The life record of H. W. Graber / A Terry Texas Ranger, 1861-1865; sixty-two years in Texas

After leaving Bentonville our army continued its retreat, the main part of the army finally moving in the direction of Greensboro, where it surrendered. Our little party continued to operate on Sherman’s flank, when we heard that there was a large amount of meat collected by the Federal cavalry at a little place called Marlboro, and we decided to get a wagonload of this meat and carry it with us to our army. For this purpose we impressed a wagon and team and loaded up with hams, which proved a great encumbrance to us and about the third day we left all with a poor widow woman, with her promise to hide out the hams in the woods and try to save them from capture. We finally reached our regimental camp the night of the surrender of Johnston’s army. Our regiment at first notice of the surrender, decided to make their way out and not take parole, but General Wheeler came down and made them a talk, stating the terms of the surrender to be that the cavalry would be permitted to retain their horses and sidearms and go home unmolested, if they could show a parole; but if not they would be treated and shot as Guerillas. Under this condition General Wheeler advised them to surrender, which they decided to do.

After feeding my horse and eating a little supper, I tried to make up a party to make our way out without taking a parole, believing that the army would be sent to prison, and, having determined never to see the inside of another prison, I prepared to go out and succeeded in inducing about thirty of the regiment to go out with me. We rode all night, and next morning came to a place where we found Colonel Harrison on crutches, standing in the door. I dismounted and went in to tell him that the army had surrendered and when about half way to him in the yard, he motioned to me with his hand, saying, “Back to your command; back to your command.” I told him that we were on our way to Texas, the army had surrendered and the Rangers had decided to surrender with the army and take a parole, which brought tears to his eyes. He repeated, “The army has surrendered and the Rangers going to surrender with the army? You did right, sir, in coming out; the Rangers shall not surrender with the army; I am going to send them word to come out.” He then bade us good-bye and we proceeded on our way.

That night we got to the town of Lexington, where we decided to stop for the night, camping at the edge of the town. I went into town to have some bread cooked for the party and it commenced to rain. Finally I succeeded in finding a place where a lady agreed to cook the bread for us all. The gentleman insisted on my staying at his house until his wife could cook the bread, which would take her all night, and as a further inducement, said if I would stay he would go with me the next morning and show me where about thirty barrels of Catawba wine was hid out, from which we could fill our canteens. The next morning, going down to where I had left the boys in camp, loaded down with bread, I found they had gone and left me. They had evidently become alarmed during the night and, not knowing where I could be found, they decided I would be able to make my way out all right. I then struck out, taking as much of the bread as I could conveniently carry, but did not take time to get any of the wine. I took the main Charlotte road, when in about two or three miles, the road forked, one seemed about as much traveled as the other. About six miles from there, towards Charlotte, I came to a house where I found Major Jarmon of our regiment, badly wounded, with several of our men taking care of him. These men told me that our party who had left me, had divided at the forks of the road, part of them taking the right hand, intending to go through Middle Tennessee and East Tennessee, the others going on to Charlotte, there to cross the river and go over into South Carolina. I then decided to go back to the forks of the road, take the right hand and try to catch up with the party going to Tennessee.

After following this road about two or three miles, I came to a branch, where I stopped to water my horse and immediately discovered about eight or ten old men and young boys riding horses, unshod, and with citizens’ saddles. They had a few squirrel rifles and no other weapons, and were also watering their horses in the branch near me. They asked me what command I belonged to. I told them I belonged to the Texas Rangers and my company was just ahead, when I asked them what command they belonged to. They said they belonged to General Lee’s cavalry, which I knew was not true, but that they were bushwhackers and I decided to get away from them as soon as possible. I started across the branch and at a little turn of the road I struck a trot, when two of them loped up behind me, separating, one on each side of me, one of them demanding to buy my saddle. I told him it was not for sale. The other wanted to buy one of my pistols. I told them they couldn’t have anything I had; “I know what you are after and if you know what is good for you, you had better drop back and let me alone.” They stopped and, I thought, started back to their party. I soon got to another turn of the road out of their sight, and struck a lope and ran about a mile and a half. I concluded perhaps they would come no further. I discovered a woman plowing in the field, at the far end of which was a log house on the edge of the woods, and just at the corner of the fence I noticed some fresh horse tracks turned off the road, which I concluded perhaps was our party who had gone to the house to get something to eat. I waited in the fence corner for the woman to return to the end of the row and asked if she had seen any men riding down the line of fence to the house, when she claimed she did not and while talking with her here this gang of bushwhackers came dashing up and surrounded me in the fence corner. I pulled out one of my pistols and told them the first man that raised a gun I’d kill “and I’ll get a number of you before you get me, for I am an expert shot and never miss,” when one of them said, “Come on, boys; let’s leave the d—— fool.” I told them,” Yes, you’d better leave.” Unfortunately for me, they turned right up the road, the way I wanted to go and when they concluded I had quit watching them, they turned into the woods, no doubt expecting me to continue on the road and they would then ambush me.

