During the early morning hours of September 13, 1862, Corporal Barton Mitchell and Sergeant John Bloss of the 27th Indiana were having a pleasant conversation in a field slightly southeast of the village of Frederick, Maryland. Just the day before, the last elements of the Confederate Army had vacated Frederick as the vanguard of the Federal Army marched-in, and the 27th had been assigned a bivouac site recently occupied by the Rebels.
Mitchell suddenly noticed a large envelope in the grass nearby. Inside the two found three cigars wrapped in an official looking document. The cigars were a pleasant find, but the document seemed even more curious. When unfurled, the heading read: “Headquarters, Army of Northern Virginia, Special Order, No. 191,” and both soldiers fancied it something of importance. In fact, it would prove to be one of the most extraordinary intelligence windfalls in American military history.
The document was quickly rushed-up the chain of command. Remarkably, the special order had been prepared and signed by “R.H. Chilton, Assist. Adj.-Gen” to General Robert E. Lee, and one of the officers in the Federal chain-of-command was General Alpheus Williams, whose aide, Colonel Sam Pittman had served with Chilton in the prewar army.
Pittman knew Chilton’s handwriting and verified the document as authentic. How, exactly, it had been left in a farm field outside of Frederick no one could say, but that question soon faded into irrelevance. Because the order spelled-out in detail the current operational plan for the entire the Army of Northern Virginia.
By late morning, Special Order 191 was in the hands of General George McClellan, commander of the Army of the Potomac at his headquarters at the Schieferstadt Farm, west of Frederick. For McClellan, what had previously seemed a confused patchwork of Confederate movements, rumors, and baffling intelligence reports, suddenly crystalized into perfect clarity.
Amazingly, Lee had divided his army into four parts, three of them converging on the Federal garrison at Harper’s Ferry just across the Potomac, while the other part (Longstreet’s Division) was marching west toward Hagerstown, Maryland on the National Road. After reading the document, McClellan tossed his hands in the air and exclaimed: “Now I know what to do!”
The document was, not only a clarification of Confederate intentions, but a blueprint for their destruction. For if McClellan moved rapidly, and interposed his forces between the divided Rebel units, he could overwhelm Lee’s army one piece at a time, thus destroying the Army of Northern Virginia in detail. For McClellan, Special Order 191 seemed almost a gift from heaven. But to take advantage, speed was of the essence.
But swiftness and decisiveness, unfortunately, were not attributes General McClellan possessed in great abundance. Around noon on the 13th, McClellan wrote President Lincoln in jubilant tones, claiming “I have the plans of the rebels, and will catch them in their own trap if my men are equal to the emergency.” But it would be McClellan, not his men, who would fail in this emergency.
He would dally for 18 crucial hours before putting his troops on the road, even though the roads were open, and the distance between the two main Confederate commands – Jackson at Harper’s Ferry, and Longstreet at Hagerstown – was only twenty-two miles. Yet the obvious need for haste proved beyond McClellan’s ability to summon.
The Army of the Potomac did not depart Frederick until the morning of the 14th, and then, with no sense of urgency. The troops under McClellan totaled 87,000, almost twice the size of Lee’s army, yet McClellan – the Young Napoleon, as he enjoyed being called – convinced himself he was facing an opponent 120,000 strong. As historian Stephen Sears writes, “Within his illusionary world he forever faced a superior foe – ‘I have the mass of their troops to contend with’ he wired Halleck [General Halleck in Washington] that night ‘and they outnumber me when united.’”
By noon on the 14th the Federal van had crossed-over the Blue Ridge and descended into the village of Middletown, 8 miles west of Frederick. A few miles ahead the National Road ascended South Mountain at Turner’s Gap, where a small detachment of Rebels was waiting. Atop the mountain General D. H. Hill watched as the Union troops poured into the valley. “From the top of the mountain the sight was grand and sublime,” he later recalled, “As terrible as an army with banners.”
It would take the Federals all day to push through three gaps in the mountain – Fox, Crampton’s, and Turner’s – against pitifully small defenses, only to find the Rebels withdrawn the next day, deployed near Sharpsburg, a few miles east of the Potomac River. Meanwhile, cannon fire from Harper’s Ferry had become clearly audible, as the three-pronged Confederate assault led by Stonewall Jackson tightened its grip on the Federal stronghold.
