SHARPSBURG
1862. Sept. 17 It is a curious coincidence that not only were the
number, of the opposing armies at the battle of Sharpsburg almost
identical with those of the French and Germans at the battle of Wörth,
but that there is no small resemblance between the natural features and
surrounding scenery of the two fields. Full in front of the Confederate
position rises the Red Hill, a spur of the South Mountain, wooded, like
the Vosges, to the very crest, and towering high above the fields of
Maryland, as the Hochwald towers above the Rhineland. The Antietam,
however, is a more difficult obstacle than the Sauerbach, the brook
which meanders through the open meadows of the Alsatian valley. A deep
channel of more than sixty feet in width is overshadowed by forest
trees; and the ground on either bank ascends at a sharp gradient to the
crests above. Along the ridge to the west, which parts the Antietam
from the Potomac, and about a mile distant from the former stream, runs
the Hagerstown turnpike, and in front of this road there was a strong
position. Sharpsburg, a village of a few hundred inhabitants, lies on
the reverse slope of the ridge, extending in the direction of the
Potomac, and only the church steeples were visible to the Federals.
Above the hamlet was the Confederate centre. Here, near a limestone
boulder, which stood in a plot which is now included in the soldiers’
cemetery, was Lee’s station during the long hours of September 17, and
from this point he overlooked the whole extent of his line of battle. A
mile northward, on the Hagerstown pike, his loft centre was marked by a
square white building, famous
under the name of the Dunkard Church, and backed by a long dark wood.
To the right, a mile southward, a bold spur, covered with scattered
trees, forces the Antietam westward, and on this spur, overlooking the
stream, he had placed his right.
Illustration: Map of Sharpsburg, Maryland. For larger view click on
image.
Between the Hagerstown pike and the Antietam the open slopes, although
not always uniform, but broken, like those on the French side of the
Sauerbach, by long ravines, afforded an admirable field of fire. The
lanes which cross them are sunk in many places below the surface: in
front of Sharpsburg the fields were divided by low stone walls; and
these natural intrenchments added much to the strength of the position.
Nor were they the only advantages. The belt of oaks beyond the Dunkard
Church, the West Wood, was peculiarly adapted for defence. Parallel
ledges of outcropping limestone, both within the thickets and along the
Hagerstown road, rising as high as a man’s waist, gave good coyer from
shot and shell; the trees were of old growth, and there was little
underwood. To the north-east, however, and about five hundred yards
distant across the fields, lay the East Wood, covering the slopes to
the Antietam, with Poffenberger’s Wood beyond; while further to the
left, the North Wood, extending across the Hagerstown pike, approached
the Confederate flank. The enemy, if he advanced to the attack in this
quarter of the field, would thus find ample protection during his march
and deployment; and in case of reverse he would find a rallying-point
in the North and Poffenberger’s Woods, of which Hooker was already in
possession. In the space between the woods were several small farms,
surrounded by orchards and stone fences; and on the slope east of the
Dunkard Church stood a few cottages and barns.
Access to the position was not easy. Only a single ford, near
Snaveley’s house, exists across the Antietam, and this was commanded by
the bluff on the Confederate right. The stone bridges, however, for
want of time and means to destroy them, had been left standing. That
nearest the confluence of the Antietam and the Potomac,
at the Antietam Iron-works, by which A. P Hill was expected, was
defended by rifle-pits and enfiladed by artillery. The next, known as
the Burnside Bridge, was completely overlooked by the heights above.
That opposite Lee’s centre could be raked throughout its length; but
the fourth, at Pry’s Mill, by which Hooker and Mansfield had already
crossed, was covered both from view and fire. Roads within the position
were numerous. The Hagerstown turnpike, concealed for some distance on
either side of Sharpsburg by the crest of the ridge, was admirably
adapted for the movement of reserves, and another broad highway ran
through Sharpsburg to the Potomac.
The position, then, in many respects, was well adapted to Lee’s
purpose. The flanks were reasonably secure. The right rested on the
Antietam. The left was more open; but the West Wood formed a strong
_point d’appui,_ and beyond the wood a low ridge, rising above
Nicodemus Run, gave room for several batteries; while the Potomac was
so close that the space available for attack on this flank was much
restricted. The ground could thus be held by a comparatively small
number of men, and a large reserve set free for the counterstroke. The
great drawback was that the ridge east of the Antietam, although
commanded by the crest which the Confederates occupied, would permit
McClellan to deploy the whole of his powerful artillery, and in no
place did the range exceed two thousand yards. In case of retreat,
moreover, the Potomac, two hundred yards from shore to shore, would
have to be crossed by a few deep fords,[1] of which only one was
practicable for waggons. These disadvantages, however, it was
impossible to avoid; and if the counterstroke were decisive, they would
not be felt.
The left of the position was assigned to Jackson, with Hood in third
line. Next in order came D. H. Hill. Longstreet held the centre and the
right, with Walker in reserve behind the flank. Stuart, with Fitzhugh
Lee’s
brigade and his four guns, was between the West Wood and the Potomac.
Munford’s two regiments of cavalry, reinforced by a battery, held the
bridge at the Antietam Iron-works, and kept open the communication with
Harper’s Ferry; and twenty-six rifled pieces of the reserve artillery
were with D. H. Hill. From the Nicodemus Run to the bluff overhanging
the Burnside Bridge is just three miles, and for the occupation of this
front the following troops were at Lee’s disposal:—
Men Guns Jackson:
Jones’ Division
Ewell’s Division (General Lawton) 5,500 16[2] Longstreet:
D. R. Jones’ Division
Hood’s Division (detached to Jackson)
Evan’s Brigade 8,000 50
D. H. Hill’s Division 5,000 26
Walker’s Division 3,500 12
Stuart:
Fitzhugh Lee’s Brigade
Munford’s Brigade 2,500 4 Reserve Artillery 1,000 ———
25,000 26 —— 134
On the far side of the Potomac the Shepherdstown Ford was protected by
the remainder of the reserve artillery, with an infantry escort; but so
small was the force whose retreat was thus secured that nearly every
man was required in the fighting-line. Except the divisions of Hood and
Walker, 5,500 men all told, there was no immediate reserve.
But at daybreak on the 17th the troops which had been left at Harper’s
Ferry were rapidly coming up. McLaws and Anderson, who had started
before midnight, were already nearing the Potomac; Hampton’s cavalry
brigade was not far behind, and orders had been dispatched to A. P.
Hill. But could these 13,000 bayonets be up in time—before Hooker and
Mansfield received strong support, or before the Burnside Bridge was
heavily attacked? The question was indeed momentous. If the Federals
were to put forth their whole strength without
delay, bring their numerous artillery into action, and press the battle
at every point, it seemed hardly possible that defeat could be averted.
McClellan, however, who had never yet ventured on a resolute offensive,
was not likely, in Lee’s judgment, to assault so strong a position as
that held by the Confederates with whole-hearted energy, and it was
safe to calculate that his troops would be feebly handled. Yet the odds
were great. Even after the arrival of the absent divisions[3] no more
than 35,000 infantry, 4,000 cavalry, and 194 guns would be in line, and
the enemy’s numbers were far superior. McClellan had called in Franklin
from Rohrersville, and his muster roll was imposing.
Men Guns
First Corps—Hooker
Second Corps—Sumner
Fifth Corps—Porter
Sixth Corps—Franklin
Ninth Corps—Burnside
Twelfth Corps—Mansfield
Cavalry—Pleasanton 14,856
18,813
12,930
12,300
13,819
10,126
4,320
———
87,164 40 42 70 36 35 36 16 —— 275
In comparison with the masses arrayed between the Red Hill and the
Antietam, the Confederate army was but a handful.
5 a.m. Notwithstanding McClellan’s caution, the opening of the battle
was not long delayed. Before sunrise the desultory firing of the
pickets had deepened to the roar of battle. Hooker, who had been
ordered to begin the attack, forming his troops behind the North Wood,
directed them on the Dunkard Church, which, standing on rising ground,
appeared the key of the position. Jackson had already thrown back his
two divisions at nearly a right angle to the Confederate front. His
right, which connected with the left of D. H. Hill, and resting on the
western edge of the East Wood extended as far as the Miller House, was
held by Lawton, with two brigades in front and one in second line. West
of the Hagerstown turnpike, and covering the ground as far as the
Nicodemus Farm, was Jones’ division; the Stonewall and Jones’ brigades
in front, Taliaferro’s and Starke’s along the edge of the wood in rear.
Three guns stood upon the turnpike; the remainder of the artillery
(thirteen) guns was with Stuart on the high ground north of Nicodemus
Run. Hood, in third line, stood near the Dunkard Church; and on Hood’s
right were three of Longstreet’s batteries under Colonel Stephen Lee.
The ground which Jackson had been ordered to occupy was not
unfavourable for defence, although the troops had practically no cover
except the rail-fences and the rocky ledges. There was a wide and open
field of fire, and when the Federal skirmishers appeared north of the
Miller House the Confederate batteries, opening with vigour at a range
of eight hundred yards, struck down sixteen men at the first salvo.
This fire, and the stubborn resistance of the pickets, held the enemy
for some time in check; but Hooker deployed six batteries in reply, and
after a cannonade of nearly an hour his infantry advanced. From the
cover of the woods, still veiled by the morning mist, the Federals came
forward in strong force. Across the dry ploughed land in Lawton’s front
the fight grew hot, and on the far side of the turnpike the meadows
round the Nicodemus Farm became the scene of a desperate struggle.
Hooker had sent in two divisions, Meade on the left and Doubleday on
the right, while a third under Ricketts acted in close support of
Meade.[4] The attack was waged with the dash and energy which had
earned for Hooker the sobriquet of Fighting Joe, and the troops he
commanded had already proved their mettle on many murderous fields.
Meade’s Pennsylvanians, together with the Indiana and Wisconsin
regiments, which had wrought such havoc in Jackson’s ranks at
Grovetown, were once more bearing down upon his line. Nor were the
tactics of the leaders ill-calculated to second the valour of the
troops. Hooker’s whole army corps of 12,500 men was manœuvred in close
combination. The second line was so posted as to render quick support.
No portion of the front was without an adequate reserve in rear. The
artillery was used in mass, and the flanks were adequately guarded.
The conflict between soldiers so well matched was not less fierce than
when they had met on other fields. Hooker’s troops had won a large
measure of success at South Mountain three days previously, and their
blood was up. Meade, Gibbon, and Ricketts were there to lead them, and
the battle opened with a resolution which, if it had infected
McClellan, would have carried the Sharpsburg ridge ere set of sun.
Stubborn was the resistance of Jackson’s regiments, unerring the aim of
his seasoned riflemen; but the opposing infantry, constantly
reinforced, pressed irresistibly forward, and the heavy guns beyond the
Antietam, finding an opening between the woods, swept the thin grey
line from end to end. Jones’ division, after fighting for
three-quarters of an hour on the meadows, fell back to the West Wood;
General Jones was carried wounded from the field, and the guns on the
turnpike were abandoned.
