WE RECEIVE NOTICE OF JOHNSTON’S SURRENDER—I DECLINE TO BE PAROLED AND
RESOLVE TO MAKE MY WAY OUT.
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):
“Headquarters Cavalry Corps,
“April 28, 1865.
“Gallant Comrades: You have fought your fight. Your task is
done. During a four years’ struggle for liberty you have
exhibited courage, fortitude and devotion. You are the victors
of more than 200 sternly contested fields. You have participated
in more than a thousand conflicts of arms. You are heroes!
Veterans! Patriots! The bones of your comrades mark battlefields
upon the soil of Kentucky, Virginia, North Carolina, South
Carolina, Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi. You have done all
that human exertion could accomplish. In bidding you adieu, I
desire to tender my thanks for your gallantry in battle, your
fortitude under suffering and your devotion at all times to the
holy cause you have done so much to maintain. I desire also to
express my gratitude for the kind feelings you have seen fit to
extend toward myself, and to invoke upon you the blessing of our
Heavenly Father, to whom we must always look in the hour of
distress. Brethren in the cause of freedom, comrades in arms, I
bid you farewell.
“JOSEPH WHEELER,
“Major General.
“Official:
“WM. E. WAITES,
“Assistant Adjutant General.”
The Reconstruction Period
PREFACE
For the unpleasant facts recorded in this, I am not responsible, but
only the powers that were then. I would much prefer to forget as I have
forgiven, and not reopen old wounds, but a sacred duty I owe my family
forces me to submit the unvarnished truth and use expressions, though
harsh, to properly represent conditions as they existed, to protect my
lifetime fair name and character, which I must leave my family
untarnished, and also to redeem my promise to them and my many
interested friends, who were personally acquainted with me during the
years of this terrible experience.
Do not fail to bear in mind that this is written altogether from memory,
nearly fifty years after it occurred, hence dates are omitted.
In order to give the reader a full appreciation of my remarkable
preservation and escape from being murdered by the powers that ruled at
the time, I treat the subject as I do. Drifting into this trouble was
certainly not of my own choice, but altogether owing to conditions and
surroundings. I was simply the instrument in God’s hands to relieve a
law abiding and submissive community of a terrible calamity about to be
enacted by a lawless band of marauders in the uniform of the United
States, protected by their officers and permitted by the, then, General
Government, and my life was spared by the interposition of a Divine
Providence. It was this firm conviction that gave me strength and hope
that all would be well and enabled me to pass through this terrible
ordeal.
There was no law to protect or appeal to, only the whim of a vindictive
military satrap, whose order was supreme and who regarded the best
citizens of the country fit subjects for his vengeance and persecution.
Our State Government, organized under the terms of our surrender,
composed of the best and most solid element of the State, working in
conjunction with the returned Confederate soldiers to rehabilitate our
ruined homes, was ruthlessly set aside by the infamous order of General
Sheridan, as an impediment to reconstruction.
To longer submit to such conditions and subject our families to dangers
worse than death, made men desperate and called forth every spark of
manhood in man, particularly in one who had followed Sherman’s march
through Georgia and the Carolinas and made him liable to resent outrages
when brought directly to his own home in the most effective way,
regardless of consequences.
As a result of our action, having removed the bandit leader from among
them, our community was no longer subjected to their deviltry. They were
completely overawed and behaved themselves forever after, thereby
avoiding much bloodshed. Had they burned Hempstead that night, which no
doubt they would have done, an outraged citizenship would have gathered
and visited vengeance on these devils incarnate and no promise of
General Sheridan, as in the case of Brenham, could have stayed them,
then what would have been the result?
I had the sympathy of the best citizens of the country, offers of men
and money, which were always declined in the interest of peace.
To better explain the cause for the conditions existing with these
garrisons: When the Federal Government sent their recruiting agents
abroad, they accepted some of the worst element in Europe, as well as in
this country, promising them large bounties, good wages and treatment,
and all they could capture, hence a certain element in the army started
in for plunder only, and with no other object. Some garrisons in the
State had a band of plunderers with a desperate leader, as was the case
at Brenham when it was burned and again at Hempstead at this time.
At the conclusion of the war the best element in the Federal Army, the
brave and gallant men who won the fight, did not re-enlist, but returned
to their homes to engage in peaceful pursuits and could never have been
induced to assist in degrading their own race and color by elevating the
negro over us, which was the avowed intention of the fanatical element
of the North who were responsible for the war.
That gallant soldier and conscientious gentleman, General W. S. Hancock,
in command of New Orleans, refused to do their bidding and was
immediately superseded by General Sheridan, who proved a fit tool in
their hands.