Terry's Texas Ranger

Confederate Veteran
Volumke, Number 7, Page 316
July 1905

[H. W. Graber, who was a prisoner of war, illustrates how Confederate soldiers forgive while they cannot forget, and tells of his experiences while a prisoner of war.]

While a prisoner of war in Bowling Green, Ky., in 1863, I formed the acquaintance of Lieut. James C., of Morgan's command, which soon ripened into a warm friendship. Soon after my arrival a Maj. 0., of Morgan's command, was captured near Bowling Green and placed in confinement with us. Maj. 0., having been captured in civilian's clothes, and through letters on his person found to have been recruiting for the Confederate army, was tried by court martial, convicted, and sentenced to be hanged as a spy. His sentence was returned approved by Gen. Burnside, and he was ordered to be put in irons the next day and placed under special guard at the courthouse until the day of his execution, but he made his escape the night before, which created quite a commotion at headquarters, just across the street.

An investigation by the provost marshal, who had charge of the prisoners, resulted in placing shackles on Lieut. C. by his old schoolmate, the provost marshal, and an order to put shackles on me. By advice of a citizen prisoner, I smuggled a note to Col. H., the commander of the post, calling upon him as a soldier and a gentleman not to permit such an outrage perpetrated by placing irons on a helpless, wounded prisoner of war, whose command had taken thousands of their men prisoners and always treated them humanely and kindly, especially referring him to the 3d Minnesota and 9th Michigan, whom we had captured but a few months before under Forrest at Murfreesboro. No shackles were placed on me, and the next day the provost marshal came up and relieved Lieut. C. of his.

It is needless to say that we were both somewhat incensed at the provost marshal for his severe and harsh treatment of us, feeling that he had selected us for punishment on account of Maj. O.'s escape. Lieut. C. remarked to me that he had heard Capt. H., of Morgan's command, declare that if the war ended with him and Maj. M. alive he would hunt him down, the world would not be large enough to hold them both. He (C.) shared Capt. H.'s feelings in the matter, and so did 1. Our observation disclosed that many Kentucky officers in the Federal army were extremely harsh in their treatment of Confederate soldiers and their families, overanxious to show their loyalty to the Federal government, which was the case with our friend, the provost marshal, hence our threat while suffering under his oppression.

In 1867 I passed through Bowling Green. While the train stopped twenty minutes for dinner I employed the time inquiring for my old friends, asking a gentleman who I found lived there if he knew Maj. M., the Federal provost marshal in 1863, and where he lived. He answered: "Maj. M. lives here now, and is our revenue officer." Again: "Did you ever know Capt. H., of Morgan's command, and where is he?" He said: "He lives here, and is our district judge." Again: "Did you ever know his brother in law, Lieut. C.?" "Yes, he too lives here, and is teaching school." "Now, I have one more question: Did you ever see these men meet, and are they friendly?" He replied: "I have seen them meet, they are entirely friendly." As for my own part, I had an opportunity a few years ago to send the following message by a mutual friend to Maj. M., the provost marshal: "Tell the Major I have forgiven but not forgotten, him." Capt. H. died a few years ago, an honored citizen and a supreme judge of Kentucky. Lieut. C. is still living, and expects to meet me at Louisville.

My object in recounting this incident is not to reopen old wounds, but simply to record the sublime magnanimity and spirit of forgiveness of the Confederate soldier. Although I escaped the mortification of being shackled at Bowling Green, I was destined to be subjected to this outrageous treatment in a Louisville prison. Louisville prison had a negro official, known by the prisoners as Capt. Black, who had charge of the cook house. Instigated by our Michigan guards, who were abolitionists, this negro was particularly insulting and oppressive in his treatment of the prisoners, so much so that I dreaded to meet him, always avoiding him when possible.

One day I remained in my bunk in the barrack, too unwell to go out after my dinner ration, when Capt. Black strutted in and in a very gruff manner asked me with all oath what I was doing in there. I told him I was sick and did not want any dinner. He started to order me out, but I jumped down on him before he delivered his order and grabbed at his pistol, which, fortunately, I failed to fully grasp, as by a twist he got away from me, but he thought I had it, as he called out, "Foh God, don't, massa, don't, massa," then broke and ran to the gate. In a short time after he came back with a big sergeant and pointed me out. This sergeant walked up to me and ordered me to hold up my hands for him to place shackles on my wrists. I asked him who ordered this done. He said: "Col. O." "Who is Col. O. ?" "The colonel in command of the prison." "Will you please spell his name for me?" He did so, and I then held up my hands and told him to put them on. "They are Yankee bracelets, a Yankee put them on, and I consider it an honor to wear them."

The clerks in the office (Kentuckians), hearing the particulars, communicated them to Col. M., a Kentuckian in command of the post, who, I presume, ordered my immediate release, as Col. O. came in himself a few days after and relieved me of this uncomfortable condition, as I was still suffering from my wounds. I will here state that Capt. Black apologized for his conduct toward us prisoners, saying, Dein der folks put me up to it, and after that conducted himself becomingly.

A year or so after, while on our New Hope line, near Marietta, Ga., I noticed among a list of captured Federals Col. O., my old Louisville prison commander, badly wounded. I immediately asked permission of our brigade commander to visit Col. O. at the hospital. When asked why I wanted to see him, I said: "Simply to offer him my services and purse, and anything in my power proper to do for him, thereby punishing him for his brutal treatment of me when wounded and in his hands." But Col. Harrison refused permission, saying that I was too sentimental, and that "that fellow could not appreciate such retaliation, it is simply wasting valuable time and would not accomplish anything." We had more important work on hand just at that time, and could not be spared.