6.30 a.m. So tremendous was the fire, that the corn, said Hooker, over
thirty acres was cut as close by the bullets as if it had been reaped
with the sickle, and the dead lay piled in regular ranks along the
whole Confederate front. Never, he added, had been seen a more bloody
or dismal battle-field. To the east of the turnpike Lawton’s division,
strengthened at the critical moment by the brigade in second line, held
Meade in check, and with a sharp counterstroke drove the Pennsylvanians
back upon their guns. But Gibbon, fighting fiercely in the centre by
the Miller House, brought up a battery in close support of his first
line, and pressed heavily on the West Wood until the Confederate
skirmishers, creeping through the maize, shot
down the gunners and the teams;[5] and Starke, who had succeeded Jones,
led the Valley regiments once more into the open field. The battle
swayed backwards and forwards under the clouds of smoke; the crash of
musketry, reverberating in the woods, drowned the roar of the
artillery; and though hundreds were shot down at the shortest range
neither Federal nor Confederate flinched from the dreadful fray. Hooker
sent in a fresh brigade, and Patrick, reinforcing Gibbon with four
regiments, passed swiftly to the front, captured two colours, and made
some headway. But again the Virginians rallied, and Starke, observing
that the enemy’s right had become exposed, led his regiments forward to
the charge. Doubleday’s division, struck fiercely in front and flank,
reeled back in confusion past the Miller House, and although the
gallant Starke fell dead, the Confederates recovered the ground which
they had lost. Jackson’s men had not been left unaided. Colonel Lee’s
guns had themselves to look to, for along the whole course of the
Antietam McClellan’s batteries were now in action, sweeping the
Sharpsburg ridge with a tremendous fire; but Stuart, west of the
Nicodemus Farm, had done much to embarrass Hooker’s operations.
Bringing his artillery into action, for the ground was unsuited to
cavalry, he had distracted the aim of the Federal gunners, and,
assailing their infantry in flank, had compelled Doubleday to detach a
portion of his force against him. Jackson, with supreme confidence in
the ability of his men to hold their ground, had not hesitated to
reinforce Stuart with Early’s brigade, the strongest in his command;
but before Doubleday was beaten back, Early had been recalled.
7.30 a.m. It was now half-past seven. The battle had been in progress
nearly three hours, and Hooker’s attack had been repulsed. But fresh
troops were coming into action from the north and north-east, and
Lawton’s and Jones’ divisions were in no condition to withstand a
renewed assault. No less than three officers in succession had led the
latter. Not one single brigade in either
division was still commanded by the officer who brought it into action,
and but few regiments. Of 4,200 infantry,[6] 1,700 had already fallen.
Never had Jackson’s soldiers displayed a spirit more akin to that of
their intrepid leader, and their fierce courage was not to be wasted.
Reinforcements were close at hand. Early’s brigade, 1,100 strong,[7]
was moving across from Nicodemus Run into the West Wood. Hood brought
his Texans, 1,800 muskets, to the relief of Lawton; and on Hood’s
right, but facing eastward, for Ricketts was working round Jackson’s
right, three of D. H. Hill’s brigades, hitherto hidden under cover,
came rapidly into line. Lawton’s division, nearly half the command
being killed or wounded, was withdrawn to the Dunkard Church; but on
the skirt of the West Wood the heroic remnant of the Valley regiments
still held fast among the limestone ledges.
The 8,500 infantry which McClellan had sent to Hooker’s assistance
formed the Twelfth Army Corps, commanded by Mansfield; and with those
men, too, Jackson’s soldiers were well acquainted.[8] They were the men
who had followed Banks and Shields from Kernstown to Winchester, from
Port Republic to Cedar Run; and the Valley army had not yet encountered
more determined foes. Their attack was delivered with their wonted
vigour. Several regiments, moving west of the turnpike, bore down on
the West Wood. But coming into action at considerable intervals, they
were roughly handled by Jones’ division, now commanded by Colonel
Grigsby, and protected by the rocks; and Stuart’s artillery taking them
in flank they were rapidly dispersed. East of the highroad the battle
raged with still greater violence. Hood and his Texans, as Lawton’s
brigades passed to the rear, dashed across the corn-field against Meade
and Ricketts, driving back the infantry on the batteries, and shooting
down the
gunners. But the Federal line remained unbroken, and Mansfield’s troops
were already moving forward. Crawford’s brigade, and then Gordon’s,
struck the Texans in front, while Greene, working round the East Wood,
made a resolute onslaught on D. H. Hill. The struggle was long and
bloody. The men stood like duelists, firing and receiving the fire at
fifty or a hundred paces. Crawford lost 1,000 men without gaining a
foot of ground; but Gordon turned the scale, and Hood’s brigades were
gradually forced back through the corn-field to the Dunkard Church. A
great gap had now opened in Jackson’s line. Jones’ division, its flank
uncovered by Hood’s retreat, found itself compelled to seek a new
position. D. H. Hill’s brigades, in the same plight, gave ground
towards Sharpsburg; and Greene, following in pursuit, actually crossed
the turnpike, and penetrated the West Wood; but neither Hooker nor
Mansfield were able to support him, and unassisted he could make no
progress.
[Illustration: Map of the Approximate Positions of the Troops during
the attacks of Hooker and Mansfield on the Confederate left, at the
Battle of Sharpsburg.]
9 a.m. At this moment, as if by common consent, the firing ceased on
this flank of the battle; and as McClellan’s Second Army Corps, led by
Sumner, advanced to sustain the First and Twelfth, we may stand by
Jackson near the Dunkard Church, and survey the field after four hours’
fighting.
Assailed in front by superior numbers, and enfiladed by the batteries
beyond the Antietam, the Confederate left had everywhere given back.
The East Wood was in possession of the enemy. Their right occupied the
Miller House; their centre, supported by many batteries, stood across
the corn-field; while the left, thrust forward, was actually
established on the edge of the West Wood, some five hundred yards to
northward of the church. But if Jackson had yielded ground, he had
exacted a fearful price. The space between the woods was a veritable
slaughter-pen, reeking under the hot September sun, where the blue
uniforms lay thicker than the grey. The First Army Corps had been cut
to pieces. It had been beaten in fair fight by Jackson’s two divisions,
counting at the outset less than half its numbers, and aided only by
the cavalry. It had lost in killed and wounded over 100 officers and
2,400 men. Hooker himself had been struck down, and as far as the
Antietam the field was covered with his stragglers. The Twelfth Corps
had suffered hardly less severely; and Mansfield himself, an old man
and a gallant soldier, was dying of his wounds. His batteries indeed
remained in action, pouring shot and shell on the West Wood and the
Dunkard Church; but his infantry, reduced by more than 1,500 rifles,
could do no more than hold their ground.
Nor was the exhaustion of the enemy the only advantage which the
Confederates had gained by the slaughter of 4,000 men. The position to
which Jackson had retired was more favourable than that from which he
had been driven. The line, no longer presenting a weak angle, was
almost straight, and no part of the front was open to enfilade. Stuart
and his artillery, withdrawn to a more favourable position, secured the
left. D. H. Hill on the right, though part of his force had given way,
still held the Roulette House and the sunken road, and the troops in
the West Wood were well protected from the Northern batteries. The one
weak point was the gap occupied by Greene’s Federals, which lay between
Grigsby’s regiments in the northern angle of the West Wood and Hood’s
division at the Dunkard Church. The enemy, however, showed no signs of
making good his opportunity; Early’s brigade was close at hand, and Lee
had promised further reinforcements.
A glance southward showed that there was no reason for despair. Over
all the field lay the heavy smoke of a great artillery battle. From
near the Dunkard Church to the bluff overhanging the Antietam, a
distance of two miles, battery on battery was in line. Here were
Longstreet’s artillery under Stephen Lee, together with the
six-and-twenty guns of Cutts’ reserve battalion, forty-eight guns in
all; the divisional batteries of D. H. Hill, and the Washington
artillery of New Orleans,[9] and in addition to these eighty guns
others were in action above the Burnside Bridge. An array even more
formidable crowned the opposite
crest; but although the Confederate batteries, opposed by larger
numbers and heavier metal, had suffered terribly, both in men and in
_matériel,_ yet the infantry, the main strength of the defence, was
still intact.[10] The cliffs of the Red Hill, replying to the rolling
thunder of near 800 guns, gave back no echo to the sharper crack of
musketry. Save a few skirmishers, who had crossed the Sharpsburg
Bridge, not one company of McClellan’s infantry had been sent into
action south of the Dunkard Church. Beyond the Antietam, covering the
whole space between the river and the hills, the blue masses were
plainly to be seen through the drifting smoke; some so far in the
distance that only the flash of steel in the bright sunshine
distinguished them from the surrounding woods; others moving in dense
columns towards the battle:
Standards on standards, men on men;
In slow succession still.
But neither by the Sharpsburg nor yet by the Burnside Bridge had a
single Federal regiment crossed the stream; Lee’s centre and right were
not even threatened, and it was evident his reserves might be
concentrated without risk at whatever point he pleased.
Walker’s division was therefore withdrawn from the right, and McLaws,
who had reached Sharpsburg shortly after sunrise, was ordered to the
front. G. T. Anderson’s brigade was detached from D. H. Hill; and the
whole force was placed at Jackson’s disposal. These fresh troops,
together with Early’s regiments, not yet engaged, gave 10,000 muskets
for the counterstroke, and had Hooker and Mansfield been alone upon the
field the Federal right wing would have been annihilated. But as the
Confederate reserves approached the Dunkard Church, Sumner, whom
McClellan
had ordered to cross Pry’s Bridge with the Second Army Corps, threw
three divisions against the West Wood and the Roulette House. In three
lines, up the slope from the Antietam, at sixty yards distance and
covering a wide front, came Sedgwick on the right, French on the left,
and Richardson to the left rear. So orderly was the advance of those
18,000 Northerners, and so imposing their array, that even the
Confederate officers watched their march with admiration, and terrible
was the shock with which they renewed the conflict.
Sedgwick, emerging from the East Wood, moved directly over the
corn-field, crossed the turnpike, and entering the West Wood to
northward of the point still held by Greene, swept through the timber,
and with a portion of his advanced brigade reached the further edge.
Greene, at the same moment, moved upon the Dunkard Church, and Early,
who with the fragments of Jones’ division was alone within the wood,
marched rapidly in the same direction. Attacked suddenly in flank from
behind a ridge of rock Greene’s regiments were driven back; and then
Early, observing Sedgwick’s third line pushing across the turnpike,
reformed his troops for further action. Greene, for the moment, had
been disposed of, but a more formidable attack was threatening.
Sedgwick’s 6,000 muskets, confronted only by some 600[11] of the Valley
soldiers under Grigsby, were thronging through the wood, and a change
of front southward would have sent them sweeping down the Confederate
line. Early could hardly have withstood their onset; Hood was incapable
of further effort, and D. H. Hill was heavily pressed by French. But
Jackson’s hand still held the reins of battle. During the fierce
struggle of the morning he had remained on the edge of the West Wood,
leaving, as was his wont, the conduct of the divisions to his
subordinates, but watching his enemy with a glance that saw beyond the
numbers arrayed against him. He had already demanded reinforcements
from General Lee; and in anticipation of their speedy arrival
their orders had been already framed. They had not been called for to
sustain his front, or to occupy a new position. Despite the thronging
masses of the Federals, despite the fact that his line was already
broken, attack, and attack only, was in Jackson’s mind, and the
reserves and the opportunity arrived together. A staff officer was
dispatched to direct Walker, on the left, to sustain the Texans, to
clear the West Wood, and to place a detachment in the gap between the
Dunkard Church and the batteries of Colonel Lee;[12] while Jackson
himself, riding to meet McLaws, ordered him “to drive the enemy back
and turn his right.” Anderson’s brigade was sent to support McLaws, and
Semmes’ brigade of McLaws’ division was detached to strengthen Stuart.
