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A Fate Worse than Hell: American Prisoners of the Civil War
From the Pulitzer Prize finalist, a harrowing new history of the Civil War’s prisoner of war camps, North and South.
It is newly estimated that 750,000 soldiers died in the American Civil War. But less well-known than the war’s death toll are the roughly 400,000 Union and Confederate troops who were captured and imprisoned. Many POWs died from starvation, dysentery, and exposure, and at the worst of the prison pens, more than 30,000 soldiers were caged in the equivalent of ten city blocks. Against the backdrop of a brutal internecine conflict, the Civil War’s prison camps were a harrowing milestone in the history of mass dehumanization.
A Fate Worse Than Hell contemplates the roots and consequences of this mass incarceration from America’s bloodiest conflict. Based on first-person prisoner accounts, photographs, and contemporaneous journalism, historian W. Fitzhugh Brundage shows how POW camps were of far greater significance to the war than is commonly a subject of stalled negotiation, escalating retaliation, and increasing political liability between the Union and the Confederacy. Brundage describes how the camps were not the products of improvisation, but the results of design and resolve, marshaling prodigious quantities of manpower, technology, and resources—with successor camps in every major war during the next century.
Brundage also shows how prisons such as Andersonville, Elmira, and Point Lookout were the catalyst for the United States’ first formal laws of war, which became a bedrock for international law. Nowhere during the Civil War was the juxtaposition between our “better angels” and our capacity for brutality starker than in the prison camps—sites of unprecedented atrocity that also served as places of selflessness and human dignity among the incarcerated. The most comprehensive work to date about the life of America’s captives during the Civil War, A Fate Worse Than Hell exposes this national violence that imprisoned more Americans during wartime than ever before or since.
It is newly estimated that 750,000 soldiers died in the American Civil War. But less well-known than the war’s death toll are the roughly 400,000 Union and Confederate troops who were captured and imprisoned. Many POWs died from starvation, dysentery, and exposure, and at the worst of the prison pens, more than 30,000 soldiers were caged in the equivalent of ten city blocks. Against the backdrop of a brutal internecine conflict, the Civil War’s prison camps were a harrowing milestone in the history of mass dehumanization.
A Fate Worse Than Hell contemplates the roots and consequences of this mass incarceration from America’s bloodiest conflict. Based on first-person prisoner accounts, photographs, and contemporaneous journalism, historian W. Fitzhugh Brundage shows how POW camps were of far greater significance to the war than is commonly a subject of stalled negotiation, escalating retaliation, and increasing political liability between the Union and the Confederacy. Brundage describes how the camps were not the products of improvisation, but the results of design and resolve, marshaling prodigious quantities of manpower, technology, and resources—with successor camps in every major war during the next century.
Brundage also shows how prisons such as Andersonville, Elmira, and Point Lookout were the catalyst for the United States’ first formal laws of war, which became a bedrock for international law. Nowhere during the Civil War was the juxtaposition between our “better angels” and our capacity for brutality starker than in the prison camps—sites of unprecedented atrocity that also served as places of selflessness and human dignity among the incarcerated. The most comprehensive work to date about the life of America’s captives during the Civil War, A Fate Worse Than Hell exposes this national violence that imprisoned more Americans during wartime than ever before or since.
680 pages, Kindle Edition
Published February 24, 2026
About the author
W. Fitzhugh Brundage
37 books24 followersWilliam Fitzhugh Brundage (born 1961) is an American historian, and William B. Umstead Professor of History, at University of North Carolina. He graduated from the University of Chicago, and from Harvard University with an MA and Ph.D, in 1988. Prior to taking up his current position at the University of North Carolina, he taught at Queen's University, and University of Florida.
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Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
This book’s bibliography cites numerous examples, showing that this is far from the only modern history of Civil War prison camps and prisoners. Brundage gracefully credits many of them for informing his work.
But I’ve never come across one of these histories until now, after reading dozens of Civil War-related books over the past few years. After all, most Civil War books are about major battles and those who fought and died there. Little mention is made of those who were taken prisoner, and less if anything is said about what happened to them after they were.
Brundage gives them their due here in a very informative and readable new book, pushing the battles and the politicians to the side in order to move the prisoners and their experiences to the forefront. After all, he argues, “the fate of prisoners of war was of far greater significance to the course of the Civil War than is commonly understood.”
The book begins and ends in Andersonville, which remains the most notorious Civil War prison camp, and for good reason. While it features prominently throughout the book, though, it’s far from the only place where tens of thousands of prisoners were hastily and haphazardly housed.
Early chapters provide a brief history of prisoners of war, from ancient times when they were often enslaved or killed, to the early days of the Civil War, when a gallant system of paroles and exchanges had many prisoners living in comfort and relative freedom.
That’s a far cry from what it became as the number of soldiers captured on the battlefield swelled, and crucially, prisoner exchanges ground to a halt when the Confederacy refused to treat Black Union soldiers as prisoners of war and the Union refused further exchanges until they did. This impasse is what “hastened the creation of the largest prison camps in the nation's history,” Brundage writes.
At first, both sides improvised, housing prisoners in whatever structures could be found and retrofitted into prisons. Overcrowding led to the frequent transfer of prisoners, often over long distances and in terrible conditions. In time, camps designed specifically to house prisoners were created, but due to “unfounded confidence and managerial indifference,” these camps were often “little more than storage dumps for prisoners.”
Andersonville itself was seemingly created with the best of intentions - its location was chosen because it was close to water and timber, and because it was remote, lessening the chance of escapes or of inconveniencing local civilian populations. But corners were cut in its creation, and “through a combination of inept planning, bumbling administration, and cynical design,” it quickly became overcrowded and unsuitable for long-term use. And its indifferent administrators and the government bureaucrats who oversaw them added to the prisoners’ misery.
In time, the growing number of prisoners and the terrible conditions they endured in captivity was not a mere sideshow to the war, but began to affect the war itself. As the Confederacy’s ranks thinned, Brundage explains, their intransigent determination not to treat Black soldiers as actual prisoners of war deprived them of exchanges that could have returned many Confederate soldiers to service. And the Union’s equally unwavering insistence that Black prisoners be treated the same as whites caused divisions in the North, with some criticizing the government for sacrificing scores of white prisoners on stubborn principle.
Brundage manages to be fair and even-handed, matter-of-factly describing how and why Confederate prison camps as a whole were indeed worse than those in the North. This, he explains, was often due to a lack of existing infrastructure and not due to purposeful cruelty as some critics have claimed.
With the backstory and the creation of the camps now established, Brundage moves into a generally chronological, but largely thematic, set of chapters focusing more on the prisoners themselves, on both sides - how they lived, ate, slept, sent and received mail, formed their own communities within their camp, and came up with games and pastimes to fill their days. Obviously there was more to it than that, though - early comradery and fraternity among the prisoners often gave way to fights, and a feral every-man-for-himself atmosphere as the war went on and camps became ever more crowded. Prisoners also suffered harsh discipline, malnutrition and near-starvation, often becoming ill, with tens of thousands of them ultimately dying.
Here, too, Brundage is even-handed, acknowledging the hardships the prisoners faced without exaggerating or questioning their accounts.
Prisoner exchanges finally resumed in the waning days of the war as the Confederacy became “desperate to be relieved of the burden of feeding and guarding prisoners of war.” As they grew equally desperate for manpower, it became impossible to justify a refusal to recognize Black Union soldiers when the Confederacy was about to break down and enlist Black soldiers of their own.
As in any war, the end of the fighting and soldiers’ return home was more complicated than glorious for former prisoners of war. The last few chapters of the book consider the postwar challenges that prisoners faced in returning to society, and in telling their stories to some who would rather forget or who chose not to believe they really suffered as much as they did. This continued even after their generation faded away, as Brundage calls out several mid-20th century historians who began to minimize the prison camps as bad, but not as bad as many of the prisoners made them out to be.
While “Americans have typically dwelt on feats of battlefield valor,” three times as many Union soldiers died at Andersonville than at Gettysburg, Brundage points out. And yet he notes that nearly 60,000 acres of Civil War battlefields have been preserved, compared to less than 750 acres associated with Civil War prisons - and Andersonville alone accounts for most of that total. Not until more than a hundred years after the war, was a concerted effort made to turn Andersonville into the historic site it is today. But even a visit to the site, Brundage argues, doesn’t give you the full picture of what the prisoners there experienced.
His book, however, comes closer to doing so than anything I’ve read before. This is the rare Civil War book that’s not about battles and strategies and tactics, or about politics and governance and democracy. It’s a human story that’s not often told, and Brundage tells it in a compelling, engaging, fair and factual way that's well worth a read.
Thanks to NetGalley and publisher W.W. Norton & Company for providing an advance copy of this book for review, ahead of its February 24th release.
But I’ve never come across one of these histories until now, after reading dozens of Civil War-related books over the past few years. After all, most Civil War books are about major battles and those who fought and died there. Little mention is made of those who were taken prisoner, and less if anything is said about what happened to them after they were.
Brundage gives them their due here in a very informative and readable new book, pushing the battles and the politicians to the side in order to move the prisoners and their experiences to the forefront. After all, he argues, “the fate of prisoners of war was of far greater significance to the course of the Civil War than is commonly understood.”
The book begins and ends in Andersonville, which remains the most notorious Civil War prison camp, and for good reason. While it features prominently throughout the book, though, it’s far from the only place where tens of thousands of prisoners were hastily and haphazardly housed.
Early chapters provide a brief history of prisoners of war, from ancient times when they were often enslaved or killed, to the early days of the Civil War, when a gallant system of paroles and exchanges had many prisoners living in comfort and relative freedom.
That’s a far cry from what it became as the number of soldiers captured on the battlefield swelled, and crucially, prisoner exchanges ground to a halt when the Confederacy refused to treat Black Union soldiers as prisoners of war and the Union refused further exchanges until they did. This impasse is what “hastened the creation of the largest prison camps in the nation's history,” Brundage writes.
