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“The greatest of our Civil War novels” (New York Times) reissued for a new generation
As the United States prepares to commemorate the Civil War’s 150th anniversary, Plume reissues the Pulitzer Prize–winning novel widely regarded as the most powerful ever written about our nation’s bloodiest conflict. MacKinlay Kantor’s Andersonville tells the story of the notorious Confederate Prisoner of War camp, where fifty thousand Union soldiers were held captive—and fourteen thousand died—under inhumane conditions. This new edition will be widely read and talked about by Civil War buffs and readers of gripping historical fiction.
necessity for at least three times the number of tents and amount of bedding on hand at this time. What of medicines? The supply is wholly inadequate. Frequently there is no supply of medicines. Great delays are experienced in the filling of requisitions. Chandler folded his papers, put them away, pinched out the candle in order to discourage insects. Both he and Elkins had become oblivious to the hurt of mosquitoes. Hordes droned day and night, sometimes in visible clouds, again they
shakes which seemed made of some sort of hardwood—Judah had never seen that kind of wood before. Now they needed to buy or rent or borrow a knife for whittling the shakes into spades, and they owned no knife. Rumor had it that one of the men in that shebang over next to the deadline—the one with a piece of oilcloth forming part of the roof— One of those men was said to own a good knife. Judah went over there, and all the occupants were gone bartering or root-digging except for the lone
recognize nothing except the feel of your implements, the sound of breathing and labor, the pumping of your heart, the drifting march of people and distorted events which came as a nightmare troop. You dug. ...Muskrat. That was the creature Judah’d always considered Benny Ballentine to be, but nowadays he couldn’t be too sure. More like a squirrel. The right-hand wooden shovel had a notch in its crude handle, and that notch hurt Judah’s hand halfway up his first finger, and it rubbed it,
competent trough out of smooth-sawn planks and extended this trough on a slope from the upper story to the lower. He arranged an open sack at the bottom end, and began pouring grain into the trough above. By this means the entire burden was conveyed soon to its proper destination. Merry ran down to cord up each bag again when it was filled. Miller Adams returned at the moment the child was tightening the last sack in triumph. He did not praise Merry for his ingenuity. He said that the boy had
Together surgeon and orderly picked up the wisp of Merry Kinsman, a piece of canvas was slid beneath; they carried the wisp out from under the sagging canopy; later two other ragged orderlies carried it still farther; but the watching Merry had lost interest, was turned away, did not care where they carried it. Jefferson and Liberty, said the unmistakable voice of Abijah Parker beside him. I hain’t forgotten! Six-eight! The drums’ll catch us. Merry’s fife was pressed into his