Forming into line as they advanced, McLaws and Walker, leaving the
Dunkard Church on their right, and moving swiftly through the wood,
fell suddenly on Sedgwick’s flank. Early joined in the _mêlée,_ and
“the result,” says Palfrey, a Northern general who was present on the
field, “was not long doubtful. Sedgwick’s fine division was at the
mercy of their enemy. Change of front was impossible. In less time than
it takes to tell it the ground was strewn with the bodies of the dead
and wounded, while the unwounded were moving off rapidly to the north.
Nearly 2,000 men were disabled in a moment.”[13] And the impetus of the
counterstroke was not yet spent. Gordon’s brigade of the Twelfth Corps
had been dispatched to Sedgwick’s help, but McLaws had reformed his
troops, and after a short struggle the Confederates drove all before
them.
Confusion reigned supreme in the Federal ranks. In vain their powerful
artillery, firing case and canister with desperate energy, strove to
arrest the rush of the pursuing infantry. Out from the West Wood and
across the cornfield the grey lines of battle, preceded by clouds of
skirmishers, pressed forward without a check, and the light batteries,
plying whip and spur, galloped to the front in
close support. Hope rose high. The Southern yell, pealing from ten
thousand throats, rang with a wild note of anticipated triumph, and
Jackson, riding with McLaws, followed with kindling gaze the progress
of his counterstroke attack. “God,” he said to his companion, as the
shells fell round them and the masses of the enemy melted away like the
morning mist, “has been very kind to us this day.”
But the end was not yet. Sedgwick’s brigades, flying to the north-east,
rallied under the fire of their batteries, and as the Confederates
advanced upon the East Wood, they found it already occupied by a fresh
brigade. Smith’s division of the Sixth Corps had been sent forward by
McClellan to sustain the battle, and its arrival saved his army from
defeat. Once more the corn-field became the scene of a furious
struggle, the Southerners fighting for decisive victory, the Federals
for existence. So impetuous was McLaws’ attack that the regiments on
his left, although checked by the fences, drove in a battery and dashed
back the enemy’s first line; but the weight of the artillery in front
of the North Wood, supported by a portion of Smith’s division,
prevented further advance, and a Federal brigade, handled with rare
judgment, rushed forward to meet the assailants in the open. Sharp was
the conflict, for McLaws, a fine soldier, as daring as he was skilful,
strove fiercely to complete the victory; but the fight within the woods
and the swift pursuit had broken the order of his division. Brigade had
mingled with brigade, regiment with regiment. There were no supports;
and the broken ranks, scourged by the terrible cross-fire of many
batteries, were unable to withstand the solid impact of the Federal
reserve. Slowly and sullenly the troops fell back from the deadly
strife. The enemy, no less exhausted, halted and lay down beyond the
turnpike; and while the musketry once more died away to northward of
the Dunkard Church, Jackson, rallying his brigades, re-established his
line along the edge of the West Wood.
Near the church was a portion of Walker’s division. Further north were
two of McLaws’ brigades; then Armistead, who had been sent forward from
Sharpsburg, and
then Early. A brigade of McLaws’ division formed the second line, and
Anderson was sent back to D. H. Hill. Hood also was withdrawn, and the
survivors of Jones’ division, many of whom had shared in the
counterattack, were permitted to leave the front.
10.30 a.m. Their rifles were no longer needed, for from half-past ten
onwards, so far as the defence of the Confederate left was concerned,
the work was done. For many hours the West Wood was exposed to the
concentrated fire of the Federal artillery; but this fire, although the
range was close, varying from six to fifteen hundred yards, had little
effect. The shattered branches fell incessantly among the recumbent
ranks, and the shells, exploding in the foliage, sent their hissing
fragments far and wide; yet the losses, so more than one general
reported, were surprisingly small.
But although the enemy’s infantry had been repulsed, no immediate
endeavour was made by the Confederates to initiate a fresh
counterstroke. When Lee sent McLaws and Walker to Jackson’s aid, he
sent in his last reserve, for A. P. Hill had not yet reached the field,
and R. H. Anderson’s division had already been taken to support the
centre. Thus no fresh troops were available, and the Federal right was
strong. At least fifteen batteries of artillery were in position along
the edge of the North Wood, and they were powerfully supported by the
heavy guns beyond the stream.
Yet the infantry so effectively protected was only formidable by reason
of its numbers. The First Corps and the Twelfth no longer existed as
organised bodies.[14] Sedgwick’s division of the Second Corps was still
more shattered. Only Smith’s division was effective, and General
McClellan, acting on the advice of Sumner, forbade all further attack.
Slocum’s division of the Sixth Corps, which reached the East Wood at
twelve o’clock, was ordered to remain in rear as support to Smith. The
Confederate left wing, then, had offered such strenuous resistance that
eight divisions of infantry, more than half of McClellan’s army, lay
paralysed before them for the remainder of
the day. 30,500 infantry, at the lowest calculation,[15] and probably
100 guns, besides those across the Antietam, had been massed by the
Federals in this quarter of the field. Jackson’s numbers, even after he
had been reinforced by McLaws and Walker, at no time approached those
arrayed against him, and 19,400 men, including Stuart and three
brigades of Hill, and 40 guns, is a liberal estimate of his
strength.[16] The losses on both sides had been exceedingly heavy.
Nearly 13,000 men,[17] including no less than fifteen generals and
brigadiers, had fallen within six hours. But although the Confederate
casualties were not greatly exceeded by those of the enemy, and were
much larger in proportion to their strength, the Federals had lost more
than mere numbers. The _moral_ of the troops had suffered, and still
more the _moral_ of the leaders. Even
Sumner, bravest of men, had been staggered by the fierce assault which
had driven Sedgwick’s troops like sheep across the corn-field, nor was
McClellan disposed to push matters to extremity.
Over in the West Wood, on the other hand, discouragement had no place.
Jackson had not yet abandoned hope of sweeping the enemy from the
field. He was disappointed with the partial success of McLaws’
counterstroke. It had come too late. The fortuitous advance of Smith’s
division, at the very crisis of the struggle, had, in all human
probability, rescued the Federal right from a terrible defeat. Had
McLaws been able to reach the East Wood he would have compelled the
hostile batteries to retreat; the Federal infantry, already shattered
and disorganised, could hardly have held on, and the line would have
been broken through. But although one opportunity had been lost, and he
was once more thrown on the defensive, Jackson’s determination to make
the battle decisive of the war was still unshaken. His judgment was
never clearer. Shortly before eleven o’clock his medical director,
appalled by the number of wounded men sent back from the front, and
assured that the day was going badly, rode to the West Wood in order to
discuss the advisability of transferring the field hospitals across the
Potomac. Dr. McGuire found Jackson sitting quietly on “Little Sorrel”
behind the line of battle, and some peaches he had brought with him
were gratefully accepted. He then made his report, and his
apprehensions were not made less by the weakness of the line which held
the wood. The men, in many places, were lying at intervals of several
yards; for support there was but one small brigade, and over in the
corn-fields the overwhelming strength of the Federal masses was
terribly apparent. Yet his imperturbable commander, apparently paying
more attention to the peaches than to his subordinate’s suggestions,
replied by pointing to the enemy and saying quietly, “Dr. McGuire, they
have done their worst.”
Meanwhile, the tide of battle, leaving Jackson’s front and setting
strongly southwards, threatened to submerge the Confederate centre.
French’s division of Sumner’s
corps, two brigades of Franklin’s, and afterwards Richardson’s
division, made repeated efforts to seize the Dunkard Church, the
Roulette Farm, and the Piper House.
1 p.m. From before ten until one o’clock the battle raged fiercely
about the sunken road which was held by D. H. Hill, and which witnessed
on this day such pre-eminence of slaughter that it has since been known
by the name of the “Bloody Lane.” Here, inspired by the unyielding
courage of their leaders, fought the five brigades of D. H. Hill, with
B. H. Anderson’s division and two of Walker’s regiments; and here
Longstreet, confident as always, controlled the battle with his
accustomed skill. The Confederate artillery was by this time
overpowered, for on each battery in turn the enemy’s heavy ordnance had
concentrated an overwhelming fire, and the infantry were supported by
no more than a dozen guns. The attack was strong, but the sunken road,
fortified by piles of fence-rails, remained inviolable. Still the
Confederate losses were enormous, and defeat appeared a mere question
of time; at one moment, the enemy under French had actually seized the
wood near the Dunkard Church, and was only dispossessed by a desperate
counterstroke. Richardson, who advanced on French’s right, and at an
appreciable interval of time, was even more successful than his
colleague. The “Bloody Lane,” already piled with dead, and enfiladed
from a height to the north-west, was carried by a brilliant charge; and
when the Roulette Farm, a strong defensive post, was stormed,
Longstreet fell back to the turnpike through the wreck of the
artillery. But at this critical juncture the Federals halted. They had
not been supported by their batteries. Richardson had received a mortal
wound, and a succession of rough counterstrokes had thinned their
ranks. Here, too, the musketry dwindled to a spattering fire, and the
opposing forces, both reduced to the defensive, lay watching each other
through the long hours of the afternoon. A threat of a Federal advance
from the Sharpsburg Bridge came to nothing. Four batteries of regulars,
preceded by a force of infantry, pushed across the stream and came into
action on either side of
the Boonsboro’ road; but on the slopes above, strongly protected by the
walls, Evans’ brigade stood fast; Lee sent up a small support, and the
enemy confined his movements to a demonstration.
Still further to the south, however, the battle blazed out at one
o’clock with unexpected fury. The Federal attack, recoiling first from
Jackson and then from Longstreet, swung round to the Confederate right;
and it seemed as if McClellan’s plan was to attempt each section of
Lee’s line in succession. Burnside had been ordered to force the
passage of the bridge at nine o’clock, but either the difficulty of the
task, or his inexperience in handling troops on the offensive, delayed
his movements; and when the attack was made, it was fiercely met by
four Confederate brigades. At length, well on in the afternoon, three
Federal divisions crowned the spur, and, driving Longstreet’s right
before them, made good their footing on the ridge. Sharpsburg was below
them; the Southern infantry, outflanked and roughly handled, was
falling back in confusion upon the town; and although Lee had assembled
a group of batteries in the centre, and regiments were hurrying from
the left, disaster seemed imminent. But strong assistance was at hand.
A. P. Hill, who had forded the Potomac and crossed the Antietam by the
lower bridge, after a forced march of seventeen miles in eight hours
from Harper’s Ferry,[18] attacked without waiting for orders, and
struck the Federals in flank with 3,000 bayonets. By this brilliant
counterstroke Burnside was repulsed and the position saved.
