Editor’s Overview

John L. Ransom, a member of the 9th Michigan Cavalry, found himself imprisoned at Andersonville in 1864. He reflected on the experience of incarceration during wartime: “I have read in my earlier years about prisoners in the revolutionary war, and other wars. It sounded noble and heroic to be a prisoner of war, and accounts of their adventures were quite romantic; but the romance has been knocked out of the prisoner of war business, higher than a kite. It’s a fraud” (June 24, 1864, entry, John Ransom’s Civil War Diary: Notes from Inside Andersonville, the Civil War’s Most Notorious Prison [Mineola, NY: Dover, 2017], 85). For this special issue, we will examine the process of Civil War imprisonment, its challenges and its memorialization. The study of Civil War incarceration remains a hot topic in public and academic history, and this issue will help readers understand what is at stake and where the field has come from and is going.

Angela Zombek starts our exploration by using gender analysis to examine how Confederate authorities at Castle Thunder Prison in Richmond, Virginia, reinforce their notions of proper gender behavior, shifting analytic focus from intentional maltreatment and inmates’ suffering. Castle Thunder operated from April 1862 through January 1866. Throughout its history, the Confederate government—and, briefly during the postwar period, Union victors—used the prison to house enemy prisoners of war, deserters from both armies, common criminals, and individuals suspected of treason. In punishing many of these offenses, northern and southern officials also used the prison to correct violations of accepted gender norms, established during the antebellum period. In hopes of securing release, inmates likewise pledged to conform to accepted notions of male and female behavior. Zombek sees an opportunity here to broaden the inquiry into different aspects of imprisonment in Civil War America and to view the story of wartime incarceration in terms not just of maltreatment, but also of how prisons were used to maintain the social order amid the chaos of war.

Adam H. Domby examines competing memories of Andersonville Prison from 1865 to the present by tracing the role of race and racial conflict in shaping how Andersonville has been remembered. White southerners’ postwar attempts to reinterpret and erase the site’s divisive legacy met with resistance not only from former white prisoners but also from African Americans. Historians have largely overlooked the ways African Americans remembered the site and utilized the prison grounds in their fights for freedom and civil rights. These contestations over memory helped shape the National Park Service’s present interpretation of the Andersonville National Historic Site. Today, Andersonville functions as a shrine to the patriotic suffering of POWs instead of as memorial to atrocity, but this celebration of sacrifice comes at the expense of Andersonville’s unique history.

We are also able to offer an extensive roundtable discussion, showcasing some of the most prominent individuals working on Civil War prisons, that tackles how to convey the message of incarceration to the public as well as the trajectory of scholarship pertaining to prisons. We conclude with a review section that slants heavily toward the military history of the Civil War and provides excellent examples of the new scholarly directions of that field. Topics touch on, among other things, the impact of technology on military tactics, campaigns against Richmond in 1864 and 1865; the origins of military tactics, nationalism, and leadership; the influence generals’ wives had on their husbands and the armies; and the ways wounded veterans shaped the postwar landscape. Readers should take particular note here of the various approaches to the study of military history and the ways students of the war may benefit from such methodologies.

Correction: In the June 2017 issue, the caption for Figure 3 on page 160 should read “7th Maine Volunteer Infantry Regimental Cottage, Long Island, Maine (built 1885, photo date unknown but before 1909). Collection of Andrew T. Card, Sr., courtesy Long Island Historical Society, Long Island, Maine.” We regret the error.