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Roasting Green corn at the camp-fire.1 |
On the 3d of September, 1862, the
Federal army under
General Pope having been confounded,
General Lee turned his columns toward the
Potomac, with
Stonewall Jackson in front.
On the 5th of September
Jackson crossed the
Potomac at Whitens Ford, a few miles beyond
Leesburg.
The passage of the river by the troops marching in fours, well closed up, the laughing, shouting, and singing, as a brass band in front played “
Maryland, my
Maryland,” was a memorable experience.
The
Marylanders in the corps imparted much of their enthusiasm to the other troops, but we were not long in finding out that if
General Lee had hopes that the decimated regiments of his army would be filled by the sons of
Maryland he was doomed to a speedy and unqualified disappointment.
However, before we had been in
Maryland many hours, one enthusiastic citizen presented
Jackson with a gigantic
gray mare.
She was a little heavy and awkward for a war-horse, but as the general's “Little Sorrel” had a few days before been temporarily stolen, the present was a timely one, and he was not disposed to “look a gift horse in the mouth.”
Yet the present proved almost a Trojan horse to him, for the next morning when he mounted his new steed and touched her with his spur the loyal and undisciplined beast reared straight into the air, and, standing erect for a moment, threw herself backward, horse and rider rolling upon the ground.
The general was stunned and severely bruised, and lay upon the ground for some time before he could be removed.
He was then placed in an ambulance, where he rode during the day's march, having turned his command over to his brother-in-law,
General D. H. Hill, the officer next in rank.
Early that day the army went into camp near
Frederick, and
Generals Lee,
Longstreet,
Jackson, and for a time “
Jeb”
Stuart, had their headquarters near one another in
Best's grove.
Hither in crowds came the good people of
Frederick, especially the ladies, as to a fair.
General Jackson, still suffering from his hurt, kept to his tent, busying himself with maps and official papers, and declined to see visitors.
Once, however, when he had been called to
General Lee's tent, two young girls waylaid him, paralyzed him with smiles and embraces and questions, and then jumped into
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their carriage and drove off rapidly, leaving him there, cap in hand, bowing, blushing, and speechless.
But once safe in his tent he was seen no more that day. The next evening, Sunday, he went into
Frederick for the first time to attend church, and there being no service in the Presbyterian Church he went to the German Reformed., As usual he fell asleep, but this time more soundly than was his wont.
His head sunk upon his breast, his cap dropped from his hands to the floor, the prayers of the congregation did not disturb him, and only the choir and the deep-toned organ awakened him. Afterward I learned that the minister was credited with much loyalty and courage because he had prayed for the
President of the
United States in the very presence of
Stonewall Jackson.
Well, the general didn't hear the prayer, and if he had he would doubtless have felt like replying as
General Ewell did, when asked at
Carlisle, Pennsylvania, if he would permit the usual prayer for
President Lincoln--“Certainly; I'm sure he needs it.”
General Lee believed that
Harper's Ferry would be evacuated as soon as he interposed between it and
Washington.
But he did not know that
Halleck, and not
McClellan, held command of it. When he found that it was not
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evacuated he knew some one had blundered, and took steps to capture the garrison and stores.
On Tuesday, the 9th, he issued an order, directing
General Jackson to move the next morning, cross the
Potomac near
Sharpsburg, and envelop
Harper's Ferry on the
Virginia side.
In the same order he directed
General McLaws to march on
Harper's Ferry by way of
Middletown and seize
Maryland Heights, and
General Walker to cross the
Potomac below
Harper's Ferry and take
Loudoun Heights, all to be in position on the 12th, except
Jackson, who was first to capture, if possible, the troops at
Martinsburg.
Early on the 10th
Jackson was off. In
Frederick he asked for a map of
Chambersburg and its vicinity, and made many irrelevant inquiries about roads and localities in the direction of
Pennsylvania.
To his staff, who knew what little value these inquiries had, his questions only illustrated his well-known motto r “Mystery, mystery is the secret of success.”
I was then assistant inspector-general on his staff, and also acting aide-de-camp.
It was my turn this day to be intrusted with the knowledge of his purpose.
Having finished this public inquiry, he took me aside, and after asking me about the different fords of the
Potomac between
Williamsport and
Harper's Ferry, told me that he was ordered to capture the garrison at
Harper's Ferry, and would cross either at
Williamsport or
Shepherdstown, as the enemy might or might not withdraw from
Martinsburg.
