The battle of Antietam was the first substantial victory which crowned the labors of the Army of the Potomac. Williamsburg, Fair Oaks and Malvern were all victories, but productive of no immediate results. Fought on ground of the enemy’s choosing, and under the disadvantages which always attend the assailing party, it was a decisive struggle, stemming the tide of invasion and rolling back to their rebellious territory Lee’s boasted legions, the
who had come to “free” “My Maryland.” A single regret is associated with Antietam: that the enemy, defeated and driven back, were not followed up and annihilated.
ANTIETAM.
Straw Stacks, with Wounded. Position of Thirty-Third when attacked. Rickett’s Battery.
After being driven from the mountain passes, Gen. Lee withdrew his forces from the vicinity of the Blue Ridge, Boonsboro and Hagerstown, and concentrated them near Sharpsburg, in horse-shoe shaped lines, the heels resting near the Potomac. Gen. McClellan followed with his entire army, save Couch’s Division and Franklin’s Command, which having been detached for the relief of Harper’s Ferry, were several miles in the rear.
The valley in which the conflict occurred lies directly west of the spur of the Blue Ridge known as South Mountain, and comprises one of the most delightful portions of Maryland. Looking down from the Highlands, the eye fell upon little villages, crowning eminences or nestling in dells; farm houses standing out boldly on the hill-tops, or half-hidden down the woody slopes; yellow fields of grain, green pastures and sombre fallows; luxuriant orchards and groves of maple, interspersed with oak; the tortuous Antietam, forming in its serpentine windings numerous miniature islands; lesser streams sparkling in the sunlight, leaping and babbling down the mountain side, or flowing noiselessly through the verdant meadows—the whole comprising a landscape of surpassing beauty and loveliness.
Down on this fair valley settled the “horrid cloud” called battle. Over this gorgeous patch-work of nature rolled the “hot elements of destruction.”
Monday afternoon and Tuesday were spent by Gen. McClellan in reconnoitring the enemy’s position, and establishing his own. He likewise devoted considerable time to examining the topography of the region. “Two hostile armies,” a recent writer observes, “on a battle-field, are two wrestlers—one tries to throw the other; they cling to everything; a thicket is a basis; for want of a village to support it, a Regiment gives way; a fall in the plain, a transverse hedge in a good position, a wood, a ravine, may arrest the heel of that column which is called an army, and prevent its slipping. The one who leaves the field is beaten, and hence the necessity for the responsible Chief to examine the smallest clump of trees, and the slightest rise in the ground.” No General ever realized the truth of the above more than Gen. McClellan, and it was accordingly his wont to inspect minutely the ground chosen for battle. Before Tuesday noon he had familiarized himself with the plan of “Antietam,” examined the woods, fields, hills, dales and streams which it embraced, selected the commanding positions for his artillery, and marked out the level spots where infantry could be manœuvred to advantage.
As fast as the troops came streaming down from the mountain, they moved to the various points assigned them. It was an inspiring sight, those long shining lines, pouring down through the woods and fields, like “living threads that went to weave themselves into the glorious tapestry of our nation’s history.”
There was the chivalric Burnside, leading the conquerors of Roanoke and Newbern—the Ninth Army Corps—which he loved so well. Further to the right came Porter, with his Regulars and well filled ranks of Volunteers. Still further on appeared the brave old Sumner, whose highest wish was to die with the harness on—followed by troops who adored the hero of Fair Oaks, if possible, more than their Chief.
In the rear rode the gallant Mansfield, who, tired of inactivity, had exchanged the ease of court duty at the capital for the command of Banks’ Corps, fresh from the gory fields of Cedar Mountain and Bull Run. Hither was he come to uncover to the storm his head, now silvered o’er by the frosts of nearly sixty winters, and die while cheering forward his men on a charge. And there too was the courageous Hooker, deploying far away to the right his battle-scarred veterans.
During Tuesday there was heavy skirmishing between the infantry, and considerable artillery firing, but no general engagement took place. Meanwhile Lee was reinforced by Jackson’s Corps of thirty thousand men, who, after having taken possession of Harper’s Ferry, moved rapidly back up the Virginia side of the Potomac and crossed over at the fords near Sharpsburg. Aware, as he now was, of his superiority in numbers and position, the rebel chief calmly awaited our attack.
The dawn of Wednesday found the Federal army arranged in much the same manner as the day previous, Hooker on the right, supported by Mansfield, then Sumner, then Porter on a commanding eminence, as a reserve, and lastly Burnside, on the extreme left.
The line extended between four and five miles. The rebel left was in the woods, directly in front of our right, and their forces were posted across the valley between us and Sharpsburg, and very nearly parallel with our own. Our artillery was planted behind the crests of the various hillocks, ready to be run up and fire at a moment’s notice.
To Gen. Hooker had been assigned the honor of opening the great combat. During the night previous he had crossed the Antietam on the Hagerstown road, and gained a position on the right bank of that stream, which curved round in front of our forces.
He was in the saddle before daylight, and the rising sun shone upon his troops moving forward in battle array—the right of our lines sweeping round towards the Potomac. They proceeded but a short distance before encountering the enemy, drawn up to receive them, and soon the profound stillness which precedes a battle was broken, and Saxon was pitted against Saxon in the contest of death.
Steadily the brave fellows pressed forward over the wooded and uneven ground, regardless of the infantry and artillery fire which was concentrated upon them from several points, and sweeping through the cornfields and grove at the right of the Sharpsburg turnpike, bore down with irresistible fury upon the rebel lines.
