Few, if any, Civil War sites are more infamous than the Andersonville Prison. The suffering endured on this small patch of land is beyond imagination. Even if no ghosts were there, we knew the residual presence of that much misery should still be detectable, even if subtly through our own emotions.
We undertook the three hour drive, and stopped first at the museum where we learned all about the specifics of the prison. How it was built, the hospital tents outside, how the ditch that split the prison into two halves flowed with contaminated water. How some prisoners had no choice but to drink it, risking dysentery rather than death of thirst.
Today it remains an unpleasant place, despite its relative beauty. It is impossible not to see the tall wooden walls, or the rows of dirty tents, even though the ground is an empty, pristine, mowed green.
We wandered the entirety of the site, inside the boundaries of the prison and outside where the hospital tents were. At Andersonville, the saying was, if you went to the hospital tent, you would not come back. Men became deathly sick living in the close quarters with dirty water and little food.
The feeling of the place was overpowering. We could feel the unreality of the suffering. And during our travels, we had our DVRs along with us as usual. It seems the ghosts of Andersonville did not let us down. One sensitive reported being asked "Darlin', what happened to your hair?" - Her hair was very short.
We also caught this EVP, as well as other less clear murmurs.
Andersonville was a humbling experience. Standing in the face of all that death almost felt like we were intruding. But strangely, whoever was there felt welcoming.