands in the town of Andersonville, designed by the Daughters of the Confederacy.

A national cemetery was established at Andersonville in the summer of 1865. During the Camp’s operation, prisoner Dorence Atwater was assigned the task of recording the soldiers who died for the Confederate officials, but unbeknownst to them, Atwater kept a second copy for himself. After the War, Atwater wanted to give the Union prisoners a proper burial, and when the federal government spurned him, he enlisted the help of Clara Barton. A heroine of mine, Barton founded the American Red Cross and nursed thousands of men during the War. Atwater and Barton identified over 12,000 soldiers buried at Andersonville. There are over 500 unknown soldiers buried in the cemetery, something I have always thought of as a cruel twist of fate since visiting the First World War battlefields of France. Today, Andersonville is still an active cemetery (active in the sense that soldiers can choose to be buried there) and the roll call presently stands at 18,000.

It is impossible to look at these staggering statistics and not think that each represents an individual. An individual, who in the words of John McCrae’s World War One poem, “lived, felt dawn, [and] saw sunset glow.”

If You Go:

♦ Entrance Fee: Free. Andersonville is operated by the National Park Service. Visit the website for more information, and a map.
♦ The park grounds and National Cemetery are open daily from 8am-5pm, excluding bank holidays. The National Prisoner of War Museum is open daily from 9am-4.30pm.
♦ The main entrance to the park is on Highway 49; the Main Gate is signposted – visitors must use this route. Andersonville is roughly 60 miles from Macon or Columbus, depending on which direction you are coming from. Andersonville is slightly out of the way, so there are some nearby attractions listed on the website (I was driving from Macon all the way down to the Gulf Coast of Alabama, so it was a perfect late afternoon stop for me).
♦ Plan to spend at least two hours there.

About the author:
Hannah graduated with a Masters Degree from the University of London last year, and since then she has been researching the life of former African American slave Frederick Douglass. In the summer of 2013, she travelled solo through the Deep South for six weeks. She drove over four thousand miles and visited roughly 80 historic sites, sampling the gorgeous Southern cuisine as she went. Hannah would love to take people on the same trip and share with them the weird and wonderful places she came across. Hannah has created a website on Frederick Douglass in Britain and is due to start a PhD in September 2014. She has written about some of her travels on her blog, astudentofclio.blogspot.co.uk

All photos are by Hannah Murray:
The POW Museum
The gates of hell – the entrance to the prison
Reconstructed prisoner shelters
Andersonville Cemetery

A Visit To Horton House, A Remnant Of America’s Historical Past

Jekyll Island, Georgia

by Theresa St. John

Catching sight of the stark remains of Horton House, a two-story tabby structure now tucked beneath the shady branches of Jekyll Island’s Live Oaks, I felt as if I’d taken a step backwards in the pages of a history book. This was once a thriving plantation that became a prime target during the Spanish raid in 1742,

During my recent stay on Jekyll Island, the hotel manager asked what I was interested in doing while vacationing there. I explained that I loved history and wanted to learn about anything historical on the island. He laughed out loud and told me I’d need more than three days to see it all, but he’d be glad to give me some suggestions. Horton House was on the top of his list.

He explained that Horton House was one of the oldest standing tabby structures in the state of Georgia. When I looked at him strangely, he laughed again.

“Most people don’t know what tabby is, don’t feel bad.” he said.” It was the typical building material of the 18th and 19th century. People would burn oyster shells and use the ash, otherwise known as lime, then fold in equal parts of sand, water and crushed shells. This gave them a significantly strong and thick mixture.” He continued to explain the process to me.

When I told him I was interested in hearing more, he continued: “They’d pour it into large forms that had been made with two parallel planks of wood These would measure the length of the structure’s outer walls. When each tabby mixture had set, the boards would be moved upwards repeatedly, until the desired height of the home was reached. If you really love history, you don’t want to miss this piece of it!”