Northern writers have laid much stress on this attack. Had Burnside
displayed more, or A. P. Hill less, energy, the Confederates, they
assert, could hardly have escaped defeat. It is certainly true that
Longstreet’s four brigades had been left to bear the brunt of
Burnside’s assault without further support than could be rendered by
the artillery. They were not so left, however, because it was
impossible to aid them. Jackson’s and Longstreet’s
troops, despite the fiery ordeal through which they had passed, were
not yet powerless, and the Confederate leaders were prepared for
offensive tactics. A sufficient force to sustain the right might have
been withdrawn from the left and centre; but Hill’s approach was known,
and it was considered inadvisable to abandon all hold of the means for
a decisive counterstroke on the opposite flank. Early in the afternoon
Longstreet had given orders for an advance. Hood’s division, with full
cartridge-boxes, had reappeared upon the field. Jones’ and Lawton’s
divisions were close behind; the batteries had replenished their
ammunition, and if Longstreet was hardly warranted in arranging a
general counter-attack on his own responsibility, he had at least full
confidence in the ability of the troops to execute it. “It seemed
probable,” he says, “that by concealing our movements under cover of
the (West) wood, we could draw our columns so near to the enemy to the
front that we would have but a few rods to march to mingle our ranks
with his; that our columns, massed in goodly numbers, and pressing
heavily upon a single point, would give the enemy much trouble and
might cut him in two, breaking up his battle arrangements at Burnside
Bridge.”[19]
The stroke against the centre was not, however, to be tried. Lee had
other views, and Jackson had been already ordered to turn the Federal
right. Stuart, reinforced by a regiment of infantry and several light
batteries, was instructed to reconnoitre the enemy’s position, and if
favourable ground were found, he was to be supported by all the
infantry available. “About half-past twelve,” says General Walker, “I
sought Jackson to report that from the front of my position in the wood
I thought I had observed a movement of the enemy, as if to pass through
the gap where I had posted Colonel Cooke’s two regiments. I found
Jackson in rear of Barksdale’s brigade, under an apple tree, sitting on
his horse, with one leg thrown carelessly over the pommel of his
saddle, plucking and eating the fruit. Without making any reply to my
report, he asked me abruptly: ‘Can you spare me a
regiment and a battery?’ . . . Adding that he wished to make up, from
the different commands on our left, a force of four or five thousand
men, and give them to Stuart, with orders to turn the enemy’s right and
attack him in the rear; that I must give orders to my division to
advance to the front, and attack the enemy as soon as I should hear
Stuart’s guns, and that our whole left wing would move to the attack at
the same time. Then, replacing his foot in the stirrup, he said with
great emphasis, ‘We’ll drive McClellan into the Potomac.’
“Returning to my command, I repeated General Jackson’s order to my
brigade commanders and directed them to listen to the sound of Stuart’s
guns. We all confidently expected to hear the welcome sound by two
o’clock at least, and as that hour approached every ear was on the
alert. Napoleon at Waterloo did not listen more intently for the sound
of Grouchy’s fire than did we for Stuart’s. Two o’clock came, but
nothing was heard of Stuart. Half-past two, and then three, and still
Stuart made no sign.
“About half-past three a staff officer of General Longstreet’s brought
me an order to advance and attack the enemy in my front. As the
execution of this order would have materially interfered with Jackson’s
plans, I thought it my duty before beginning the movement to
communicate with General Longstreet personally. I found him in rear of
the position in which I had posted Cooke in the morning, and upon
informing him of Jackson’s intentions, he withdrew his order.
“While we were discussing this subject, Jackson himself joined us with
the information of Stuart’s failure to turn the Federal right, for the
reason that he found it securely posted on the Potomac. Upon my
expressing surprise at this statement, Jackson replied that he also had
been surprised, as he had supposed the Potomac much further away; but
he remarked that Stuart had an excellent eye for topography, and it
must be as he represented. ‘It is a great pity,’ he added; ‘we should
have driven McClellan into the Potomac.’”[20]
That a counterstroke which would have combined a frontal and flank
attack would have been the best chance of destroying the Federal army
can hardly be questioned. The front so bristled with field artillery,
and the ridge beyond the Antietam was so strong in heavier ordnance,
that a purely frontal attack, such as Longstreet suggested, was hardly
promising; but the dispositions which baffled Stuart were the work of a
sound tactician. Thirty rifled guns had been assembled in a single
battery a mile north of the West Wood, where the Hagerstown turnpike
ascends a commanding ridge, and the broad channel of the Potomac is
within nine hundred yards. Here had rallied such portions of Hooker’s
army corps as had not dispersed, and here Mansfield’s two divisions had
reformed; and although the infantry could hardly have opposed a
resolute resistance the guns were ready to repeat the lesson of Malvern
Hill. Against the rifled pieces the light Confederate smooth-bores were
practically useless. Stuart’s caution was fully justified, and the sun
sank on an indecisive battle.
“The blessed night came, and brought with it sleep and forgetfulness
and refreshment to many; but the murmur of the night wind, breathing
over fields of wheat and clover, was mingled with the groans of the
countless sufferers of both armies. Who can tell, who can even imagine,
the horrors of such a night, while the unconscious stars shone above,
and the unconscious river went rippling by?”[21] Out of 130,000 men
upon the ground, 21,000 had been killed or wounded, more than sixteen
per cent.; and 25,000 of the Federals can hardly be said to have been
engaged.
The losses of the Confederate left have already been enumerated. Those
of the centre and the right, although A. P. Hill reported only 350
casualties, had hardly been less severe. In all 9,500 officers and men,
one-fourth of the total strength, had fallen, and many of the regiments
had almost disappeared.[22] The 17th Virginia, for
instance, of Longstreet’s command, took into battle 9 officers and 46
men; of these 7 officers and 24 men were killed or wounded, and 10
taken prisoners, leaving 2 officers and 12 men to represent a regiment
which was over 1,000 strong at Bull Run. Yet as the men sank down to
rest on the line of battle, so exhausted that they could not be
awakened to eat their rations; as the blood cooled and the tension on
the nerves relaxed, and even the officers, faint with hunger and
sickened with the awful slaughter, looked forward with apprehension to
the morrow, from one indomitable heart the hope of victory had not yet
vanished. In the deep silence of the night, more oppressive than the
stunning roar of battle, Lee, still mounted, stood on the highroad to
the Potomac, and as general after general rode in wearily from the
front, he asked quietly of each, “How is it on your part of the line?”
Each told the same tale: their men were worn out; the enemy’s numbers
were overwhelming; there was nothing left but to retreat across the
Potomac before daylight. Even Jackson had no other counsel to offer.
His report was not the less impressive for his quiet and respectful
tone. He had had to contend, he said, against the heaviest odds he had
ever met. Many of his divisional and brigade commanders were dead or
wounded, and his loss had been severe. Hood, who came next, was quite
unmanned. He exclaimed that he had no men left. “Great God!” cried Lee,
with an excitement he had not yet displayed, “where is the splendid
division you had this morning?” “They are lying on the field, where you
sent them,” was the reply, “for few have straggled. My division has
been almost wiped out.”
After all had given their opinion, there was an appalling silence,
which seemed to last for several minutes, and then General Lee, rising
erect in his stirrups, said, “Gentlemen, we will not cross the Potomac
to-night. You will go to your respective commands, strengthen your
lines; send
two officers from each brigade towards the ford to collect your
stragglers and get them up. Many have come in. I have had the proper
steps taken to collect all the men who are in the rear. If McClellan
wants to fight in the morning, I will give him battle again. Go!”
Without a word of remonstrance the group broke up, leaving their great
commander alone with his responsibility, and, says an eyewitness, “if I
read their faces aright, there was not one but considered that General
Lee was taking a fearful risk.”[23] So the soldiers’ sleep was
undisturbed. Through the September night they lay beside their arms,
and from the dark spaces beyond came the groans of the wounded and the
nameless odours of the battle-field. Not often has the night looked
down upon a scene more terrible. The moon, rising above the mountains,
revealed the long lines of men and guns, stretching far across hill and
valley, waiting for the dawn to shoot each other down, and between the
armies their dead lay in such numbers as civilised war has seldom seen.
So fearful had been the carnage, and comprised within such narrow
limits, that a Federal patrol, it is related, passing into the
corn-field, where the fighting had been fiercest, believed that they
had surprised a whole Confederate brigade. There, in the shadow of the
woods, lay the skirmishers, their muskets beside them, and there, in
regular ranks, lay the line of battle, sleeping, as it seemed, the
profound sleep of utter exhaustion. But the first man that was touched
was cold and lifeless, and the next, and the next; it was the bivouac
of the dead.
Sept. 18 When the day dawned the Confederate divisions, reinforced by
some 5,000 or 6,000 stragglers, held the same position as the previous
evening, and over against them, seen dimly through the mist, lay the
Federal lines. The skirmishers, crouching behind the shattered fences,
confronted each other at short range; the guns of both armies were
unlimbered, and the masses of infantry, further to the rear, lay ready
for instant conflict. But not a shot was fired. The sun rose higher in
the
heavens; the warm breath of the autumn morning rustled in the woods,
but still the same strange silence prevailed. The men spoke in
undertones, watching intently the movements of staff officers and
orderlies; but the ranks lay as still as the inanimate forms, half
hidden by the trodden corn, which lay so thickly between the lines; and
as the hours passed on without stir or shot, the Southern generals
acknowledged that Lee’s daring in offering battle was fully justified.
The enemy’s aggressive strength was evidently exhausted; and then arose
the question, Could the Confederates attack? It would seem that the
possibility of a great counterstroke had already been the subject of
debate, and that Lee, despite the failure of the previous evening, and
Jackson’s adverse report, believed that the Federal right might be
outflanked and overwhelmed. “During the morning,” writes General
Stephen D. Lee, “a courier from headquarters came to my battalion of
artillery with a message that the Commander-in-Chief wished to see me.
I followed the courier, and on meeting General Lee, he said, ‘Colonel
Lee, I wish you to go with this courier to General Jackson, and say
that I sent you to report to him.’ I replied, ‘General, shall I take my
batteries with me?’ He said, ‘No, just say that I told you to report to
him, and he will tell you what he wants.’ I soon reached General
Jackson. He was dismounted, with but few persons round him. He said to
me, ‘Colonel Lee, I wish you to take a ride with me,’ and we rode to
the left of our lines with but one courier, I think. We soon reached a
considerable hill and dismounted. General Jackson then said, ‘Let us go
up this hill, and be careful not to expose yourself, for the Federal
sharpshooters are not far off.’ The hill bore evidence of fierce fight
the day before.[24] A battery of artillery had been on it, and there
were wrecked caissons, broken wheels, dead bodies, and dead horses
around. General Jackson said: ‘Colonel, I wish you to take your glasses
and carefully examine the Federal line of battle.’ I did so, and saw a
remarkably strong line of battle, with more troops than I knew General
Lee had. After locating the
different batteries, unlimbered and ready for action, and noting the
strong skirmish line, in front of the dense masses of infantry, I said
to him, ‘General, that is a very strong position, and there is a large
force there.’ He said, ‘Yes. I wish you to take fifty pieces of
artillery and crush that force, which is the Federal right. Can you do
it?’ I can scarcely describe my feelings as I again took my glasses,
and made an even more careful examination. I at once saw such an
attempt must fail. More than fifty guns were unlimbered and ready for
action, strongly supported by dense lines of infantry and strong
skirmish lines, advantageously posted. The ground was unfavourable for
the location of artillery on the Confederate side, for, to be
effective, the guns would have to move up close to the Federal lines,
and that, too, under fire of both infantry and artillery. I could not
bring myself to say all that I felt and knew. I said, ‘Yes, General;
where will I get the fifty guns?’ He said, ‘How many have you?’ I
replied, ‘About twelve out of the thirty I carried into the action the
day before.’ (My losses had been very great in men, horses, and
carriages.) He said, ‘I can furnish you some, and General Lee says he
can furnish some.’ I replied, ‘Shall I go for the guns?’ ‘No, not yet,’
he replied. ‘Colonel Lee, can you crush the Federal right with fifty
guns?’ I said, ‘General, I can try. I can do it if anyone can.’ He
replied, ‘That is not what I asked you, sir. If I give you fifty guns,
can you crush the Federal right?’ I evaded the question again and
again, but he pressed it home. Finally I said, ‘General, you seem to be
more intent upon my giving you my technical opinion as an artillery
officer, than upon my going after the guns and making the attempt.’