At first, both sides improvised, housing prisoners in whatever structures could be found and retrofitted into prisons. Overcrowding led to the frequent transfer of prisoners, often over long distances and in terrible conditions. In time, camps designed specifically to house prisoners were created, but due to “unfounded confidence and managerial indifference,” these camps were often “little more than storage dumps for prisoners.”
Andersonville itself was seemingly created with the best of intentions - its location was chosen because it was close to water and timber, and because it was remote, lessening the chance of escapes or of inconveniencing local civilian populations. But corners were cut in its creation, and “through a combination of inept planning, bumbling administration, and cynical design,” it quickly became overcrowded and unsuitable for long-term use. And its indifferent administrators and the government bureaucrats who oversaw them added to the prisoners’ misery.
In time, the growing number of prisoners and the terrible conditions they endured in captivity was not a mere sideshow to the war, but began to affect the war itself. As the Confederacy’s ranks thinned, Brundage explains, their intransigent determination not to treat Black soldiers as actual prisoners of war deprived them of exchanges that could have returned many Confederate soldiers to service. And the Union’s equally unwavering insistence that Black prisoners be treated the same as whites caused divisions in the North, with some criticizing the government for sacrificing scores of white prisoners on stubborn principle.
Brundage manages to be fair and even-handed, matter-of-factly describing how and why Confederate prison camps as a whole were indeed worse than those in the North. This, he explains, was often due to a lack of existing infrastructure and not due to purposeful cruelty as some critics have claimed.
With the backstory and the creation of the camps now established, Brundage moves into a generally chronological, but largely thematic, set of chapters focusing more on the prisoners themselves, on both sides - how they lived, ate, slept, sent and received mail, formed their own communities within their camp, and came up with games and pastimes to fill their days. Obviously there was more to it than that, though - early comradery and fraternity among the prisoners often gave way to fights, and a feral every-man-for-himself atmosphere as the war went on and camps became ever more crowded. Prisoners also suffered harsh discipline, malnutrition and near-starvation, often becoming ill, with tens of thousands of them ultimately dying.
Here, too, Brundage is even-handed, acknowledging the hardships the prisoners faced without exaggerating or questioning their accounts.
Prisoner exchanges finally resumed in the waning days of the war as the Confederacy became “desperate to be relieved of the burden of feeding and guarding prisoners of war.” As they grew equally desperate for manpower, it became impossible to justify a refusal to recognize Black Union soldiers when the Confederacy was about to break down and enlist Black soldiers of their own.
As in any war, the end of the fighting and soldiers’ return home was more complicated than glorious for former prisoners of war. The last few chapters of the book consider the postwar challenges that prisoners faced in returning to society, and in telling their stories to some who would rather forget or who chose not to believe they really suffered as much as they did. This continued even after their generation faded away, as Brundage calls out several mid-20th century historians who began to minimize the prison camps as bad, but not as bad as many of the prisoners made them out to be.
While “Americans have typically dwelt on feats of battlefield valor,” three times as many Union soldiers died at Andersonville than at Gettysburg, Brundage points out. And yet he notes that nearly 60,000 acres of Civil War battlefields have been preserved, compared to less than 750 acres associated with Civil War prisons - and Andersonville alone accounts for most of that total. Not until more than a hundred years after the war, was a concerted effort made to turn Andersonville into the historic site it is today. But even a visit to the site, Brundage argues, doesn’t give you the full picture of what the prisoners there experienced.
His book, however, comes closer to doing so than anything I’ve read before. This is the rare Civil War book that’s not about battles and strategies and tactics, or about politics and governance and democracy. It’s a human story that’s not often told, and Brundage tells it in a compelling, engaging, fair and factual way that's well worth a read.
Thanks to NetGalley and publisher W.W. Norton & Company for providing an advance copy of this book for review, ahead of its February 24th release.
June 4, 2026
The American Civil War resulted in the death of over 650,000 soldiers. The carnage was unimaginable as new technologies were applied to combat. Apart from death on the battlefield was the loss of life in prison camps. Conditions were insufferable and the loss of life and the horrors experienced in the camps was extraordinary, particularly in Confederate camps like Andersonville. In W. Fitzhugh Brundage’s latest book, A FATE WORSE THAN HELL: AMERICAN PRISONERS OF THE CIVIL WAR the reader is exposed to the dread that was experienced in camps, attempts to improve conditions, the courage and tenacity of those who found the will to survive in a system that produced over 400,000 prisoners involving both sides in the war.
Brundage has written the most comprehensive monograph dealing with Civil War prisoners relying on diaries of the prisoners and officials who ran the camps in addition to other primary and secondary sources. Brundage’s account seems to cover every aspect of his topic ranging from the governments that controlled the prisons, the personalities on both sides that were the decision makers in determining prison policies, the travel that prisoners were subjected to, the training, or lack of training for Doctors, the exchange of prisoners, to the different treatment of officers and regular troops, and post-war issues. The author begins his study by introducing Andrew Jackson Riddle, a photographer who chronicled the only visual record of the notorious Confederate prison – Andersonville. Riddle would become a witness to the “mass prison pens” and produced a catalogue of POW experiences matched by few written accounts. Riddle’s photographs provided incontrovertible evidence supporting the written descriptions offered by POWs, i.e., acute deprivation, no permanent buildings to house prisoners, absence of sanitary facilities, and extreme overcrowding. Though Riddle’s photos dealt with Andersonville the author offers evidence that it was the norm not the exception in Civil War prisons, Confederate and Union, however it must be noted the Confederate prisons were crueler.
Brundage’s template for each topic is to introduce a historical figure; a soldier, a physician, an officer, government bureaucrat, or family member at the start of a chapter and build the storyline around that figure. The author develops a number of important themes which are the core of the monograph. First, as the fighting progressed and the war lasted from year to year the treatment of prisoners and the facilities they were incarcerated in declined precipitously. A second important theme rests on how prisoners were exchanged, which greatly impacted the number of POWs who languished in captivity. The Confederate authorities refused to exchange black soldiers for white soldiers on an equal basis leading to President Lincoln’s refusal to continue to exchange prisoners equally which was the standard for the first two years of the war. Lincoln ruled out any further prisoner exchanges as long as black soldiers were excluded. In July 1863 he ordered that for any union soldier killed in violation of the laws of war, a Confederate prisoner would be executed; for any returned to slavery, a Confederate prisoner would be sent to hard labor. The Confederate view that a black soldier was nothing more than an escaped slave greatly impacted decision-making on both sides especially after the announcement of the Emancipation Proclamation and Lincoln’s realization that black soldiers were needed to help win the war. The key point is that had prisoner exchanges continued throughout the war, the prison population would have been greatly reduced leading to better care of POWs. Men like Walt Whitman argued that he was willing to sacrifice black POWs if it would save white ones, reflecting the undercurrent of racism that existed throughout the fighting.
Brundage offers personality studies of important decision makers like General H. Winder who was the architect of the Confederate POW system and created the abhorrent prison pens and guidelines for treatment of union captives. Winder, like other Confederate officials, never fully accepted the obligation to provide for POWs in the absence of exchanges. They saw prisoners as a security liability that imposed no ethical imperative. Union decisions were left in the hands of Lt. Colonel William Hoffman who under orders from Quartermaster General Montgomery Meigs, implemented strict, frugal policies to manage Northern camps and would always respond to the maltreatment of Union soldiers in Confederate hands with similar treatment in Union prisons. On both sides government officials found it difficult to find competent men to run and supervise the camps leading to men like Captain Henry Wirz who oversaw Belle Island and Andersonville and later was hanged for his treatment of Union prisoners.
1863 became the turning point for the treatment of POWs as the south’s low population did not produce enough prisoners to try and keep prisoner exchanges going. The result was Confederate prison populations markedly increased. Prisons would evolve from temporary holding pens to long term captivity facilities, the new prisons by design were mercilessly primitive leading to appalling conditions which the author carefully delineates.
An interesting component of the book is how Brundage explores the social hierarchy of the prison populations. Each prison developed their own culture and tasks for the prisoners who in many cases policed themselves. They would create cultural and sports activities to pass the time and would rely on each other for survival as they dealt with the “half-witted cruelty” dealt out by prison guards and an environment that lacked any semblance of privacy. It was clear that those men who established social bonds were better able to survive than those who did not. Many POWs equated captivity with slavery!
It is clear that on both sides the war took precedence over the treatment and plight of POWs. Brundage’s chapters dealing with medical care bears this out as for the first time governments had to experiment with improving medical care on a scale they had never experienced. The problem rested on the lack of any effective medical infrastructure to train and appoint doctors to prison camps. Hunger was the key issue, and no medical care would suffice if food rations were inadequate. Even though the concept of the general hospital emerged from the war it did little to assist POWs who suffered from scurvy, diarrhea, exposure, and diseases like smallpox as overcrowding made it easier for disease to spread. The hospital at Andersonville was described as a death house as 12,541 POWs died there between February 1864 and April 1865.
As the war spread to areas where prison camps were located POWs had to be moved quickly. Brundage’s example of General Sherman’s march through Georgia perfectly encapsulates the problem as prisons were about to be overrun. Prisoners were transported by train, steamboat, and walking as prisoners were subjected to a captivity that saw them travel over 2000 miles throughout the south in a period of ten months. The process was brutal for prisoners and reflects a key component of the horrors they had to endure.
Once the war was concluded between April and November 1865 about 800,000 prisoners were transported home. Brundage spends the last hundred pages of his study exploring topics that included legal responsibility for the atrocities that are associated with the treatment of POWs, the trials and tribulations they experienced upon release, particularly readapting to society which today we would place under the heading Post-traumatic Stress Syndrome which the author does not mention, and how the war and its prison systems were described in the art and literature that followed for the next century.
