THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM.
The Valley of the Antietam--Gathering of the hosts--The
battle-field--The battle commenced--Splendid fighting of
Hooker's forces--Successes and reverses of Sumner's
troops--Timely arrival of the Sixth corps--A gallant
charge--Losses of the corps--Burnside's attack--Hours of
suspense--The enemy defeated at all points--Retreat of the
rebels--Scenes on the battle-field--At the hospitals--At
Sharpsburgh--A division of militia--Couch's division joins the
Sixth corps--Visit of the President--Recruits--Energy at the
north--At rest--Want of clothing--Stuart's raid--Delays--Clear
Spring--General Brooks.
Among the delightful and fertile valleys which beautify the State of
Maryland, none is more charming than the one through which the Antietam
winds its tortuous course. Looking from some elevation down upon its
green fields, where herds of sleek cattle graze, its yellow harvests
glowing and ripening in the September sun; its undulating meadows and
richly laden orchards; its comfortable farm houses, some standing out
boldly upon eminences, which rise here and there, others half hidden by
vines or fruit trees; the ranges of hills, rising on either side of the
stream, diversified by charming vales or deep gullies; the turnpikes
winding along the sides of the hills and through the valleys; the lovely
stream itself, now flowing smoothly over its dark bed and anon tumbling
noisily in rapids over a stony bottom, winding here far up to one range
of hills and then turning back to kiss the base of the other; the whole
scene is one of surpassing beauty, upon which the eye rests with
untiring delight. Who would have selected this lovely valley as the
scene of one of the most bloody struggles ever recorded? Who, looking
down from some height of land on the morning of the 13th of September,
would have dreamed that those stacks of grain, which dotted the fields
here and there, would soon become the only protection from the heat of
the sun and the storm of battle, to thousands of wounded, bleeding men?
or, that from those lovely groves of oak and maple, now reposing like
spots of beauty upon the landscape, were to belch forth fire and smoke,
carrying destruction to thousands? Yet, here on these smiling fields,
and among these delightful groves, one of the grand battles which should
decide the march of events in the history, not only of our own country
but of the world, was to be fought. These green pastures were to be
stained with blood, and these peaceful groves marred and torn by shot
and shell.
Driven from the towns along the Potomac, from Frederick, from
Hagerstown, and from Boonsboro; and forced from the strong passes in the
South Mountains, the detached portions of the rebel army were
concentrated along the banks of the Antietam creek, in the vicinity of
the little town of Sharpsburgh. Hither Jackson and Longstreet, Hill and
Stuart, with their hosts, had gathered to offer combined resistance to
the Union army; boastfully proclaiming that now, upon northern soil,
they would hurl our army to final destruction. One hundred thousand men,
flushed with recent victories, and eager for one grand crowning success,
proudly defied the Union army.
Their position was well chosen. A line of steep hills, forming a half
circle, with the convexity in front, rising at some distance back from
the creek, and nearly parallel with it, afforded admirable advantages
for posting batteries, in such a manner as to sweep the plain below,
from right to left. Upon their left, wooded fields afforded protection
to their infantry; while upon their right, the undulating nature of the
grounds near the base of the hills, covered them from the fire of our
guns. In their rear was Sharpsburgh; and two fine roads leading to the
Potomac, afforded safe lines of retreat in case of disaster. From the
crest of the hills, on which Lee had thus posted his army, the ground
sloped gently back; concealing the movements of his forces from the view
of the army in their front, allowing them to maneuver unobserved by
their opponents. Owing also to the form of their line of battle, it was
an easy matter to throw troops from one part to another. Thus, strongly
posted and confidently anticipating victory, they waited the approach of
the Union army.
Our own forces were also gathering toward this point. Richardson's
division of the Second corps, pressing closely upon the heels of the
retreating rebels, had passed through Boonsboro and Keedeysville, and
had overtaken them here.
Porter, with his regulars, was close at hand, and took position. Then
came Burnside, with his favorite Ninth corps; and the white-haired
veteran, Sumner, with troops worthy of their leader; fighting Joe Hooker
and his gallant men; and Mansfield, with Banks' corps. The afternoon and
most of the night was spent in getting into position. Brisk skirmishes
were occurring with sufficient frequency to excite the men on both
sides; but no general engagement took place. The morning of the 16th
found our army ready to give battle. On our right was Hooker; then
Sumner with his own and the Twelfth, Mansfield's corps; and far to the
left was Burnside. Porter's corps, secure behind an elevation in the
rear, was held in reserve.
