IN PRISON AT LOUISVILLE, WHERE I WAS HONORED WITH HANDCUFFS.
Referring to Bowling Green prison, where Major Ousley had left us: Four
hours after Ousley’s escape, our friends in the prison boosted Clark and
me up into the attic, when we found out to our dismay that the weather
had cleared and the moon had risen sufficiently high to light up the
front of our building, disclosing the hole in the gable. The general’s
headquarters being diagonally across the street with a guard’s beat
immediately in front, I whispered to Clark, “We had better wait until
the corporal comes with his relief guard in front of the headquarters
and watch their actions.” Waiting about thirty minutes, a corporal with
a relief appeared on the beat and the three stood for some time talking
and looking up at our prison wall, which satisfied us that they had made
the discovery of the hole and were only waiting for some of us to crawl
out on the roof, when they would have shot us. We, therefore, decided it
would be folly to attempt our escape that night, which proved a wise
decision.
The next morning at roll call the discovery was made that Major Ousley
was missing, which caused the greatest excitement; and immediately
scouting parties of eight or ten men dashed up to the headquarters
across the street for orders, and started out in a lope. All that day
these parties called for orders and came back and reported at
headquarters. Major Motley came up and saw the manner of Ousley’s
escape, and asked the prisoners who made those holes and assisted
Ousley. None of us vouchsafed any information. He then sent for the most
desperate prisoners, some that were not Confederates, as heretofore
stated, and told them that their cases were bad, but if they would tell
who assisted Ousley in making his escape, and tried to make their escape
with him, he would do all he could to let them off as easy as possible.
This we learned through two most excellent citizens, who were in the
prison with us, and who were also taken out and offered their liberty if
they would disclose Ousley’s accomplices. One of these was a Colonel
Lewis, living near Franklin; the other a Doctor Vertriece, a neighbor of
Colonel Lewis. These men were imprisoned because of our raid on the
railroad, which the reader will remember occurred between Franklin and
Woodburn. It was the custom of the Federal commander, whenever Morgan,
or any other troops, made a raid on the railroad, to arrest the most
prominent citizens in the neighborhood.
After several days of questioning these prisoners, Major Motley came up;
my friend Clark was asleep on a mattress the lieutenant of the guard had
favored me with, on account of my being wounded. He was lying with his
face to the wall. I was sitting on the window sill, looking out into the
street when Major Motley walked up to where Clark was asleep and gave
him a kick in the back, thereby waking him. Clark raised up and asked,
“What do you want, Ras’?” when Motley produced a pair of handcuffs he
had held behind him and put them on him. Turning around to me, he said,
“I will have a pair here for you in a few minutes,” but as it turned out
fortunately there was not another pair of handcuffs in Bowling Green,
and he had to send to Louisville after them. After he left the prison
Doctor Vertriece suggested to me that I write a letter to Colonel
Hawkins, who was then in command of the post, telling him that I was a
wounded Confederate soldier, and that Major Motley had threatened to put
handcuffs on me. I stated in this letter that our command had captured
thousands of their men and had always treated them humanely and kindly,
notably the Ninth Michigan and Third Minnesota, who, after we had
paroled them and when parting with us, said, “If any of you Texas
Rangers are captured, call for the Ninth Michigan and Third Minnesota,
and we will see that you are well treated.” In winding up my letter to
Colonel Hawkins, I called on him as a gentleman and a soldier not to
permit such an outrage perpetrated as that of placing irons on a wounded
prisoner. This letter Doctor Vertriece succeeded in smuggling around
Major Motley, bribing a guard to take it directly to Colonel Hawkins
without Motley’s knowledge, and we soon had an answer returned in the
same manner from Colonel Hawkins, expressing his regret at our
condition, praising Major Motley as a very kind-hearted and good man,
and stating that he was satisfied he would do all in his power to
alleviate our condition and suffering, and trusting that we would be
able to bear up with our condition.
When I read the letter I threw it on the floor, and told Doctor
Vertriece he was mistaken in his man; that Colonel Hawkins was no better
than the rest of them. He picked up the letter, read it and told me that
I was doing a great injustice to Colonel Hawkins, that I was simply
misconstruing his position, that he could not have said anything more to
me, a prisoner belonging to the army of his enemy, and could certainly
not censure Major Motley, an officer of his own army, for his treatment
of us, and furthermore suggested that if I would just wait he was
satisfied that the handcuffs would not be put on me.
The next day Major Motley again visited our prison, walked up to
Lieutenant Clark and took off his handcuffs, hardly able to look into
his face. Turning around, he walked up and down the cell a few times in
study, and finally stopped in front of me, saying, “Graber, I want you
and Clark to understand that I have no personal feeling in this matter;
you are prisoners, have been placed in my charge and keeping; you have
tried to make your escape with Major Ousley, and, I am going to keep you
here, if I have to chain you to this floor.”
