April 18, 1863: It’s starting to show a little that Alice is pregnant – I’m just amazed that a tiny human being is growing inside her belly. I don’t care if it’s not manly to say so, but I’m really excited about this baby.

And thankful. The hopes I have for Alice and my new family are what keep me afloat. Without them, I’d only have this stinking prison, its morally decrepit inmates, and the strict discipline we impose upon them to keep me going. Needless to say, if that were all I had, I’d be a very different person (sure, I’m becoming hardened from working here – but I take that hard, brittle, and cynical exterior off with my uniform when I’m with Alice).

March 27, 1863: So you know that guy I brought up to the hospital, because he’d stepped on a nail? Turns out that incompetent doctor left it so long, that the wound festered, became gangrenous, and the whole foot had to be amputated!

Mrs. Mason said she could hear the guy screaming in pain as the surgeon sawed off his foot without any kind of medication, or anything. Her theory is that the liquor meant for the patients (to dull their senses while one of their limbs is being hacked off), is going into the doctor, and not the patient.

I bet she’s right.

March 25, 1863: One of my worst nightmares was realized three days ago. Couldn’t write about it ‘til now, I was in such a state of shock and disgust.

Had a lunatic in here – and I mean a verifiable insane person awaiting transfer to an asylum – that just went berserk in his cell after lockdown. He started ripping his bedding (that alone would normally get you the strap and a few nights in the dark cell), shouting, cussing, screaming incoherently, and banging his water dipper against the bars.

We’d already been told to just let him get this sort of thing out of his system – since he was in here for just being crazy, and not for committing any crime, we’ve been trying to cut him a little slack (he’s also, apparently, the son of someone the governor knows).
But I guess due to our lack of response, he decided to up the ante: by smearing the contents of his night bucket all over the walls of his cell (did I mention he was in one of my cellblocks?). So of course at that point, I had to get him out of there – my plan was to bring him straight to the hospital and get him drugged into oblivion, or into a straightjacket, or something.

I opened up the cell feeling a little nervous (lunatics are not my specialty), and this now faeces covered maniac just threw himself on me!

Worst thing is…I think he was meaning to hug me for letting him out of there, but…oh God it was disgusting. I can still smell it, just thinking about it.

Being somewhat traumatized by the event, George (ever the good fellow) took the lead in getting the cell cleaned up.

March 17, 1863: Been a hellish week. Mrs. Mason says it had something to do with the Ides of March. I don’t know about that, but what I do know is that every single dark cell has been occupied for the last 4 or 5 days, and we’ve got at least a half dozen or so prisoners restricted to their cells.

I don’t know what’s gotten into them.

Maybe it’s the soup.

March 10, 1863: Got a comment about the pea soup again yesterday – something about it being “unfit for human consumption”. I was just shocked that any of our inmates could use a word that long.

Turns out he was some suit who’d been caught in a bawdy house. Was feeling real superior to everyone, and didn’t think he belonged in gaol at all (later heard from some of the court clerks that the only reason he ended up with a sentence, rather than a fine, was that he insulted the judge with his haughtiness).

But honestly – he really doesn’t belong here – he’s too soft. George says he damn near soiled himself when he saw his cell.

March 3, 1863: George says he thinks the surgeon was drunk the last time he went up to see him too. Apparently was slurring his words and everything. And according to Mrs. Mason – who’s up there more often than either of us dealing with the women – she’s never seen him sober. Was clucking like a mother hen with disapproval over the whole matter. I don’t think she likes bringing “her girls” up there to see the doctor…while I don’t trust his ability to do his job, she just doesn’t trust him at all.

Wonder if anything specific has happened to make her so strong in her convictions.

All I know is that he’s real chummy with the governor…gotta be the only reason he (still) has a job.

February 25, 1863: Had to bring an inmate who’d stepped on a nail up to the gaol surgeon today. Could have sworn he was drunk.

Didn’t seem to care much about the prisoner, either.

(I tell you, this guy is really not impressing me)

February 19, 1863: Can’t wait for Spring. Had a huge snowfall last night that just covered the cellblocks in huge drifts of snow. I swear it was thigh-high in some areas, and was pouring into the cells. Had a real hard time just doing my rounds and opening up the cells for the day.

Was real cold in the cellblocks too. At least three prisoners in my areas had to be brought up to the gaol hospital to warm up – they were actually blue with cold. Surgeon looked at me a little funny when I brought them up there, wondering what I wanted (wasn’t it obvious?). I had to spell everything out for him: These inmates are freezing. They need blankets. They need to sit near a fire.

How did this guy become a doctor anyway?!

Anyway, took a good part of the day just to clear the snow away. At least it got everyone feeling warmer.

And what do you know? It’s snowing again already.

February 12, 1863: I thing everyone’s finally relaxed – at least the inmates are. There was a food fight in cellblock four today…we let them keep at it until they had nothing left to throw. The joke, of course, is on them since they haven’t anything to clean themselves up with (and we decided to be a little more lax in the cellblock cleaning schedule – we’re waiting until tomorrow to give the order to mop up).

Punishment served.

February 4, 1863: Tensions have been running high since last week. Everyone’s a little on edge – especially Alice. She’s terrified that I’m going to be the target of some sort of “payback”.