I did not then know of
General Lee's order.
The troops being on the march, the general and staff rode rapidly out of town and took the head of the column.
Just a few words here in regard to
Mr. Whittier's touching poem, “
Barbara Frietchie.”
An old woman, by that now immortal name, did live in
Frederick in those days, but she never saw
General Jackson, and
General Jackson never saw “
Barbara Frietchie.”
I was with him every minute of the time he was in that city,--he was there only twice,--and nothing like the scene so graphically described by the poet ever happened.
Mr. Whittier must have been misinformed as to the incident.
[See p. 619.--Editors.]
On the march that day, the captain of the cavalry advance, just ahead; had instructions to let no civilian go to the front, and we entered each village we passed before the inhabitants knew of our coming.
In Middletown two very pretty girls, with ribbons of
red,
white, and
blue floating from their hair, and small Union flags in their hands, rushed out of a house as we passed, came to the curbstone, and with much laughter waved their flags defiantly in the face of the general.
He bowed and raised his hat, and, turning with his quiet smile to his staff, said: “We evidently have no friends in this town.”
And this is about the way he would have treated
Barbara Frietchie!
Having crossed
South Mountain, at Turner's Gap, the command encamped for the night within a mile of
Boonsboro‘, Here
General Jackson must determine whether he would go on to
Williamsport or turn toward
Shepherdstown.
I at once rode into the village with a cavalryman to make some inquiries, but we ran into a squadron of Federal cavalry, who without ceremony
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proceeded to make war upon us. We retraced our steps, and although we did not stand upon the order of our going, a squad of them escorted us out of town with great rapidity.
When I tried a couple of Parthian shots at them with my revolver, they returned them with interest, and shot a hole in my new hat, which, with the beautiful plume that a lady in
Frederick had placed there, rolled in the dust.
This was of little moment, but at the end of the town, reaching the top of the hill, we discovered, just over it,
General Jackson, walking slowly toward us, leading his horse.
There was but one thing to do. Fortunately the chase had become less vigorous, and, with a cry of command to unseen troops, we turned and charged the enemy.
They, suspecting trouble, turned and fled, while the general quickly galloped to the rear.
I recovered my hat and plume, and as I returned to camp I picked up the gloves which the general had dropped in mounting, and took them to him. Although — he had sent a regiment of infantry to the front as soon as he went back, the only allusion he made to the incident was to express the opinion that I had a very fast horse.
The next morning, having learned that the
Federal troops still occupied
Martinsburg,
General Jackson took the direct road to
Williamsport.
He there forded the
Potomac, the troops now singing, and the bands playing, “Carry me back to ole Virginny!”
We marched on
Martinsburg.
General A. P. Hill took the direct turnpike, while
Jackson, with the rest of his command, followed a side road, so as to approach
Martinsburg from the west, and encamped four miles from the town.
His object was to drive
General White, who occupied
Martinsburg, toward
Harper's Ferry, and thus “corral” all the
Federal troops in that military pen. As the
Comte de Paris puts it, he “organized a kind of grand hunting match through the lower valley of
Virginia, driving all the
Federal detachments before him and forcing them to crowd into the blind alley of
Harper's Ferry.”
Fatigued by the day's march,
Jackson was persuaded by his host of the night to drink a whisky toddy — the only glass of spirits I ever saw him take.
While mixing it leisurely, he remarked that he believed he liked the taste of whisky and brandy more than any soldier in the army; that they were more palatable to him than the most fragrant coffee, and for that reason, with others, he rarely tasted them.
The next morning the
Confederates entered
Martinsburg.
Here the general was welcomed with great enthusiasm, and a great crowd hastened to the hotel to greet him. At first he shut himself up in a room to write dispatches, but the demonstration became so persistent that he ordered the door to be opened.
The crowd, chiefly ladies, rushed in and embarrassed the general with every possible outburst of affection, to which he could only reply, “Thank you, you're very kind.”
He gave them his autograph in books and on scraps of paper, cut a button from his coat for a little girl, and then submitted patiently to an attack by the others, who soon stripped the coat of nearly all the remaining buttons.
But when they looked beseechingly at his hair, which was thin, he drew the line there, and managed to close the interview.