The night had passed with but now and then a little picket firing; but
all felt that, before many hours, must commence a battle, which must
determine the fate at least of that campaign.
Crossing the Antietam, in front of the line of our army, were three
bridges. The first, on the Hagerstown road; the next on the road to
Sharpsburgh; and the third on the left, three miles below, on the road
from Harper's Ferry to Sharpsburgh.
This last bridge, crossed the stream at a point where steep and high
hills crowded closely on every side; the summits of those on the western
side of the stream, crowned with rebel batteries, and their steeply
falling sides covered with infantry. Over the first of these bridges, on
the right, Hooker was to cross his forces; while on the left, Burnside
was to attempt to dislodge the enemy from his commanding position. Far
in the rear, a prominent hill rose above the surrounding country; here
was a signal station, and here the commander of the army established his
quarters. Hour after hour of the 16th passed away, the two armies facing
each other, watching and waiting; troops moving this way and that,
maneuvering like two giant wrestlers, each willing to try the movements
and feel the gripe of the other before coming to the sharp grapple. At
four o'clock, Hooker crossed his corps and occupied a position on the
west side of the creek, and Mansfield soon followed; a little fighting,
but not severe, and then darkness closed over the scene again. The
skirmishes and artillery practice here, developed, to the quick eye of
General Hooker, the position of the enemy in his front, and their plan
of defense. Satisfied with this knowledge, he was willing to allow his
corps to rest until morning. Our lines were now very near those of the
rebels; so near that the pickets of the opposing forces could hear
conversation from one line to the other.
At an early hour on the morning of the 17th, the great battle commenced
in earnest. Hooker formed his line with Doubleday on the right, Meade in
the center, and Ricketts on the left. Opposed to him was Stonewall
Jackson's corps. First, Meade's Pennsylvania reserves, of Hooker's
corps, opened upon the enemy, and in a few moments the firing became
rapid and general along the line of both Meade's and Rickett's
divisions. The rebel line of battle was just beyond the woods, in a
cornfield. The hostile lines poured into each other more and more deadly
volleys; batteries were brought up on each side which did terrible
execution. Each line stood firm and immovable. Although great gaps were
made in them, they were closed up, and the opposing forces continued to
pour fearful destruction into each other's ranks. General Hooker, riding
everywhere along the front line, knew exactly the position and the work
of every regiment in his command. Cheer after cheer greeted him as he
passed along the line, inspiring the men by his presence. Thus for half
an hour the two lines stood face to face in deadly conflict; at length
the general directed a battery to be placed in a commanding position,
and the shells and shrapnel were seen to work fearful havoc in the
rebel ranks. The gray line wavered; then back through the cornfield and
over the fences the confederates rushed, seeking shelter from the
terrible storm, under cover of the woods, on the other side of the
field. "Forward!" shouted General Hooker, and his divisions pressed
rapidly through the cornfield, up to the very edge of the wood, while
the welkin rang with their cheers. Here, the fleeing foe, reinforced by
fresh troops, made a determined stand. Terrific volleys poured from the
woods, thinning out the Union ranks at a fearful rate. Unable to sustain
the deadly fire, they fell back--this time the rebels following with
yells and shouts; but before the cornfield was crossed, our troops made
another stand, and the swarthy foe was brought to bay; yet the thinned
line seemed hardly able to sustain the fearful shock much longer.
Hooker, fearing that his center was doomed to destruction, sent to his
right for a brigade, although his right was hard pressed and in danger
of being flanked.
The fresh brigade pressed steadily to the front, and the rebel line
again fell back to the woods. Mansfield's corps now came to the support
of the right wing, and well did those troops, so lately demoralized at
Bull Run, stand their ground. General Mansfield received here his mortal
wound.
It was at this time, when Hooker saw his forces gaining a decided
advantage and felt that their part of the work was well done, that a
rifle ball passed through his foot inflicting a painful wound. Lamenting
that he could not remain to see the end of what he hoped would prove a
great victory, he left the field. The battle lulled at this point; but
in the center it raged with terrible energy. There, Sumner the
white-haired veteran, led his corps into the very jaws of death. If he
seemed reckless of the lives of his men, he had no more care of his own.
