General Braxton Bragg happened to be in Augusta, when he conceived the idea of resorting to a ruse, which proved quite successful. He called up General Wheeler by telegraph at Waynesboro and instructed him when he was forced to give up the town, to leave the telegraph office intact, but give it the appearance of having been abandoned precipitately, then advise him promptly when the enemy entered town. Waiting a reasonable time for the enemy to take charge of the telegraph office, General Bragg called General Wheeler, when a Federal officer answered. General Bragg said, “General Wheeler, hold Waynesboro at all hazards. Longstreet’s corps is arriving. I will take the field in person tomorrow. Signed, Braxton Bragg.” This had the desired effect. General Sherman, satisfied he would have to give battle before Augusta was surrendered, decided he had better pass by and move on to Savannah as fast as possible. There is no question but this ruse saved Augusta, Georgia, though General Wheeler with his corps put up a strong defense, never permitting the enemy to cross Brier Creek, which was between them and Augusta.
About ten or twelve years after the war, when General Sherman was a resident of St. Louis, he gave an interview on the reason he spared Augusta, Georgia. This had been a subject of discussion by historians and especially friends of the North and was frequently attributed to General Sherman having relatives living in Augusta, Georgia. Another story was that Mrs. Lincoln, through a relative or friend, had stored in Augusta a large amount of cotton. There were various other stories, which General Sherman finally set at rest, giving his reasons for sparing the city. He claimed that one of his officers intercepted a telegram from General Bragg to General Wheeler at Waynesboro, instructing him to hold Waynesboro at all hazards, that Longstreet’s corps was arriving and he would take personal command the next day. He further stated that on account of his depleted commissary, having to depend on the country for the rations of his army, he was in no condition to give battle, satisfied that Bragg would defend Augusta to the last, therefore passed it by and hastened to the coast. “But if the people of Augusta think that I spared their city through any love or affection for them, if the President will give me permission, I will take a hundred thousand of my bummers and go down and burn it now.” I read this interview in a St. Louis paper.
When near Savannah, Georgia, the place having been evacuated by our forces, who crossed the river at Pocatalego, Wheeler’s cavalry was ordered to cross the Savannah River at a point about fifteen miles above Savannah. For this purpose we had only one steamboat, and Harrison’s Brigade was ordered to cross last, necessitating our camping in the river bottom for several days, during which time details were sent out of our brigade to collect provisions, as we were without commissary. I had charge the second day of a small detail, and after riding about twenty miles, we scattered out, each man to bring in as much as possible. On my return to camp that evening late, without having succeeded in securing anything, only a piece of cornbread and a slice of bacon for myself, I was feeling disgusted. When about a mile from our camp, following a well-beaten path, I spied a negro man on another path crossing the one I was on and when within a few yards of me, I stopped him and asked if he couldn’t tell me where there was something to eat, telling him that I had ridden all day long, trying to get something for our command and had signally failed.
The country through which we had passed for several days is the greatest sweet potato country perhaps in the South; large fields all over the country had been devoted to sweet potatoes, which had fallen a ready prey to Sherman’s army and the whole country seemed to be eaten out. I told this negro, after he told me where he lived, about a half mile from there, that I was satisfied he knew where there were sweet potatoes and where there was corn for our horses. He assured me he did not and said that the Federals had taken everything that his old master had and didn’t leave him a thing. I continued to talk with him, trying to arouse his sympathy, told him of our poor fellows not having had anything to eat for several days and I had been riding all day long without securing anything, thereby working on his sympathy. Finally he broke down and said, “Young Marster, if I were to tell you where there are sweet potatoes, old marster would kill me.” I told him that his old master never would know anything about it, and he finally said he didn’t think it was right, that his old master had given these Yankees everything they wanted, had plenty of potatoes left and refused to give our own folks anything at all. “Now,” he said, “if you will strike across this way,” pointing in the direction of his house, entering a lane leading to the house, “about a hundred and fifty yards this side of the house, on the left across the fence, you will find some haystack poles standing, with a lot of shattered hay in the lot and if you will dig down about two feet you will strike more potatoes than you will need for several days. Up the river, in the bottom, about two miles, you will find a couple of pens of corn, enough to feed your horses for several days.” He had just finished telling me, when I noticed an old man, who proved to be his master, coming our way, and as soon as the negro saw him he said, “Fo’ Gawd, marster; there he is now; he’ll kill me; he’ll kill me.” “No,” I said “he will not; he never will know that you told me; you stand perfectly still and don’t get scared.” I jerked out my pistol and threw it down on him, telling him within hearing of his old master, that if he didn’t tell me where there was something to eat, I would kill him, and the old man called, “Let that man alone; he don’t know where there is anything to eat; there is nothing on the place, the Federals just took everything I had.” I still insisted on killing the negro if he didn’t tell me where there was something to eat, and finally let him off, satisfying the old man that he hadn’t told me anything.
