|
 The
regiment arrived
in Sharpsburg August 5th after a march of nineteen miles and went into
camp about a mile from the town. The regimental wagons soon
arrived with the camp kettles and tents - after an absence of 4 days.
The next day six companies were
detached from the regiment and sent as follows to guard fords on the
Potomac river: A and B were sent to Antietam creek at its
junction
with the Potomac; C to Shepard's Island; E and H to Blackford's Ford*;
and Co. I to Dam No. 4.
Regiment Historian Charles E.
Davis wrote that "relations with the people of Sharpsburg were very
pleasant, and they did their best to prevent our departure."
*
The ford is identified as Blackburn's Ford in
the Regimental History "Three Years in the Army" by Charles E. Davis,
Jr. Blackburn's Ford is near
Manassas, where Davis
was badly wounded at the 2nd battle of Bull
Run. I think Davis confused the name when writing his history
of
the 13th Regiment. Photo by Craig Swain.
Letter of Oliver Walker,
Company C
Oliver H.
Walker's quietly compelling letters have a quality that
quickly
draws readers into the personal world and experiences of
the soldier. Only three of his
letters are in the collection of the Western Maryland Room at the
Hagerstown Library in Washington County, Maryland. I am
grateful
to the staff there for voluntarily sharing them with me.
|
Aug. 5th
1861
Direct - Oliver H.
Walker Co. C. Capt Kurtz 13th Reg’t
Mass Vol. Col
Leonard Gen. Banks’ Division
Harper’s Ferry Va
In Camp Hagerstown Md Aug 2nd
Dear Father and
Mother
I
take an early moment after our arrival in Camp to write to you, as I
told you
that I would lose no time in letting you know of my whereabouts.
We made our first stop at Worcester,
and took a good march through the
streets and there partook of a collation in the City Hall. We
started again at 9 oclock and reached
Allyson’s Point and took the steamboat in good time, it was quite a
foggy night
and we made slow progress and arrived in New York at 11 A.M. Tuesday,
we
marched directly to the Park and after a rest we partook of a collation
in the
Barracks and then were at liberty to stroll round as we pleased.
I at once called on Cousin Frances and Frank,
Jr. they were much surprised to see me
but gave me their best wishes, we soon left the city by Camden
& Amboy
R.R., Steamer to Phila. Where we arrived at about 2 A.M. Here we went
to a large building where most bountiful
refreshments were spread before us by a committee of ladies and
gentlemen who
are always ready whenever any of the
volunteers pass through the City and furnish them with hot coffee and
all sorts
of solid food, we voted the
Philadelphians to be the best people we had met on all the routs.
It was about 3 ½ ‘oclock when we started for
our march across the city, and we marched for about 2 hours, and then
halted at
the Harrisburgh depot in West Phila. Here we dumped our
knapsacks and equipments, in a large field and proceeded to wash
up.
Some of us went over to the city and obtained
a good breakfast, and about 11 oclock we started for Harrisburg,
on the road one of our teamsters was knocked off the train and severely
injured
but the surgeons hope for recovery. We
proceeded after a short stop at Harrisburg
to this place and reached the depot at about 2 in the morning in an
awful thunder
storm.
We stayed in the
cars till daylight and after several delays
came to our Camping ground where we speedily pitched our tents and
became as
comfortable as you please. We have very
good water and a splendid place for bathing -
In camp near
Sharpsburg Md AugSt 6th
A sudden call to
strike tents compelled me to suspend my
writing on Friday last, and since then up to this moment I have had no
time to
resume. We commenced our march toward
Harper’s Ferry at sunset on Friday, and marched 10 miles over a
horrible road
to Boonesboro’ where the Government and rebel troops had a conflict not
long
since. We turned into an open field and
bunked on the bare ground without blanket or covering, at daylight we
we(re)
roused again. Weary and sore enough. I
went to a water course and bathed my feet and soaked my head and was so
much refreshed
that when the order came to move, I started much fresher than on the
previous
day. The sun grew very hot and after
marching about 13 miles we halted in a beautiful grove near some very
fine
water. Our commissary department has been
somewhat disordered and our meals were not served regularly but we
managed to
get along very well, we lay in Camp in Pleasant Valley over Sunday P.M.
we were
ordered to march to Genl. Bank’s Camp some 1 ½ or 2 miles off.