He pointed his finger to the right and said “It’s about five miles, that way.” I decided to jump on the old-fashioned bicycle I’d rented for the day and pedal along the winding bike paths, while getting a feel for this beautiful 22-mile island. I’d take in the sight of its picturesque oak trees, with their strong branches draped in heavy moss, bending over the roads and walkways, while keeping a keen eye out for the old manor.

The moment I caught sight of the ruins of Horton House, I stopped short. With its scarred openings for windows and wide-open doorways, this deserted house echoed with the drama of its last inhabitants. Its two-story structure stood proudly beneath the overhanging beauty of gigantic tree branches. I jumped off the bike and parked it nearby.

I took my time and studied each of the reader boards placed around the property, wanting to learn as much as I could about Jekyll Island’s 18th and 19th century history. As I read more about the unique building material called ‘tabby’ and wandered around both inside and outside of this open-air building, I could clearly see the remaining shells in every wall.

The house was built by Major William Horton, second in command, serving under General James Oglethorpe and in charge of troops that were entrenched further North, on St. Simon’s Island. Horton House is surrounded by rich land, which was perfect for harvesting cotton and indigo, as well as hops and barley. Horton actually produced Georgia’s first beer and supplied ale to the troops and settlers at nearby Ft Frederica. I wondered what a cold glass of that had tasted like, way back when!

The structure standing today is actually Horton’s second home. The first was a wooden building, destroyed by fire after the Spanish were defeated in 1742 and made a hasty retreat from the area, having lost the battle of Bloody Marsh.

Horton, the first Englishman to own property on the Island, obtained these 500-acres by means of a land grant in 1735, when he sailed to America on the Symond, a passenger ship.

One of the land grant conditions stated that Horton would have to bring 10 indentured servants with him from England, one for each fifty acres of land. He was also required to have 20% of the land cultivated and sustainable, within the first ten years of his settling in Georgia.

When he initially came to the Island, it was extremely isolated. His closest neighbors were at Frederica, another settlement further North,on St.Simons Island. Fort Frederica is where Horton was promoted to Major, and became second in command under Oglethorpe. The fort served to protect settlers from Spanish and Native American attacks. In 1742, the British withstood an onslaught there, in the battle of Bloody Marsh, a siege now firmly ensconced in Georgia’s rich history.

William Horton is also responsible for cutting a road across the north end of Jekyll Island, running East and West, from his house to the beach. Today, it is still called Horton Road. Horton passed away in 1748 while in Savannah.

In 1791, four Frenchmen from Sapelo Island jointly purchased Jekyll Island. Later, one of them, Poulain du Bignon, became the sole owner. As a young officer, Poulain served in the French Army in India, fighting against Great Britain. Later, he commanded a French Naval vessel. He moved into Horton House in1792, several years after the American Revolution. Bignon died in 1825. He was eighty-six. He’s buried with other members of his family, across the street from Horton House, with a peaceful view of Bignon Creek. A single oak tree marks his passing.

I have always loved historic graveyards and was excited to see that this one was a little different than others I’m used to, due to it’s simplicity and size. A tabby enclosure surrounds the small family plot and you can sit on a wooden bench nearby, overlooking the creek. It was windy the morning I went and it was as if I could hear voices from the distant past, carried on the breeze that whispered through the swaying tree branches.

The remaining Bignon family continued to own Jekyll Island, working together to manage the plantation and it’s crops. Eventually they decided to sell the property to a group of millionaires in 1886. They, in turn, promptly formed The Jekyll Island Club, a playground for the rich and famous. Many of the world’s wealthiest families became members in it’s heyday. Most notably were the Morgan, Vanderbilt and Rockefeller empires.Today, the Jekyll Island Club is a luxury resort and a member of the Historic Hotels Of America.

Jekyll Island lies off the coast of Georgia and is known as one of the Golden Isles. It’s one of four barrier Islands, which also includes St. Simons Island, Sea Island, Little St. Simons Island and nearby Brunswick. It’s exquisite beauty and warm invitation to the endless adventure there is unrivaled. With museums, hotels, gorgeous beaches and historic places preserved with great diligence and care, you won’t mind paying the $6 to gain entrance and you won’t want to miss this amazing piece of history.