As soon as I reached camp I told Colonel Harrison to get out a detail of fifty men, with sacks to carry potatoes in, when he ordered Major Pearrie, our commissary, to get out the detail and follow my instructions. I told Pearrie that I was satisfied the people at the house about a half mile from there had plenty of potatoes, but did not tell him the source of my information, determined not to tell anybody. When we moved up the lane near the house. Major Pearrie halted us, went to the house to talk to the old man and negotiate for the potatoes, when the old man satisfied him there were no potatoes on the place. In the meantime I had no trouble in finding the lot just as the negro had described to me and when the major returned and ordered us, “About face; move back to camp; there is nothing to be had,” I dismounted, crossed the fence into the lot and commenced digging with my hands and in about two feet, struck potatoes, then called to the men to come over with their sacks, which, it is hardly necessary to say, we filled up to the top. We thought we left potatoes enough to last the old man and his family for another year, and perhaps more. We then sent up the river bottom and found the corn, on which we fed our horses. Here is another instance of the attachment of the negro to our own people, his sympathy for us controlling his actions, and I always regretted not taking this negro along with us, fearing perhaps that his old master might have suspected him of giving us information about these potatoes and corn.
After crossing the river and reaching Pocatalego, we found General Hardee and General McLaws, with the infantry out of Savannah and also artillery organizations, which were turned into infantry. General McLaws made a request on General Wheeler for a company of cavalry, preferring a company of Texas Rangers, to scout and act as escort for him, when Company B, to which I belonged, was detailed for this purpose.
One night, Captain King, inspector general on McLaws’ staff, came down to our campfire and requested me to accompany him on a ride across the swamp, to find Wheeler’s cavalry, which I consented to do. We proceeded into the swamp on a corduroy road, the night being one of the darkest we had ever been out in, the only light onto the road was the sky appearing between the tall trees on both sides, which governed us in keeping about the middle of the road and kept us from riding off the logs into the deep mud and water. After riding perhaps a half mile, expecting every minute to be fired on by Sherman’s advance pickets, our horses necessarily making a great deal of noise by stumbling over the logs, Captain King stopped and asked did I not think one of us could get through easier than both, as it would reduce the noise considerably. I told him that it certainly would. He then asked me if I would carry a written order to General Wheeler, which was for Wheeler’s cavalry not to fail to cross the swamp that night in order to be on hand by daylight in the morning, when General Hardee expected an attack by the enemy’s infantry. I told Captain King that I would carry the order, which he asked me to show every brigade commander that I might find, until I reached General Wheeler. Captain King then returned to General McLaws’ camp, as he would be needed the next morning.
I rode through the swamp, crossed the bridge and after about a twenty-mile ride, found Wheeler’s cavalry, first striking a Georgia brigade, to a colonel of which I read the order, when he immediately ordered his brigade to saddle up; the next I struck Harrison’s brigade, who also followed suit; the next I struck Colonel Ashby’s headquarters, commanding Tennesseans. I found him lying on a pallet in front of a fireplace, surrounded by his staff, all asleep. I showed him the order; after reading it and noticing that I was wet, having ridden in the rain part of the time, he made me step up to the fire, then after drying my clothes, take his pallet and sleep until it was time to cross the swamp, his command being very near the swamp. He promised me that he would send the dispatch direct to General Wheeler, who was not far off and would have me awakened when the last were about to cross, thereby giving me as much sleep as possible. This kind treatment of Colonel Ashby’s was much appreciated, but was not a surprise to me, having known him as one of the most gallant officers and gentlemen I ever got acquainted with.
Some time after the war, meeting Lieutenant Fulkerson, the commander of our company, at Bryan, Texas, he told me that General McLaws told him a few days after this engagement that Graber’s ride that night, finding Wheeler’s cavalry, who crossed the swamp in time to cover the retreat of our infantry, no doubt saved our little army, only about seven or eight thousand strong. This army was composed of the infantry and artillery that were stationed at Savannah and Charleston and at different points along our line of retreat and was joined at Bentonville with the remnant of Hood’s army, out of Tennessee, after the disastrous Hood campaign in that State.
While this humble individual service was nothing extraordinary, nothing more than performed by individual members of our company frequently, yet the result was such that I always had cause to feel proud of it. I forgot to mention that I crossed the swamp without being fired on by the enemy, as they had not reached that part of the crossing when I passed through.