They stood the shock but a moment, and then the swarthy foe fell back in disorder, closely followed by our victorious boys, who made the welkin ring with their shouts and cheers. But now come reinforcements for the enemy, and our troops are forced back from the ground which they have so gallantly won. For a moment it seems as if Hooker will be overpowered, so heavily has the enemy’s left been reinforced, but the timely arrival of Mansfield stems the tide of rebel success. The two commands are massed together, and together resist the onslaughts of the enemy. There is as yet no fighting elsewhere. All the energy, skill and force of the respective commanders are, for the time being, centred on this point. Hither all eyes are turned. Ten o’clock finds the troops still fiercely engaged. Both Hooker and Mansfield are lost to them. Gen. McClellan soon arrives, inspiring the men by his presence. A few moments later Sumner comes up with his whole Corps to the relief of those who have been fighting for three hours.
His troops suffer severely. It was true he exposed them—unnecessarily some thought—but no more than he exposed himself. Wherever the conflict waxed hottest, there he was to be seen riding to and fro, brandishing his sword and cheering forward his men, his head uncovered and his long silver locks streaming in the breeze. French, Richardson, Kimball and other brave spirits were with him, seconding his commands.
The gallant young Howard, who laid aside his ministerial robes to lose an arm at Fair Oaks Roads, leads Burn’s old Brigade on a charge. Close by appears the intrepid Meagher, double-quicking his Irish braves through a field of corn, and the enemy, who have again commenced advancing, are checked. Our reserve artillery are now trained upon them, and
creating wide gaps and producing fearful carnage in their ranks. But determined on breaking this part of our line, Gen. Lee continued to mass his forces here, and portions of Sumner’s troops, weary and exhausted, began to recede.
It was now a most critical moment—Mansfield killed, Hooker wounded, Sedgwick, Richardson and Crawford carried bleeding from the field,—the enemy pressing on in overwhelming numbers,—our own troops giving way,—what should we have done had not Franklin arrived at this juncture from Pleasant Valley with two fresh Divisions?
The force had left Pleasant Valley at daylight, and marched rapidly to the scene of action. The Third Brigade, with two others, immediately pressing forward, put the enemy to flight, and established the lines far in advance of where they had been at the opening of the fight. This brilliant success cost us, however, many casualties. Fifty were killed and wounded in the Thirty-third alone; among the former was Sergeant-Major George W. Bassett, a brave and beloved officer. He was shot through the head, after bearing Lieut. Mix from the field, seriously wounded through the thigh. Captain Gifford and Lieutenant King were also wounded. Lieutenant-Colonel Corning’s horse was hit three times, and Major Platner’s killed. The Thirty-third, and other Regiments of Franklin’s Corps sent forward, held their position during the remainder of the contest. The fighting on the left did not commence until later in the day, and it was noon before the fire of musketry announced that the infantry were engaged in that direction. The first advance was made down the slope of a hill, to a bridge which crossed the Antietam. Beyond the stream the enemy were so posted as to sweep the bridge with a severe musketry fire. After an hour or two of fighting for its possession, a charge was ordered, and the structure carried at the point of the bayonet.
Once across the creek, General Burnside found the rebels in a new position of great strength. Against this position he advanced at once, and Gens. Cox, Wilcox and Sturges soon occupied the hill. No sooner, however, had they appeared on the summit, than the opposing artillery rendered it untenable. They, therefore, relinquished it, but so planted their guns that the enemy could not reoccupy it.
The rebel infantry now appeared, as they had done earlier in the day, on the right, in overwhelming numbers, and attempted to drive back Burnside. Being sorely pressed he sent to Gen. McClellan for reinforcements. “Tell Burnside that I can furnish him no more troops.” (What was Porter doing all this time?) “But, General,” answers the aid, “Gen. Burnside is being crushed, and before I get back may be overpowered.” “Tell Gen. Burnside,” Gen. McClellan once more sternly replies, “that he must maintain his position at all hazards and at whatever cost.” Lieut. French galloped back to his General with this verbal communication, and from that time the warm intimacy existing between McClellan and Burnside—an intimacy which had sprung up when they were chums together in civil life—was ended. Gen. Burnside felt, and justly too, that some of the fresh and well trained troops belonging to Porter should have been sent to his assistance. He withstood the shock but a few moments, losing very heavily, and then withdrew from the extreme position which he had gained near Sharpsburg to one slightly in rear of it. He, however, held his bank of the river completely, and maintained much ground beyond it, which he had taken from the enemy.
Night closed upon the scene, preventing further operations, and our victorious troops slept on the battle-field.
A guard of three officers, nine Sergeants and thirty men from the Thirty-third were posted in front of the Regiment, and after dark moved forward to within a hundred yards of the enemy. Towards morning the officer of the guard informed Lieut. Col. Corning that the rebels were moving artillery back by hand. He immediately reported this to headquarters, and in the morning sent Lieut. Carter to Gen. Smith to announce to him in person that he had heard artillery moving to the rear, and perceived other indications of a retreat on the part of the enemy. An hour later they could be seen from Burnside’s position moving back to the river. The men were impatient to dash after them and end the war. Where was McClellan that he did not give orders to renew the conflict? No such orders came. About noon the Third Brigade was relieved by Cochrane’s of Couch’s Division. The afternoon passed as had the forenoon, no offensive demonstrations being made by us. The rebels kept up a brisk fire from their skirmish line, which fact was, after our Peninsular experience, an additional evidence to us that they were retiring. About noon, on the following day (Friday), our skirmishers moved forward, and discovered that the enemy had all crossed to the Virginia side of the Potomac. The whole army was now put in motion and encamped near the bank of the river. Gen. McClellan has been severely censured for thus permitting the enemy to slip through his fingers, but he committed no greater blunder than did Lee in afterwards allowing Burnside to escape at Fredericksburg and Hooker at Chancellorsville.