Jekyll Island Tour

If You Go:

Jekyll Island, Georgia

Jekyll Island Chamber of Commerce

Jekyll Island on Map Quest

About the author:
Theresa St.John is a freelance travel writer and photographer based in Saratoga Springs, New York. Even though history was not on her radar while in high school, she has a deep interest in all things historical now. She has been on assignment for several magazines and is published in both print and on-line venues. Last year she traveled to Ireland on assignment, which, she states ” was a trip of a lifetime.” She landed the cover photo and feature article in Vacation Rental Travels Magazine highlighting her adventures there. She has written for Great Escape, International Living, Saratoga Springs Life Magazine, The Observation Post newspaper, Discover Saratoga and is a successful contributor to many stock photography sites. She is the proud mom to two young men and Nonnie to 5 rescued dogs, 2 Chinchillas and a bird. Life is good, she says. Theresa vacations in Fiji this Fall and looks forward to another great travel writing/ photography opportunity in the South Pacific.

All photos by Theresa St. John:
Front view of Horton House
Bike path way with Georgia’s Live Oaks and hanging moss
Rustic bicycle outside Horton House
Tabby, typically used in the 18th and 19th century
Cemetery
Carved headstone
Cemetery with lone Live Oak tree
View of Horton House from distance

Abkhazia, Georgia: A Place That Does Not Exist

by Lizaveta Zhahanina

“Have you ever been to Sukhumi?” asked an Abkhaz military officer at the border between Georgia proper and its breakaway region of Abkhazia.
“No.”
“You are not going there this time either,” he said. “You have three minutes to leave the territory of Abkhazia, no questions asked.”

I started walking back across the Inguri River Bridge, which separates the post-Soviet Republic of Georgia from what once used to be a prime tourist destination in the former USSR, Abkhazia. The bridge’s halfway point boasts a statue of a gun with a twisted barrel, a vague copy of Carl Fredrik Reuterswärd’s sculpture Non Violence at the UN headquarters in New York. I could hardly think of a more ironic place for housing this embodiment of peace and diplomacy.

Georgia and its autonomous republic of Abkhazia was part of the Soviet Union until the latter collapsed in 1991. Ethnic tensions between Georgians and Abkhazians, which had been intensifying towards the end of the 1980s, led to the 1992–93 separatist war in Abkhazia that resulted in a Georgian military defeat, Abkhazia’s de facto independence, ethnic cleansing and mass exodus of the Georgian population from Abkhazia. Despite the 1994 ceasefire agreement, the conflict again flared up on several occasions. In August 2008, the sides again fought during the five-day Georgia-Russian war, after which Russia, Nauru, Nicaragua and Venezuela formally recognized Abkhazia’s independence.

I had spent two hours on the Abkhaz border waiting for permission to enter its territory. CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States) countries have a visa-free regime with Abkhazia, but I failed to consider that the Georgian-Abkhaz border is now closed and anyone attempting a crossing is required to gain a written permission from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Abkhazia.

Multiple phone calls and e-mails later, I hurried back to the border with a permission letter in hand. A Georgian taxi driver, a refugee from Gali, Abkhazia, who now resides in Zugdidi, Georgia proper, drove me back to the bridge.
“Do you ever go to Abkhazia?” I asked.
“No, my father was fighting on the Georgian side during the war [of 1992-93]. I cannot cross the border.”
“Would they [the Abkhaz side] really know about your father?”
“Yes, they keep track of people who participated in that war. I cannot go home.”

I heard a similar story on the other side of the bridge. “This is where my world ends,” said an Abkhaz military officer of mid-twenties, pointing to the bridge across the Inguri River. “I cannot cross that bridge. But I do not care.”