I first concluded that I must catch up with our party, as I was exceedingly anxious to go with them into Tennessee and it was not safe for me to go by myself, therefore decided I would ride along leisurely until I got up to the point where they turned out of the road, then, with my pistol raised, I would put spurs to my horse and run the gauntlet, which on further reflection, I concluded that I had better not attempt, as they would be bound to hit my horse in running by. I therefore turned back the way I had come. When within about two or three miles of the main forks of the road, I struck a well-beaten path, running in the direction of the Charlotte road, which I decided to take and getting back into the Charlotte road, I would ride on to Charlotte. After riding in this path about a mile and a half, I came to a large log house, to reach the front gate of which I had to pass through a barn lot that had a large gate, fastened by a log chain wrapped around the bottom of the gate and the gate post. When I got down off my horse to unwind this chain, I heard some one speak and when I looked up I found an old gentleman on the other side of the lot with a shotgun leveled on me. I told him not to shoot, “I am a friend and want some directions.” He said, “Now, that animal isn’t fit for you to ride and would be of no use to you, but you can’t take her.” I told him, “My friend, I don’t want your horse, I have as good a horse as I want. I only want some directions,” and after talking with him a little, satisfied him that I was not after his horse, when he invited me in. I then told him about being on my way home to Texas and how I had been separated from the party I was going with and wanted to get to the Charlotte road the nearest way I could get there. He then begged me to spend the balance of the day and stay all night with him. After finding that he was a good Southern man, I decided to do so, satisfied I would never catch up with our party that had taken the Charlotte road and I needed rest very badly, as also my horse.

The old gentleman told me that that whole country was overrun by a band of marauders that had been pillaging and robbing their homes and they had had a meeting of the people in the neighborhood and decided whenever a house was attacked they would blow a horn and all rush to the place of attack, there to shoot down every man they found that had no business there. It is hardly necessary to say that he wished they would attack his house the night I was there, because I had four pistols and was regarded by him as pretty good reinforcement, but nothing of the sort happened. I spent a very restful and pleasant night, with a good supper and breakfast, and next day started out, by a near road, to strike the Charlotte pike, which I did some several miles ahead of where I left Major Jarman, the day before, badly wounded.

When I finally reached Charlotte, I stopped to make some inquiry of an infantry guard stationed at a big stable, who told me that the guards in town had orders to arrest every man from Johnston’s army without a parole and advised me to pass around the main part of the town, into the road I was going on to. He furthermore told me that our whole Confederate Government was then in Charlotte; President Davis, with General Breckenridge, then Secretary of War; Judge Reagan, Postmaster General, and all the rest, and they had just heard the news of Lincoln’s assassination, which seemed to have cast a gloom over the entire party.

I now proceeded on my way, around the town, back into the main road leading out to Bady’s Ferry and when within four or five miles of the ferry, I met a citizen who had just crossed there and reported that Colonel Clarence Prentice, with about two hundred Kentuckians, had just crossed there and had been captured by a heavy force of Federal cavalry and by them paroled and permitted to go on his way home. Then further conferring with this citizen about where I could best cross the Catawba River, he told me of a batteau at a mill about twelve miles below Charlotte, when I decided to ride down there and cross in this batteau, which I did, putting my saddle and everything in the batteau, paddling across and swimming my mare, which landed me in a wheat field, in the State of South Carolina.

After getting straightened out again for the road I got directions to Anderson Courthouse, which I reached in due time and found Colonel Harrison, with a large party of Rangers, resting and having a good time. Harrison, if the reader will remember, was badly wounded and was just recovering, using crutches, when a party of Rangers came along after we had left, secured an ambulance and crossed the Catawba River with two batteaux, one on each side, thus bringing him out to Anderson Courthouse, which was his old home and where he had relatives.

After resting another day we again struck out for the Mississippi River, passing through South Carolina, into Georgia, then into Alabama. Before reaching the State of Alabama, we heard that the Mississippi River was out of its banks and about thirty miles wide, which forced us to scatter out and lay up at different points, until the river ran down so that we could cross. I had promised a messmate, Joe Hungerford, whose home was at Uniontown, Alabama, that I would spend some time with him.

