FARMLAND NEWS, ARCHBOLD, OHIO, TUESDAY SEP. 17, 1996
“Republished, with permission from the
Farmland News”
In America’s WORST Civil War Facility
Paul’s Grandfather Was A Prisoner!
By Del Gasche
Treaties
are signed.
Colors
are struck.
Armies
are disbursed.
And
technically, wars end.
But their effects go on forever.
The memories flow from generation to generation, long after the last drops of blood have soaked in the ground. The Civil War was incredibly destructive and brutal. Monuments large and small dot the eastern United States in memory of battles and soldiers.
The Andersonville Prison in Georgia is a place where memories bridge the gaps between generations and geography. “My grandfather was a prisoner at Andersonville,” Paul Ruckman says as he opens a fireproof box and pulls out copies of military records. “He spent his 28th birthday there.” “But he was one of the fortunate ones.” “He lived through it.”
Sun Times!
Paul and his wife Iris live a mile and a half west of Waldron. “I was born southwest of Delta in 1914,” he says. “Dad moved us up here to this farm five years later. “I went to the Independence School, which was two miles west and a mile south of Waldron.” In those days, Paul went on to school by what was called “sun time”. “I don’t know if anyone else remembers it, but it was a half hour between Eastern Standard Time,” he says. “Eventually we all changed to Eastern Standard Time.” But he was never particularly concerned with how long the walk to school took. “It all depended on how fast we walked,” he says. “Four of us would start out together and then we’d pick up more kids along the way. “At the end of the road, there were nine boys in one family and I went to school with all of them except the youngest. “Every house we passed had one or two kids. “So by the time we got to school, we’d have a pretty good time. “The teachers always maintained discipline. “I can’t remember one teacher sending a boy home for good because he couldn’t behave. “In my eight years there, I had seven different teachers.” After graduating from the eighth grade, Paul had to walk a mile and a half in the OTHER direction to get to Waldron High School, from which he graduated in 1932.
Iris’s folks, meanwhile, were farming a mile south of Alvordton. “I went to school there for 11 years and then I went to West Unity for my senior year and graduation,” she says. “I graduated in 1933.” She and Paul met on June 10th, 1934. “A friend who lived in Waldron wanted me to drive him to Alvordton because he had a date,” he says. “And he and his date had Iris and me fixed up as blind dates. “We all went to a children’s program at a church and then to Devil’s Lake for dancing. “They had first-class dance bands there in those days.” He and Iris were married less than a year later … on June 3rd. 1935. “My folks moved and then we moved in here and set up house-keeping,” he says. “It was really rough during the depression. “I was farming with horses, but I also bought a used Fordson from my mother’s cousin in ’35. “The tractor kicked harder than the horses! “My next tractor was a used International 1020. And in ’39, I bought a new Farmall F-20. “The only problem was that it had steel lugs on the wheels. “And since they’d tarred this road by then, I knew those lugs would tear it up if I drove on it. “So I took old wagon wheels and made new rims out of them. “And whenever I wanted to take the tractor on the road, I’d slip those rims over the lugs.” He and Iris farmed 118 acres on Paul’s home place along with another 80, which they farmed on shares. “We raised most of what we needed,” he says. We used to take wheat into Waldron and trade it for flour. “We bought sugar, salt and coffee, but that was about all. “We used to butcher, too, and I’ve still got the tools. “We milked cows until 1957 and then I fed some hogs and steers and drove a school bus until retiring in 1975.” Iris, meanwhile, was working as director of teacher placement at Hillsdale College. And since both their children had college degrees, she decided to get one, too. She earned a bachelor’s degree in economics and business education from Hillsdale College in 1975 … the same year Paul retired. “Now I’m the only one in the family without a degree,” he says. “And I expect it’s going to stay that way.”
Paul’s grandfather led an interesting life. And even though he’d died while Paul was quite young, Paul was always fascinated by the fact that he’d fought in the Civil War. “His name was John Ruckman,” he says. “He died in 1919, when I was five. “I can barely remember him, but my father used to repeat lots of the stories Grandfather had told him. “I can remember that he didn’t have any teeth. “He’d had scurvy while he was a prisoner at Andersonville and lost them. “I can remember him eating apples by using his pocket knife to shave off real fine slices. “Then he’d lick the knife blade, so it was almost like eating apple sauce.” Paul eventually wrote to the National Archives in Washington, D.C. and received copies of John’s military records. “He enlisted on October 21st, 1861 at Big Lick Township, Columbia County and he left from Findley. “He served with the 51st Ohio Volunteer Infantry and he was promoted to sergeant on April 22nd, 1862.” On July 22nd, 1864, during the Battle of Atlanta, John was captured by the confederates and sent to the Andersonville prison camp.
“The Andersonville National Historic Site is ten miles
northeast of Americus, Georgia,” Paul says. “The cemetery there contains
more than 16,000 graves in 17 different sections. “It’s a
sobering site. “During the 14 months the prison
existed, more than 45,000 Union soldiers were sent there and 13,000 of them
died. “Some of the 16,000
interments in the cemetery came from nearby prison camps.”
To put Andersonville
into perspective: during World War I and II, the Korean and Vietnam conflicts
and the Pueblo incident, there were 142,227 Americans taken prisoner and 17,026
of them died as POW’s. That means that nearly as many Union
Army prisoners of war died at Andersonville as American military POW’s died in
wars since then!
“The prison was originally intended to hold 10,000 men,” Paul says. “The pen covered 26½ acres and it was enclosed by a 15-foot high log stockade. “The prison itself was 1,620 feet long and 779 feet wide. “A branch of Sweetwater Creek … called Stockade Branch … flowed through it. “And with that many men crowded into the prison, you can imagine how bad the water was! “Today, there’s a spring of fresh water that continually flows from a fountain.”
Though thousands of other prisoners died at Andersonville, Pauls grandfather lived through the ordeal.
“They arranged a prisoner exchange on September 22nd, 1864 and he was exchanged for a Confederate prisoner,” he says. “According to his papers, the exchange took place at Rough and Ready, Georgia.” Though John was suffering from scurvy, he remained with his outfit and marched all the way to the sea with General Sherman. “He was mustered out of the Army on April 14th, 1865,” Paul says.
“I really can’t remember much about him, but my dad remembered many of the stories he’d told. “He was in 22 battles and he was hit once. But the bullet was stopped by his canteen! “Unfortunately, he came out of the Army in such bad shape from the scurvy that he was never able to work again.
“He died in March of 1919 and he’s buried in the Raker Cemetery near Delta, where my parents and my maternal grandparents are also buried.”
Paul and Iris have visited the Andersonville National Historic Site three times, most recently in 1991. “We videotaped it that year,” Paul says. “They have a card file there that includes the names of all those who were held prisoner and we looked up Grandfather’s card. “I always thought he was an interesting man and I wish I could remember more about him. “Still, its interesting to have his military records. “Because of his scurvy, his stay at Andersonville certainly changed his life.
“The Civil War seems a long time ago … until I remember Grandfather Ruckman.”
In a Newspaper from the Farmland News