‘Yes, sir,’ he replied, ‘and I want your positive opinion, yes or no.’
I felt that a great crisis was upon me, and I could not evade it. I
again took my glasses and made another examination. I waited a good
while, with Jackson watching me intently.
“I said, ‘General, it cannot be done with fifty guns and the troops you
have near here.’ In an instant he said, ‘Let us ride back, Colonel.’ I
felt that I had
positively shown a lack of nerve, and with considerable emotion begged
that I might be allowed to make the attempt, saying, ‘General, you
forced me to say what I did unwillingly. If you give the fifty guns to
any other artillery officer, I am ruined for life. I promise you I will
fight the guns to the last extremity, if you will only let me command
them.’ Jackson was quiet, seemed sorry for me, and said, ‘It is all
right, Colonel. Everybody knows you are a brave officer and would fight
the guns well,’ or words to that effect. We soon reached the spot from
which we started. He said, ‘Colonel, go to General Lee, and tell him
what has occurred since you reported to me. Describe our ride to the
hill, your examination of the Federal position, and my conversation
about your crushing the Federal right with fifty guns, and my forcing
you to give your opinion.’
“With feelings such as I never had before, nor ever expect to have
again, I returned to General Lee, and gave a detailed account of my
visit to General Jackson, closing with the account of my being forced
to give my opinion as to the possibility of success. I saw a shade come
over General Lee’s face, and he said, ‘Colonel, go and join your
command.’
“For many years I never fully understood my mission that day, or why I
was sent to General Jackson. When Jackson’s report was published of the
battle, I saw that he stated, that on the afternoon of September 17,
General Lee had ordered him to move to the left with a view of turning
the Federal right, but that he found the enemy’s numerous artillery so
judiciously posted in their front, and so near the river, as to render
such an attempt too hazardous to undertake. I afterwards saw General J.
E. B. Stuart’s report, in which he says that it was determined, the
enemy not attacking, to turn the enemy’s right on the 18th. It appears
General Lee ordered General Jackson, on the evening of the 17th, to
turn the enemy’s right, and Jackson said that it could not be done. It
also appears from Stuart’s report, and from the incident I relate, that
General Lee reiterated the order on the 18th,
and told Jackson to take fifty guns, and crush the Federal right.
Jackson having reported against such attempt on the 17th, no doubt said
that if an artillerist, in whom General Lee had confidence, would say
the Federal right could be crushed with fifty guns, he would make the
attempt.
“I now have the satisfaction of knowing that the opinion which I was
forced to give on September 18 had already been given by Jackson on the
evening of September 17, and that the same opinion was reiterated by
him on September 18, and confirmed by General J. E. B. Stuart on the
same day. I still believe that Jackson, Stuart, and myself were right,
and that the attempt to turn the Federal right either on the 17th or on
the 18th would have been unwise.
“The incident shows General Lee’s decision and boldness in battle, and
General Jackson’s delicate loyalty to his commanding general, in
convincing him of the inadvisability of a proposed movement, which he
felt it would be hazardous to undertake.”[25]
The Federal left, protected by the Antietam, was practically
inaccessible; and on receiving from the artillery officers’ lips the
confirmation of Jackson’s report, Lee was fain to relinquish all hope
of breaking McClellan’s line. The troops, however, remained in line of
battle; but during the day information came in which made retreat
imperative. The Federals were being reinforced. Humphrey’s division,
hitherto held back at Frederick by orders from Washington, had marched
over South Mountain; Couch’s division, which McClellan had left to
observe Harper’s Ferry, had been called in; and a large force of
militia was assembling on the Pennsylvania border. Before evening,
therefore, Lee determined to evacuate his position, and during the
night the Army of Northern Virginia, with all its trains and artillery,
recrossed the Potomac at Boteler’s Ford.
Such was the respect which the hard fighting of the Confederates had
imposed upon the enemy, that although the rumbling of heavy vehicles,
and the tramp of the long columns, were so distinctly audible in the
Federal lines that they seemed to wakeful ears like the steady flow of
a river, not the slightest attempt was made to interfere. It was not
till the morning of the 19th that a Federal battalion, reconnoitring
towards Sharpsburg, found the ridge and the town deserted; and although
Jackson, who was one of the last, except the cavalry scouts, to cross
the river, did not reach the Virginia shore till eight o’clock, not a
shot was fired at him.
Nor were the trophies gathered by the Federals considerable. Several
hundred badly wounded men were found in Sharpsburg, and a number of
stragglers were picked up, but neither gun nor waggon had been left
upon the field. The retreat, despite many obstacles, was as
successfully as skilfully executed. The night was very dark, and a fine
rain, which had set in towards evening, soon turned the heavy soil into
tenacious mud; the ford was wide and beset with boulders, and the only
approach was a narrow lane. But the energetic quartermaster of the
Valley army, Major Harman, made light of all difficulties, and under
the immediate supervision of Lee and Jackson, the crossing was effected
without loss or misadventure.
Sept. 19 Just before nightfall, however, under cover of a heavy
artillery fire, the Federals pushed a force of infantry across the
ford, drove back the two brigades, which, with thirty pieces of
artillery, formed the Confederate rear-guard, and captured four guns.
Emboldened by this partial success, McClellan ordered Porter to put
three brigades of the Fifth Army Corps across the river the next
morning, and reconnoitre towards Winchester.
The news of the disaster to his rear-guard was long in reaching Lee’s
headquarters. His army had not yet recovered from the confusion and
fatigue of the retreat. The bivouacs of the divisions were several
miles from the river, and were widely scattered. The generals were
ignorant of each other’s dispositions. No arrangements had been
made to support the rear-guard in case of emergency. The greater part
of the cavalry had been sent off to Williamsport, fifteen miles up
stream, with instructions to cross the Potomac and delay the enemy’s
advance by demonstration. The brigadiers had no orders; many of the
superior generals had not told their subordinates where they would be
found; and the commander of the rear-guard, General Pendleton, had not
been informed of the strength of the infantry placed at his disposal.
On the part of the staff, worn out by the toils and anxieties of the
past few days, there appears to have been a general failure; and had
McClellan, calculating on the chances invariably offered by an enforced
retreat, pushed resolutely forward in strong force, success might
possibly have followed.
Sept. 20 Lee, on receiving Pendleton’s report, long after midnight,
sent off orders for Jackson to drive the enemy back. When the messenger
arrived, Jackson had already ridden to the front. He, too, had received
news of the capture of the guns; and ordering A. P. Hill and Early,[26]
who were in camp near Martinsburg, to march at once to Shepherdstown,
he had gone forward to reconnoitre the enemy’s movements. When Lee’s
courier found him he was on the Shepherdstown road, awaiting the
arrival of his divisions, and watching, unattended by a single
aide-de-camp, the advance of Porter’s infantry. He had at once grasped
the situation. The Confederates were in no condition to resist an
attack in force. The army was not concentrated. The cavalry was absent.
No reconnaissance had been made either of lines of march or of
positions. The roads were still blocked by the trains. The men were
exhausted by their late exertions, and depressed by their retreat, and
the straggling was terrible. The only chance of safety lay in driving
back the enemy’s advanced guard across the river before it could be
reinforced; and the chance was seized without an instant’s hesitation.
The Federals advanced leisurely, for the cavalry which
should have led the way had received its orders too late to reach the
rendezvous at the appointed hour, and the infantry, compelled to
reconnoitre for itself, made slow progress. Porter’s leading brigade
was consequently not more than a mile and a half from the river when
the Light Division reported to Jackson. Hill was ordered to form his
troops in two lines, and with Early in close support to move at once to
the attack. The Federals, confronted by a large force, and with no
further object than to ascertain the whereabouts of the Confederate
army, made no attempt to hold their ground. Their left and centre,
composed mainly of regulars, withdrew in good order. The right,
hampered by broken country, was slow to move; and Hill’s soldiers, who
had done much at Sharpsburg with but little loss, were confident of
victory. The Federal artillery beyond the river included many of their
heavy batteries, and when the long lines of the Southerners appeared in
the open, they were met by a storm of shells. But without a check, even
to close the gaps in the ranks, or to give time to the batteries to
reply to the enemy’s fire, the Light Division pressed forward to the
charge. The conflict was short. The Northern regulars had already
passed the ford, and only a brigade of volunteers was left on the
southern bank. Bringing up his reserve regiment, the Federal general
made a vain effort to prolong his front. Hill answered by calling up a
brigade from his second line; and then, outnumbered and outflanked, the
enemy was driven down the bluffs and across the river. The losses in
this affair were comparatively small. The Federals reported 340 killed
and wounded, and of these a raw regiment, armed with condemned Enfield
rifles, accounted for no less than 240. Hill’s casualties were 271. Yet
the engagement was not without importance. Jackson’s quick action and
resolute advance convinced the enemy that the Confederates were still
dangerous; and McClellan, disturbed by Stuart’s threat against his
rear, abandoned all idea of crossing the Potomac in pursuit of Lee.
The losses at Sharpsburg may be here recorded.
JONES’ DIVISION—1,800
The Stonewall Brigade, 250 strong
Taliaferro’s Brigade
Starke’s Brigade
Jones’ Brigade 88 173 287 152 —— 700 (38 p.c.)
EWELL’S (LAWTON) DIVISION—8,600 Lawton’s Brigade, 1,150 strong
Early’s Brigade, 1,200 strong
Trimble’s Brigade, 700 strong
Hays’ Brigade, 650 strong 567 194 237 336 ——— 1,334 (47 p.c.)
THE LIGHT DIVISION—3,000
Branch’s Brigade
Gregg’s Brigade
Archer’s Brigade
Pender’s Brigade
Field’s Brigade (not engaged)
Thomas’ Brigade (at Harper’s Ferry)
Artillery (estimated)
Total (209 officers) 104 165 105 30 — — —— 404 50 2,488 D.