At this point, McClellan – if he truly intended to destroy Lee’s army in detail – could either swiftly fall on the Confederate force at Sharpsburg or break Jackson’s siege at Harper’s Ferry. He elected to do neither. Then late the following day – the 15th—the firing from Harper’s Ferry ceased, this as McClellan finally made his way to the front. At Sharpsburg he discovered Lee’s army arrayed for battle behind a winding stream named Antietam Creek, and for the irresolute McClellan the sight proved imposing.
Nevertheless, it can be recalled that Special Order 191 had laid out in detail Lee’s intentions, thus McClellan had to know he was facing only a small portion – at best half, probably much less – of Lee’s entire army. Even by McClellan’s delusional force estimate of 120,000, that still put at most 60,000 Confederates in front of him at Sharpsburg, while his own force, once consolidated, numbered 87,000.
In fact, counting every cook and courier, at that moment Lee had only 15,000 men at Sharpsburg. By logic alone the situation screamed for an immediate and overwhelming Federal assault, but McClellan balked. Knowing his opponent, Lee had positioned his troops out in the open, almost daring McClellan to advance. It was a grand bluff and, of course, it worked. McClellan backed away, calling for his field glasses.
For much of that day and the next McClellan inspected the Rebel lines, pointing and gesturing, riding and nodding, thinking and pondering. As this parody of generalship was taking place, in stark contrast at Harper’s Ferry – where the Federal garrison had surrendered – Jackson was moving with speed and clarity of purpose.
By late on the 15th Jackson had finalized arrangements for the captured supplies and surrendered Federals to be processed, and by nightfall his men were on the road to Sharpsburg. It would be a long, grueling night march for men already exhausted, but on the morning of the 16th Jackson was at Sharpsburg with Lee, his troops following closely behind.
At midday, September 16, McClellan issued a general memorandum indicating his army would attack the following day. Why wait an additional 24 hours? There was no explanation. As in the past, for McClellan, tomorrow always seemed preferable to today. Then, later that afternoon, he gave Joe Hooker, in command of the Federal First Corps, orders to initiate the morning attack against the Confederate left flank with Joseph Mansfield’s Twelfth Corps hugging his left for support.
But that was all. No additional preparations were made. At the time the Army of the Potomac consisted of six infantry corps. Four were in Sharpsburg with McClellan, one – Franklin’s Sixth Corps – just over South Mountain, while the sixth remained in Frederick.
Unfortunately, decisions and issues far beyond Sharpsburg were then at play as Great Britain and much of Europe watched events unfold from afar. After the disastrous Federal defeat at Second Bull Run in August, from across the Atlantic it appeared Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia had become invincible, hence recognition of the Confederacy opportune. In fact, a proposition in England had already been made for a Cabinet level discussion for recognition in October. If successful, a proposal for unified action by Russia, France, and England on behalf of the Confederacy was thought inevitable. Unknown to McClellan, deep waters were turning that September 16th, as he dithered east of the Antietam.
First light, September 17 arrived misty and damp. Overnight Hooker had shifted his corps forward, and the troops lay silent in the fields, enduring a light, cool rain. While Hooker’s move put his corps in position to attack, it also telegraphed McClellan’s thoughts to Lee, who naturally bolstered his left. While McClellan still fancied himself facing overwhelming odds, the fact was Lee ‘s army still numbered only 26,500 men – with many still coming-up from Harper’s Ferry – and those 26,500 were stretched precariously thin over a four-mile front.
Including Franklin’s 19,000 effective troops within easy marching distance, McClellan had about 90,500 troops with which he could assault Lee’s position that morning. His decision was to attack what he considered a superior foe with one corps numbering 8,600 troops. The logic of this has never been explained, but it appears the Young Napoleon had decided to stick his toe in the water, then decide later if he cared to swim.
Nevertheless, Joe Hooker was one of the finest fighting officers in the Army of the Potomac, and at first light his corps started forward across a ¾ mile front, the East Woods on their left, West Woods on their right, open farm fields in the center. Their objective was a small white church, home to a congregation of German Baptist Brethren known as “Dunkers.”
Hooker’s troops were advancing against Stonewall Jackson’s corps, only 7,700 strong, but Jackson had changed fronts overnight so-as-to face the Yankees directly. Using every nook and cranny the terrain afforded, his troops were hardly visible to the advancing bluecoats. Across the Antietam the Federals had unlimbered batteries of large 20-pounder Parrott rifles, capable of striking with impunity across the battlefield, impervious to counterbattery fire due to their range, while the Confederates had unlimbered horse artillery on a hill flanking the Yankee right. These guns were only a small portion of what would turn the long day into what one Confederate artilleryman later called “artillery hell.”
