Stonewall Jackson and the American Civil War
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