These blandishments did not delay his movements, however, for in the afternoon he was off again.
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On the 13th he invested Bolivar Heights and
Harper's Ferry.
On this day
General McClellan came into possession, by carelessness or accident, of
General Lee's order of the 9th, and he was thus notified of the division of the Confederate army and the intention to capture
Harper's Ferry.
From this moment
General Lee's army was in peril, imminent in proportion to the promptness with which the
Federal commander might use the knowledge he thus obtained.
The plans of the latter were quickly and skillfully made.
Had they been executed more rapidly, or had
Jackson been slower and less sure, the result must have been a disastrous one to us. But military critics disposed to censure
General McClellan for not being equal to his opportunities should credit him with the embarrassment of his position.
He had not been in command of this army two weeks. It was a large army, but a heterogeneous one, with many old troops dispirited by recent defeat, and many new troops that had never been under fire.
With such an army a general as cautious as
McClellan does not take great risks, nor put the safety of his army rashly “to the touch, to win or lose it all.”
General McClellan was inclined by nature to magnify the forces of the enemy, and had he known
General Lee's weakness he would have ventured more.
Yet when we remember what
Pope had done and suffered just before, and what happened to
Burnside and
Hooker not long after, their friends can hardly sit in judgment upon
McClellan.
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On the afternoon of the 13th
Colonel Miles, in command at
Harper's Ferry, made the fatal mistake of withdrawing his troops from
Maryland Heights, and giving them up to
McLaws.
Napier has said, “He who wars walks in a mist through which the keenest eyes cannot always discern the right path.”
But it does seem that
Colonel Miles might have known that to abandon these heights under the circumstances was simply suicidal.
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Jackson met with so much delay in opening communication with
McLaws and
Walker, and ascertaining whether they were in position, that much of the 14th was consumed.
But late in the afternoon
A. P. Hill gained a foothold, with little resistance, well up on the enemy's left, and established some artillery at the base of
Loudoun Heights and across the
Shenandoah, so as to take the
Federal line on Bolivar Heights in rear. (
General Hill had been placed under arrest by
General Jackson, before crossing the
Potomac into
Maryland, for disobedience of orders, and the command of his division devolved upon
General Branch, who was killed a few days later at
Antietam.
Believing a battle imminent,
General Hill requested
General Jackson to reinstate him in command of his division until the approaching engagement was over.
No one could appreciate such ant appeal more keenly than
General Jackson, and he at once restored
General Hill to his command.
The work the
Light Division did at
Harper's Ferry and
Sharpsburg proved the wisdom of
Hill's request and of
Jackson's compliance with it.)
During the 14th, while
Jackson was fixing his clamps on
Harpers Ferry,
McClellan was pushing against
Lee's divided forces at Turner's Gap.
Hooker and
Reno, under
Burnside and under the eye of
General McClellan, were fighting the
battle of South Mountain against
D. H. Hill and
Longstreet.
Here
Reno and
Garland were killed on opposite sides, and night ended the contest before it was decided.
At the same time
Franklin was forcing his way through Crampton's Gap, driving out
Howell Cobb commanding his own brigade and one regiment of
Semmes's brigade, both of
McLaws's division,
Parham's brigade of
R. H. Anderson's division, and two regiments of
Stuart's cavalry under
Colonel Munford.
The military complications were losing their simplicity.
Being advised of these movements,
Jackson saw that his work must be done speedily.
On Monday morning, at 3 o'clock, he sent me to the left to move
Jones forward at first dawn, and to open on Bolivar Heights with all his artillery.
This feint was executed promptly and produced confusion on the enemy's right.
Troops were moved to strengthen it. Then the guns from
Maryland and
Loudoun Heights opened fire, and very soon, off on our right, the battle-flags of
A. P. Hill.
rose on Bolivar Heights, and
Harper's Ferry was doomed.
Returning, I found
General Jackson at the church in the wood on the
Bolivar and Halltown turnpike, and just as I joined him a white flag was raised on
Bolivar and all the firing ceased.
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Under instructions from
General Jackson, I rode up the pike and into the enemy's lines to ascertain the purpose of the white flag.
Near the top of the hill I met
General White and staff and told him my mission.
He replied that
Colonel Miles had been mortally wounded, that he was in command and desired to have an interview with
General Jackson.