Riding along one day in Alabama, some miles from Marion, I was taken with a severe headache, which forced me to stop and lay up, try to get some rest and sleep. When I woke in the night I was prevailed on by an old gentleman at the house, to spend the balance of the night, which threw me considerably behind the party of men I was with.

When our party left Greenville Courthouse we decided if we struck any horses or mules, belonging to the United States Government, we would take them along with us, for the purpose of probably raising money to pay our expenses home and if we found any small parties of the enemy, we would attack them and on their surrender, would parole them, taking their arms and horses.

On riding into the town of Marion, I saw a guard in front of a livery stable, rode up to him, when he accosted me, “Hello, Texas; have you come after mules, too?” I told him, “Yes, where are they?” He said, “This stable is full of the finest kind of mules;” he happened to be an Arkansas man and told me that my party, who went through the day before, went out with a lot of mules, each leading two. I told him, “All right, open the door and I will go in and get a couple.” He said, “No, you know I want you to have them, but they are in charge of Major Curry, who has a strong guard here and is waiting to turn them over to the Yankees, who are expected in here by train every minute and you had better not attempt to take any mules by yourself, as Curry, with his guards, would surely arrest you and turn you over to the Yankees.” Then I concluded best to drop the matter and proceeded to get directions, from a citizen, to Uniontown.

Stopping on the road, about five miles from Marion, to get dinner, I found at the house four Confederate soldiers—one young man on crutches, who had been wounded in the Virginia Army, the son of the owner of the place; one of the Eleventh Texas Cavalry and two Arkansas men. At the dinner table the old gentleman told me about Major Curry, a Confederate Quartermaster, who had impressed about two hundred fine mules in that section for account of the Confederate Government and had these mules in a large livery stable in Marion, protected by a guard, to turn them over to the Federals. These mules had not been branded and the owners had plead with Major Curry to return them to them, but Curry refused, claiming it would get him into trouble with the Federals, as they would certainly get the information. The old gentleman told me that the feeling against Curry was very bitter and that he was regarded as a very mean man, persisting in his determination to turn over the mules, on account of his antipathy to his old neighbors and friendliness to the Federals, thereby courting their favors.

Presently one of the Arkansas men proposed that we go back and take a couple of mules apiece, by force, to which we all consented. Our crippled man, not having a gun, his father told him of a rich neighbor some two miles from there who had quite a number of mules taken by Curry and was very bitter against him on that account, that he had a very fine shotgun and would no doubt loan it to him for the purpose of a raid on that stable. Stopping at this house on our way into Marion, this young crippled man secured the shotgun, when we moved on. Just before we entered town I stopped the party and told them that I was satisfied we were very liable to have trouble with Major Curry and there was no use in starting into it without going through with it. “Now, if there is a man among you that don’t want to go in, let him say so now.” They all said they were willing to go and wanted me to take command of the party. I told them, “All right, now, if you are asked any questions, who I am, tell them I am Lieutenant Jones, Company C, Eleventh Texas.”

We now started in and found a big lattice door to the stable open, and as soon as we came in sight the guard rushed to the door to close it, when I dashed up with my pistol on and told him to leave that door open. I then told our crippled young man, with the shotgun, to hold that door open, to stay there and to shoot the first man that attempted to close it when the balance of our men went in to get the mules. There were two shed rooms, connected with the main room; the large room had stalls on each side. Not finding any good mules in the large room, I went to the far end and turned into one of the shed rooms, the balance of the men scattering around, hunting good mules. While engaged untying a mule in the shed room, I heard a man call to some of our men, “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” They told him they had come after mules. “Who commands this party?” “Lieutenant Jones of the Eleventh Texas.” “Where is Lieutenant Jones?” They told him I was in that shed room. In the meantime, a number of men in citizen’s clothes, had entered the main room. Major Curry came around into the shed room, where I had untied a mule and asked me if I was Lieutenant Jones, in command. He said, “I am Major Curry of the Confederate States Army, in charge of these mules, with orders to turn them over to the United States Army and if you don’t take your party out of here and leave these mules, I will have to arrest you and turn you over to the Federal authorities.” I told him that we would be very much disappointed if he didn’t attempt our arrest, that we had come on purpose to get the mules and him, too, when he approached very near me and said in a low tone of voice, “You know this stable is full of Yankee spies now, come in advance of the army to find out what they can, and for their benefit I have to make a show of resistance.” He said, “You go ahead and take what mules you want. You Texans are entitled to them; you are a long ways from home.”

