"As a tree may be riven by lightning": The Night of the Battle of Antietam

I have always studied the night before the Battle of Antietam and how soldiers remembered it with great interest. More recently, in preparation for a talk I will be giving at the Antietam Institute's Spring Symposium in April, I have been reading about the night of September 17.

I’m also almost finished watching Apple TV’s Masters of the Air. One piece of this series that has struck me is when the bombing crews returned from their missions and landed in England, the uninjured survivors are quickly whisked away in trucks for a debrief to sort out intelligence, create casualty reports, note the location of where certain bombers went down, and what happened during their raid. It was all a regimented and organized process.

It is hard for me to imagine what that process was like–trying to sort out what happened when you’re still in the process of figuring it all out with intelligence officers asking you questions and looking for answers you might not be able to provide.

The same process was done in the Civil War, though in a much less formal fashion. Soldiers often had to sort out the losses of a battle and its circumstances in their messes or companies. To some of their comrades, they did not know what happened–if they were alive or dead.

Sergeant James A. Wright of the 1st Minnesota said of the Battle of Antietam: “Such a clash of arms as occurred at Antietam is but feebly represented as a big train wreck, followed by an explosion and fire, and supplemented by a cyclone with a cloud-burst and a wash-out.” This sentence sums up the chaos and destruction of that one, bloody day.

Wright thankfully left us with a detailed description of the night after the battle and the feelings of those who lived through it unscathed, at least on the outside. It is worth reproducing most of his memoir of that night here:

When the fighting had subsided to a degree that further serious movements were not expected, preparations for the night and any emergency of the morning were made…

It is not to the dead and wounded alone that all of the suffering of the day has come. Is there not something to be said for those who have escaped the casualty list but have shared in all of the movements and dangers of the day and have had a “fighting edge” on for the last 18 or 20 hours? Coffee, crackers, and pork before two o’clock that morning is all they have eaten in 24 hours–except a cracker, perhaps while lying in line. Corps, divisions, brigades, regiments, and companies have been shattered in the struggles–as a tree may be riven by lightning–and suffered a loss of from a fifth to one-half of their numbers. Broken in organization, despoiled of their leaders, and diminished in numbers.

Now that the crisis for the day was over and darkness veiled our movements, there was reaction from the tremendous mental strain, and defrauded physical nature demanded relief. The rolls were called and inquiries made about the missing ones–as to time, place, and by whom they were last seen–and what their condition was. It is in this way the losses of a day’s fighting are estimated and reports are made. Then–unless it is certain they are already cared for or are in the hands of the enemy–interested comrades try to find and relieve them.

In preparation for tomorrow, we must rest, refill our cartridge boxes and stomachs. We had gone into action with 60 rounds–40 in our boxes and 20 in our pockets–and used from 40 to 50 each. Dispositions were made for the night, and ammunition was brought up and distributed. Fires were lit in sheltered places a little to the rear, and coffee made in our tin cups. Then–sitting on the ground where we intended to sleep, talking briefly of the events of the day, and trying to understand them–we ate crackers and pork from our haversacks and drank our coffee–hot, strong, and lots of it. The day had seemed warm, but now that night had come, it felt chilly and there was a threat of rain. But for the hot coffee we would have felt the cold as we wrapped ourselves in such coverings as we had with us and slept in line of battle with our equipments on and our rifles beside us.

For some hours we slept undisturbed, then were awakened, told that it was morning (though it was yet dark), and formed in line ready for action. We awoke chilled, for the morning was cool; everything was wet with a heavy dew; and it was the reverse of pleasant to await the coming of daylight and–we knew not what–but expected fighting.

Inspecting the Third Brigade of the Pennsylvania Reserves in the Field of the Maryland Campaign

     In an army of units that saw heavy fighting since the beginning of the Seven Days, fewer Federal divisions suffered worse than the Pennsylvania Reserve Division under the command of John Reynolds. Total casualties during the Seven Days' Campaign total approximately 2,600 men. Another 610 names joined the list at Second Bull Run in late August. On the eve of the Maryland Campaign, the division was a shell of itself.(1)

     While researching in the National Archives today, I stumbled on this incredible inspection report of the division's 3rd Brigade, commanded by Lt. Col. Robert Anderson at the Battle of Antietam. It gives a good glimpse into the state of the brigade, and the division as a whole, on the eve of the battles of South Mountain and Antietam.

Brig. Gen. John F. Reynolds

John Pope's Take on Joseph Mansfield

     John Pope's personality is often viewed negatively by historians. Quotes from Pope haters can be easily found and are often repeated in Civil War historiography. Sometimes, it reaches the point where one wonders if anyone could have gotten along with him or vice versa.
     Pope's Military Memoirs, edited by Peter Cozzens and Robert I. Girardi, offer an eye-opening look into this divisive general. One quote in particular though caught my attention. It was Pope's description of Joseph Mansfield and his personality, looks, and bravery. Quotes like this are revealing, especially when Pope ties Mansfield's personality traits to his fate at Antietam. The two served together in Mexico, Mansfield as Pope's superior officer. "Pope took to Mansfield at once," wrote Pope's biographer Peter Cozzens. It appears Pope's favorable view of Mansfield remained until his dying day.