Just then
General Hill came up from the direction of his line, and at his request I conducted them to
General Jackson, whom I found sitting on his horse where I had left him. He was not, as the
Comte de Paris says, leaning against a tree asleep, but exceedingly wide-awake.
The contrast in appearances there presented was striking.
General White, riding a handsome black horse, was carefully dressed and had on untarnished gloves, boots, and sword.
His staff were equally comely in costume.
On the other hand,
General Jackson was the dingiest, worst-dressed, and worst-mounted general that a warrior who cared for good looks and style would wish to surrender to. The surrender was unconditional, and then
General Jackson turned the matter over to
General A. P. Hill, who allowed
General White the same liberal terms that
Grant afterward gave
Lee at
Appomattox.
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The fruits of the surrender were 12,520 prisoners ( “
Official Records” ), 13,000 arms, 73 pieces of artillery, and several hundred wagons.
General Jackson, after sending a brief dispatch to
General Lee announcing the capitulation, rode up to
Bolivar and down into
Harper's Ferry.
The curiosity in the
Union army to see him was so great that the soldiers lined the sides of the road.
Many of them uncovered as he passed, and he invariably returned the salute.
One man had an echo of response all about him when he said aloud: “Boys, he's not much for looks, but if we'd had him we wouldn't have been caught in this trap!”
General Jackson lost little time in contemplating his victory.
When night came, he started for
Shepherdstown with
J. R. Jones and
Lawton, leaving directions to
McLaws and
Walker to follow the next morning.
He left
A. P. Hill behind to finish up with
Harper's Ferry.
His first order had been to take position at
Shepherdstown to cover
Lee's crossing into
Virginia, but, whether at his own suggestion or not, the order was changed, and after daylight on the 16th he crossed the
Potomac there and joined
Longstreet at
Sharpsburg.
General McClellan had, by that time, nearly all his army in position on the east bank of the Antietam, and
General Lee was occupying the irregular range of high ground to the west of it, with the
Potomac in his rear.
Except some sparring between
Hooker and
Hood on our left, the 16th was allowed to pass without battle, fortunately for us. In the new dispositions of that evening,
Jackson was placed on the left of
Lee's army.
[See map, p. 636.]
The first onset, early on the morning of the 17th, told what the day would be. The impatient
Hooker, with the divisions of
Meade,
Doubleday, and
Ricketts, struck the first blow, and
Jackson's old division caught it and struck back again.
Between such foes the battle soon waxed hot. Step by step and marking each step with dead, the thin Confederate line was pushed back to the wood around the Dunker Church.
Here
Lawton,
Starke (commanding in place of
Jones, already wounded), and
D. H. Hill with part of his division, engaged
Meade.
And now in turn the
Federals halted and fell back, and left their dead by Dunker Church.
Next
Mansfield entered the fight, and beat with resistless might on
Jackson's people.
The battle here grew angry and bloody.
Starke was killed,
Lawton wounded, and nearly all their general and field officers had fallen; the sullen Confederate line again fell back, killing
Mansfield and wounding
Hooker,
Crawford, and
Hartsuff.
And now
D. H. Hill led in the rest of his division;
Hood also took part, to the right and left, front and rear of Dunker Church.
The Federal line was again driven back, while artillery added its din to the incessant
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rattle of musketry.
Then
Sumner, with the fresh division of
Sedgwick, re-formed the
Federal line and renewed the offensive.
Hood was driven back, and
Hill partly; the Dunker Church wood was passed, the field south of it entered, and the
Confederate left turned.
Just then
McLaws, hurrying from
Harper's Ferry, came upon the field, and hurled his men against the victorious
Sedgwick.
He drove
Sedgwick back into the Dunker wood and beyond it, into the open ground.
Farther to our right, the pendulum of battle had been swinging to and fro, with
D. H. Hill and
R. H. Anderson hammering away at French and
Richardson, until the sunken road became historic as “bloody lane.”
Richardson was mortally wounded and
Hancock assumed command of his division.
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Brigadier-General William E. Starke. From a Tintype.
In the cannonade which began with dawn of the 17th, General J. R. Jones, commanding the left division of Jackson, was stunned and injured by a shell which exploded directly over his head.
General Starke was directed to take command of the division, which he led against Hooker, and a half-hour later he fell pierced by three minie-balls.
Of that terrible struggle Stonewall Jackson says in his report: “The carnage on both sides was terrific.
