Rienzi, Sunday, Sept. 14. Was begun with another of the “strategic moves”. We were told to hitch up with the greatest speed—all our baggage, knapsacks, etc. were put in a wagon, nothing was left to encumber us from a rapid and a desperate fight [in] which we were expected to share. The 3d Section, two regiments of infantry, one of cavalry, started at 3. A. M. But all rumors of the enemy’s presence proved false,, and after lying in the shade, horses hitched, for an hour, we returned, unharnessed and lay quiet all day. The 3rd Section returned at 4 P. M. without seeing any enemy.
Friday, September 14, 2012
September 14 — This morning the shades of night were still lingering over the landscape when we left camp, and early dawn found us on top of South Mountain, looking over the beautiful Middletown Valley that was lying before us like a diversified illuminated map, with its wooded hills, pleasant fields, hamlets, and towns reposing in the quiet calm of a peaceful Sabbath morning. But before the sun shot its first golden lance across the Catoctin range to kiss away the early dew, the booming of Yankee cannon came rolling across from the Catoctin hills, announcing in ominous thunder tones that the Yankee hosts were advancing, and that there would be but little Sunday for soldiers to-day in this part of Uncle Sam’s domain. As soon as we found that the whole Yankee army was on the advance we moved about halfway down the mountain and went in battery ready to work on the first bluecoats that ventured within range of our guns. The cannon we heard so early this morning were at Jefferson, where the Yanks were shelling the woods searching, I suppose, for masked batteries, of which they are most awfully afraid.
There are two principal gaps in South Mountain through which main roads pass that lead west through the Middletown Valley. Turner’s Gap is the most important one, as the National Road which passes through Frederick City, Middletown, Boonsboro, and Hagerstown leads through Turner’s Gap, consequently the heaviest portion of the Yankee forces was hurled against the defenders of that pass to-day. We were at Crampton’s Gap, which is some four or five miles south of Turner’s and, judging from the small force we had there for its defense, it was not considered of much importance from a Confederate point of view. However, the Yankees did not so consider it, from the heavy force of cavalry, artillery, and infantry they brought to bear against it before the day was over. We had only three companies of infantry, Munford’s brigade of cavalry, and six pieces of artillery to defend the pass against at least two, perhaps three, divisions of Yankee infantry, with accompanying artillery and a big bunch of cavalry. At about ten o’clock we saw the first of the Yankee host, about three miles away, approaching our gap cautiously and slowly. As they drew nearer the whole country seemed to be full of bluecoats. They were so numerous that it looked as if they were creeping up out of the ground — and what would or could our little force of some three or four hundred available men standing halfway up a bushy, stony mountain side do with such a mighty host that was advancing on us with flying banners? As they came nearer to the mountain they threw out a heavy skirmish line of infantry on both sides of the road, and were still advancing very slowly when their skirmish line came to within about a mile of our position, so we opened on it with our rifled guns. Our line of fire was right over the village of Burkettsville, and completely checked their skirmishers about half a mile from Burkettsville. The Yanks now brought up a battery and opened fire on us, but they were about two miles off and all their shell fell short. I fired at them in return, but in so doing I disabled my gun. The mountain where we were in battery was a little steep and my gun is a vicious little recoiler, and the recoil space of our position was too sloping, rough, and limited for a free kick, consequently with the second shot that I fired—with a two-mile range—at the Yankees my piece snapped a couple of bolts of its mounting, entirely disabling it for the day. After my gun was damaged there was nothing for me to do but leave the field of action, but before I left I stood for a while and gazed at the magnificent splendor of the martial array that was slowly and steadily moving toward us across the plain below like a living panorama, the sheen of the glittering side-arms and thousands of bright, shiny musket barrels looking like a silver spangled sea rippling and flashing in the light of a midday sun.