The Abkhaz officers at the border, most of whom are too young to have fought in the 1992-93 separatist war, cherish Abkhazia’s de facto status of an independent country. “Look, we have won this war: a 100,000 against 4 million,” the officer said. “We deserve our independence.”

He told me a story about the origins of Abkhazia that has been passed between the local generations for centuries: “When god was giving out lands to people, he gave away everything on earth and left a little piece for himself. But then an Abkhaz approached him asking for land. ‘But I already gave everything away, why did you come so late?’ asked god. ‘Because I had some guests over at my place and I needed to give them due attention,’ said the Abkhaz. And thus god gave him the territory of Abkhazia as a reward for his hospitality: a piece of land god had actually reserved for himself.”

Ironically, the Georgian story about their own country’s origins starkly resembles that told in Abkhazia.

Historically, the territory of Abkhazia was part of the ancient kingdom of Colchis from the 9th to 6th centuries BC, which was later absorbed into the kingdom of Egrisi. The Roman Empire conquered Egrisi in the 1st century AD and ruled it until the 4th century, when it regained some independence. Abkhazia became the dominant power in the region establishing the kingdom of Abkhazia after acquiring Egrisi via a dynastic union in the 780s. The kingdom then annexed a significant part of Eastern Georgia, including Tbilisi. In the 11th century Abkhazia and the eastern Georgian states were unified into a Georgian monarchy. Abkhazia became an autonomous principality in the 16th century after the Georgian kingdom disintegrated. It then came under the influence of the Ottoman Empire and was eventually absorbed into the Russian Empire, later becoming part of Georgia and the greater Soviet Union.

After crossing the border I took one taxi from Inguri to Gali and another from Gali to Sukhumi, the capital. The road from the border to Gali and further to Ochamchira is almost nonexistent. The distance between the two is only about 30 kilometers, but it takes an average of 2 hours to get through this stretch of terrain. The passage becomes even more dangerous at night, and the local taxi drivers charge about $70, double the daytime rate, when driving in the dark. “Hold on to the floor with your feet,” said my taxi driver, Alek, an ethnic Greek living in Ochamchira. “If I have to break sharply, this should help you against flying into the front window.”

According to Alek, several years ago it was virtually impossible to drive on this same road past sunset. Supporters of both sides waged a guerilla war along this highway even after the cease-fire agreement of 1994. As we discussed the driving precautions, the conversation inevitably turned political.

“What were the two empires in the Soviet Union?” asked Alek. “Russia and Georgia,” was his answer. “There is nothing in common between the Abkhaz people and Georgians.”

De facto independent Abkhazia (now considered by the Georgian government as a territory occupied by the Russian forces) held presidential elections in December 2009 with the incumbent candidate, Sergei Bagapsh, securing 59.4% of the vote and his mandate. I was travelling to Sukhumi to cover the elections.

As we drove into the capital of Abkhazia I requested to be dropped off at a decent hotel somewhere downtown. Alek chose Inter Sukhum, one of the most upscale places in town situated several blocks away from the waterfront. The downside of travelling to Abkhazia is a pressing need to have a sufficient amount of cash, dollars, Euros or Russian rubles, to carry one through the stay. No major credit cards are accepted here either by the banks or businesses.

Next morning, I woke to a gloomy sight of Sukhumi in the wintertime. My hotel room window opened to reveal a view of shallow, burned out buildings that occupied most of Sukhumi’s landscape. The local people constantly asked me whether I liked their city. It was impossible to say I did not: the nature was in fact breathtakingly beautiful. At the same time, however, its glory paled in comparison to streets of burnt-out and partially destroyed apartment buildings that stretched across the city’s downtown. Many of the buildings still house residents on the lower floors, while the upper stories served as memorials to the darkness and despair of war.

One of the city’s main attractions is the Government House of Abkhazia, destroyed in the Abkhaz offensive of September 1993. A tall overbearing structure, it is visible from the waterfront and many other parts of the city. Its hollow and burnt-out interior stirs emotions nothing short of horror. Crowned with an Abkhaz national flag, the building is surrounded by empty parking lots and a similarly abandoned park. The entire complex leaves an indelible impression of war and brutality it brings.