Brundage focuses on a number of ancillary topics as he closes his study. First and foremost are the Civil War created precedents that come under the heading of war crimes. By 1862 allegations of deliberate cruelty against Union prisoners had accumulated and influenced Union policies . With victory the opportunity presented itself based on Lincoln’s General Order 100 to support the concept that transgressions by the enemy would be punished which would lead to the prosecution of Henry Wirz and other former Confederates which would establish a precedent not only for American law but international law. The trials are seen as the origin of the modern prosecution of war crimes.
Lincoln appointed Judge Advocate Joseph Holt to oversee the prosecutions who believed it “was essential to deprive the rebellion it’s architects of any residue of legitimacy.” The trials were designed to strip the Confederacy of any esteem or honor it still retained. Interestingly the two men most responsible for Confederate policies, President Jefferson Davis and Secretary of War James Sedden were never tried due to the attitude of President Andrew Johnson and the acceptance that justice was sacrificed in the craven pursuit of reconciliation. Another important issue Brundage raises is the concept of “custodial” POW camps. Over time they were generally accepted, the problem was how they could be effectively run with less negative impact on prisoners. However, these types of camps would appear in the future ranging from the Boer War, the war in the Philippines, World War I and II and onward.
In the end Brundage offers a deeply researched and well written account of Civil War prisons. It is a sensitive and important study of a neglected topic, whose implications go far beyond the battlefields of the war between the states to present day conflicts be it Ukraine, Iran, Lebanon, Gaza and elsewhere.
Brundage has written the most comprehensive monograph dealing with Civil War prisoners relying on diaries of the prisoners and officials who ran the camps in addition to other primary and secondary sources. Brundage’s account seems to cover every aspect of his topic ranging from the governments that controlled the prisons, the personalities on both sides that were the decision makers in determining prison policies, the travel that prisoners were subjected to, the training, or lack of training for Doctors, the exchange of prisoners, to the different treatment of officers and regular troops, and post-war issues. The author begins his study by introducing Andrew Jackson Riddle, a photographer who chronicled the only visual record of the notorious Confederate prison – Andersonville. Riddle would become a witness to the “mass prison pens” and produced a catalogue of POW experiences matched by few written accounts. Riddle’s photographs provided incontrovertible evidence supporting the written descriptions offered by POWs, i.e., acute deprivation, no permanent buildings to house prisoners, absence of sanitary facilities, and extreme overcrowding. Though Riddle’s photos dealt with Andersonville the author offers evidence that it was the norm not the exception in Civil War prisons, Confederate and Union, however it must be noted the Confederate prisons were crueler.
Brundage’s template for each topic is to introduce a historical figure; a soldier, a physician, an officer, government bureaucrat, or family member at the start of a chapter and build the storyline around that figure. The author develops a number of important themes which are the core of the monograph. First, as the fighting progressed and the war lasted from year to year the treatment of prisoners and the facilities they were incarcerated in declined precipitously. A second important theme rests on how prisoners were exchanged, which greatly impacted the number of POWs who languished in captivity. The Confederate authorities refused to exchange black soldiers for white soldiers on an equal basis leading to President Lincoln’s refusal to continue to exchange prisoners equally which was the standard for the first two years of the war. Lincoln ruled out any further prisoner exchanges as long as black soldiers were excluded. In July 1863 he ordered that for any union soldier killed in violation of the laws of war, a Confederate prisoner would be executed; for any returned to slavery, a Confederate prisoner would be sent to hard labor. The Confederate view that a black soldier was nothing more than an escaped slave greatly impacted decision-making on both sides especially after the announcement of the Emancipation Proclamation and Lincoln’s realization that black soldiers were needed to help win the war. The key point is that had prisoner exchanges continued throughout the war, the prison population would have been greatly reduced leading to better care of POWs. Men like Walt Whitman argued that he was willing to sacrifice black POWs if it would save white ones, reflecting the undercurrent of racism that existed throughout the fighting.
Brundage offers personality studies of important decision makers like General H. Winder who was the architect of the Confederate POW system and created the abhorrent prison pens and guidelines for treatment of union captives. Winder, like other Confederate officials, never fully accepted the obligation to provide for POWs in the absence of exchanges. They saw prisoners as a security liability that imposed no ethical imperative. Union decisions were left in the hands of Lt. Colonel William Hoffman who under orders from Quartermaster General Montgomery Meigs, implemented strict, frugal policies to manage Northern camps and would always respond to the maltreatment of Union soldiers in Confederate hands with similar treatment in Union prisons. On both sides government officials found it difficult to find competent men to run and supervise the camps leading to men like Captain Henry Wirz who oversaw Belle Island and Andersonville and later was hanged for his treatment of Union prisoners.
1863 became the turning point for the treatment of POWs as the south’s low population did not produce enough prisoners to try and keep prisoner exchanges going. The result was Confederate prison populations markedly increased. Prisons would evolve from temporary holding pens to long term captivity facilities, the new prisons by design were mercilessly primitive leading to appalling conditions which the author carefully delineates.
An interesting component of the book is how Brundage explores the social hierarchy of the prison populations. Each prison developed their own culture and tasks for the prisoners who in many cases policed themselves. They would create cultural and sports activities to pass the time and would rely on each other for survival as they dealt with the “half-witted cruelty” dealt out by prison guards and an environment that lacked any semblance of privacy. It was clear that those men who established social bonds were better able to survive than those who did not. Many POWs equated captivity with slavery!
It is clear that on both sides the war took precedence over the treatment and plight of POWs. Brundage’s chapters dealing with medical care bears this out as for the first time governments had to experiment with improving medical care on a scale they had never experienced. The problem rested on the lack of any effective medical infrastructure to train and appoint doctors to prison camps. Hunger was the key issue, and no medical care would suffice if food rations were inadequate. Even though the concept of the general hospital emerged from the war it did little to assist POWs who suffered from scurvy, diarrhea, exposure, and diseases like smallpox as overcrowding made it easier for disease to spread. The hospital at Andersonville was described as a death house as 12,541 POWs died there between February 1864 and April 1865.
As the war spread to areas where prison camps were located POWs had to be moved quickly. Brundage’s example of General Sherman’s march through Georgia perfectly encapsulates the problem as prisons were about to be overrun. Prisoners were transported by train, steamboat, and walking as prisoners were subjected to a captivity that saw them travel over 2000 miles throughout the south in a period of ten months. The process was brutal for prisoners and reflects a key component of the horrors they had to endure.
Once the war was concluded between April and November 1865 about 800,000 prisoners were transported home. Brundage spends the last hundred pages of his study exploring topics that included legal responsibility for the atrocities that are associated with the treatment of POWs, the trials and tribulations they experienced upon release, particularly readapting to society which today we would place under the heading Post-traumatic Stress Syndrome which the author does not mention, and how the war and its prison systems were described in the art and literature that followed for the next century.
Brundage focuses on a number of ancillary topics as he closes his study. First and foremost are the Civil War created precedents that come under the heading of war crimes. By 1862 allegations of deliberate cruelty against Union prisoners had accumulated and influenced Union policies . With victory the opportunity presented itself based on Lincoln’s General Order 100 to support the concept that transgressions by the enemy would be punished which would lead to the prosecution of Henry Wirz and other former Confederates which would establish a precedent not only for American law but international law. The trials are seen as the origin of the modern prosecution of war crimes.
Lincoln appointed Judge Advocate Joseph Holt to oversee the prosecutions who believed it “was essential to deprive the rebellion it’s architects of any residue of legitimacy.” The trials were designed to strip the Confederacy of any esteem or honor it still retained. Interestingly the two men most responsible for Confederate policies, President Jefferson Davis and Secretary of War James Sedden were never tried due to the attitude of President Andrew Johnson and the acceptance that justice was sacrificed in the craven pursuit of reconciliation. Another important issue Brundage raises is the concept of “custodial” POW camps. Over time they were generally accepted, the problem was how they could be effectively run with less negative impact on prisoners. However, these types of camps would appear in the future ranging from the Boer War, the war in the Philippines, World War I and II and onward.
In the end Brundage offers a deeply researched and well written account of Civil War prisons. It is a sensitive and important study of a neglected topic, whose implications go far beyond the battlefields of the war between the states to present day conflicts be it Ukraine, Iran, Lebanon, Gaza and elsewhere.
July 28, 2026
A Fate Worse Than Hell: American Prisoners of the Civil War by W. Fitzhugh Brundage
W. Fitzhugh Brundage's A Fate Worse Than Hell: American Prisoners of the Civil War is a powerful and thoroughly researched examination of one of the darkest aspects of the Civil War. Rather than focusing only on notorious prison camps like Andersonville or Elmira, Brundage explores the entire prisoner-of-war experience, from capture and imprisonment to exchange, release, and the lasting effects of captivity. He places Civil War prisons within the broader context of the conflict, showing how politics, military strategy, logistics, and dwindling resources shaped the fate of hundreds of thousands of prisoners.
One of the book's greatest strengths is its balanced treatment of both Union and Confederate prisoners. Brundage avoids assigning blame to one side and instead demonstrates how the collapse of the prisoner exchange system, overcrowding, disease, food shortages, and the increasingly brutal nature of the war contributed to suffering on both sides. His objective approach allows readers to better understand the complexity of the prison system without reducing it to a simple story of heroes and villains.
The book opens with Andersonville Prison, perhaps the most infamous prison camp of the Civil War. Brundage introduces readers to the prison through the work of photographer Andrew J. Riddle, who visited Andersonville in 1864 and documented its horrific conditions. His photographs remain among the only wartime images of the prison and provide an invaluable visual record of the suffering that occurred there.
Brundage also provides an excellent history of the prisoner-of-war system, tracing its development from the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812 through the Civil War. This background helps explain how prisoner exchanges evolved and why the Dix-Hill Cartel eventually collapsed. As exchanges ended, prison populations grew dramatically, overwhelming both governments and contributing to the overcrowding and poor conditions that became associated with Civil War prisons.