Across the ploughed ground, over ditches and fences, with unsurpassed
ardor, sweeping over all obstacles, the corps pushed forward, driving
the enemy before it; but the right became hard pressed, and a terrible
fire on that part of the line and on the center, forced the corps back.
Again the ground was taken; and again the enemy, with wild yells of
triumph, drove our men back. Still determined to win, the veteran hero
ordered a third charge; and the third time the field was ours, but only
to be lost again. The brave General Sedgwick, who then led one division
of Sumner's corps, whom we were afterward proud to call the commander of
the Sixth corps, thrice wounded, was at length obliged to leave the
field. Richardson and Crawford were carried wounded to the hospitals.
It was at this critical moment, when Sumner's troops, weary and almost
out of ammunition, were for the third time repulsed; the remnants of the
shattered regiments no longer able to resist the overwhelming forces
opposed to them; the artillery alone, unsupported, holding the enemy for
a moment in check; that the Sixth corps, our second division in advance,
arrived upon the field.
The scene before us was awful. On the left, as far as the eye could
reach, the lines of the contending forces, stretching over hills and
through valleys, stood face to face; in places, not more than thirty
yards apart. The roar of musketry rolled along the whole extent of the
battle-field. The field upon which we had now entered, thrice hotly
contested, was strewed with the bodies of friend and foe.
Without waiting to take breath, each regiment as soon as it arrives on
the field, is ordered to charge independently of the others. The third
brigade is first; and first of its regiments, the Twentieth New York,
with their sabre bayonets, are ready; and the shout, "Forward, double
quick!" rings along the line. The Germans waver for a moment; but
presently with a yell they rush down the hill, suddenly receiving a
volley from a rebel line concealed behind a fence; but the Germans,
regardless of the storm of bullets, rush forward; the rebels breaking
and flying to the rear in confusion, while the Germans hotly pursue
them. Next, on the left of the Twentieth, the gallant Seventh Maine
charges; rushing forward into the midst of the cornfield, they, too, are
met by concealed foes. Although they are concealed from our view, the
crashing of musketry tells us of the struggle which they maintain.
The gallant regiment makes its way down the slope, almost to the
earthworks of the enemy, when the men throw themselves upon the ground
behind a rail fence. Here, subjected to the shells from the Union and
rebel batteries, the regiment can neither advance or retreat; but our
batteries, finding that their shots are as fatal to our men as to the
rebels, allow the remaining fragments of the regiment to retire from the
perilous position.
On the right of the Seventh Maine comes the glorious Forty-ninth and our
own Seventy-seventh, Captain Babcock in command. On the right of all is
the old Thirty-third, within supporting distance. The men of the
Seventy-seventh rush forward over their fallen comrades, making toward a
small school house which stands upon the Sharpsburgh and Hagerstown
turnpike, behind which is a grove swarming with rebel troops. Our boys
are almost on the road, when, at a distance of less than thirty yards,
they find themselves confronted by overwhelming numbers, who pour a
withering fire into their ranks. The Seventy-seventh receives the fire
nobly, and, although far ahead of all the other regiments, stands its
ground and returns the fire with spirit, although it is but death to
remain thus in the advance. The brave color-bearer, Joseph Murer, falls,
shot through the head; but the colors scarcely touch the ground when
they are seized and again flaunted in the face of the enemy. Volley
after volley crashes through our ranks; our comrades fall on every side;
yet the little band stands firm as a rock, refusing to yield an inch. At
this juncture, General Smith, riding along the line and discovering the
advanced and unprotected position of the regiment, exclaims, "There's a
regiment gone," and sends an aide to order it to retire. The order was
timely, for the rebels were planting a battery within twenty yards of
the left of the regiment, which would, in a moment longer, have swept it
to destruction.
The regiment reformed behind the crest, in line with the other regiments
of the brigade, all of which had been forced to fall back; but the line
held was far in advance of that held by Sumner's troops when the
division arrived. Thirty-three of the little band had fallen; they were
less than two hundred men when they came upon the field. In the Seventh
Maine the loss was still greater; of the one hundred and seventy men who
went into the fight, one-half were killed or wounded; more than eighty
of those noble forms were prostrated like the slashings in their own
forests. The Thirty-third lost fifty in killed and wounded. The total
loss to our Third brigade was three hundred and forty-three; of the
Second division, three hundred and seventy-three; of the corps, four
hundred and thirty-eight.
