Building the Cracker Line: A New Yorker in eastern Tennessee
In the autumn of 1863, Major Lewis D. Warner of the 154th New York arrived in Tennessee as part of the movement of the 11th and 12th Army Corps from the Army of the Potomac to reinforce the Army of the Cumberland. "The corps which could steal mit Blenker, fight mit Sigel, and run mit Howard, can dig like 'ter tyvel' as the Dutchmen say," and soon were given the chance to do just that. By early November, his regiment was firmly in place in the Lookout Valley building a corduroy road over which supplies for the army would flow into Chattanooga. During this period of road construction, Major Warner took the opportunity to study the civilian inhabitants of the region and recorded, with dismay, their wretched living conditions.
“In personal appearance, there
is the same sallow complexion, the same expressionless countenance, the same
evidence of the most abject poverty, and of an aimless life, with no aspiration
above the mere qualification of physical desires, and the supplying of animal
wants. There is little or no education or anything like refinement, to be met
with,” he noted. “Their dress is as uniform as the expression of their
countenance. The men are dressed in a butternut-colored home manufacture, and
the women in a coarse, cotton fabric, of a dirty yellow. The children, of which
there are no lack, are dressed in a similar fabric, according to sex. These
have generally blue eyes, and universally, light hair, which has much the
appearance of a mass of uncombed flax. These unfortunates, the victims of the
peculiar institution, which, in their blind delusion, they are fighting to
perpetuate, are now truly to be pitied. Stripped of everything they did
possess, cows, hogs and corn, how they are to get through the coming winter,
God only knows.”
Major Warner’s letter, originally published in an unknown New York newspaper, appears on the blog from the files of the New York State Military Museum and Veterans’ Research Center.
Lookout Valley, near Chattanooga, Tennessee
November 9, 1863
The smoke of our late skirmishes
having cleared away, and the earth continuing to revolve as of old, nowise
disturbed by the clash of arms, our little army (the 11th and 12th Corps) has
subsided into their usual quiet routine of camp, picket and fatigue duties. By
fatigue, I mean fortifying and road building. Of the latter we are just now
engaged on quite an extensive job, being nothing less than the building of a
double track of corduroy the distance of six miles from Kelley's Ferry, the
present head of steamboat navigation on the Tennessee, to the place of our
present encampment. The whole supplies for the Army of the Cumberland have to
be hauled over this road. The supplies come to Bridgeport by rail, and are
there transferred to barges, which are towed up to Kelley's Landing by
steamboat.
Supplies are now being brought
forward faster than they are consumed, and if no interruption occurs, the army
will soon be in a condition to warrant a forward move, provided Bragg can be
moved out of the way. The Rebels still hold their position on Lookout Mountain
and have a small infantry force on the side of and at the base fronting Lookout
Valley. The 11th Corps holds the valley, and our pickets are along the bank of
the creek, which flows close to the base of the mountain. Their pickets are on
the opposite bank, and so close that considerable conversation is carried on
across the narrow stream. The rough handling the Rebels received at the hands
of our boys on the day and night of our arrival here, has had the effect of
imbuing them with great respect for the fighting qualities of our boys. They
don't seem clearly to understand how it was done. Those who have been taken
prisoners, as well as those who have voluntarily come within our lines, have
generally asked to be shown the boys who pitched into them in so unusual a manner.
The Rebel batteries on the
mountain still continue to salute us whenever they see a train of wagons, or a
body of men passing through the valley. We have been here 12 days and they have
probably sent us on an average 50 of their best compliments daily. Although
within easy range of their guns, the whole number of casualties to this time
does not exceed four or five. So much for this terrible position on Lookout. So
harmless are they that even the mules, usually very susceptible of impressions
of this sort, hardly deign to prick up their ears while passing under the range
of their fire. The fact is the knoll is decidedly too high for successful
cannonading. They cannot safely depress their guns sufficiently to bear
directly upon our positions and must depend upon their shells bursting over the
right spot, which very few are accommodating enough to do. Many burst almost as
soon as they leave the mouth of the gun, and many do not burst at all.