H. HILL’S DIVISION—3,500
Rodes’ Brigade
Garland’s Brigade (estimated)
Anderson’s Brigade
Ripley’s Brigade (estimated)
Colquitt’s Brigade (estimated) 203 300 302 300 300 ——— 1,405 MCLAWS’
DIVISION—4,500
Kershaw’s Brigade
Cobb’s Brigade
Semmes’ Brigade
Barksdale’s Brigade 355 156 314 294 ——— 1,119
[27]
D. R. JONES’ DIVISION—3,500
Toombs’ Brigade (estimated)
Drayton’s Brigade (estimated)
Anderson’s Brigade
Garnett’s Brigade
Jenkins’ Brigade
Kemper’s Brigade (estimated) 125 400 87 99 210 120 ——— 1,041
WALKER’S DIVISION—3,500
Walker’s Brigade
Ransom’s Brigade
825 187 ——— 1,012
HOOD’S DIVISION—2,000
Laws’ Brigade
Hood’s Brigade 454 548 ——— 1,022
Evans’ Brigade, 260 strong 200
R. H. ANDERSON’S DIVISION—3,500
Featherston’s Brigade
Mahone’s Brigade
Pryor’s Brigade
Armistead’s Brigade
Wright’s Brigade
Wilcox’ Brigade 304 76 182 35 203 221 ——— 1,021
ARTILLERY
Colonel S. D. Lee’s Battalion
Washington Artillery
Cavalry, etc. etc. (estimated) 85 34 143 —— 262 Grand total 9,550
ARMY OF THE POTOMAC
First Corps—Hooker
Second Corps—Sumner
Fifth Corps—Porter
Sixth Corps—Franklin
Ninth Corps—Burnside
Twelfth Corps—Mansfield
Cavalry Division, etc.
(2,108 killed) 2,590 5,188 109 439 2,349 1,746
39 ——— 12,410 [28]
With Porter’s repulse the summer campaign of 1862 was closed. Begun on
the Chickahominy, within thirty miles of Richmond, it ended on the
Potomac, within seventy miles of Washington; and six months of
continuous fighting had brought both belligerents to the last stage of
exhaustion. Falling apart like two great battleships of the older wars,
The smoke of battle drifting slow a-lee.
hulls rent by roundshot, and scuppers awash with blood, but with the
colours still flying over shattered spars and tangled shrouds, the
armies drew off from the tremendous struggle. Neither Confederates nor
Federals were capable of further effort. Lee, gathering in his
stragglers, left Stuart to cover his front, and fell back towards
Winchester. McClellan was content with seizing the Maryland Heights at
Harper’s Ferry, and except the cavalry patrols, not a single Federal
soldier was sent across the river.
The organisation was absolutely imperative. The Army of the Potomac was
in no condition to undertake the invasion of Virginia. Not only had the
losses in battle been very large, but the supply train, hurriedly got
together after Pope’s defeat, had broken down; in every arm there was
great deficiency of horses; the troops, especially those who had been
engaged in the Peninsula, were half-clad and badly shod; and, above
all, the army was very far from sharing McClellan’s conviction that
Sharpsburg was a brilliant victory. The men in the ranks were not so
easily deceived as their commander. McClellan, relying on a return
drawn up by General Banks, now in command at Washington, estimated the
Confederate army at 97,000 men, and his official reports made frequent
mention of Lee’s overwhelming strength.[29]
The soldiers knew better. They had been close enough to the enemy’s
lines to learn for themselves how thin was the force which manned them.
They were perfectly well aware that they had been held in check by
inferior numbers, and that the battle on the Antietam, tactically
speaking, was no more of a victory for the North than Malvern Hill had
been for the South. From dawn to dark on September 18 they had seen the
tattered colours and bright bayonets of the Confederates still covering
the Sharpsburg ridge; they had seen the grey line, immovable and
defiant, in undisputed possession of the battle-ground, while their own
guns were silent and their own generals reluctant to renew the fight.
Both the Government and the people expected McClellan to complete his
success by attacking Lee in Virginia. The Confederates, it was said—and
men based their opinions on McClellan’s reports—had been heavily
defeated, not only at Antietam, but also at South Mountain; and
although the Army of the Potomac might be unfit for protracted
operations, the condition of the enemy must necessarily be far worse.
Such arguments, however, were entirely inapplicable to the situation.
The Confederates had not been defeated at all, either at South Mountain
or Sharpsburg; and although they had eventually abandoned their
positions they had suffered less than their opponents. The retreat,
however, across the Potomac had undoubtedly shaken their _moral_. “In a
military point of view,” wrote Lee to Davis on September 25, “the best
move, in my opinion, the army could make would be to advance upon
Hagerstown and endeavour to defeat the enemy at that point. I would not
hesitate to make it even with our diminished numbers did the army
exhibit its former temper and condition, but, as far as I am able to
judge, the hazard would be great and reverse disastrous.”[30] But
McClellan was not more cheerful. “The army,” he said on the 27th, “is
not now in a
condition to undertake another campaign nor to bring on another battle,
unless great advantages are offered by some mistake of the enemy, or
pressing military exigencies render it necessary.” So far from thinking
of pursuit, he thought only of the defence of the Potomac, apprehending
a renewed attempt to enter Maryland, and by no means over-confident
that the two army corps which he had at last sent to Harper’s Ferry
would be able to maintain their position if attacked.[31] Nor were the
soldiers more eager than their commander to cross swords with their
formidable enemy. “It would be useless,” says General G. H. Gordon, who
now commanded a Federal division, “to deny that at this period there
was a despondent feeling in the army,” and the Special Correspondents
of the New York newspapers, the “World” and “Tribune,” confirm the
truth of this statement. But the clearest evidence as to the condition
of the troops is furnished in the numerous reports which deal with
straggling. The vice had reached a pitch which is almost inconceivable.
Thousands and tens of thousands, Federals as well as Confederates, were
absent from their commands.
“The States of the North,” wrote McClellan, “are flooded with deserters
and absentees. One corps of this army has 13,000 men present and 15,000
absent; of this 15,000, 8,000 probably are at work at home.”[32] On
September 28, General Meade, who had succeeded to the command of
Hooker’s corps, reported that over 8,000 men, including 250 officers,
had quitted the ranks either before or during the battle of Antietam;
adding that “this terrible and serious evil seems to pervade the whole
body.”[33] The Confederates, although the privations of the troops
during the forced marches, their indifferent equipment, and the
deficiencies of the commissariat were contributory causes, had almost
as much reason to complain. It is said that in the vicinity of Leesburg
alone over 10,000 men were living on the citizens. Jackson’s own
division, which took into action 1,600 effectives on September 17 and
lost 700, had 3,900 present for duty on September 30; Lawton’s
division rose from 2,500 to 4,450 during the same period; and the
returns show that the strength of Longstreet’s and Jackson’s corps was
only 37,992 on September 22, but 52,019 on October 1.[34] It is thus
evident that in eight days the army was increased by more than 14,000
men, yet only a few conscripts had been enrolled. Lee’s official
reports and correspondence allude in the strongest terms to the
indiscipline of his army. “The absent,” he wrote on September 23, “are
scattered broadcast over the land;” and in the dispatches of his
subordinates are to be found many references to the vagrant tendencies
of their commands.[35] A strong provost guard was established at
Winchester for the purpose of collecting stragglers. Parties of cavalry
were sent out to protect the farms from pillage, and to bring in the
marauders as prisoners. The most stringent regulations were issued as
to the preservation of order on the march, the security of private
property, and the proper performance of their duties by regimental and
commissariat officers. On September 23, General Jones reported from
Winchester that the country was full of stragglers, that be had already
sent back 5,000 or 6,000, and that the numbers of officers amongst them
was astonishing.[36] The most earnest representations were made to the
President, suggesting trial of the offenders by drumhead court-martial,
and ordinary police duties became the engrossing occupation of every
general officer.
It can hardly be said, then, that the Confederates had drawn much
profit from the invasion of Maryland. The capture of Harper’s Ferry
made but small amends for
the retreat into Virginia; and the stubborn endurance of Sharpsburg,
however remarkable in the annals of war, had served no useful purpose
beyond crippling for the time being the Federal army. The battle must
be classed with Aspern and Talavera; Lee’s soldiers saved their honour,
but no more. The facts were not to be disguised. The Confederates had
missed their mark. Only a few hundred recruits had been raised in
Maryland, and there had been no popular outbreak against the Union
Government. The Union army had escaped defeat; Lincoln had been able to
announce to the Northern people that Lee’s victorious career had at
length been checked; and 12,000 veteran soldiers, the flower of the
Southern army, had fallen in battle. Had General Longstreet’s advice
been taken, and the troops withdrawn across the Potomac after the fall
of Harper’s Ferry, this enormous loss, which the Confederacy could so
ill afford, would certainly have been avoided. Yet Lee was not
ill-satisfied with the results of the campaign, nor did Jackson doubt
the wisdom of accepting battle on the Antietam.
The hazard was great, but the stake was greater. To achieve decisive
success in war some risk must be run. “It is impossible,” says Moltke,
“to forecast the result of a pitched battle;” but this is no reason
that pitched battles, if there is a fair prospect of success, should be
shirked. And in the Sharpsburg campaign the Confederates had
undoubtedly fair prospects of success. If the lost order had not fallen
into McClellan’s hands, Lee in all probability would have had ample
time to select his battlefield and concentrate his army; there would
have been no need of forced marches, and consequently much less
straggling. Both Lee and Jackson counted on the caution of their
opponent. Both were surprised by the unwonted vigour be displayed,
especially at South Mountain and in the march to Sharpsburg. Such
resolution in action, they were aware, was foreign to his nature. “I
cannot understand this move of McClellan’s,” was Jackson’s remark, when
it was reported that the Federal general had boldly advanced against
the strong position on South Mountain. But neither Lee
nor Jackson was aware that McClellan had exact information of their
dispositions, and that the carelessness of a Confederate staff officer
had done more for the Union than all the Northern scouts and spies in
Maryland. Jackson had been disposed to leave a larger margin for
accidents than his commander. He would have left Harper’s Ferry alone,
and have fought the Federals in the mountains;[37] and he was probably
right, for in the Gettysburg campaign of the following year, when Lee
again crossed the Potomac, Harper’s Ferry was ignored, although
occupied by a strong garrison, and neither in advance nor retreat were
the Confederate communications troubled. But as to the wisdom of giving
battle on the Antietam, after the fall of Harper’s Ferry, there was no
divergence of opinion between Lee and his lieutenant. They had no
reason to respect the Union army as a weapon of offence, and very great
reason to believe that McClellan was incapable of wielding it. Their
anticipations were well founded. The Federal attack was badly designed
and badly executed. If it be compared with the German attack at Worth,
the defects of McClellan, the defects of his subordinates, the want of
sound training throughout the whole army, become at once apparent. On
August 6, 1870, there was certainly, early in the day, much disjointed
fighting, due in great part to the difficulties of the country, the
absence of the Crown Prince, and the anxiety of the generals to render
each other loyal support. But when once the Commander-in-Chief appeared
upon the field, and, assuming direction of the battle, infused harmony
into the operations, the strength and unity of the attack could hardly
have been surpassed. Almost at the same moment 30,000 men were launched
against McMahon’s front, 25,000 against his right, and 10,000 against
his left. Every battalion within sound of the cannon participated in
the forward movement; and numerous batteries, crossing the stream which
corresponds with the Antietam, supported the infantry at the closest
range. No general hesitated to act on his own responsibility.