Another interesting aspect of the book is its discussion of the logistical challenges both governments faced. Housing, feeding, clothing, and providing medical care for tens of thousands of prisoners became an enormous undertaking. The Confederacy, in particular, struggled to find adequate facilities for Union prisoners, forcing many to be moved repeatedly between temporary camps, warehouses, and overcrowded prisons. Brigadier General Michael Corcoran, for example, was transferred several times before finally being exchanged.
Brundage also explains the difficulty of simply keeping track of prisoners. Both the Union and Confederacy operated prisons across vast geographic areas, making accurate recordkeeping a constant challenge. Transportation problems, supply shortages, and limited medical resources only made an already difficult situation worse. Rather than excusing the terrible conditions, Brundage shows how these logistical failures contributed to the immense suffering experienced by prisoners.
The most heartbreaking section of the book examines the lasting psychological effects of imprisonment. Many prisoners survived captivity but were forever changed by the experience. William Lightcap reportedly continued searching his food for insects long after returning home. Henry Lubker believed he was still imprisoned and remained preoccupied with finding escape routes. Waitstill Hastings lived in constant fear, hiding from strangers and believing bloodhounds were chasing him. He later died by suicide at just 47 years old. David Penman, an Andersonville survivor, suffered severe mental distress and was eventually institutionalized. These stories demonstrate that the suffering did not end when prisoners were released. For many, the emotional wounds lasted the rest of their lives.
Throughout the book, Brundage supports his conclusions with letters, diaries, official records, newspapers, photographs, and personal memoirs. His extensive research allows him to combine scholarly analysis with moving personal stories, making the experiences of individual prisoners feel immediate and human. Although the subject matter is difficult, the writing remains engaging and accessible.
This is not an easy book to read because the subject itself is deeply unsettling. The descriptions of starvation, disease, overcrowding, inadequate medical care, and emotional trauma serve as a sobering reminder that the horrors of the Civil War extended far beyond the battlefield. Brundage successfully shows that the experiences of prisoners deserve to be remembered alongside the stories of the soldiers who fought in combat.
I would highly recommend A Fate Worse Than Hell to anyone interested in American history or the Civil War. It is one of the most complete and balanced studies of the Civil War prison system that I have read. Brundage presents a thoughtful examination of the policies, logistics, and human suffering that defined the prisoner-of-war experience while honoring the men who endured one of the war's greatest hardships.
W. Fitzhugh Brundage's A Fate Worse Than Hell: American Prisoners of the Civil War is a powerful and thoroughly researched examination of one of the darkest aspects of the Civil War. Rather than focusing only on notorious prison camps like Andersonville or Elmira, Brundage explores the entire prisoner-of-war experience, from capture and imprisonment to exchange, release, and the lasting effects of captivity. He places Civil War prisons within the broader context of the conflict, showing how politics, military strategy, logistics, and dwindling resources shaped the fate of hundreds of thousands of prisoners.
One of the book's greatest strengths is its balanced treatment of both Union and Confederate prisoners. Brundage avoids assigning blame to one side and instead demonstrates how the collapse of the prisoner exchange system, overcrowding, disease, food shortages, and the increasingly brutal nature of the war contributed to suffering on both sides. His objective approach allows readers to better understand the complexity of the prison system without reducing it to a simple story of heroes and villains.
The book opens with Andersonville Prison, perhaps the most infamous prison camp of the Civil War. Brundage introduces readers to the prison through the work of photographer Andrew J. Riddle, who visited Andersonville in 1864 and documented its horrific conditions. His photographs remain among the only wartime images of the prison and provide an invaluable visual record of the suffering that occurred there.
Brundage also provides an excellent history of the prisoner-of-war system, tracing its development from the Revolutionary War and the War of 1812 through the Civil War. This background helps explain how prisoner exchanges evolved and why the Dix-Hill Cartel eventually collapsed. As exchanges ended, prison populations grew dramatically, overwhelming both governments and contributing to the overcrowding and poor conditions that became associated with Civil War prisons.
Another interesting aspect of the book is its discussion of the logistical challenges both governments faced. Housing, feeding, clothing, and providing medical care for tens of thousands of prisoners became an enormous undertaking. The Confederacy, in particular, struggled to find adequate facilities for Union prisoners, forcing many to be moved repeatedly between temporary camps, warehouses, and overcrowded prisons. Brigadier General Michael Corcoran, for example, was transferred several times before finally being exchanged.
Brundage also explains the difficulty of simply keeping track of prisoners. Both the Union and Confederacy operated prisons across vast geographic areas, making accurate recordkeeping a constant challenge. Transportation problems, supply shortages, and limited medical resources only made an already difficult situation worse. Rather than excusing the terrible conditions, Brundage shows how these logistical failures contributed to the immense suffering experienced by prisoners.
The most heartbreaking section of the book examines the lasting psychological effects of imprisonment. Many prisoners survived captivity but were forever changed by the experience. William Lightcap reportedly continued searching his food for insects long after returning home. Henry Lubker believed he was still imprisoned and remained preoccupied with finding escape routes. Waitstill Hastings lived in constant fear, hiding from strangers and believing bloodhounds were chasing him. He later died by suicide at just 47 years old. David Penman, an Andersonville survivor, suffered severe mental distress and was eventually institutionalized. These stories demonstrate that the suffering did not end when prisoners were released. For many, the emotional wounds lasted the rest of their lives.
Throughout the book, Brundage supports his conclusions with letters, diaries, official records, newspapers, photographs, and personal memoirs. His extensive research allows him to combine scholarly analysis with moving personal stories, making the experiences of individual prisoners feel immediate and human. Although the subject matter is difficult, the writing remains engaging and accessible.
This is not an easy book to read because the subject itself is deeply unsettling. The descriptions of starvation, disease, overcrowding, inadequate medical care, and emotional trauma serve as a sobering reminder that the horrors of the Civil War extended far beyond the battlefield. Brundage successfully shows that the experiences of prisoners deserve to be remembered alongside the stories of the soldiers who fought in combat.
I would highly recommend A Fate Worse Than Hell to anyone interested in American history or the Civil War. It is one of the most complete and balanced studies of the Civil War prison system that I have read. Brundage presents a thoughtful examination of the policies, logistics, and human suffering that defined the prisoner-of-war experience while honoring the men who endured one of the war's greatest hardships.
March 3, 2026
A Fate Worse Than Hell: American Prisoners of the Civil War by W. Fitzhugh Brundage looks at the less glamorous side of the American Civil War. The glory is found in thumping battles and rousing last stands—people don’t enjoy reading about men who die from diarrhoea and dysentery. But that was the fate for thousands and thousands of men unknowingly sentenced to death in prison camps, where disease festered and soldiers suffered in torment before finally expiring.
That is what this book covers, and it is thorough on the subject. It goes into the beginnings of the prison camps and how there was a “civility” applied to those taken, as well as an expectation of agreements seen through due to sense of honour, into the Confederate and Union soldiers squabbling over excess captives to be paroled, to black soldiers not being treated as equals and prompting shows of protection from the Union. It also explores how the awful conditions of Andersonville formed from the Confederacy’s intransigence in exchanging black soldiers.
I learned a great deal, like how in the early years of the war, the prison camps often put on plays and played baseball. Probably my favourite section was “Alleviation?” which was about the medical treatment (or really lack thereof) that took place in the prison camps. Thousands dying (on both sides!) from diarrhoea-related illnesses that could have easily been prevented in some instances by attempting more rigorous draining and disposal of waste and water that collected said waste.
Another favourite was “Can These Be Men?” because it detailed the suffering endured and often put a face to the pain. It also showed that the men were touched by their time in the camps, like William H. Lightcamp picking through his food for bugs even decades after the war ended, or Henry Clay Mettam struggling to sleep on a feather pillow and preferring pillows with straw that reminded him of his captivity. Poor Waitstill Hastings had dug a tunnel and escaped and was so tormented by fears ever after of bloodhounds and strangers that he killed himself years after.
The quotes and excerpts from diaries are great and make it even easier to feel what the soldiers felt, especially when the author noted here and there that they expired shortly after they wrote the quoted passaged. Brundage is great at laying everything out, showing that there was suffering in the Union and Confederate camps, even if the pain endured was due to different circumstances.
I think this book is accessible even for people who may not know a lot about the Civil War because many of the people within are just everyday folks who went off and—in many cases—never made it home again.
I received a copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
That is what this book covers, and it is thorough on the subject. It goes into the beginnings of the prison camps and how there was a “civility” applied to those taken, as well as an expectation of agreements seen through due to sense of honour, into the Confederate and Union soldiers squabbling over excess captives to be paroled, to black soldiers not being treated as equals and prompting shows of protection from the Union. It also explores how the awful conditions of Andersonville formed from the Confederacy’s intransigence in exchanging black soldiers.
I learned a great deal, like how in the early years of the war, the prison camps often put on plays and played baseball. Probably my favourite section was “Alleviation?” which was about the medical treatment (or really lack thereof) that took place in the prison camps. Thousands dying (on both sides!) from diarrhoea-related illnesses that could have easily been prevented in some instances by attempting more rigorous draining and disposal of waste and water that collected said waste.
Another favourite was “Can These Be Men?” because it detailed the suffering endured and often put a face to the pain. It also showed that the men were touched by their time in the camps, like William H. Lightcamp picking through his food for bugs even decades after the war ended, or Henry Clay Mettam struggling to sleep on a feather pillow and preferring pillows with straw that reminded him of his captivity. Poor Waitstill Hastings had dug a tunnel and escaped and was so tormented by fears ever after of bloodhounds and strangers that he killed himself years after.
The quotes and excerpts from diaries are great and make it even easier to feel what the soldiers felt, especially when the author noted here and there that they expired shortly after they wrote the quoted passaged. Brundage is great at laying everything out, showing that there was suffering in the Union and Confederate camps, even if the pain endured was due to different circumstances.