The remainder of the battery held its position, and when the enemy advanced to a closer range opened fire and kept it up until nearly night; but late this evening the enemy forced the pass by flanking and fighting, with overwhelming numbers, and compelled our little force to retire. To observe the caution with which the Yankees, with their vast superior numbers, approached the mountain, it put one very much in mind of a lion, king of the forest, making exceeding careful preparations to spring on a plucky little mouse. For we had only about three hundred men actually engaged, and they were mostly cavalry, which is of very little use in defending a mountain pass like Crampton’s Gap, where there is one narrow road leading up the mountain and all the remainder of the immediate surroundings heavily timbered and thickly covered with regular mountain undergrowth and large, loose rocks and boulders.
Crampton’s Gap is really neither gorge nor gap, only a little notch in the crest of South Mountain, and nearly all the fighting to-day in trying to defend it was done on the eastern face of the mountain. It is marvelous how a few hundred of our men held in check nearly all day two divisions of Yankees, besides their artillery and cavalry, and I will venture the assertion that, as usual, correspondents of Northern newspapers will say that a little band of heroic Union patriots gallantly cleaned out Crampton’s Gap, that was defended by an overwhelming force of Rebels strongly posted all over the mountain and standing so thick that they had to crawl over each other to get away.
In retiring our disabled gun from Crampton’s Gap we went to Boonsboro and moved in a southwest direction about four miles on the Shepherdstown road to our wagons, where we arrived at ten o’clock to-night, and camped. In going from Crampton’s Gap to Boonsboro we passed within about half mile of Turner’s Gap, where a portion of General Longstreet’s forces were engaged, fighting desperately right in the gap, which the enemy was assaulting vigorously with a heavy force. The artillery fire was very heavy and the deep-toned thunder of Longstreet’s guns, mingled with the crash of fierce and incessant musketry, raged and roared and rolled along the mountain slopes and made the craggy battlements of South Mountain tremble from base to crest.
Boonsboro is a pretty little town at the western base of South Mountain, on the National Road. The houses are nearly all built of brick and kept in good condition all through the town. Before we got to Boonsboro we passed through Rohrersville, a small hamlet in a pleasant valley, three miles south of Boonsboro. We also passed through Keedysville, a small village three miles southwest of Boonsboro.
Pleasant Valley is a beautiful little mountain vale a mile wide, extending toward Harper’s Ferry along the western foothills of South Mountain.
Sunday, September 14th, 1862.
I have been so busy making Lieutenant Bourge’s shirt that I have not had time to write, besides having very little to write about. So my industry saved my paper and spared these pages a vast amount of trash. I would not let any one touch Lieutenant Bourge’s shirt except myself; and last evening, when I held it up completed, the loud praises it received satisfied me it would answer. Miriam and Miss Ripley declared it the prettiest ever made. It is dark purple merino. The bosom I tucked with pleats a quarter of an inch deep, all the way up to the collar, and stitched a narrow crimson silk braid up the centre to hold it in its place. Around the collar, cuffs, pockets, and band down the front, the red cord runs, forming a charming contrast to the dark foundation. Indeed, I devoted the sole article the Yankees let fall from my two workboxes — a bunch of soutache — to the work. Large white pearl buttons completed the description, and my shirt is really as quiet, subdued, and pretty a one as I ever saw. I should first hear the opinion of the owner, though. If he does not agree with all the others, I shall say he has no taste.
I got a long sweet letter from Sophie on Friday that made me happy for the whole day. They were about leaving for Alexandria. I was glad to hear they would be out of danger, but still I was sorry they were going so far away. I have been laying a hundred wild schemes to reach Baton Rouge and spend a day or two with them, which is impossible now. Sophie writes just as she talks — and that means remarkably well, so I can at least have the pleasure of corresponding. At Dr. Carnal’s they will be out of the reach of all harm and danger; so I ought to rejoice. There is one thing in which Sophie and I agree, and that is in making Stonewall Jackson our hero. Talk of Beauregard! he never had my adoration; but Stonewall is the greatest man of the age, decidedly.
Still no authentic reports of the late battles in Virginia. I say late, referring to those fought two weeks ago. From the Federal accounts, glowing as they usually are, I should gather the idea that their rout was complete. I cannot imagine why we can hear nothing more from our own side. . . .