Our men lay down behind the ridge to protect themselves from the rebel
batteries; yet even here the shells came, carrying death to many of our
number. The Vermont brigade was sent to the assistance of French's
division, who, having expended their ammunition, were making feeble
resistance to the enemy. The Vermonters behaved with their usual
gallantry, resisting the advance of the enemy; and although frequently
subjected to the fire of artillery, they held their ground bravely. The
brigade was composed of men who could always be depended on to do what
they were ordered to do.
The advent of the Sixth corps upon the field had decided the contest
upon the right of the line, and after the first charge by the Third
brigade the battle lulled. Of all the brilliant charges made in the army
on that memorable day, none was more gallant or more important in its
results than this noble charge of the Third brigade of Smith's division.
Although the infantry on both sides became comparatively quiet,
artillery thundered from every eminence in possession of our own or the
enemy's batteries. Shells and cannister tore through the Union ranks,
making in parts of the line fearful havoc. Thus, for nine long hours,
our Sixth corps endured this fiery ordeal, when darkness closed over the
field of strife.
Meanwhile, on the left, Burnside became hotly engaged. At nine o'clock
in the morning, his troops moved down toward the stone bridge, over
which they hoped to cross. The hills on either side slope down almost to
the water's edge; the road leading to the bridge winding through a
ravine, and then on the other side ascending through another ravine to
the highlands. No sooner had the head of the column descended into this
amphitheater of hills, than the rebels opened a destructive fire from
behind defenses which they had thrown up along the hillsides. Rifle
pits, and breastworks of rails and stones, concealed thousands of
infantry, who, from their secure position, poured volley after volley
into the advancing column; while batteries, placed upon the heights,
brought an enfilading fire upon the bridge and its approaches. In the
face of this reception, the Ninth corps formed in line of battle. One
brigade with fixed bayonets charged upon the bridge; but the
concentrated fire of the enemy forced it back. Charge after charge was
ordered and executed by different portions of the command with like
success. At length a battery was brought to bear directly upon the
enemy's position at the farthest end of the bridge, and, aided by these
guns, fresh troops charged with great enthusiasm, carrying the bridge
and planting their colors on the opposite side of the stream. Sturgis'
division immediately advanced up the slope, driving the enemy before it.
Meanwhile Rodman's division had succeeded, after a desperate fight, in
crossing the stream below, and had also gained a position along the
crest of the hills. The enemy having the range perfectly, made the
position along the crest of the hills untenable, and the men were forced
to fall back a little; lying close upon the ground to avoid the shells
that burst about them.
At length, at three o'clock, General Burnside ordered a general advance.
The divisions moved in fine order, but were soon met by the enemy in
overpowering numbers. The whole line became hotly engaged. All the
reserves were brought into action, and still the rebels poured upon the
Union men in increasing numbers; pressing their flank and turning the
attack into a doubtful defense. It seemed impossible for the corps to
hold its position against the overwhelming force opposed to it. At this
juncture General Burnside sent to General McClellan for aid. Porter's
troops were still in reserve; but McClellan refused to relieve the
hardly pressed corps. Again Burnside sends word, "I cannot hold my
position half an hour longer, unless I am reinforced;" and again the
appeal is met with refusal. Contrary to his own expectations, Burnside's
forces held their ground until darkness put an end to the strife.
Thus our own Sixth corps, and Burnside's corps, held the ground they had
each by most desperate fighting wrested from the hands of the enemy; and
in spite of the peril which had threatened the right, when Hooker's
braves were forced back, the center, where Sumner's brave men fell back
for the third time with empty cartridge boxes, and the left, where
Burnside was so hardly pressed, the advantage remained with our army;
and the weary soldiers lay down in the expectation of renewing the
battle in the morning.
Their valor had saved them from defeat; they hoped to make the battle
that should come, a complete victory.
But the battle was ended. Toward morning, it was known to officers of
our corps that the rebels were moving back, and the fact was reported;
but no attention was paid to it. A truce, under pretense of burying the
dead, gave the rebels a quiet day, in which to prepare for their escape,
by sending their trains and much of their artillery to the rear; and on
the night of the 18th, the whole rebel army disappeared. So this
memorable and sanguinary battle ended. A defeat for the rebels, but not
the decided victory to our arms that could have been hoped for.