I frequently told Major Motley that if they were holding me for court
martial, to bring my charges and specifications, to which he replied
that I needn’t be in a hurry, I would receive them sooner than I wanted
to, perhaps, and, when finally brought, the charge was being a Guerilla;
specifications, my own statement admitting to General Judah that we had
been engaged in raiding their lines of communications and destroying
them ever since we had been in the army. I concluded they need not
resort to any trial, as I was prepared to admit the specifications. In
this charge they gave my name, company and regiment, C. S. A.
(so-called), which was virtually an admission that I was not a Guerilla,
but by an order, No. 38, of General Burnside, all recruiting officers
captured within his department should be treated as spies, and all
raiding parties, not under a general officer, as Guerillas. Finally one
day Major Motley came in about ten o’clock in the morning and ordered me
to prepare to leave on the eleven o’clock train for Louisville. I asked
him, “What for? Are you sending me up there for safe keeping, or to be
treated as a prisoner of war?” He said, “Never mind about that; you will
learn soon enough.” When I reached Louisville I was taken to the general
prison and there treated as a prisoner of war.
I found the Louisville prison a most excellent one; two barracks running
parallel, with bunks on each side and a brick-paved yard in the center,
with a splendid waterworks. At one end were the offices occupied by
clerks and an officer who kept the roll; at the other end was the
kitchen, connected on one side with a barrack, and on the other side
having a passageway of about three feet, leading into the backyard in
the rear of the kitchen, where they had the sinks, and this backyard was
kept in a very filthy condition. We had three rations a day, with coffee
in the mornings, the rations consisting of a chunk of light bread and a
piece of pickled pork, already cut in proper size for each man, in tubs,
on each side of the door. On the inside of the kitchen stood a tub,
presided over by negro wenches who would shove these rations to us as we
passed through, single file, into the backyard.
A negro official, called “Captain Black” by the prisoners, frequently
stood on the outside of the door as the prisoners passed in to draw
their rations. When some poor, emaciated prisoner, reduced by
confinement, barely able to drag his feet, came along, he would curse,
tell him to “Hike out, you d—m Rebel,” and sometimes push them along.
This made me fear this negro to the extent that I always avoided him and
always moved quickly in his presence, determined never to give him an
opportunity to insult me.
One day I was lying on my bunk, the second from the floor, about five
feet high, which was the end of the bunks next to the door. I was
feeling bad and having considerable fever, and was still suffering from
my wounds, so I decided not to go out and get my dinner rations. All
that were able had gone out, a few sick remaining in the barracks at
different places. A little negro boy came to the door and looking up at
me, asked if I was sick and didn’t I want a cup of coffee. I told him
yes, to bring me a cup and I would pay him for it. He brought me a small
tin cup full of fine coffee, for which I gave him a twenty-five-cent
bill.
While lying sipping my coffee, resting on my right elbow, “Captain
Black” stepped into the door, and, on discovering me said, “What are you
doing here, sir?” I said I was sick and didn’t want my rations. He
raised up on his toes and said, “Sick?” “Yes, I am sick, too,” and he
started to order me out when I lost all control of myself and, from my
bunk, fell right over on him, grabbing at his pistol. I got my hand on
it, but he jerked away before I could clinch it, but he thought I had
it, saying, “Foh Gawd, Massa; don’t, Massa!” then broke for the gate.
Some of the prisoners witnessed the trouble and told the others when
they came in from drawing their rations, which created considerable
excitement and considerable sympathy for me, for it was believed that I
would be placed in irons and in a dungeon.
In about half an hour after the prisoners returned from drawing their
rations, one of them rushed up to me and suggested that I hide. He said,
“That negro, with a big sergeant, is in the yard hunting you.” I told
him that I would not hide, but would go and meet them, walking out into
the yard. The negro pointed me out to the sergeant, when he walked up to
me and told me to hold up my hands. I asked him, “What for?” He said,
“To put these things on you,” producing a pair of handcuffs, which he
had held behind him. I asked who ordered it done? He stated, Colonel
Orcutt. I asked, “Who is Colonel Orcutt?” He said, “Commander of this
prison.” I told him, “All right; put them on; they are Yankee bracelets,
and I consider it an honor to wear them.”
After wearing these irons two or three days and nights, an officer in
fatigue uniform, whom I took to be Colonel Orcutt, stepped up to me and
told me to hold up my hands. I asked him what for? He said, “To take
those things off.” I told him he needn’t be in a hurry, I had got used
to them and considered it an honor to wear them. By this time he had
unlocked them and taken them off. When I turned my back on him and
mingled with the crowd, some of the prisoners told me that he started to
strike me with them, which I hardly believe.
“Captain Black” very soon came to me and apologized, saying that he was
very sorry for what he had done, and that he would never mistreat a
prisoner again, that “Dese soldiers had put him up to it.” I told him I
would give him five dollars if he would steal those handcuffs for me. He
said that he would be glad to do that, and would not charge me anything,
and he soon reported that they had not been replaced in the office,
where they used to hang, and that he couldn’t find out where they were
kept.