I think my first act on my return home will be to take a cup of coffee and a piece of bread, two luxuries of which I have been deprived for a long while. Miriam vows to devour an unheard-of number of biscuits, too. How many articles we considered as absolutely necessary, before, have we now been obliged to dispense with! Nine months of the year I reveled in ice, thought it impossible to drink water without it. Since last November, I have tasted it but once, and that once by accident. And oh, yes! I caught some hail-stones one day at Linwood! Ice-cream, lemonade, and sponge cake was my chief diet; it was a year last July since I tasted the two first, and one since I have seen the last. Bread I believed necessary to life; vegetables, senseless. The former I never see, and I have been forced into cultivating at least a toleration of the latter. Snap beans I can actually swallow, sweet potatoes I really like, and one day at Dr. Nolan’s I “bolted” a mouthful of tomatoes, and afterwards kept my seat with the heroism of a martyr. These are the minor trials of war. If that were all — if coarse, distasteful food were the only inconvenience!
When I think of what Lavinia must suffer so far from us, and in such ignorance of our condition, our trials seem nothing in comparison to hers. And think how uneasy Brother must be, hearing of the battle, and not knowing where we fled to! For he has not heard of us for almost two months. In return we are uneasy about him and Sister. If New Orleans is attacked, what will become of them with all those children?
14th.—At 9 o’clock last night we took up our march across Catochtin Mountain. At 9 1-2, as we climbed the mountain side, the moon rose beautifully lighting up hill and valley, and shrub, and tree. ‘Twas all beautiful. The mountain air was brisk and cool. A march of four miles carried us over the mountain, and we bivouaced in Middletown Valley, one of the prettiest countries I ever saw, in the suburbs of the pleasant and flourishing little village of Jefferson. Here we got varied and various estimates of the strength of the enemy, who had passed through. We found here much evidence of loyalty, and were confirmed in the belief that Lee would be disappointed in his expectation of receiving fifty thousand recruits by his raid into Maryland.
Of all the States I have yet seen, Maryland bears off the palm. Its people, its hills, its valleys, its soil, its climate— all bespeak it one of the most favored States of the Union. The loyalty of its people, too, is intense, for whilst the sympathies of nine-tenths of them are with the people of the South, and opposed to our Administration, they positively refuse to join the insurgents in any illegal step. They would like to go out legally, but will fight for execution of the laws which confine them to the Union. The very limited success of Lee, in adding to his already large army in Maryland, is the strongest evidence of their sincerity. May God preserve this beautiful and loyal State from the ravages of actual war, and its people in their horror of treason and rebellion.
‘Tis again Sunday, and again we are fighting all around. How strange that so many of our big fights should occur on Sunday. Six miles to our right, and in full view, Generals Burnside and Sumner are fighting, in an attempt to force a strongly defended mountain pass, one mile and a half in our front, the advance of our own corps are trying to force another pass, (Crampton’s,) whilst seven miles to our left, the fight at Harper’s Ferry is raging. How much hangs on this day.
4 P. M.—Hurrah! Burnside has forced the pass at South Mountain, has crossed and is following up the retreating enemy. He has had a severe fight, with heavy loss on both sides. General Reno, I hear, is killed; another of our best men gone. Some are so uncharitable as to accuse General McClellan of wilfully and unnecessarily ordering him to a position from which escape from death was almost impossible. I will not believe it.
7 P. M.—Hurrah again! General Slocum, from our corps, has forced Crampton’s pass in our front, and is in pursuit. The enemy’s loss is heavy; ours comparatively slight. This is a terrible pass, and it seems wonderful that any army could force it against an opposing foe. It is in the shape of a triangle, the base being at the top of the mountain, the apex at the bottom. Into this narrow point our army had to crowd its way, up a mountain almost perpendicular, whilst musketry and artillery enfiladed our advancing lines at every point. Yet our men, with the cool determination of veterans, forced their way steadily through the Gap, up the precipitous sides of the mountain, and drove the enemy from his stronghold.