The entire front was soon engulfed in raging rifle and artillery fire, gun smoke mixing with mist to obscure and confuse the combatants. Units were shredded then removed, others rushing forward to take their places. Casualties on both sides grew frightfully, as fresh brigades were fed into the maelstrom as they came up.
Fighting raged across the front north of Sharpsburg, but over time the epicenter settled upon a cornfield, high with unharvested corn, just a few hundred yards north of the Dunker Church. A Federal brigade inched its way carefully through the corn, only to be greeted by a blast of musketry from a brigade of Georgians as they emerged, sending many of the Yanks toppling backward.
More Federal units arrived, plunging into the corn, driving the Confederates backward, only later to be driven back themselves. Here occurred some of the most savage and relentless fighting of the war. Brigades were hurled into the vortex from all directions, fighting back and forth across the corn until bodies covered the field and hardly a cornstalk remained standing.
As Jackson’s remaining brigades arrived from Harper’s Ferry, they were tossed into the conflagration almost immediately. The fighting was so intense that by 7:30 Jackson’s Corp was shattered, Hooker’s wrecked. Nevertheless, fighting continued from the East Woods across the cornfield clear to the West Woods, as thick battle smoke settled, reducing visibility to little more than feet. The roar of battle rose to beyond deafening.
Hooker was everywhere atop his horse, directing the battle from out front, trying to force the issue, while the Twelfth Corps under General Joseph Mansfield, finally initiated a movement to support Hooker’s initial attack. But that movement was halting, and then Mansfield was suddenly cut down by Rebel fire.
Nevertheless, by around 9:00 AM Hooker’s Corps had finally pushed through the cornfield to the Dunker Church, their objective. Confederate resistance was in tatters, and Hooker, despite the carnage, was confident his morning’s attack could push the Rebels back to the nearby Potomac River, if reinforced. But then a Confederate sharpshooter put a bullet through Hooker’s foot and, suddenly delirious from the loss of blood, he was carried from the field. Without a guiding hand, the Federal advance sputtered to a halt.
Earlier – at 7:20 AM – McClellan had given orders for General Edwin “Bull” Sumner to lead his Second Corps into action in support of Hooker. Unfortunately, the Second Corps – the largest in the Federal Army – had been maintained at such a distance from the front by McClellan, that it would not reach the fighting until nearly 9:00 AM, after Hooker’s wounding. Sumner’s delay in reaching the action would cost the Federal’s dearly, for had Sumner’s additional 15,200 troops advanced along with Hooker’s and Mansfield’s Corps,’ Jackson’s troops – then hanging by a thread – would probably have been overwhelmed.
But that delay had allowed Lee & Jackson to cobble together a patchwork defense, hence as Sumner finally made his advance, the Confederates were reorganized and waiting. Sumner, arriving in the East woods, instantly misread the battlefield, deciding to attack due west toward the West Woods, believing the Rebels fought out. Hurrying the attack, “Bull” promptly marched two of his divisions forward across the cornfield into a hornet’s nest in the West Woods, while his trailing division under William French eventually marched off in confusion southwest into the center of the Confederate line.
Sumner believed his corps was moving north of the Rebel left, while in fact they were walking into a makeshift Confederate defense that opened fire on the Yankees from virtually every conceivable direction. The result was a slaughter-pen in which 2,300 Yanks fell in only fifteen minutes. Sumner, finally grasping his blunder, cried “By God, we must get out of this!” but the slaughter continued until what remained of both divisions fled the woods, Confederates hot on their heels.
It had taken McClellan three hours to put 15,800 men into the morning’s combat, virtually all of them arriving in drips and drabs, allowing Lee – with less than half McClellan’s numbers – to repulse each attack in turn. It was an offensive scheme – if it can even be called that – that led men to slaughter with almost no hope of success, while Lee, fighting impressively on the defensive, was able to counter every Federal move with hasty shifts of his own.
The results were catastrophic. Casualties for both sides during the morning fighting totaled almost 13,000, a staggering number that resulted from some of the most furious combat of the war. And the fighting had just begun.