Everywhere there was
co-operation, between infantry and artillery, between division and
division, between army corps and army corps; and such co-operation, due
to a sound system of command, is the characteristic mark of a
well-trained army and a wise leader. At Sharpsburg, on the other hand,
there was no combination whatever, and even the army corps commanders
dared not act without specific orders. There was nothing like the close
concert and the aggressive energy which had carried the Southerners to
victory at Gaines’ Mill and the Second Manassas. The principle of
mutual support was utterly ignored. The army corps attacked in
succession and not simultaneously, and in succession they were
defeated. McClellan fought three separate battles, from dawn to 10 a.m.
against Lee’s left; from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. against his centre; from 1
to 4 p.m. against his right. The subordinate generals, although, with a
few exceptions, they handled their commands skilfully, showed no
initiative, and waited for orders instead of improving the opportunity.
Only two-thirds of the army was engaged; 25,000 men hardly fired a
shot, and from first to last there was not the slightest attempt at
co-operation. McClellan was made aware by his signallers on the Red
Hill of every movement that took place in his opponent’s lines, and yet
he was unable to take advantage of Lee’s weakness. He had still to
grasp the elementary rule that the combination of superior numbers and
of all arms against a single point is necessary to win battles.
The Northern infantry, indeed, had not fought like troops who own their
opponents as the better men. Rather had they displayed an elasticity of
spirit unsuspected by their enemies; and the Confederate soldiers, who
knew with what fierce courage the attack had been sustained, looked on
the battle of Sharpsburg as the most splendid of their achievements. No
small share of the glory fell to Jackson. Since the victory of Cedar
Run, his fame, somewhat obscured by Frayser’s Farm and Malvern Hill,
had increased by leaps and bounds, and the defence of the West Wood was
classed with the march to Manassas Junction, the three days’ battle
about Groveton,
and the swift seizure of Harper’s Ferry. On October 2, Lee proposed to
the President that the Army of Northern Virginia should be organised in
two army corps, for the command of which he recommended Longstreet and
Jackson. “My opinion,” wrote Lee, “of General Jackson has been greatly
enhanced during this expedition. He is true, honest, and brave; has a
single eye to the good of the service, and spares no exertion to
accomplish his object.”[38] On October 11, Jackson received his
promotion as Lieutenant-General, and was appointed to the Second Army
Corps, consisting at that date of his own division, the Light Division,
Ewell’s, and D. H. Hill’s, together with Colonel Brown’s battalion of
artillery; a force of 1,917 officers, 25,000 men, and 126 guns.
Jackson does not appear to have been unduly elated by his promotion,
for two days after his appointment he wrote to his wife that there was
no position in the world equal to that of a minister of the Gospel, and
his letter was principally concerned with the lessons he had learned
from the sermon of the previous Sunday.[39]The soldiers of
the Second Army Corps, however, did not allow him to forget his
greatness. In their bivouacs by the clear waters of the Opequon, with
abundance of supplies and with ample leisure for recuperation, the
troops rapidly regained their strength and spirit. The reaction found
vent in the most extravagant gaiety. No circumstance that promised
entertainment was permitted to pass without attention, and the jest
started at the expense of some unfortunate wight, conspicuous for
peculiarity of dress or demeanour, was taken up by a hundred voices.
None were spared. A trim staff officer was horrified at the irreverent
reception of his nicely twisted moustache, as he heard from behind
innumerable trees: “Take them mice out o’ your mouth! take ’em out—no
use to say they ain’t there, see their tails hanging out! Another,
sporting immense whiskers, was urged “to come out o’ that bunch of
hair! I know you’re in there! I see your ears a-working!” So the
soldiers chaffed the dandies, and the camp rang with laughter; fun and
frolic were always in the air, and the fierce fighters of Sharpsburg
behaved like schoolboys on a holiday. But when the general rode by the
men remembered the victories they had won and to whom they owed them,
the hardships they had endured, and who had shared them; and the
appearance of “Little Sorrel” was the sure precursor of a scene of the
wildest enthusiasm. The horse soon learned what the cheers implied, and
directly they began he would break into a gallop, as if to carry his
rider as quickly as possible through the embarrassing ordeal. But the
soldiers were not to be deterred by their commander’s modesty, and
whenever he was compelled to pass through the bivouacs the same tribute
was so invariably offered that the sound of a distant cheer, rolling
down the lines of the Second Army Corps, always evoked the exclamation:
“Boys, look out! here comes old Stonewall or an old hare!” “These being
the only individuals,” writes one of Jackson’s soldiers, “who never
failed to bring down the whole house.”
Nothing could express more clearly the loyalty of the soldiers to their
general than this quaint estimate of his
popularity. The Anglo-Saxon is averse to the unrestrained display of
personal affection; and when his natural reluctance is overborne by
irrepressible emotion, he attempts to hide it by a jest. So Jackson’s
veterans laughed at his peculiarities, at his dingy uniform, his
battered cap, his respect for clergymen, his punctilious courtesy, and
his blushes. They delighted in the phrase, when a distant yell was
heard, “Here’s ‘Old Jack’ or a rabbit!” They delighted more in his
confusion when he galloped through the shouting camp. “Here he comes,”
they said, “we’ll make him take his hat off.” They invented strange
fables of which he was the hero. “Stonewall died,” ran one of the most
popular, “and two angels came down from heaven to take him back with
them. They went to his tent. He was not there. They went to the
hospital. He was not there. They went to the outposts. He was not
there. They went to the prayer-meeting. He was not there. So they had
to return without him; but when they reported that he had disappeared,
they found that he had made a flank march and reached heaven before
them.” Another was to the effect that whereas Moses took forty years to
get the children of Israel through the wilderness, “‘Old Jack’ would
have double-quicked them through in three days on half rations!”
But, nevertheless, beneath this affectation of hilarity lay a deep and
passionate devotion; and two incidents which occurred at this time show
the extent of this feeling, and at least one reason for its existence.
“On October 8th,” writes Major Heros von Borcke, adjutant-general of
the cavalry division, “I was honoured with the pleasing mission of
presenting to Stonewall, as a slight token of Stuart’s high regard, a
new uniform coat, which had just arrived from the hands of a Richmond
tailor. Starting at once, I reached the simple tent of our great
general just in time for dinner. I found him in his old weather-stained
coat, from which all the buttons had been clipped by the fair hands of
patriotic ladies, and which, from exposure to sun, rain, and
powder-smoke, and by reason of many rents and patches, was in a very
unseemly
condition. When I had dispatched more important matters, I produced
General Stuart’s present in all its magnificence of gilt buttons and
sheeny facings and gold lace, and I was heartily amused at the modest
confusion with which the hero of many battles regarded the fine
uniform, scarcely daring to touch it, and at the quiet way in which at
last he folded it up carefully and deposited it in his portmanteau,
saying to me, “Give Stuart my best thanks, Major; the coat is much too
handsome for me, but I shall take the best care of it, and shall prize
it highly as a souvenir. And now let us have some dinner.” But I
protested emphatically against the summary disposition of the matter of
the coat, deeming my mission indeed but half executed, and remarked
that Stuart would certainly ask how the coat fitted, and that I should
take it as a personal favour if he would put it on. To this with a
smile he readily assented, and having donned the garment, he escorted
me outside the tent to the table where dinner had been served in the
open air. The whole of the staff were in a perfect ecstasy at their
chief’s brilliant appearance, and the old negro servant, who was
bearing the roast turkey to the board, stopped in mid career with a
most bewildered expression, and gazed in such wonderment at his master
as if he had been transfigured before him. Meanwhile, the rumour of the
change ran like electricity through the neighbouring camps, the
soldiers came running by hundreds to the spot, desirous of seeing their
beloved Stonewall in his new attire; and the first wearing of a new
robe by Louis XIV, at whose morning toilette all the world was
accustomed to assemble, never created half the excitement at Versailles
that was roused in the woods of Virginia by the investment of Jackson
in the new regulation uniform.”[40]
The second incident is less amusing, but was not less appreciated by
the rank and file. Riding one morning near Front Royal, accompanied by
his staff, Jackson was stopped by a countrywoman, with a chubby child
on either side, who inquired anxiously for her son Johnnie, serving,
she said, “in Captain Jackson’s company.” The
general, with the deferential courtesy he never laid aside, introduced
himself as her son’s commanding officer, but begged for further
information as to his regiment. The good dame, however, whose interest
in the war centred on one individual, appeared astonished that Captain
Jackson “did not know her particular Johnnie,” and repeated her
inquiries with such tearful emphasis that the young staff officers
began to smile. Unfortunately for themselves, Jackson heard a titter,
and turning on them with a scathing rebuke for their want of manners,
he sent them off in different directions to discover Johnnie, giving
them no rest until mother and son were brought together.
But if the soldiers loved Jackson for his simplicity, and respected him
for his honesty, beyond and above was the sense of his strength and
power, of his indomitable will, of the inflexibility of his justice,
and of the unmeasured resources of his vigorous intellect. It is
curious even after the long lapse of years to hear his veterans speak
of their commander. Laughter mingles with tears; each has some droll
anecdote to relate, each some instance of thoughtful sympathy or kindly
deed; but it is still plain to be seen how they feared his displeasure,
how hard they found his discipline, how conscious they were of their
own mental inferiority. The mighty phantom of their lost leader still
dominates their thoughts; just as in the battles of the Confederacy his
earthly presentment dominated the will of the Second Army Corps. In the
campaign which had driven the invaders from Virginia, and carried the
Confederate colours to within sight of Washington, his men had found
their master. They had forgotten how to criticise. His generals had
learned to trust him. Success and adulation had not indeed made him
more expansive. He was as reticent as ever, and his troops—the
foot-cavalry as they were now called—were still marched to and fro
without knowing why or whither. But men and officers, instead of
grumbling when they were roused at untimely hours, or when their
marches were prolonged, without apparent necessity, obeyed with
alacrity, and amused themselves by wondering what new surprise the
general was preparing. “Where are you going?” they were asked as they
were turned out for an unexpected march: “We don’t know, but Old Jack
does,” was the laughing reply. And they had learned something of his
methods. They had discovered the value of time, of activity, of
mystery, of resolution. They discussed his stratagems, gradually
evolving, for they were by no means apparent at the time, the object
and aim of his manœuvres; and the stirring verses, sung round every
camp-fire, show that the soldiers not only grasped his principles of
warfare, but that they knew right well to whom their victories were to
be attributed.
STONEWALL JACKSON’S WAY
Come, stack arms, men, pile on the rails;
Stir up the camp-fires bright;
No matter if the canteen fails,
We’ll make a roaring night.
Here Shenandoah brawls along,
There lofty Blue Ridge echoes strong,
To swell the Brigade’s roaring song
Of Stonewall Jackson’s way.
We see him now—the old slouched hat,
Cocked o’er his eye askew;
The shrewd dry smile—the speech so pat,
So calm, so blunt, so true.
The “Blue-Light Elder” knows them well:
Says he, “That’s Banks—he’s fond of shell;
Lord save his soul! we’ll give him——” well,
That’s Stonewall Jackson’s way.
Silence! ground arms! kneel all! caps off!
Old Blue-Light’s going to pray;
Strangle the fool that dares to scoff!
Attention! it’s his way!