The Second division of the Sixth corps was relieved soon after noon of
the 18th by Couch's division, which was soon afterward joined to the
Sixth corps. Until now our corps had consisted of but two divisions, the
First and Second. Our men were glad to fall back enough to allow them to
cook their coffee once more, and they proceeded to the work of preparing
a good meal with great spirit.
The scene on the battle-field was past description. The mangled forms of
our own comrades lay stretched upon the ground, side by side with those
of the rebels. On almost every rod of ground over one hundred acres, the
dead and wounded, some clad in the Union blue and some in confederate
gray, were lying. A ghastly sight, presenting all the horrible features
of death which are to be seen on such a field. At one point in our own
front, for more than half a mile, the rebels lay so thickly as almost to
touch each other. On the field where Hooker's men had won and lost the
field, the dead and dying were scattered thickly among the broken
cornstalks, their eyes protruding and their faces blackened by the sun.
Wherever the lines of battle had surged to and fro, these vestiges of
the terrible work were left. In the edge of the wood, where the rebels
had made a stand against Hooker's advancing divisions, the bodies lay in
perfect line, as though they had fallen while on dress parade. Further
to the left there was a narrow road, not more than fifteen feet wide,
with high fences on either side. Here a regiment of rebels was posted;
when our batteries getting an enfilading fire upon them, and the
infantry at the same time opening a murderous fire, the regiment was
literally destroyed; not more than twenty of their number escaping.
Their bodies filled the narrow road. Some were shot while attempting to
get over the fence; and their remains hung upon the boards. A more
fearful picture than we saw here, could not be conceived.
Broken caissons, wheels, dismounted guns, thousands of muskets,
blankets, haversacks and canteens, were scattered thickly over the
field; and hundreds of slain horses, bloated and with feet turned toward
the sky, added to the horror of the scene.
While the excitement of battle lasts, and we hear the roar of artillery,
and the shock of contending armies, the terrible reality of the occasion
hardly presents itself to our minds, and it is only when we survey the
bloody field, strewed with the mangled, lifeless remains of friend and
foe, or walk through the hospitals, where the unfortunate victims of
battle writhe in the agony of their wounds, that we realize the terrible
nature of a great battle.
Sickening as is the sight of the battle-field, the scenes about the
hospitals are worse, except to those who are actually engaged in
ministering to the relief of the wounded. To these the excitement and
labor incident to their duties, crowd out the thoughts of the ghastly
surroundings. They see only so many demands upon them for assistance,
and have no time to indulge in sentimental emotions.
Here in the rear of the army for miles, was a succession of hospitals.
Every house, and barn, and haystack, formed the nucleus of a hospital,
where men, shot through the head, through the limbs, through the body;
with every conceivable variety of wounds, lay groaning in anguish.
Surgeons toiled day and night with never lagging zeal to relieve these
sufferings, but all their labor could only afford slight relief. The
labors of medical officers after a great battle are immense, and there
is no respite from their toils so long as a wounded man remains uncared
for. While others find repose from the fatigues of battle in sleep, the
surgeons are still at work; there is no sleep for them so long as work
remains to be done.
The rebel army had fallen back; yet a skirmish line had been left to
cover the movement. At length even this suddenly disappeared, and,
firing a few solid shots, as a parting salute, the enemy took a final
leave of the field. Our forces were ordered on. We passed over the scene
of carnage, where hundreds of dead lay still unburied; and pioneers were
on every part of the field throwing the mangled, disfigured forms into
shallow graves. Along the roadsides, under the fences, and where the
confederate hospitals had been, still these gory objects met our view.
We reached Sharpsburgh, and here the evidences of the terrible conflict
were to be seen everywhere. Houses riddled by shells and bullets; some
of them destroyed by fire, and some battered into shapeless masses; the
streets filled with disabled wagons; horses galloping about without
riders; knapsacks, guns and equipments cast away in the hasty flight;
churches filled with rebel wounded; all helped to make up a scene of
destruction such as has been rarely witnessed. The people of the village
welcomed us as their deliverers, and brought water, and such other
refreshments as they had been able to conceal from the rebels. We passed
the village and bivouacked for the night.
On the 20th, we, of the Sixth corps, retraced our steps, passing again
over the battle-field, where the stench was now unendurable. We reached
Williamsport at daylight, where Couch's division was face to face with
the enemy, who were said to be recrossing the river, and who had last
night forced back part of the division.
