UNSPOILED HEART: The Journal of Charles Mattocks of the 17th Maine, edited by Philip N. Racine, Voices of the Civil War Series, Frank L. Byrne, series editor, The University of Tennessee Press, 482 pages, $36.

Walt Whitman perhaps best described the dread reality of the Civil War:

Vigil strange I kept on the field one night;

When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day,

One look I but gave which your dear eyes return’d with a look I shall never forget,

One touch of your hand to mine O boy, reach’d up as you lay on the ground,

Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battle,

Till late in the night reliev’d to the place at last again I made my way,

Found you in death so cold dear comrade, …

But not a tear fell, not even a long-drawn sigh, …

Vigil of silence, love and death, vigil for you my son and my soldier, …

Vigil final for you brave boy, (I could not save you, swift was your death)

— “Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field One Night,” 1865

Yet Charles Mattocks was not along in thinking this war, like so many before and since, would prove a stepping stone to fame and fortune. “Unspoiled Heart” reprints the Civil War journal and letters of Charles Mattocks of the 17th Maine Volunteers in an interesting and thought-provoking web of marching, drilling, fighting, retreating, charging, and Mattocks’ capture and imprisonment. One gets a realistic, shockingly vivid account of prison life as he continues his journal and letters while a prisoner of war held by the Confederates.

The prisoners of war were supposed to be fed as well as the Confederate troops, but this was seldom the case. Starvation, yellow fever, dysentery, and other diseases associated with improper diet and poor hygiene were the norm. Although the enlisted men, particularly those sent to Andersonville, fared immeasurably worse than the officers, Mattocks is quick to point out that all suffered unnecessarily.

At his first prison in Lynchburg, Va., wool blankets were selling for $25 a piece, eggs for $5 a dozen, and coffee for $15 a pound. The prisoners were seldom given beef or vegetables, and subsisted on corn bread and “soup” one would not feed a hog. Only those with friends to supply additional foods and/or money were able to survive.

The officers were treated much better in Charleston and Columbia, but that is not to suggest decent or humane treatment — far from it. Significantly, Mattocks singles out for praise one group whose members toiled ceaselessly and without complaint as they sought to ease the suffering of the men imprisoned — the Catholic Sisters of Charity and Sisters of Mercy — they alone in the South had compassion for these men.

Even when things improved, what meat they got had maggots or worms, the water was brackish, and they had no exercise and little fresh air. At Andersonville, 8,000 men died in two months, in conditions too vile, too horrific to discuss. Little wonder that relations between the North and the South remained poor after the defeat of the Rebels in 1865. Yet Mattocks manages to remain philosophical and optimistic as he rallies fellow officers to keep moving, to keep going, to keep fighting, to never give up — one would say prison life made him a better, stronger man, in his character as well as in his physique.

The strength of this work, edited skillfully and knowledgeably by Philip Racine, is its very human tale of rigid discipline and suffering followed by stunning victory. For history buffs and lay readers alike, this book speaks of the drudgery of war and prison life as well as the adventure of Mattocks’ escape, recapture, and final exchange just in time to lead a heroic charge against the Rebels to their inevitable defeat.

The title, “Unspoiled Heart,” comes from Joshua L. Chamberlain’s description of the Grand Review of the Troops in which he depicts Mattocks commanding his regiment, “a man and a soldier, with the unspoiled heart of a boy.” This “boy,” who left the Grand Army of the Republic as a colonel, was brevetted for his heroic charge in the siege of Petersburg, Va., and earned him a Medal of Honor.

Mattocks was a graduate of Bowdoin College, where he had a reputation for rebelliousness. This changed, however, in his army service, where he demanded stringent regard for the rules and regulations. Some who served with him thought him perhaps too puritanical and too concerned with “superfluous red tape,” but he never flinched in battle. Indeed, it is perhaps the discipline he enforced among his troops and officers which led to the 17th Maine Volunteers’ reputation as the finest regiment and may have led as well to their continued victories. And it is his steadfast belief in himself and others which kept the men going.

The notes supplied unobtrusively by the editor enrich this remarkably human portrait of a war and a people one can barely imagine, so dim are the subtle, fading shadows of a time long ago and far away.

Linda L. Labin is an associate professor of English at Husson College.