At this early hour General Starke was killed.
Colonel Douglass, commanding Lawton's brigade, was also killed.
General Lawton, commanding division, and Colonel Walker, commanding brigade, were severely wounded.
More than half of the brigades of Lawton and Hays were either killed or wounded, and more than a third of Trimble's, and all the regimental commanders in those brigades, except two, were killed or wounded.”--Editors. |
For a while there was a lull in the storm.
It was early in the day, but hours are fearfully long in battle.
About noon
Franklin, with
Slocum and
W. F. Smith, marched upon the field to join the unequal contest.
Smith tried his luck and was repulsed.
Sumner then ordered a halt.
Jackson's fight was over, and a strange silence reigned around Dunker Church.
General Lee had not visited the left that day. As usual he trusted to
Jackson to fight his own battle and work out salvation in his own way. How well he did it, against the ablest and fiercest of
McClellan's lieutenants, history has told.
During all this time
Longstreet, stripped of his troops,--sent to the help of
Jackson,--held the right almost alone, with his eye on the center.
He was now called into active work on his own front, for there were no unfought troops in
Lee's army at
Sharpsburg; every soldier on that field tasted battle.
General Burnside, with his corps of fourteen thousand men, had been lying all day beyond the bridge which now bears his name.
Ordered to cross at 8 o'clock he managed to get over at 1, and by 3 was ready to advance.
5 He
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moved against the hill which
D. R. Jones held with his little division of 2500 men.
Longstreet was watching this advance.
Jackson was at
General Lee's headquarters on a knoll in rear of
Sharpsburg.
A. P. Hill was coming, but had not arrived, and it was apparent that
Burnside must be stayed, if at all, with artillery.
One of the sections, transferred to the right from
Jackson at the request of
General Lee, was of the Rockbridge Artillery, and as it galloped by, the youngest son of the
general-in-chief,
Robert E. Lee, Jr., a private at the guns, black with the grime and powder of a long day's fight, stopped a moment to salute his father and then rushed after his gun. Where else in this war was the son of a commanding general a private in the ranks?
Going to put this section in place, I saw
Burnside's heavy line move up the hill, and the earth seemed to tremble beneath their tread.
It was a splendid and fearful sight, but for them to beat back
Jones's feeble line was scarcely war. The artillery tore, but did not stay them.
They pressed forward until
Sharpsburg was uncovered and
Lee's line of retreat was at their mercy.
But then, just then,
A. P. Hill, picturesque in his red battle-shirt, with 3 of his brigades, 2500 men, who had marched that day 17 miles from
Harper's Ferry and had waded the
Potomac, appeared upon the scene.
Tired and footsore, the men forgot their woes in that supreme moment, and with no breathing time braced themselves to meet the coming shock.
They met it and stayed it. The blue line staggered and hesitated, and, hesitating, was lost.
At the critical moment
A. P. Hill was always at his strongest.
Quickly advancing his battle-flags, his line moved forward,
Jones's troops rallied on him, and in the din of musketry and artillery on either flank the
Federals broke over the field.
Hill did not wait for his other brigades, but held the vantage gained until
Burnside was driven back to the
Antietam and under the shelter of heavy guns.
The day was done.
Again
A. P. Hill, as at
Manassas,
Harper's Ferry, and elsewhere, had struck with the right hand of
Mars.
No wonder that both
Lee and
Jackson, when, in the delirium of their last moments on earth, they stood again to battle, saw the form of
A. P. Hill leading his columns on; but it is a wonder and a shame that the grave of this valiant Virginian in Hollywood cemetery has not a stone to mark it and keep it from oblivion.
The
battle at Sharpsburg was the result of unforeseen circumstances and not of deliberate purpose.
It was one of the bloodiest of the war, and a defeat for both armies.
The prestige of the day was with
Lee, but when on the night of the 18th he recrossed into
Virginia, although, as the
Comte de Paris says, he “left not a single trophy of his nocturnal retreat in the hands of the enemy,” he left the prestige of the result with
McClellan.
And yet when it is known that
General McClellan had 87,000 troops at hand, and
General Lee fought the battle with less than 35,000,
6 an army depleted by battles, weakened by privations, broken down by marching, and “ruined by straggling,” it was unquestionably on the
Confederate side the best-fought battle of the war.
