Chapter XIX: Sharpsburg (1)

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.

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.