I think this book is accessible even for people who may not know a lot about the Civil War because many of the people within are just everyday folks who went off and—in many cases—never made it home again.
I received a copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
September 4, 2026
There are certain subjects in Civil War history that seem almost impossible to avoid. Gettysburg, Antietam, Vicksburg, Sherman’s March, Appomattox, Lincoln, Grant, Lee—the familiar landmarks of a war that has been examined from seemingly every possible angle. I am very familiar with the Civil War and its history, and yet W. Fitzhugh Brundage’s A Fate Worse Than Hell: American Prisoners of the Civil War managed to make me feel as though I had stumbled into an entirely different war hiding in plain sight. I knew the prisons were horrific. Anyone who has read even a passing account of Andersonville or Libby Prison knows that. What I had not encountered with quite this depth was the larger history of captivity: how the prison system developed, why it collapsed, what prisoners endured on both sides, and how profoundly those experiences shaped the men who survived them.
Brundage’s book is, above all, a history of approximately 400,000 Union and Confederate soldiers who became prisoners during the war. That number is staggering when considered alongside the rest of the conflict. Roughly one soldier in five faced capture, meaning imprisonment was not some obscure footnote to the war but an experience that touched an enormous portion of the armies.
The book begins at Andersonville, which is perhaps the most recognizable symbol of Civil War imprisonment, and Brundage uses the camp—and especially the photographs taken by Andrew Jackson Riddle—to establish just how terrible the prison experience could become. Andersonville was overcrowded almost beyond comprehension. Men were deprived of adequate food, clean water, shelter, sanitation, clothing and medical care. Disease and starvation became as deadly as any battlefield weapon. At its peak, more than 30,000 prisoners were confined there.
But one of the things I appreciated most about the book is that Brundage does not simply write another history of Andersonville. He uses it as a doorway into the entire system.
Early in the war, imprisonment could look remarkably different. The Union and Confederacy established a system of paroles and prisoner exchanges, and captured soldiers could sometimes expect relatively humane treatment while awaiting their return. Officers in particular could enjoy considerably more freedom than enlisted men. There was still an assumption, however fragile, that the conventions of military honor would govern captivity.
That system gradually unraveled, and the issue of Black soldiers proved to be the breaking point. Once African American men began serving in significant numbers in the Union armies, the Confederacy refused to recognize them as legitimate prisoners of war. Black soldiers could instead be enslaved, murdered or subjected to treatment entirely different from that accorded white prisoners. The Lincoln administration responded by refusing to continue prisoner exchanges unless Black soldiers received the same recognition and treatment. The resulting deadlock had devastating consequences for everyone.
This is one of Brundage’s strongest arguments: the horrors of the prison camps were not simply an inevitable consequence of the chaos of war. Decisions made by human beings created the conditions in which those horrors became possible. The breakdown of exchanges meant that men who previously might have spent weeks or months in captivity were now held indefinitely. Camps swelled into enormous prison populations, creating what Brundage describes as essentially new experiments in mass incarceration.
And this is where the book becomes genuinely harrowing.
The Confederate prison system was unquestionably worse overall. Andersonville is the obvious example, but Brundage makes clear that it was not an isolated aberration. Confederate prisoners routinely confronted extreme shortages of food, medicine, clothing and infrastructure. Disease spread rapidly through overcrowded camps, while dysentery, exposure and starvation became constant threats. Confederate authorities were attempting to maintain enormous prison populations while their own armies and civilian population were suffering from catastrophic shortages. But Brundage refuses to allow logistical collapse to become an excuse for everything that happened. Policy, decisions and indifference mattered.
The Union camps were not humane simply because they were Union camps.
Confederate prisoners held in places such as Point Lookout and Elmira endured overcrowding, disease, inadequate shelter, hunger and psychological misery. Men froze, became sick and watched their comrades die. The North possessed considerably greater resources than the Confederacy, and that difference mattered enormously, but Brundage demonstrates that Union captivity could still be brutal and dehumanizing. The crucial distinction is one of degree: approximately 194,000 Union soldiers and 214,000 Confederate soldiers were imprisoned, but Confederate prisoners held by the Union had a significantly higher survival rate than Union prisoners held by the Confederacy.
I found this balance particularly effective. There is no attempt to flatten the historical record into a convenient “both sides were equally terrible” argument. They were not. Confederate prisons produced a higher mortality rate and operated under far more catastrophic material conditions. At the same time, Brundage is unwilling to sanitize the Union system simply because the North ultimately won the war. That makes the book much more interesting than a simple catalogue of atrocities.
What also struck me was the attention given to the ordinary routines of imprisonment. Prisoners had to figure out how to eat, sleep, communicate, worship, entertain themselves and maintain some semblance of community. Food became currency and power. Letters became lifelines. Games and religious services offered tiny islands of normality. Men formed friendships and systems of mutual aid even while surrounded by disease, hunger and death. These details make the prisoners feel like individuals rather than statistics.
The final sections of the book expand beyond the war itself and examine what happened to these men—and to the memory of the prisons—after Appomattox. The trial and execution of Henry Wirz, the commander of Andersonville, becomes part of a larger discussion about war crimes and accountability. Brundage shows how the United States briefly confronted the possibility that the Civil War might establish new precedents in international law before political realities and sectional reconciliation pushed much of that reckoning aside. The experiences of Civil War prisoners would nevertheless influence later attempts to codify the treatment of prisoners of war.
Perhaps the most disturbing thing about A Fate Worse Than Hell is how easy it is to see the modern implications. These were some of America's earliest experiments with imprisonment on a truly massive scale, and Brundage shows how quickly human beings can become numbers once a system is designed to contain rather than care for them.
I came away from this book with a very different understanding of the Civil War. I already knew the battles. I knew the politics. I knew the generals. But the prison system represents an enormous parallel history of the conflict, one involving hundreds of thousands of men whose war did not end when they were captured. In some cases, capture was only the beginning.
This is an amazing piece of historical work. It is meticulously researched, deeply unsettling and enormously valuable. Brundage has taken something that I thought I understood—the Civil War prison system—and forced me to look at it again from every direction. A Fate Worse Than Hell reminded me that there are still corners of even the most heavily studied periods of American history where the deeper you dig, the more there is to uncover. And in this case, what is buried there is horrifying, heartbreaking and absolutely worth remembering.
Brundage’s book is, above all, a history of approximately 400,000 Union and Confederate soldiers who became prisoners during the war. That number is staggering when considered alongside the rest of the conflict. Roughly one soldier in five faced capture, meaning imprisonment was not some obscure footnote to the war but an experience that touched an enormous portion of the armies.
The book begins at Andersonville, which is perhaps the most recognizable symbol of Civil War imprisonment, and Brundage uses the camp—and especially the photographs taken by Andrew Jackson Riddle—to establish just how terrible the prison experience could become. Andersonville was overcrowded almost beyond comprehension. Men were deprived of adequate food, clean water, shelter, sanitation, clothing and medical care. Disease and starvation became as deadly as any battlefield weapon. At its peak, more than 30,000 prisoners were confined there.
But one of the things I appreciated most about the book is that Brundage does not simply write another history of Andersonville. He uses it as a doorway into the entire system.
Early in the war, imprisonment could look remarkably different. The Union and Confederacy established a system of paroles and prisoner exchanges, and captured soldiers could sometimes expect relatively humane treatment while awaiting their return. Officers in particular could enjoy considerably more freedom than enlisted men. There was still an assumption, however fragile, that the conventions of military honor would govern captivity.
That system gradually unraveled, and the issue of Black soldiers proved to be the breaking point. Once African American men began serving in significant numbers in the Union armies, the Confederacy refused to recognize them as legitimate prisoners of war. Black soldiers could instead be enslaved, murdered or subjected to treatment entirely different from that accorded white prisoners. The Lincoln administration responded by refusing to continue prisoner exchanges unless Black soldiers received the same recognition and treatment. The resulting deadlock had devastating consequences for everyone.
This is one of Brundage’s strongest arguments: the horrors of the prison camps were not simply an inevitable consequence of the chaos of war. Decisions made by human beings created the conditions in which those horrors became possible. The breakdown of exchanges meant that men who previously might have spent weeks or months in captivity were now held indefinitely. Camps swelled into enormous prison populations, creating what Brundage describes as essentially new experiments in mass incarceration.
And this is where the book becomes genuinely harrowing.
The Confederate prison system was unquestionably worse overall. Andersonville is the obvious example, but Brundage makes clear that it was not an isolated aberration. Confederate prisoners routinely confronted extreme shortages of food, medicine, clothing and infrastructure. Disease spread rapidly through overcrowded camps, while dysentery, exposure and starvation became constant threats. Confederate authorities were attempting to maintain enormous prison populations while their own armies and civilian population were suffering from catastrophic shortages. But Brundage refuses to allow logistical collapse to become an excuse for everything that happened. Policy, decisions and indifference mattered.
The Union camps were not humane simply because they were Union camps.
Confederate prisoners held in places such as Point Lookout and Elmira endured overcrowding, disease, inadequate shelter, hunger and psychological misery. Men froze, became sick and watched their comrades die. The North possessed considerably greater resources than the Confederacy, and that difference mattered enormously, but Brundage demonstrates that Union captivity could still be brutal and dehumanizing. The crucial distinction is one of degree: approximately 194,000 Union soldiers and 214,000 Confederate soldiers were imprisoned, but Confederate prisoners held by the Union had a significantly higher survival rate than Union prisoners held by the Confederacy.
I found this balance particularly effective. There is no attempt to flatten the historical record into a convenient “both sides were equally terrible” argument. They were not. Confederate prisons produced a higher mortality rate and operated under far more catastrophic material conditions. At the same time, Brundage is unwilling to sanitize the Union system simply because the North ultimately won the war. That makes the book much more interesting than a simple catalogue of atrocities.