Major Lewis D. Warner, 154th N.Y. |
Under the circumstances, I think
they evince a commendable degree of perseverance, they still give us their
daily attentions, and the puffs of smoke from the mountain's top and from the
bursting shell followed in due time by the double reports, is evidence that
they still are there. We have several large guns in position on a hill on the
opposite side of the river, which occasionally reply to the enemy, throwing
their shells over the crest of the mountain, but with what effect is of course
only known to the Rebs, unless indeed the man in the moon occasionally looks
down from his elevated position, and takes a survey of the enemy's camp, but
even if this is so, he is not supposed to be acquainted with our signal
telegraphing, and so his knowledge is useless to us.
With the exception of the
sparring that is going on between Lookout Mountain and our batteries on the
miniature at its foot, all seems to be quiet along the Tennessee. The Rebs are
daily coming into our lines, sometimes single, sometimes in squads of tens and
twenties. They report their army in great destitution, both as regards clothing
and provisions, and their haggard and ragged appearance, as living evidence
that in this respect they do not misrepresent the state of affairs. The people
in this vicinity, as well as between Bridgeport and this place, are certainly
the most forlorn set of beings I ever met with. I had read descriptions and
looked upon drawings, of the poor whites of the South, but if this region is
peopled by fair representations of the race, the most highly colored picture
extant falls far below the reality. And a description of one person or one
family will apply equally to all.
In personal appearance, there is
the same sallow complexion, the same expressionless countenance, the same
evidence of the most abject poverty, and of an aimless life, with no aspiration
above the mere qualification of physical desires, and the supplying of animal
wants. There is little or no education or anything like refinement, to be met
with. Their dwellings are almost universally of the most ancient style of
backwoods architectures with this exception, they have not ambition enough to
chink between the logs. There are several inhabited dwellings in this vicinity,
in which the logs are on an average three inches apart without any filling
whatever. Of course windows are an unnecessary appendage and are dispensed with
entirely.
Of their public buildings, the
church of "John the Baptist," standing near the camp, is, I suppose,
a fair specimen. The building is of logs, flatted on two sides, covered with
the split oak shingle, the only kind I have seen in this country. There is one
place of entrance, and here let me remark with regard to their liberality; that
their church door or pulpit evidently never was closed against those who
differed from them in some technical point, simply because there were neither
to close! At each end there was left an aperture which one would suppose was
intended for a window, did not a closer inspection reveal the fact that a
window never was there. The warming of the edifice certainly shows an
originality on the part of the designer, not often surpassed. In front of each
aperture spoken of as left for windows, a square pile of stone is built up some
six inches above the floor on which the fires were evidently built, the smoke
escaping through the aforesaid apertures, or through the crevices in the roof.
The seats are split-oak slabs, with legs inserted by the aid of an augur; these
are also from an original design, but poorly designed to enjoy the luxury of
sleeping through a long sermon. Surely, those who listened to the divine
command, "Servants, obey your Masters," as it fell from the lips of
some eloquent disciple of the meek and lowly, attended from purely devotional
motives. So much for their churches. Of schoolhouses, there are none.
Their dress is as uniform as the
expression of their countenance. The men are dressed in a butternut-colored
home manufacture, and the women in a coarse, cotton fabric, of a dirty yellow.
The children, of which there are no lack, are dressed in a similar fabric,
according to sex. These have generally blue eyes, and universally, light hair,
which has much the appearance of a mass of uncombed flax. These unfortunates,
the victims of the peculiar institution, which, in their blind delusion, they
are fighting to perpetuate, are now truly to be pitied. Stripped of everything
they did possess, cows, hogs and corn, how they are to get through the coming
winter, God only knows. Utterly spiritless, they have neither the means or the
ambition to get away and remain, eking out a scanty supply of corn meal, which,
mixed with water, and baked without salt, is their sole living. Once seen, and
the wonder ceases, that they are the dupes and willing tools of the Southern chivalry,
who, with the facility and ease with which the potter works his clay, shapes
and molds them, and excites their passions
to the working out of their base designs, and to the ultimate ruin of these,
their willing instruments. God hasten the day when their eyes shall be opened
to their own best interests, and they redeemed from the worse than African
bondage, which has so long crushed them beneath the wheel of this worse than
Pagan car. Then, and not till then will their temporal condition be improved,
and their intellects be aroused from the death-like torpor in which they have
lain so long.
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