Again am I separated from my regiment. Sent for at 8 o’clock, to organize and take charge of another hospital for the wounded; but this time I do not complain. My regiment was not in the fight, and will not suffer by my absence, although I leave it without an Assistant Surgeon. How strange, that in no instance, since the battle of Williamsburg, have I had an assistant in the time of battle. Always sick or out of the way. Could I thus be absent without reproach? Not without self-reproach, at least.
Sunday, 14th—We started early this morning with General Crocker in command and marched fifteen miles without stopping to get a drink. But several of the men became overheated, for it was a dreadfully hot day and the roads were dusty. We reached Corinth at 1 p. m., and going out a mile south of town, stacked arms and remained there the rest of the day. We were nearly famished when we reached Corinth. Our road was on a pine ridge, hot and dusty, with a mile to water on either side, and it was utterly impossible for one to fall out of rank, get water, catch up and get back to his place in line. It was one of the hardest marches I have ever been on.[1] On passing through the town, by the college grounds, the young lady students worked hard at drawing water from the well and giving it to the men to quench their thirst. We bivouacked in a large cotton field, as our teams had not yet arrived with our tents. It commenced to rain about sundown and we lay on the ground without any protection.
[1] The fast march and doing without water so long was all uncalled for, as after we got to Corinth we did nothing but lie around.—A. O. D.
Sunday, 14th. In the morning washed out some shirts, went to the creek and bathed and cleaned up generally. Mac Murray came up and spent the afternoon. He is a good boy. In the evening borrowed “Agnes of Sorrento” from Q. M. S. Mason and read till about 11 o’clock, by Capt. Welch’s permission. The boys were awake late, talking and making a noise. Col. complained about so much noise being made.
Sunday.—Just returned from church. Mr. K. gave us a delightful sermon on our dependence on God as a people. “When Moses held up his hand, then Israel prevailed; and when he let down his hand, then Amalek prevailed.” Oh, that our hands may always be “held up” for our cause and armies! Next Thursday (18th) is the day appointed by our President as a day of thanksgiving for our successes. His proclamation is so beautiful that I will copy it:
“To the People of the Confederate States:
“Once more upon the plains of Manassas have our armies been blessed by the Lord of Hosts with a triumph over our enemies. It is my privilege to invite you once more to His footstool, not now in the garb of fasting and sorrow, but with joy and gladness, to render thanks for the great mercies received at His hands. A few months since our enemies poured forth their invading legions upon our soil. They laid waste our fields, polluted our altars, and violated the sanctity of our homes. Around our capital they gathered their forces, and with boastful threats claimed it as already their prize. The brave troops which rallied to its defence have extinguished their vain hopes, and under the guidance of the same Almighty hand, have scattered our enemies and driven them back in dismay. Uniting those defeated forces and the various armies which had been ravaging our coasts with the army of invasion in Northern Virginia, our enemies have renewed their attempt to subjugate us at the very place where their first effort was defeated, and the vengeance of retributive justice has overtaken their entire host in a second and complete overthrow. To this signal success accorded to our arms in the East has been graciously added another, equally brilliant, in the West. On the very day on which our forces were led to victory on the plains of Manassas, in Virginia, the same Almighty arm assisted us to overcome our enemies at Richmond, in Kentucky. Thus, at one and the same time, have two great hostile armies been stricken down, and the wicked designs of our enemies set at naught. In such circumstances it is meet and right that, as a people, we should bow down in adoring thankfulness to that gracious God who has been our bulwark and defence, and to offer unto Him the tribute of thanksgiving and praise. In His hand is the issue of all events, and to Him should we in a special manner ascribe the honour of this great deliverance. Now, therefore, I, Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederate States, do issue this, my proclamation setting apart Thursday, the 18th day of September, as a day of thanksgiving and prayer to Almighty God, for the great mercies vouchsafed to our people, and more especially for the triumph of our arms at Richmond and Manassas, in Virginia, and at Richmond in Kentucky; and I do hereby invite the people of the Confederate States to meet on that day, at their respective places of public worship, and to unite in rendering thanks and praise to God for these great mercies, and to implore Him to conduct our country safely through the perils which surround us, to the final attainment of the blessings of peace and security.