The rebel force had, however, consisted of about four thousand cavalry,
who, finding the Unionists in force, quickly returned to the south side
of the Potomac. Here we found an immense division of Pennsylvania
militia drawn up in line of battle. Its regiments were larger than our
brigades. They were armed with every variety of fire-arms, from light
sporting shot-guns to Sharpe's rifles. Their uniforms had quite as
little uniformity as their arms. Some were dressed in gray pants and
jackets, others in light blue; and still others in the various fashions
which constituted the wearing apparel at home. Grave gentleman in
spectacles, studious young men in green glasses, pale young men who were
evidently more at home behind the counter than in line of battle, roughs
who had not been tamed by the discipline of military life, and boys who,
for the first time, had left the paternal mansion, made up the
heterogeneous division.
Remaining at Williamsport until the morning of the 23d, we marched on
the Hagerstown turnpike to Bakersville, where we remained about three
weeks. Here it was that Couch's division was joined to the Sixth corps.
(The regiments of this division were, the 36th, 55th, 62d, 65th, 67th
and 122d New York; the 23d, 82d, 93d, 98th and 102d Pennsylvania; the
7th, 10th and 37th Massachusetts, and the 2d Rhode Island.) On the 3d of
October the corps was ordered out for review by President Lincoln. The
line was formed on a fine plain, and the booming of cannon announced the
approach of the Commander-in-Chief of the armies of the United States.
The illustrious visitor was accompanied by Generals McClellan, Franklin,
Smith and other notable men, with an immense retinue. Conscious of the
fatigues already endured by these veterans, the President simply passed
along the line of the divisions, acknowledging the salutations which
greeted him, without requiring the columns to march in review. The
soldiers manifested their appreciation of the interest taken by the
Chief Magistrate in their welfare, by loud and repeated cheers.
Sumner's, Burnside's and Porter's corps had already been reviewed by the
President.
While at this camp, large accessions were made to our thinned ranks.
Before the army left Harrison's Landing, efforts had been set on foot
for filling up the skeleton regiments of our army. Recruiting officers
had been detailed from every regiment, to go to the localities from
which their respective regiments had been raised, and bring in recruits,
to fill the places made vacant by death and disease. The critical
condition of affairs when the army was withdrawn from the Peninsula,
and, afterward, when Pope was so disastrously forced back upon the
defenses of Washington, had roused to most earnest action, many
patriots, who hoped to avert further disaster by forwarding men to the
field. Under these influences, and as the result of these patriotic
efforts, many recruits offered themselves; but after the battle of
Antietam, new life was added to the recruiting service. Many who then
supposed that the war was nearly ended, gladly accepted the large
bounties, and in the hope of soon being "in at the death" of the
rebellion, enrolled themselves among the soldiers of the Union. War
meetings were held in every town, and the utmost enthusiasm was created.
In Saratoga, a large concourse of people, among whom were many of the
visitors at the Springs, gathered for a war meeting. Stirring speeches
were made. Ladies offered their diamond rings, their watch chains, their
watches and other valuables to those who should come forward and enter
the service. Under the influence of such enthusiasm, many came forward
and enrolled their names, and received the jewels from the fair hands of
the patriotic donors. By such efforts as these, all over the country,
from two to three hundred recruits were raised for each regiment in our
corps, and large accessions were made to the ranks of the whole army.
The advent of the new comers was hailed with joy by the veterans, who
had become sadly discouraged by their small and constantly decreasing
numbers.
Our men were enjoying the welcome rest and the abundant supply of food
obtained in this delightful country, and many varieties of diet, well
remembered as familiar in former years, but unknown to them since their
campaigns commenced, adorned their humble mess tables. Among other
luxuries, "hasty pudding" and johnny cake became common articles of
diet. The process of producing these articles, was after the rude manner
of men who must invent the working materials as they are needed.
One-half of an unserviceable canteen, or a tin plate perforated by means
of a nail or the sharp point of a bayonet, served the purpose of a
grater or mill for grinding the corn. The neighboring cornfields,
although guarded, yielded abundance of rich yellow ears; which, without
passing through the process of "shelling," were rubbed across the
grater, yielding a finer meal than is usually ground at the grist mills.
The meal being obtained, it was mixed with a large or small quantity of
water, as mush or cake was desired, and cooked.
The men complained of want of proper and sufficient clothing, and many
of them were absolutely barefooted. On whom the blame for the long delay
in furnishing these necessary articles should rest, we can only refer to
the controversy between the Major-General commanding the armies of the
United States and the Major-General commanding the Army of the Potomac.