What also struck me was the attention given to the ordinary routines of imprisonment. Prisoners had to figure out how to eat, sleep, communicate, worship, entertain themselves and maintain some semblance of community. Food became currency and power. Letters became lifelines. Games and religious services offered tiny islands of normality. Men formed friendships and systems of mutual aid even while surrounded by disease, hunger and death. These details make the prisoners feel like individuals rather than statistics.
The final sections of the book expand beyond the war itself and examine what happened to these men—and to the memory of the prisons—after Appomattox. The trial and execution of Henry Wirz, the commander of Andersonville, becomes part of a larger discussion about war crimes and accountability. Brundage shows how the United States briefly confronted the possibility that the Civil War might establish new precedents in international law before political realities and sectional reconciliation pushed much of that reckoning aside. The experiences of Civil War prisoners would nevertheless influence later attempts to codify the treatment of prisoners of war.
Perhaps the most disturbing thing about A Fate Worse Than Hell is how easy it is to see the modern implications. These were some of America's earliest experiments with imprisonment on a truly massive scale, and Brundage shows how quickly human beings can become numbers once a system is designed to contain rather than care for them.
I came away from this book with a very different understanding of the Civil War. I already knew the battles. I knew the politics. I knew the generals. But the prison system represents an enormous parallel history of the conflict, one involving hundreds of thousands of men whose war did not end when they were captured. In some cases, capture was only the beginning.
This is an amazing piece of historical work. It is meticulously researched, deeply unsettling and enormously valuable. Brundage has taken something that I thought I understood—the Civil War prison system—and forced me to look at it again from every direction. A Fate Worse Than Hell reminded me that there are still corners of even the most heavily studied periods of American history where the deeper you dig, the more there is to uncover. And in this case, what is buried there is horrifying, heartbreaking and absolutely worth remembering.
May 30, 2026
Mulling over this one a bit.
Historiography-wise this book systematically takes Hesseltine’s prison book to task, and ultimately has a chapter / section landing blow after blow to Hesseltine’s work.
This book is steeped in first hand anecdotes derived from memoirs, letters, and diaries and used as the entrails of the arguments put forth by the author. This is in sharpe contrast to Hesseltine, who, as Brundage points out, completely ignores any and all such evidence.
Brundage buries the lead - he doesn’t get to Hesseltine until the end of the work. Only then does it click in a larger picture what he was doing in the previous chapters.
Solid work, giving the reader much to consider or reconsider.
Oddly, there is no exploration of prisoners who ‘galvanized’ - switching sides to escape the horrors of the prisons. While not a large group, the opportunity is missed to show that Lincoln offered an escape from the stuck exchange system by authorizing the Oath of Allegiance amongst his Proclamation of Amnesty and Reconstruction in December 1863. The opportunity to take the Oath, as part of Lincoln’s reconstruction policy, gave many CSA prisoners a way out of a deadlocked system. Small quibbles? Perhaps. Maybe there just wasn’t any record beyond pensions that gave a good account of these men - no contemporary records.
Otherwise informative. A good addition to the historiography and a corrective overall. Paired with Hesseltine. And other current works.
Historiography-wise this book systematically takes Hesseltine’s prison book to task, and ultimately has a chapter / section landing blow after blow to Hesseltine’s work.
This book is steeped in first hand anecdotes derived from memoirs, letters, and diaries and used as the entrails of the arguments put forth by the author. This is in sharpe contrast to Hesseltine, who, as Brundage points out, completely ignores any and all such evidence.
Brundage buries the lead - he doesn’t get to Hesseltine until the end of the work. Only then does it click in a larger picture what he was doing in the previous chapters.
Solid work, giving the reader much to consider or reconsider.
Oddly, there is no exploration of prisoners who ‘galvanized’ - switching sides to escape the horrors of the prisons. While not a large group, the opportunity is missed to show that Lincoln offered an escape from the stuck exchange system by authorizing the Oath of Allegiance amongst his Proclamation of Amnesty and Reconstruction in December 1863. The opportunity to take the Oath, as part of Lincoln’s reconstruction policy, gave many CSA prisoners a way out of a deadlocked system. Small quibbles? Perhaps. Maybe there just wasn’t any record beyond pensions that gave a good account of these men - no contemporary records.
Otherwise informative. A good addition to the historiography and a corrective overall. Paired with Hesseltine. And other current works.
May 19, 2026
3/10. I’m such a history nerd, and I’m thrilled by history books that I feel are going to teach me something regarding a topic about which I know nothing. And this book had that potential!! This historical claim at the beginning positing that the American Civil War needs to be understood as the building blocks for how warfare, violence, POWs, and captivity is understood and the precursor to the violent practices, etc. seen in the World Wars was fascinating! But it felt like we immediately lost that thread. Additionally, it seemed to me like we’d be focusing more on the photographer and his images and how they helped us understand these prisons. We lost that, too. I understand the author was trying to cover multiple prisons, situations, etc, but it was a little all over the place. It felt as if he was telling one individual prisoner story after another, and I lost the overarching thread. It was obviously meticulously researched and still taught me some on prisoners in the Civil War, but, from a purely historical writing perspective, this was very disorganized.
April 12, 2026
I knew this was going to be a tough read before I even started; you don't read as many Civil War books as I have [and I have barely scratched the surface] and not get glimpses of how awful the prisoner of war camps were [especially Libby Prison and the notorious Andersonville], and I knew at some point I was going to have to read about about the camps/prisons and this is both that time and that book.
Filled with first-person accounts of survivors and their time in the POW camps/prisons, details of what happened in these camps, much that is still felt today [especially with our own ever-expanding prison system, and how dehumanizing people is still horrifically used] is nothing short of horrific and I am not sure how anyone survived, and those that DID, was it really surviving? Also explored is how laws around war and POW's were formed from these experiences [that then eventually became international law] as well as how, in the midst of horror, filth, and dehumanization, many of the prisoners themselves often showed more grace and compassion to each other [and is why many of the men DID live to tell the tales of the horrors they experienced] than one would have thought possible.
Filled with both horror and hope, this book will make you angry, will absolutely make you cry, and will make you think [and remember] about these men for a very long time.
Thank you to NetGalley, W. Fitzhugh Brundage, and W. W. Norton & Company for providing this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Filled with first-person accounts of survivors and their time in the POW camps/prisons, details of what happened in these camps, much that is still felt today [especially with our own ever-expanding prison system, and how dehumanizing people is still horrifically used] is nothing short of horrific and I am not sure how anyone survived, and those that DID, was it really surviving? Also explored is how laws around war and POW's were formed from these experiences [that then eventually became international law] as well as how, in the midst of horror, filth, and dehumanization, many of the prisoners themselves often showed more grace and compassion to each other [and is why many of the men DID live to tell the tales of the horrors they experienced] than one would have thought possible.
Filled with both horror and hope, this book will make you angry, will absolutely make you cry, and will make you think [and remember] about these men for a very long time.
Thank you to NetGalley, W. Fitzhugh Brundage, and W. W. Norton & Company for providing this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
May 3, 2026
Gripping account of American prisoners during the Civil War and the brutal conditions they endured. Brundage uses careful research to show the physical suffering, emotional strain, and lasting human cost of captivity. It is a powerful book that brings a harsh part of the war into clear focus.
September 28, 2026
I found this book to be rather dull. It could have been much better.
March 4, 2026
Excellent and thoroughly researched history of Civil War prisons, a largely overlooked aspect of Civil War history. This is not a glorious or inspiring history, but rather one of inhumanity and bureaucratic callousness. Brundage argues that the horrors of CW prisons were not accidental results of the chaos of war, but conscious and predictable policy decisions. Andersonville, for example, was set up with basically no infrastructure for housing, feeding, and providing medical treatment to soldiers. Camp administrators were callous at the top down, setting the tone that prisons would receive minimal support and accept massive death from disease and starvation as a matter of course. Captain Henry Wirz of Andersonville was of course callous, but his callousness reflected larger policy, for which he paid the ultimate price when he was executed after the war.
A few interesting themes stand out in this book. For example, Civil War POW practices marked a significant break in the history of warfare because of the collapse of parole and exchange systems that had defined most of warfare to this date. Most pre-modern or even early modern states had little desire or capacity to take and hold prisoners; they either killed, enslaved, paroled, or ransomed them. But in the Civil War, the initial system of paroling prisoners collapsed when the Confederacy decided to refuse to treat black soldiers as legitimate POWs, instead either killing them or enslaving them. Lincoln made the noble and politically costly decision that US soldiers would all be treated alike. This gummed up the transfer/parole system and led to the construction of massive camps on both sides. The U.S. camps were more well-administered but still deadly; the Confederacy's camps quickly became hellholes where tens of thousands died.
Brundage vividly shows what life was like in these camps, which became important precedents for the surge of concentration-type camps around the world in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. These prisons approached teh status of "total institutions," which simultaneous controlled and deprived their inmates. This was a major growth in the power of the state, one with terrifying consequences.
The Civil War camps, however, fell rapidly out of American memory. They are in no way heroic, in contrast to campaigns and battles. They were also the sites of the most gratuitous harms that Americans did to each other in this conflict. As national memory moved toward reconciliationism and the denial that the war was about slavery, the desire to memorialize the suffering of POWs or highlight the crimes of people like Wirz or Winder faded. As a result, many prison sites were neglected or even razed, and the prisons took up little space in public education about the war. It wasn't until a surge in interest in POWs after the Vietnam War that more attention was paid to Andersonville and other camps, leading to the building of the National POW Museum in the 1990s (which still paid little attention to the Civil War and focused instead on Vietnam and WWI.
Anyways, great book for people interested in the Civil War or the general topic of carcerality.