“Given under my hand and the seal of the Confederate States, at Richmond, this fourth day of September, A. D: 1862.
“JEFF. DAVIS, Pres. of the C.S.
J. P. BENJAMIN, Sec. of State.”
Sunday, 14th.—Rev. Kramer preached to-day; text, “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.”
SEPTEMBER 14TH.—Our army has entered the City of Lexington, and the population hail our brave soldiers as deliverers. Three regiments were organized there in twenty-four hours, and thirty thousand recruits, it is thought, will flock to our standard in Kentucky.
September 14th, Sunday morning. Early this morning we marched out towards the South Mountains in which direction we heard the sullen sound of an occasional gun. We passed through Boonsboro, and began the ascent of the mountain, forming line of battle as we neared the gap, expecting to find the enemy in possession. Moving slowly, and carefully forward, we soon came upon several dead rebels, and as we aproached the gap the ground was liberally strewn with them, lying behind rocks and boulders, which covered the ascent near the gap. There was a sharp action here yesterday it seems, between Pleasanton’s cavalry, and the First and Ninth corps, and the enemy’s advance guard, the latter being driven back with considerable loss. We met with no opposition and rapidly descended the western slope, marching through Keedysville. As in Frederick City, here too, we were received with tumultuous cheering. All the inhabitants apparently, being in the streets, who showed their patriotism by serving out water, waving their handkerchiefs, etc. They told us the rebels had been there and taken all their provisions and horses and were now only a short distance in front of us. Passing through Keedysville we marched along the Sharpsburg pike towards the Antietam, our brigade leading the corps and the Fifty-seventh the brigade; we were marching at the route step in column of fours, taking it leisurely, Colonel Parisen and I some distance in advance, when all at once we noticed the dust flying suspiciously in many places around us. We halted the column, took out our glasses, and there, directly in front of us, saw the rebel army drawn up in battle array about half a mile in front. To get a better view, I rode up to a fence a short distance ahead, and standing on the top rail, easily made out the long gray lines, extending from left to right, as far as I could see. My further observation from this position was interrupted by a round shot which struck the fence and sent some of the rails spinning out of sight and me to the ground, sans ceremonie; after some delay, General Richardson came up and ordered line of battle formed parallel to the river, which brought our regiment just under the crest of a considerable hill, overlooking the whole country, and from which we subsequently examined the enemy’s lines at leisure. They were admirably posted in rear of the Antietam upon a long line of low hills, commanding the entire valley. The left of our division rested on the Sharpsburg road; Sykes’s division formed on the other side of it as soon as it came up, extending the line well towards the left. During the formation the enemy, who could distinctly see us, shelled us and for a while made things lively. One of our batteries of three inch guns in position on the hill in front of our brigade, replied, but was immediately stopped by General Hooker, who just then came along and directed all offensive operations to cease until more troops came up, as the whole rebel army was in front of us, he said, while the greater part of ours was yet many miles in rear. Fresh columns of troops arrived on the ground continuously, and went into position on either side of us, the reserve artillery as it came up occupying all the commanding positions with heavy guns. A battery of twenty pounder Parrots replaced the three inch guns on the hill, just in front of the Fifty-seventh. During the evening, many of the natives came from the other side and told us what they knew of the enemy’s movements. It seems they only came on the ground about an hour before our division, and were in fact selecting their positions, when the head of our column came in sight. These countrymen say only a part of the rebel army is in front, a considerable force having been detached to capture Harper’s Ferry, which is held by a garrison of ten thousand men under Colonel Miles. We understood this however, several days since, and also that Franklin corps had been detached to try and cut them off, or at least detain them long enough for us to thrash these fellows now in front of us. We slept on the side of the hill, rolled in our blankets, expecting to open the ball at daylight.