Joseph K. F. Mansfield

General Mansfield was of middle height and robust figure. He had a broad and rather ruddy face, with a thick shock of white hair and beard. He was a man of kindly disposition and very just; but, as I have said before, he was rather fussy and fond of meddling with his subordinates, so that, although all of his officers exulted in his behavior in battle and were immensely proud of him for some time after the battle was over, he soon reduced them to their old feeling that he tormented and persecuted them unwarrantably. He was still a comparatively young man when he was killed at Antietam, but I think it may be said of him that his complete recklessness and his apparently irresistible inclination to seek the most exposed and most dangerous places on a field of battle, of necessity deprived him of the power to use his great military abilities and acquirements to the best advantage for the army or the government. He was a gallant soldier and a true and loyal man and will always be remembered with pride and respect by those who knew him in those old days.

"A sort of clown": The Appearances of Lee, Longstreet, and Jackson in the Wake of the Maryland Campaign

     In times of war, nation's looks to their heroes. Few heroes ranked as high in the eyes of the Confederate citizenry in the fall of 1862 than Generals Robert E. Lee, James Longstreet, and "Stonewall" Jackson. They carried the war successfully from the gates of Richmond to Abraham Lincoln's doorstep and beyond the Potomac. Southerners yearned for news of the three men and tried to picture their heroes in an age before personal portraits were universally circulated.
     The war correspondent of the Columbus (GA) Times penned the following descriptions of what Lee, Longstreet, and Jackson looked like following their campaign into Maryland. It was reprinted in numerous papers, but this article has been pulled from the November 4, 1862 issue of the Staunton Spectator (VA).

     General Lee has, I believe, won his way to everybody's confidence. In appearance he is tall, portly and commanding. His dress is usually a plain Brigadier's uniform, a black felt hat, with the brim turned down, and he wears a short grizzled beard all round his face. He has much of the Washingtonian dignity about him, and is much respected by all with whom he is thrown. At Sharpsburg I saw him on the field during the heat of the action. He was surrounded by his staff and a perfect squadron of couriers. He was engaged in calmly viewing the storm of battle, and giving orders in a manner of cool reliance. Aids and couriers were hurrying to and from the right, left and centre, and the whole disposition of forces seemed under his perfect control.


     

     General Longstreet is stout and fleshy, and of good height, and has a quiet courageous look. He seems full of thought and of decision, and his face makes an agreeable impression alike on new and old acquaintances. He is characteristically a fighting man--none can equal him in forcing a strong and well fortified position, and General Lee showed his appreciation of an old tried soldier, when he patted him on the shoulder after the late battle and said, "My old war horse!" In this engagement he was second in command of the army, and his old corps keenly felt the need of his able handling.
     


     

     I was surprised at Stonewall Jackson's appearance. He has been described as a sort of clown. I never yet saw him riding with his knees drawn up like a monkey, and his head resting upon his breast. He has a first rate face, and seems a plainly dressed Captain of Cavalry, with an unpretending Staff. His uniform is fine enough, certainly, for the hard life he leads. But the imagination, is piqued, you know, by the absence of pretension, as "a King in grey clothes." Stonewall can't like to come about the army much. The boys keep him bareheaded all the time. When they begin to cheer him he usually pulls off his hat, spurs his fine horse, and runs through, greeted with cheers every step for five miles.

World War I sparked the memory of a Civil War hero's funeral

Colonel William B. Goodrich

With the centennial anniversary of the armistice effectively ending World War I having recently passed, it seemed fitting to stumble upon the article reproduced below from the September 21, 1918 issue of the Watertown Daily Times (NY). The article is titled "Funeral of Civil War Recalled."

     Canton, Sept. 21.--The receipt of casualty lists from the United States army in France recalls that 56 years ago tomorrow the body of Colonel William B. Goodrich, of the 60th New York State Volunteers, who was killed in action in the battle of Antietam arrived here for burial. Accompanying the body was the pony which Colonel Goodrich had taken with him when he left Canton to enter the war.
     Colonel Goodrich was 41 years of age at the time he was killed, and was one of the most prominent residents of the village, a street here having been named in honor of him. The older residents remember the crowd of people that congregated at the station when the body was brought back for the funeral. The colonel, who was a man of large physique, met his death at the hands of a Confederate sharpshooter, who picked him off as he was standing by the side of his horse in the open.

"The numbers of cannoneers is so small"

 

Lt. Edward Williston (courtesy of Norwich University)

Lt. Edward Williston commanded Battery D, 2nd United States Artillery at the Battle of Antietam. While at the National Archives, I found this revealing letter about the issues Williston's battery encountered on the Antietam battlefield due to a shortage of men in the battery. The letter is transcribed as it was written, typos and all.

Edward Williston to Robert [Garvin?], September 21, 1862, Entry 4434, Record Group 393, Part 2, National Archives.