A few interesting themes stand out in this book. For example, Civil War POW practices marked a significant break in the history of warfare because of the collapse of parole and exchange systems that had defined most of warfare to this date. Most pre-modern or even early modern states had little desire or capacity to take and hold prisoners; they either killed, enslaved, paroled, or ransomed them. But in the Civil War, the initial system of paroling prisoners collapsed when the Confederacy decided to refuse to treat black soldiers as legitimate POWs, instead either killing them or enslaving them. Lincoln made the noble and politically costly decision that US soldiers would all be treated alike. This gummed up the transfer/parole system and led to the construction of massive camps on both sides. The U.S. camps were more well-administered but still deadly; the Confederacy's camps quickly became hellholes where tens of thousands died.
Brundage vividly shows what life was like in these camps, which became important precedents for the surge of concentration-type camps around the world in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. These prisons approached teh status of "total institutions," which simultaneous controlled and deprived their inmates. This was a major growth in the power of the state, one with terrifying consequences.
The Civil War camps, however, fell rapidly out of American memory. They are in no way heroic, in contrast to campaigns and battles. They were also the sites of the most gratuitous harms that Americans did to each other in this conflict. As national memory moved toward reconciliationism and the denial that the war was about slavery, the desire to memorialize the suffering of POWs or highlight the crimes of people like Wirz or Winder faded. As a result, many prison sites were neglected or even razed, and the prisons took up little space in public education about the war. It wasn't until a surge in interest in POWs after the Vietnam War that more attention was paid to Andersonville and other camps, leading to the building of the National POW Museum in the 1990s (which still paid little attention to the Civil War and focused instead on Vietnam and WWI.
Anyways, great book for people interested in the Civil War or the general topic of carcerality.
May 12, 2026
The prisoner-of-war experience is often condensed into individual situations, one-off events, or the consequence of sheer rotten luck in the wake of fraternal warfare. W. Fitzhugh Brundage, however, diverts from this trend by assessing the unique cultures that emerge in each spotlighted facility and addressing the systematic and administrative reasons behind one of the darkest aspects of the Civil War.
Brundage synthesizes what would typically be relegated to economic, political, or ideological studies on the war in order to holistically analyze prisoners, their captives, and their joint realities. Through a combination of personal diaries, daily reports, civilian reactions, and government actions, A Fate Worse Than Hell considers that the severity of prison life was not generally accidental or inevitable, but instead a result of decision-making and blurred lines between morality and duty spurred by national conflict.
This book is organized chronologically from the war’s beginning through to the legacy of imprisonment during Reconstruction. Rather than generalize prison life, this narrative expands on themes that permeate across borders, boundaries, and battlefields such as food rationing, poor hygiene, mail delivery, and religious observance during captivity. It emphasizes the critical fact that the impact of imprisonment extended way past wartime. By reflecting on the evolution of the prisoner-of-war system across history, Brundage’s arguments shed light on how radical, extreme, and unmanageable the system became in a few short years. As an author and historian, Brundage does not shy away from distressing topics, choosing to lean into the records and anecdotes in order to tell a grander, more complex tale than meets the eye.
A Fate Worse Than Hell complements the existing literature on Civil War prisons. It provides additional insights and necessary background information on the Union and Confederate systems, as well as how the two sides played on the other’s treatment of their captured soldiers. The subtitle, American Prisoners of the Civil War, negates an “us versus them” stance and unites the North and South under a common condition: prisoner status.
The continued inclusion of minority and specialized experiences, rather than a sole chapter dedicated to these populations, makes this publication stand out. The circumstances of the United States Colored Troops, pious prisoners, high-ranking officials, and the disobedient behind bars make regular appearances as their stories relate to introduced topics of discussion. This aspect truly harmonizes Brundage’s arguments instead of viewing them as isolated opinions.
As a student and active scholar of Civil War prisons, I particularly enjoyed Brundage’s broadened consideration of well-known facts about famous facilities, such as Andersonville or Elmira. Through exemplifying the experiences of handpicked prisoners, one gets a glimpse into not only the day-to-day schedule, but also the far-reaching impacts for the war itself. This book is perfect for both storied readers and newcomers to the subject due to its established authority and conversational tone.
Brundage synthesizes what would typically be relegated to economic, political, or ideological studies on the war in order to holistically analyze prisoners, their captives, and their joint realities. Through a combination of personal diaries, daily reports, civilian reactions, and government actions, A Fate Worse Than Hell considers that the severity of prison life was not generally accidental or inevitable, but instead a result of decision-making and blurred lines between morality and duty spurred by national conflict.
This book is organized chronologically from the war’s beginning through to the legacy of imprisonment during Reconstruction. Rather than generalize prison life, this narrative expands on themes that permeate across borders, boundaries, and battlefields such as food rationing, poor hygiene, mail delivery, and religious observance during captivity. It emphasizes the critical fact that the impact of imprisonment extended way past wartime. By reflecting on the evolution of the prisoner-of-war system across history, Brundage’s arguments shed light on how radical, extreme, and unmanageable the system became in a few short years. As an author and historian, Brundage does not shy away from distressing topics, choosing to lean into the records and anecdotes in order to tell a grander, more complex tale than meets the eye.
A Fate Worse Than Hell complements the existing literature on Civil War prisons. It provides additional insights and necessary background information on the Union and Confederate systems, as well as how the two sides played on the other’s treatment of their captured soldiers. The subtitle, American Prisoners of the Civil War, negates an “us versus them” stance and unites the North and South under a common condition: prisoner status.
The continued inclusion of minority and specialized experiences, rather than a sole chapter dedicated to these populations, makes this publication stand out. The circumstances of the United States Colored Troops, pious prisoners, high-ranking officials, and the disobedient behind bars make regular appearances as their stories relate to introduced topics of discussion. This aspect truly harmonizes Brundage’s arguments instead of viewing them as isolated opinions.
As a student and active scholar of Civil War prisons, I particularly enjoyed Brundage’s broadened consideration of well-known facts about famous facilities, such as Andersonville or Elmira. Through exemplifying the experiences of handpicked prisoners, one gets a glimpse into not only the day-to-day schedule, but also the far-reaching impacts for the war itself. This book is perfect for both storied readers and newcomers to the subject due to its established authority and conversational tone.
March 22, 2026
Thanks in part to a Pulitzer prize winning novel in 1956 (Andersonville), and a 1996 television movie ( Andersonville), the stories of the prisoners of war (POW) of the Civil War is not unknown to the average American. But where those two works center on the single infamous prison, W. Fitzhugh Brundage's A Fate Worse Than Hell: American Prisoners of the Civil War explores the issue of POWs up to the outbreak of the war, and then the shifting realities forced by politicians, economics of war, military campaigns and the central issues of the conflict: slavery.
Moving year by year through the American Civil War, Brundage centers the narrative on the lived experience of known individuals, biographing them and their experience making this a very human story. Alongside the POWs, Brundage also explore the work of the different military and government officials who shaped policy, negotiated for prisoner releases or those who ran or worked in the different prisons.
As is often the case in war, the beginning saw an ad hoc era of civility and equal exchanges. Especially when there had been little in the way of preparation for the scale of prisoners on either side. As the war continued and animosities settled, parole and exchange was offered less, and once African Americans were in the Union forces officially, the South refused to allow further exchanges, wit their understanding that an African American could not be treated as a soldier in the armed forces, but were either stolen property or seditious elements.
Brundage details the difficulties in finding adequate and suitable space for prison camps, frequently enumerating the diseased cramped conditions and lack of food or adequate medical care. These conditions were most widespread in the South, the Northern (or Federal) prisons could be crowded, but they did not suffer the same high mortality rate.
The central issues of the work are centered from the beginning by the detailing of the photographic work of Andrew Jackson Riddle who photographed Andersonville on August 16, 1864. And does not shy from the horrible conditions and that in some cases, the POWs constrained by circumstances, stole or killed from each other.
An extended concluding chapter traces the after war lives of the camps. Some living on only through the recorded accounts to the point where it is not clear where they physically were located. While at least one continues as repurposed materials in existing buildings. A troubling exploration of war and the unfortunate innovations that resulted, one of the clearest is the demonstration of the captivity for detaining thousands of men and the rapid movement of them through modern transportation networks.
Recommended to readers or researchers of the American Civil War, prisons or systems of war.
I received a free digital version of this book via NetGalley thanks to the publisher.
Moving year by year through the American Civil War, Brundage centers the narrative on the lived experience of known individuals, biographing them and their experience making this a very human story. Alongside the POWs, Brundage also explore the work of the different military and government officials who shaped policy, negotiated for prisoner releases or those who ran or worked in the different prisons.
As is often the case in war, the beginning saw an ad hoc era of civility and equal exchanges. Especially when there had been little in the way of preparation for the scale of prisoners on either side. As the war continued and animosities settled, parole and exchange was offered less, and once African Americans were in the Union forces officially, the South refused to allow further exchanges, wit their understanding that an African American could not be treated as a soldier in the armed forces, but were either stolen property or seditious elements.
Brundage details the difficulties in finding adequate and suitable space for prison camps, frequently enumerating the diseased cramped conditions and lack of food or adequate medical care. These conditions were most widespread in the South, the Northern (or Federal) prisons could be crowded, but they did not suffer the same high mortality rate.
The central issues of the work are centered from the beginning by the detailing of the photographic work of Andrew Jackson Riddle who photographed Andersonville on August 16, 1864. And does not shy from the horrible conditions and that in some cases, the POWs constrained by circumstances, stole or killed from each other.
An extended concluding chapter traces the after war lives of the camps. Some living on only through the recorded accounts to the point where it is not clear where they physically were located. While at least one continues as repurposed materials in existing buildings. A troubling exploration of war and the unfortunate innovations that resulted, one of the clearest is the demonstration of the captivity for detaining thousands of men and the rapid movement of them through modern transportation networks.
Recommended to readers or researchers of the American Civil War, prisons or systems of war.
I received a free digital version of this book via NetGalley thanks to the publisher.
August 15, 2026
Exploration of the prisoner of war experience during the Civil War. Over 400,000 soldiers, from both the Union and Confederacy, were held in prisoner of war camps during the course of the war. The book explores the day-t0-day existence of the men held captive, the climate that lead to the growth and deteriorating conditions within the camps and the long lasting impact these camps had on the soldiers themselves and on warfare in the future.