We then completed our selection and led out two mules apiece, with two for our lame friend at the door, passing by a number of strangers, looking on, in the main room. Major Curry followed me outside, when I told him, “Now, if it will be of any benefit to you, Major, I am willing to give you a written statement that I appeared here with an armed force and took possession of so many mules,” which he said he would appreciate very much, it might prove of benefit to him with the Yankees, and invited me up into his office with him, around on the square, where I drew up this statement and signed the name of R. F. Jones, Company C, Eleventh Texas Regiment. We then departed with our mules, back to the young lame man’s home, where we separated, perhaps never to meet again.

After obtaining directions for Uniontown, on my way through Green County, Alabama, I stopped at the little town of Newbern, where I met a Doctor James Webb, who insisted on my stopping with him. He had a beautiful home; his family being away on a long visit to some other section of the State, he felt quite lonely and wanted company. I decided to accept his invitation, when he made me feel at home and my visit there for nearly two months, waiting for the Mississippi River to run down, proved very pleasant indeed, besides forming many new and pleasant acquaintances.

After spending nearly two months at this place, we had information, which we considered reliable, that the Trans-Mississippi Department had surrendered. I therefore concluded best to abandon my ride to Texas, leave my horse and arms with Doctor Webb and proceed to New Orleans, from there by steamer to Galveston. Doctor Webb succeeded in finding an only twenty-dollar gold piece, which he advanced me to pay the expense of my trip.

Armed with a parole, copied from one in the possession of an Appomattox prisoner, I proceeded to Uniontown, where I took rail for Selma and entered the Provost Marshal’s office, threw down my parole and demanded transportation to Texas, which was granted me as far as New Orleans.

Arriving at New Orleans I found that the Trans-Mississippi Department had not yet surrendered, but the agents of General Kirby Smith, who was in command of the Trans-Mississippi Department (Doctor Ashbel Smith and Mr. Ballinger of Galveston), were then negotiating with General Canby, its surrender. Here I found a large part of Hood’s brigade, as also General Hood and members of his staff from Texas and General Thomas Harrison of our brigade, with some few members of the Eighth Texas, also many members of Granbury’s and Rector’s brigades, awaiting the close of negotiations and transportation to Texas, when finally, in about a week or ten days, the surrender of the Trans-Mississippi Department was completed and a large transport, in charge of a Federal captain, was ordered to take us to Galveston.

On arrival at the entrance of Galveston Bay we met a sloop of war going out, when our captain in charge signaled to it to return to Galveston and anchor off a certain wharf, where he expected to land our men, which he did. On arrival at this wharf, after tying up the boat, a stage was run out, when a lone gentleman standing on the wharf, claiming to be Mayor Leonard of the city, called to the Federal captain not to allow a single man to come off that boat until the trains were ready to take us into the interior. This brought forth a spirited rebuke by our Federal captain, telling him that the men were going to land and stay in the city until they could be taken out by the railroad and if they mistreated any of the men while there, he would order the gunboat to lay his town in ashes.

In explanation of the Mayor’s action, it seems that when the army disbanded in the interior, that a lot of bad men entered Galveston and conducted themselves badly, when the City Council met and passed an order that no more soldiers would be permitted in the city. The Mayor, of course, had no idea that a large number of the men aboard were citizens of Galveston nor as to the character of the men aboard, hence his mistake.

In connection with this I recall the departure of the Bayou City Guards in 1861 for Virginia, who afterwards constituted a part of the Fifth Texas Regiment, Hood’s brigade, and reflected such credit on the Confederate arms in Virginia. I happened to be present in Houston when this company, marching through the streets of Houston to the railroad depot, were escorted by a cavalry company and a large concourse of citizens—on their departure for Harrisburg, there to be mustered into the service of the Confederate States for the war.

After boarding the train a few speeches were made and a few words spoken by Captain John G. Walker, commanding the cavalry company, which I well remember, as follows:

“If you fight bravely we will honor you; if you return safely we will welcome you; if you die in battle I swear to Heaven we will avenge you.”

Taking this in connection with our reception at Galveston, which of course, was a mistake, by accident, we can well afford to pass it.

As soon as the trains were made up for the interior, after spending a day and night in Galveston where we were treated royally by its citizens, we proceeded to our different homes and I soon landed in Hempstead among a sad, dejected and ruined people, resolved to do the best they could under the circumstances and submit gracefully to the powers that were.

It would, I consider, be entirely fitting for me to close this part of my life’s history by publishing what I may call General Joseph Wheeler’s farewell address to his cavalry corps (General Wheeler issued the following order to his entire command):