Appealing from his native sod,
_In formá pauperis_ to God,
“Lay bare thine arm—stretch forth thy rod,
Amen!” That’s Stonewall’s way.
He’s in the saddle now! Fall in,
Steady, the whole Brigade!
Hill’s at the Ford, cut off!—we’ll win
His way out, ball and blade.
What matter if our shoes are worn?
What matter if our feet are torn?
Quick step! we’re with him before morn!
That’s Stonewall Jackson’s way.
The sun’s bright lances rout the mists
Of morning—and, by George!
There’s Longstreet struggling in the lists,
Hemmed in an ugly gorge.
Pope and his columns whipped before—
“Bayonets and grape!” hear Stonewall roar,
“Charge, Stuart! pay off Ashby’s score!”
That’s Stonewall Jackson’s way.
Ah! maiden, wait and watch and yearn
For news of Stonewall’s band;
Ah! widow, read with eyes that burn
The ring upon thy hand.
Ah! wife, sew on, pray on, hope on
Thy life shall not be all forlorn;
The foe had better ne’er been born
That gets in Stonewall’s way.
NOTE
_Jackson’s Strength and Losses, August–September 1882_
Strength at Cedar Run, August 9:
Winder’s (Jackson’s own) Division (estimate)
Ewell’s Division[41]
Lawton’s Brigage[42]
A. P. Hill’s (the Light) Division[43]
Robertson’s Cavalry Brigade[44] (estimate) 3,000 5,350 2,200 12,000
1,200 ——— 23,750
Losses at Cedar Run:
Winder’s Division
Ewell’s Division
The Light Division
Cavalry, etc. 718 195 381 20 ——
4,000 ——— 22,436
Losses on the Rappahannock, August 20–24
Losses at Bristoe Station and Manassas
Junction, August 26, 27 100
300 Losses at Groveton, August 28:
Stonewall Division (estimate)
Ewell’s Division 441 759 —— 1,200 Stragglers and sick
(estimate) Cavalry transferred to Stuart 1,200 1,200 ———
4,000
Strength at Second Manassas, August 20 and 30 ——— 18,436
Losses:
Taliaferro’s Division
Ewell’s Division
The Light Division 416 364 1,507 ——— 2,387 Loss at Chantilly,
September 1
Should have marched into Maryland 500 ——— 15,549
Strength at Sharpsburg:
Jones’ Division
Ewell’s Division
The Light Division
(1 Brigade left at Harper’s Ferry) 2,000 4,000 5,000 800 ———
11,800[45] Loss at Harper’s Ferry 62 Losses at Sharpsburg:
Jones’ Division
Ewell’s Division
The Light Division 700 1,334 404 ———
2,438 ——— Strength on September 19 9,300
The Report of September 22, O.R., vol. xiv, part ii, p. 621, gives:
Jackson’s own Division
Ewell’s Division
The Light Division 2,553 3,290 4,777 ——— 10,620[46]
[1] Two fords, behind the left and centre, were examined by Major
Hotchkiss during the battle by Jackson’s order, and were reported
practicable for infantry.
[2] The majority of Jackson’s guns appear to have been left behind the
team. Having broken down, at Harper’s Ferry.
[3]
Men Guns A. P. Hill’s Division McLaws’ Division
R. H. Anderson’s Division
Hampton’s Cavalry Brigade 5,000 4,500 3,500 1,500 ———
14,500 18 24 18 — — 60
[4] Doubleday’s Division consisted of Phelps’, Wainwright’s,
Patrick’s, and Gibbon’s brigades; Rickett’s Division of Duryea’s,
Lyle’s, and Hartsuff’s; and Meade’s Pennsylvania Division of
Seymour’s, Magilton’s, and Anderson’s.
[5] This battery of regulars, “B” 4th U.S. Artillery, lost 40 officers
and men killed and wounded, besides 33 horses. O.R., vol. xix, part i,
p. 229.
[6] Early’s brigade had not yet been engaged.
[7] One small regiment was left with Stuart.
[8] Mansfield’s corps consisted of two divisions, commanded by
Crawford (two brigades) and Greene (three brigades). The brigadiers
were Knipe, Gordon, Tynedale, Stainbrook, Goodrich.
[9] Both D. H. Hill and the Washington artillery had sixteen guns
each.
[10] “Our artillery,” says General D. H. Hill, “could not cope with
the superior weight, calibre, range, and number of the Yankee guns;
hence it ought only to have been used against masses of infantry. On
the contrary, our guns were made to reply to the Yankee guns, and were
smashed up or withdrawn before they could be effectually turned
against massive columns of attack.” After Sharpsburg Lee gave orders
that there were to be no more “artillery duels” so long as the
Confederates fought defensive battles.
[11] Letter of Jackson’s Adjutant-General. _Memoirs of W. N.
Pendleton, D.D.,_ p. 216.
[12] Sharpsburg. By Major-General J. G. Walker, C.S.A. _Battles and
Leaders,_ vol. ii, pp. 677, 678.
[13] _Memoirs,_ p. 572. _The Antietam and Fredericksburg,_ p. 87.
[14] It was not until two o’clock that even Meade’s Pennsylvanians
were reformed.
[15]
Hooker Mansfield Sedwick Smith 11,000 8,500 6,000 5,000 ———
30,500 [16] Lawton Jones Hood Stuart G. T. Anderson Walker
McLaws D. H. Hill (3 brigades) 3,600 1,800 2,000 1,500 1,000
3,500 4,500 1,500 ——— 19,400
[17] The Federals engaged against Jackson lost in five and a half
hours 7,000 officers and men. During the seven hours they were engaged
at Gravelotte the Prussian Guard and the Saxon Army Corps lost 10,349;
but 50,000 infantry were in action. The percentage of loss (20) was
about the same in both cases. The Confederate losses up to 10.30 a.m.
were as follows:
Jones Lawton Hood McLaws Walker Anderson D.H. Hill (estimate) 700
1,334 1,002 1,119 1,012 87 500 ——— 5,754 (29 p.c.)
[18] Hill received his orders at 6.30 a.m. and marched an hour later,
reaching the battle-field about 3.30 p.m.
[19] _From Manassas to Appomattox,_ pp 256, 257.
[20] _Battles and Leaders,_ vol. ii, pp. 679, 680.
[21] General Palfrey. _The Antietam and Fredericksburg._
[22] “One does not look for humour in a stern story like this, but the
_Charleston Courier_ account of the battle contains the following
statement: ‘They [the Confederates] fought until they were cut to
pieces, and then retreated only because they had fired their last
round!’” General Palfrey, _The Antietam and Fredericksburg._
[23] Communicated by General Stephen P. Lee, who was present at the
conference.
[24] Evidently the ridge which had been held by Stuart on the 17th.
[25] Communicated to the author. The difficulties in the way of the
attack, of which Jackson was aware on the night of the 17th, probably
led to his advising retreat when Lee asked his opinion at the
conference (_ante,_ pp. 259, 260).
[26] Commanding Ewell’s division, _vice_ Lawton, wounded at
Sharpsburg.
[27] Semmes’ four regiments, engaged in Jackson’s counterstroke,
reported the following percentage of loss. 53rd Georgia, 30 p.c.; 32nd
Virginia, 45 p.c.; 10th Georgia, 57 p.c.; 15th Virginia, 58 p.c.
[28] For the losses in various great battles, see Note at end of
volume.
[29] Mr. Lincoln had long before this recognised the tendency of
McClellan and others to exaggerate the enemy’s strength. As a
deputation from New England was one day leaving the White House, a
delegate turned round and said: “Mr. President, I should much like to
know what you reckon to be the number the rebels have in arms against
us.” Without a moment’s hesitation Mr. Lincoln replied: “Sir, I have
the best possible reason for knowing the number to be one million of
men, for whenever one of our generals engages a rebel army he reports
that he has encountered a force twice his strength. Now I know we have
half a million soldiers, so I am bound to believe that the rebels have
twice that number.”
[30] O.R., vol. xix, part ii, p. 627.
[31] O.R., vol. xix, part i, p. 70.
[32] _Ibid.,_ part ii, p. 365.
[33] _Ibid.,_ p. 348.
[34] O.R., vol. xix, part ii, pp. 621, 639.
[35] General orders, Sept. 4; Lee to Davis, Sept. 7; Lee to Davis,
Sept. 13; special orders, Sept. 21; circular order, Sept. 22; Lee to
Davis, Sept. 23; Lee to Secretary of War, Sept. 23; Lee to Pendleton,
Sept. 24; Lee to Davis, Sept. 24; Lee to Davis, Sept. 28; Lee to
Davis, Oct. 2; O.R., vol. xix, part ii. _See also_ Report of D. H.
Hill, O.R., vol. xix, part i, p. l026. Stuart to Secretary of War,
Oct. 13. On Sept. 21, Jackson’s adjutant-general wrote, “We should
have gained a victory and routed them, had it not been for the
straggling. We were twenty-five thousand short by this cause.”
_Memoirs of W. N. Pendleton, D.D.,_ p. 217. It is but fair to say that
on September 13 there was a camp of 900 barefooted men at Winchester,
and “a great many more with the army.” Lee to Quarter-Master-General,
O.R., vol. xix, part ii, p. 614.
[36] O.R., vol. xix, part ii, p. 629.
[37] Dabney, vol. ii, p. 302.
[38] O.R., vol. xix, part ii, p. 643.
[39] About this time he made a successful appearance in a new role. In
September, General Bradley T. Johnson was told off to accompany
Colonel Garnet Wolseley, the Hon. Francis Lawley, Special
Correspondent to the _Times,_ and Mr. Vizetelly, Special Correspondent
of the _Illustrated London News,_ round the Confederate camps. By
order of General Lee,” he says, “I introduced the party to General
Jackson. We were all seated in front of General Jackson’s tent, and he
took up the conversation. He had been to England, and had been greatly
impressed with the architecture of Durham Cathedral and with the
history of the bishopric. The Bishops had been Palatines from the date
of the Conquest, and exercised semi-royal authority over their
bishopric.
”There is a fair history of the Palatinate of Durham in Blackstone
and Coke, but I can hardly think that General Jackson derived his
information from those two fountains of the law. Anyhow, he
cross-examined the Englishmen in detail about the cathedral and the
close and the rights of the bishops, etc. etc. He gave them no
chance to talk, and kept them busy answering questions, for he knew
more about Durham than they did.
”As we rode away, I said: ‘Gentlemen, you have disclosed Jackson in
a new character to me, and I’ve been carefully observing him for a
year and a half. You have made him exhibit _finesse,_ for he did
all the talking to keep you from asking too curious or embarrassing
questions. I never saw anything like it in him before.’ We all
laughed, and agreed that the General had been too much for the
interviewers.” _Memoirs,_ pp. 53–1.
[40] _Memoirs of the Confederate War,_ vol. i
[41] Report of July 31, O.R., vol. xii, part iii, p. 965.
[42] Report of August 20, O.R., vol. xii, part iii, p. 966. (Not
engaged at Cedar Run.)
[43] Report of July 20, O.R., vol. xi, part iii, p. 645. (3½ regiments
had been added.)
[44] Four regiments.
[45] 3,866 sick and straggling since August 28 = 21 p.c.
[46] Over 1,300 stragglers had rejoined.