A comprehensive and highly readable work that gives precedence to the lives of soldiers who were swept up in the prison camps throughout the course of the Civil War. The treatment of prisoners left to languish in camps scattered throughout America was abysmal. The author gives this treatment a compelling human face. Time is spent with individual soldiers, both Northern and Southern, who were forced to contend with deplorable conditions. This was most evident in the Andersonville prison camp, located in Georgia. I learned a great deal from this book.
A comprehensive and highly readable work that gives precedence to the lives of soldiers who were swept up in the prison camps throughout the course of the Civil War. The treatment of prisoners left to languish in camps scattered throughout America was abysmal. The author gives this treatment a compelling human face. Time is spent with individual soldiers, both Northern and Southern, who were forced to contend with deplorable conditions. This was most evident in the Andersonville prison camp, located in Georgia. I learned a great deal from this book.
May 26, 2026
This is not a bad book,about American Civil War prison camps,but not an outstanding one.
The author spends a lot of time on Andersonville,which is probably the most infamous prison camps of the War.
But spends very little time on the prison camps in the North. Never a mention of Camp Randall,where the University of Wisconsin now play football. He has it on the map on the inside cover,but not a thing in the actual book.
I did enjoy the story of John January,since he's buried not far from my hometown.
I also appreciated his shout out to Benton McAdams in the acknowledgement section. I knew Benton through the old
AOL Civil War chat room,from many years ago. His book on the Rock Island prison camp,written many years ago,was a good one.
I also enjoyed how the author,brought an update on the survivors of the camps.
Overall,this is worth the read,but again I think not enough was written about the Northern prison camps.
The author spends a lot of time on Andersonville,which is probably the most infamous prison camps of the War.
But spends very little time on the prison camps in the North. Never a mention of Camp Randall,where the University of Wisconsin now play football. He has it on the map on the inside cover,but not a thing in the actual book.
I did enjoy the story of John January,since he's buried not far from my hometown.
I also appreciated his shout out to Benton McAdams in the acknowledgement section. I knew Benton through the old
AOL Civil War chat room,from many years ago. His book on the Rock Island prison camp,written many years ago,was a good one.
I also enjoyed how the author,brought an update on the survivors of the camps.
Overall,this is worth the read,but again I think not enough was written about the Northern prison camps.
July 4, 2026
As the prophecy foretold, I, a white man, am developing an interest in civil war history.
In reading the letters sent home from my great (x3) grandfather, many assumptions I had about the civil war broke open and revealed gaps in information in my own education. It is a a complete revelation to me that such massive and brutal prisoner of war camp operations happened on American soil- and that one camp is just a 50 minute drive away.
Brundage lays out an extensively researched look into the lives of prisoners, including things I wouldn’t have thought to ask, like the procession of religious services and past times. These details help paint a larger picture beyond just the details of survival, illness, and desperation.
The finer details of the structural collapse of these camps is over my head as a civil war history novice, but I took in the larger points.
The end, discussing the failures of remembering the camps and the danger that poses is particularly potent.
In reading the letters sent home from my great (x3) grandfather, many assumptions I had about the civil war broke open and revealed gaps in information in my own education. It is a a complete revelation to me that such massive and brutal prisoner of war camp operations happened on American soil- and that one camp is just a 50 minute drive away.
Brundage lays out an extensively researched look into the lives of prisoners, including things I wouldn’t have thought to ask, like the procession of religious services and past times. These details help paint a larger picture beyond just the details of survival, illness, and desperation.
The finer details of the structural collapse of these camps is over my head as a civil war history novice, but I took in the larger points.
The end, discussing the failures of remembering the camps and the danger that poses is particularly potent.
August 25, 2026
A well researched account of POW camps during the Civil War. The worst of the worst was Andersonville in Georgia. But, it was a matter of degree with other Confederate and Union camps.
It was an interesting, if brief, history of warring nations’ attitudes toward captured enemy, whether summarily killed or repatriated.
The Civil War, all of a sudden, amassed huge numbers of POWs on both sides. The encampments were abysmal, caused by a lack of resources, lack of needed hygiene knowledge and medical care, animosity on both sides, and a dollop of racism toward black Union recruits.
It’s a story of carnage where soldiers were more likely to succumb to the filth, inadequate shelter, and inadequate food within POW camps than the combatants waging war.
It does get into the weeds. So, the conditions of the camps and their effects on individuals are repeated over and over. But, again, the research is good, lending credence to the nastiness of war.
It was an interesting, if brief, history of warring nations’ attitudes toward captured enemy, whether summarily killed or repatriated.
The Civil War, all of a sudden, amassed huge numbers of POWs on both sides. The encampments were abysmal, caused by a lack of resources, lack of needed hygiene knowledge and medical care, animosity on both sides, and a dollop of racism toward black Union recruits.
It’s a story of carnage where soldiers were more likely to succumb to the filth, inadequate shelter, and inadequate food within POW camps than the combatants waging war.
It does get into the weeds. So, the conditions of the camps and their effects on individuals are repeated over and over. But, again, the research is good, lending credence to the nastiness of war.
October 2, 2026
⭐⭐⭐⭐½ An in-depth and balanced look at Civil War prison camps
This historical nonfiction book delves into the horrific conditions and atrocities within prisoner-of-war camps on both the Union and Confederate sides of the Civil War.
This is a well-researched yet readable examination of these camps and the experiences of the soldiers imprisoned within them. I particularly appreciated the numerous firsthand accounts drawn from prisoners’ journals and letters. Including their own words and experiences helped paint a vivid and often heartbreaking picture of the inhumane conditions POWs endured.
The final chapters also examine the long-term effects that malnourishment, illness, and trauma had on prisoners after their release. It is heartbreaking and difficult to read how many of these soldiers never fully recovered, either mentally or physically, from their imprisonment. The accounts of former prisoners who later took their own lives further demonstrate just how lasting and devastating the effects of their experiences could be.
Any reader interested in the Civil War or history in general will likely appreciate the author’s thoughtful handling of such an abominable subject. Just know going in that this is not an easy read. The lack of compassion and humanity displayed by many of the wardens, guards, and even physicians serving in these prisons can be extremely difficult to comprehend.
Thank you to NetGalley and W.W. Norton & Company for providing me with a digital advance review copy. All opinions are my own and based on the ARC, which may differ from the final published edition.
This historical nonfiction book delves into the horrific conditions and atrocities within prisoner-of-war camps on both the Union and Confederate sides of the Civil War.
This is a well-researched yet readable examination of these camps and the experiences of the soldiers imprisoned within them. I particularly appreciated the numerous firsthand accounts drawn from prisoners’ journals and letters. Including their own words and experiences helped paint a vivid and often heartbreaking picture of the inhumane conditions POWs endured.
The final chapters also examine the long-term effects that malnourishment, illness, and trauma had on prisoners after their release. It is heartbreaking and difficult to read how many of these soldiers never fully recovered, either mentally or physically, from their imprisonment. The accounts of former prisoners who later took their own lives further demonstrate just how lasting and devastating the effects of their experiences could be.
Any reader interested in the Civil War or history in general will likely appreciate the author’s thoughtful handling of such an abominable subject. Just know going in that this is not an easy read. The lack of compassion and humanity displayed by many of the wardens, guards, and even physicians serving in these prisons can be extremely difficult to comprehend.
Thank you to NetGalley and W.W. Norton & Company for providing me with a digital advance review copy. All opinions are my own and based on the ARC, which may differ from the final published edition.
July 23, 2026
The book was kind of dry and hard to get through at times but learned a lot about POW during civil war. Around 400K prisoners which was about 1 of every 5 soldiers were taken as prisoners. It was deliberate dehumanizing situations that were horrendous and America seems to have tried to forget this ugly past. The terrible treatment of prisoners led to laws of war. Many of the scenes were eerily similar to concentration camps
August 29, 2026
This is an in-depth study on Civil War prison camps during and after the war. The author tries to be even handed and not biased in his approach. He takes special interest in the fate of Black Americans in Southern camps. He also looks into the vast amount of prisoner exchanges especially at the beginning of the war. The prisoners undergo a great amount of suffering and there is lots of blame to spread around. A well-researched book.
April 5, 2026
A solidly interesting history about an aspect of the Civil War I knew nothing about. The author took a lot of care to quote directly from primary sources as much as he could, whichb I always appreciate. He thoroughly covered the history of the camps throughout the entire war, and briefly ends with their legacy and how they were forgotten. Rather fascinating, very saddening what those men endured.
October 9, 2026
As I write this I see that Pete Hegseth intends to have the person responsible for the Ft. Hood massacre executed publicly. Why are we going backwards in time? If you want to see what happens when we fail to treat human beings as human beings take a gander at this fascinating look at prisoner of war camps in both the north and the south during the Civil War. People, we can do better and we must.
August 28, 2026
Audio Book - a balanced look at the prison camps on both the Union and Confederate side. Nobody treated prisoners particularly well. And it is interesting the political calculations both sides made.
April 29, 2026
I won this book off of Goodreads Giveaway
I’m not usually into nonfiction history but this one had me at the first chapter.
I’m glad I gave it a chance
I’m not usually into nonfiction history but this one had me at the first chapter.
I’m glad I gave it a chance
Read
May 27, 2026A very important addition to the vast trove of Civil War history.
June 22, 2026
More of a collection of names, places, events, accounts, and facts than an analysis of this info. Provides only a short analysis at the end.
July 3, 2026
Scurvy and dysentery and gangrene, oh my!
July 24, 2026
I read this book because I have an ancestor who survived Andersonville prison. A brutal reminder of man’s capacity to be cruel and heartless toward his fellow man.
August 5, 2026
Not really a topic I’d read much about. What happened to all those prisoners after a battle - not much good it seems
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