The first lot of new ones came in about the middle of March.  There were about seven hundred of them, who had been captured at the battle of Oolustee, Fla., on the 20th of February.  About five hundred of them were white, and belonged to the Seventh Connecticut, the Seventh New Hampshire, Forty Seventh, Forty-Eighth and One Hundred and Fifteenth New York, and Sherman’s regular battery.  The rest were colored, and belonged to the Eighth United States, and Fifty-Fourth Massachusetts.  The story they told of the battle was one which had many shameful reiterations during the war.  It was the story told whenever Banks, Sturgis, Butler, or one of a host of similar smaller failures were trusted with commands.  It was a senseless waste of the lives of private soldiers, and the property of the United States by pretentious blunderers, who, in some inscrutable manner, had attained to responsible commands.  In this instance, a bungling Brigadier named Seymore had marched his forces across the State of Florida, to do he hardly knew what, and in the neighborhood of an enemy of whose numbers, disposition, location, and intentions he was profoundly ignorant.  The Rebels, under General Finnegan, waited till he had strung his command along through swamps and cane brakes, scores of miles from his supports, and then fell unexpectedly upon his advance.  The regiment was overpowered, and another regiment that hurried up to its support, suffered the same fate.  The balance of the regiments were sent in in the same manner—­each arriving on the field just after its predecessor had been thoroughly whipped by the concentrated force of the Rebels.  The men fought gallantly, but the stupidity of a Commanding General is a thing that the gods themselves strive against in vain.  We suffered a humiliating defeat, with a loss of two thousand men and a fine rifled battery, which was brought to Andersonville and placed in position to command the prison.

The majority of the Seventh New Hampshire were an unwelcome addition to our numbers.  They were N’Yaarkers—­old time colleagues of those already in with us—­veteran bounty jumpers, that had been drawn to New Hampshire by the size of the bounty offered there, and had been assigned to fill up the wasted ranks of the veteran Seventh regiment.  They had tried to desert as soon as they received their bounty, but the Government clung to them literally with hooks of steel, sending many of them to the regiment in irons.  Thus foiled, they deserted to the Rebels during the retreat from the battlefield.  They were quite an accession to the force of our N’Yaarkers, and helped much to establish the hoodlum reign which was shortly inaugurated over the whole prison.