Appearance of the Field after the strife.—Union Losses
and Captures.—Bravery of the Raw Levies.—The Thirty-third
complimented by the Brigade Commander.
One forgets the horrors of war in the roar of artillery and shock of
contending thousands, but when the field is afterwards surveyed, we
realize how fearful, how terrible is the calamity. The falling back of
the enemy left the battle-field of Antietam in our possession, with all
its heart-rending and melancholy scenes. Scattered over a space of four
miles, were men with uniforms of blue, and uniforms of gray, exhibiting
all the frightful mutilations which the human body can suffer.
Shot through the head, shot through the body, shot through the limbs,
shot to the death, they lay stretched out together, wherever the surging
to and fro of the contending armies had marked the line of battle.
Approaching the field from the direction of Hagerstown, the first
evidences of the conflict are seen, in a small grove which has been cut
to pieces by a hurricane of shot, and shell. Close by appears the debris
of a once elegant farm-house, literally shot down by our guns. Near the
adjoining barn are several dead animals, killed in their stalls, or while
grazing in the pastures. Advancing further, the fences by the road-side
are completely riddled with bullets. Here, for several moments, two
contending Regiments fought, divided from each other only by the width of
the road, until both were nearly annihilated.
Many, who fell forward on the fences, still remain in a standing
posture, grasping in death the rails which had afforded them so frail a
protection. Others lie stretched out upon the ground, fiercely clenching
their muskets, and with countenances exhibiting all the savageness and
ferocity which mark the warrior in the strife. Several of the wounded
have crawled close into the fence corners to avoid the hot sun, or lain
themselves out on a pallet of straw, gathered by their own hands from
a stack close by. Of this number is a North Carolinian, who on being
informed, as he is carried away to the hospital, that the wound is
very severe, replies, “Cut off my leg, for, if you do not, I shall be
exchanged, and again forced to fight against the old flag, which I have
never ceased to love.”
Further on is a Federal soldier, who, though he has lost a leg, is
consoling himself with the prospect of soon being in the bosom of his
family. Alas for the poor New York boy lying near! no sight of home will
ever greet him, for the death film already dims his eye, and the clammy
sweat is gathering upon his brow.
To the left and rear of this, is the corn-field through which the Irish
Brigade so gallantly charged, when Sumner went to the relief of Hooker.
The mangled corpses lie in heaps among the tall, bare stalks, shorn of
their leaves, as if by a hail-storm. One long row of rebel dead lie
in the outskirts of the field, almost as straight, and regular, as if
they had fallen at dress parade. They were drawn up here to resist the
charging party, who, reserving their fire until reaching the corn, then
discharged a volley, which bore down almost the whole line.
Returning to the road and following on towards Sharpsburg, we come to
the little elevation on which several rebel batteries were planted.
Numerous are the evidences of the terribleness of our fire, when it was
concentrated upon them, as the battle progressed. Dead cannoniers, dead
infantrymen, and dead horses; exploded caissons, broken wheels, and
fractured limbers; muskets, revolvers, and stilettos; round shot, solid
shot and case shot, scattered promiscuously together! Could mortal live
under such a concentrated fire? How did they remain and live so long?
In the rear of here is another corn-field filled with the dead and dying
of the enemy. A solid shot has completely beheaded one and passing
through the body of another left a fearful wound, from which the bowels
are protruding. Stopping to draw a bucket of water from the well close
by, we observe two more who were apparently shot while lying concealed
behind the sweep. The dwelling house is deserted and the barn in ruins;
smoke still rising from the mass of smouldering grain. Returning again
to the road and entering “Bloody Lane,” the most appalling sight of all
meets our eye. Here our boys succeeded in getting a cross fire on the
rebels, and they lie in heaps from one end of the lane to the other.
Retreat, they could not, surrender they would not, and only eighteen
remain uninjured of the Regiment stationed in the defile.
The pioneers have already arrived and commenced burying the dead in long
trenches. At the head of one of these is a rough pine board bearing the
inscription, “142 dead rebels buried here.” Pursuing our way through
the fields, past the ruins of a dwelling destroyed by our shell, and
a small church perforated with bullets, we arrive in front of the
position occupied by the Thirty-third. A windrow of dead and dying
rebels lie here. The Chaplain is kneeling in prayer with a young South
Carolinian, who was shot through the hip and afterwards had his arm
broken and fingers taken off by a shell, as he lay stretched upon his
back. There are pools of blood all around, and we have to pick our way
carefully to avoid tramping upon the prostrate forms. Cries for water,
water, are heard in every direction, mingled with the moans of the poor
unfortunates, who are breathing their life away.
Passing further on to the left, the same gory sights meet the eye. The
large number of killed and wounded in the vicinity of Antietam bridge,
testify to the fierceness of General Burnside’s struggle for its
possession. The woods here, as at the right of the line, are torn and
shivered by shell. Clasped firmly round a small sapling is a confederate
with a bullet through his brain. He evidently caught at this tree, when
falling, and so firm was his grasp that death has failed to relax it. At
the foot of another is stretched a Union soldier wearing a breast-plate.
A small depression made by a ball, shows it to have once saved his life,
but a second bullet, though not perforating the plate and entering his
breast, has glanced upward and passing through his chin inflicted a death
wound.
Leaving the battle-field with its gastly sights, we arrive at the village
of Sharpsburg to find fresh evidences of the conflict. Buildings burned
or perforated with minie and shell, churches filled with abandoned
confederate wounded, disabled horses running loose about the streets, and
knapsacks, guns and equipments thrown away in the hasty flight of their
owners. Antietam was a sorry day for the enemy.
The following are extracts from the report made by the Third Brigade
commander immediately succeeding the battle. “A severe, unexpected
volley from the woods on our right struck full on the Thirty-third and
Seventy-seventh, which staggered them for a moment, but they soon closed
up, faced by the rear rank, and formed in a close and scorching fire,
driving back and scattering the enemy at this point.” ...
“The Thirty-third and Seventy-seventh, under Lieutenant-Colonel Corning
and Captain Babcock repulsed the enemy handsomely, and then took and held
firmly their respective places in line of battle until relieved.”
Our loss during the engagement amounted to 11,426. That of the
confederates has never been made known. Our captures in this battle and
those of the mountain passes, amounted to thirty-nine colors, thirteen
guns, fifteen thousand stand of small arms, and six thousand prisoners.
The enemy’s wounded were kindly provided for, and received the same
attention as our own.
A very noticeable feature among the officers made prisoners, was the
entire absence of shoulder straps. A narrow strip of cloth over the
shoulder, or silver star on the coat collar, were the only insignia of
rank.
Our Regiments of new troops covered themselves with glory in the fight.
In fact, Pea Ridge, Donaldson and Newbern had previously demonstrated
that true courage and patriotism are more than a match for mere drill and
discipline. Said a rebel officer, while extolling their gallantry, “——
them, they didn’t know when they were flanked.”