On a Saturday afternoon Sukhumi seemed depopulated. I could not escape thinking that the city was built for a far greater number of people than it now houses. “There are 250,000 refugees from Abkhazia,” said a Georgian refugee from Gali whom I met at the border. “It is more than the total population of Abkhazia today.” Reportedly, anywhere between 180,000 and 200,000 permanently reside in Abkhazia. The actual number has not been determined.

Abkhazia is place where time seems to have stopped 25 years ago. I woke up to a truly Soviet breakfast in my hotel, followed by a walk across a city that does not house brand name stores, coffee shops with Wi-Fi or modern supermarkets. I had a feeling I was firmly entrenched in the past, the Soviet past, in a place that no longer exists.

On the night after the election I met Bagapsh supporters at a café located close to the Central Election Committee. As the committee counted the votes secured by heavy military presence, young Bagapsh supporters spoke about prosperity and democracy in Abkhazia. “We just want to make sure you leave with the correct impression,” they said.

I left on Monday as rain was pouring from the sky, wind slamming uneasy waves at the Sukhumi waterfront. Several hours and a couple of taxi rides later, I was again at the Inguri Bridge, water reaching my ankles. I left with a bounty of impressions, few of them as “correct” as the Abkhazians I had met would have wished.

Kakheti Wine Tour with Tastings and Lunch from Tbilisi

If You Go:

Visa: Foreign citizens travelling to Abkhazia (except those from CIS countries) are required to obtain a visa. Requirements for obtaining the visa can be found here: www.mfaabkhazia.org

Entry: There are two ways to enter Abkhazia: either through the Georgian-Abkhazian border on the Inguri River or through the Russian-Abkhazian border on the Psou River. Those who travel to Abkhazia via Russia should have a Russian double or multiple entry visa to be eligible to enter the Russian Federation again after they return from Abkhazia. If travelling from Georgia, one needs to obtain a permission letter to cross the border even if a visa is not required. Find more details at: www.mfaabkhazia.org

Where to Stay: Hotel Inter Sukhum, Abkhazia, Sukhumi, Lakoba St. 109

Where to Eat: There are several cafés and restaurants along the waterfront. Nartaa is known for excellent Abkhazian food at minuscule prices. Hotel Ritsa houses Restaurant San-Remo known for an international menu.

About the author:
Lizaveta Zhahanina is a freelance journalist based in Tbilisi, Georgia. She has written for a number of local and international publications, including Investor.ge and IWPR (Institute for War and Peace reporting). Zhahanina covers a multitude of issues pertinent to Georgia and the South Caucasus at large, including politics, culture, economy and society. She also travels extensively and writes about her experiences on the road.

All photographs are by Lizaveta Zhahanina.
1. The Sukhumi landscape as seen from my window at the Inter Sukhum hotel. The city is littered with partially and completely destroyed buildings. While some have not been lived in for years, others still house residents on the lower floors.
2. Photo: A statue of a gun with a twisted barrel standing in the middle of the Inguri River Bridge. It is a vague copy of Carl Fredrik Reuterswärd’s sculpture Non Violence at the UN headquarters in New York.
3. A street in downtown Sukhumi. Much of the destruction was brought about by the 1992-93 separatist conflict with very little repair work having been done afterwards.
4. The Government House of Abkhazia, destroyed in the Abkhaz offensive of September 1993. The building is completely burnt-out and hollow inside. It now functions merely as a symbol of war and its brutality.
5. Sukhumi waterfront. During the Soviet time, Abkhazia was considered a prime destination for tourists from the USSR.
6. Restaurant Amra situated on the Sukhumi waterfront. Years ago it used to be well-known across the Soviet Union. Now, the restaurant’s terrace functions only in the summer, with its interior remaining closed and abandoned.