Soon after midnight, October 11th, the corps was ordered to move to
Hagerstown. In the midst of a heavy shower the march was made, and
Hagerstown was reached soon after daylight. Here a new cause of
excitement occurred. Stuart, with his cavalry, was in our rear;
Chambersburgh was burned, and other towns sacked. The Vermont brigade
was hastily loaded into cars and sent to Chambersburgh in pursuit of the
cavalry, which was already far on its way to the Potomac. Of course they
could only return, having had an excursion through the country at
government expense. The Third brigade of Smith's division marched
hastily to the Maryland and Pennsylvania line, to where a stone bridge
crossed the Antietam; a battery of artillery was also here, and the
brigades and battery prepared to defend the crossing. But no enemy
appeared, and the two brigades returned to Hagerstown; the Vermonters to
occupy the town as provost guard, the other to encamp in a delightful
grove a mile beyond.
Thus ended the famous campaign of Antietam; which had humbled the pride
of the boastful confederates, and had turned back their hordes to their
mountain fastnesses in Virginia for safety. A campaign which, while
conducted with great hesitancy and a total want of that celerity of
movement usually considered absolutely necessary to brilliant success in
military operations, yet had preserved the north from imminent and
immediate danger which threatened it. Our losses in killed, wounded and
missing, in this campaign, amounted to fifteen thousand two hundred and
twenty.
The army was posted, two corps, the Second and Twelfth, at Harper's
Ferry; the remaining corps along the Potomac, above and below that
point, for twenty miles. Here, six weeks were spent in getting ready for
another campaign; the President, meanwhile, constantly ordering an
advance across the river; General McClellan, constantly offering excuses
for delay. It is not our purpose to discuss the merits of these excuses,
but it may not be out of place to mention, that although the Sixth corps
was represented as being in worse condition, in regard to clothing and
shoes, than any other corps, that corps finally crossed the river before
it received its clothing, showing that even the corps least supplied
with these important articles could undertake the campaign even after
another month's wear of the old clothes and the advent of the cold
weather. On the 18th of October, that portion of the Third brigade able
to perform duty, was marched to Clear Spring to perform picket duty,
leaving in camp the recruits, who were unarmed, and the invalids. Thus
the brigade occupied two distinct camps several miles apart. The duty on
picket was by no means severe, and the country was delightful. The boys
found little difficulty in procuring abundant supplies of luxuries, such
as soft bread, hoe cakes and other articles, from the farmers; and as
the enemy was at Winchester, they were not in great alarm from rebel
raids.
The Hagerstown camp was indeed a pleasant one. The people were generally
loyal, and seemed glad to furnish the soldiers with all the comforts
possible. There was little duty, and the invalids had time for
recovering their exhausted strength, while the recruits were afforded an
opportunity for drill.
General Slocum, who had commanded the First division of our corps since
the corps was organized, was assigned to the command of the Twelfth
corps, in place of General Mansfield, who lost his life at Antietam.
In the Vermont brigade an important change occurred, General Brooks, the
old and tried commander of the brigade, was assigned to the command of
the first division of the corps, succeeding General Slocum, who took
command of the Twelfth corps. General Brooks was one of the most
energetic and brave brigade commanders in our army, and notwithstanding
his abrupt and sometimes very stern manners, had endeared himself by his
excellent discipline and fighting qualities, not only to his brigade,
but to the whole division.
An amusing incident, well calculated to illustrate the mingled
sentiments of love and fear entertained for the general by even those in
his own command, occurred at a meeting of the officers of the brigade,
immediately after the order for the transfer. The object of the meeting,
was to make arrangements for presenting the general with a suitable
testimonial of their regard. Some discussion occurred in regard to the
character of the gift. Some proposed a silver service, some a sword. At
length it was proposed, that a fine horse and equipments be purchased.
An officer rose and said that it was all very well to talk about buying
a horse for General Brooks, but he would like to know who would be so
bold as to undertake to present it to him! Another officer suggested
that the horse might be saddled and bridled and hitched in front of the
general's quarters during the night, with a note tied to the bridle
stating for whom it was designed, and by whom presented.
A magnificent silver service was finally presented to the general, who,
forgetting his rough manners, received the beautiful gift of his loved
brigade with tears standing on his brown cheeks.