Two companies of Col Webster’s Reg’t came
down to escort us, our tents were struck the wagons were sent on
ahead, and the regimental line was formed and
just as we ready to march an order came from Head-quarters to march on
special
service. So arms were stacked, and we lay down on the grass, waiting to
move,
as we had our rations to eat? some? of? the boys were up all night
cooking and
at daylight we were waked, ate our breakfast and at 7 oclock were on
the
road. We marched with long rests, some
20 miles, and at sunset halted at this spot a few rods from the
Potomac, in a
most charming country with abundance of splendid water, and now our
life of
danger is to commence; our pickets and scouts are out along the river
and this
morning a rebel prisoner was brought in by two of the guards. We are to
be
divided off by company to morrow and sent to nine?? points on the
river, for
picket duty. Our Captain says? that our Co.
will have a fine situation. I like the? life thus? far very much, it
agrees
with me and I am very tough and hearty, have sometimes been to tired
to eat with much appetite, but have been very
well, not even an attack of diarrhea has troubled me. You
shall hear from me as often as I can find
time to write. I forgot to tell you that
a friend of mine in Boston sent me
10 dollars re’d it to day with delight.
With much love as ever Oliver |
Return to Top of
Page
Austin
Stearn's account of Sharpsburg.
The following is from Sergeant Austin Stearn's Memoirs "Three Years
with Company K" published 1976; Fairleigh Dickenson Press, Arthur Kent
editor; pages 20-23; used with permission.
|
 We formed a camp at Sharpsburg, or about a mile
from it, in a piece of woods.
The first night we were here, there was an alarm
given. I was on guard at the time, and Pat Cleary, who was on
the
next beat, fired at what he always afterward declared to be a man. I
saw and heard nothing. The men turned out and after a few moments were
dismissed.
A day or two afterward a hog was found badly
wounded in a wheatfield, which bounded our camp on one side.
We were sent out on picket toward the Potomac,
with
orders to keep a strict watch of the opposite shore. While out at one
time with Corporal Stone and Henry Gassett, after spending the day
alone, a squad from Company F was sent out to lengthen the line, with
orders to keep a strict watch all night as the enemy might be expected
at any moment.
Corporal Stone posted his men at places about ten
rods apart. As my post was on the line and next to the other Company,
he spent most of his time at the other post. Along in the
night,
well toward the small hours, as I was sitting on a rail, the man at my
right fired. I jumped up, expecting we were attacked and
ready to
run if need be. Stone came up to see what the matter was and
went
to the man who fired. He said he saw a man coming up from the woods and
“let fire at him.”
The Corporal went back to his post, and I sat
down. Soon the man fired again. To the enquiry as to what he
saw,
he said “I saw horsemen coming up from the woods.” His shots
must
have frightened them all away, for he saw them no more.
In the morning an old horse was seen down in that
direction. As he was unhurt, we were never satisfied whether he was the
target or not. No one for a moment would entertain the thought that a
man of the13th was so nervous he couldn’t hit a horse.
Company D was sent down to the mouth of Antietam
Creek. While there a squad went over into Virginia and captured
Alexander R. Boteler – a former member of Congress, but now a
Secessionist. He was brought to camp and sent down toward the
headquarters of General Banks. Before reaching there he was released by
order of the President.
Our food was not of the best kind, or it was a
little different from what we had been accustomed to – perhaps that was
it. Our hardtack - about the first we had issued to us – was rightly
named hard. It came in round cakes about as large as a saucer and about
half an inch thick; to brake it was impossible; water made but very
little impression on it.
I saw some that had been soaked twenty four hours;
when scraped with a knife, just a little could be started from the
outside. With downcast looks we surveyed this article of
food. To us it ment but one thing if we tried to masticate or
swallow it whole. The boys said that Perry carried it with
him to
Japan for balls for his cannon; as he had no occasion to use them, they
were issued by mistake to the infantry for food when they were intended
as balls for the artillery. Those who saw the boxes said they
were marked B.C. 2400; that would bring it back to Noah’s time. I
cannot vouch for this. The citizens used to visit the camp with their
fried cakes and Maryland pies to sell. To appreciate a
Maryland
pie, one must eat it. One of some kinds would be a great
plenty.
On the whole, our stay at Sharpsburg was a
pleasant
one. About the first of September we were ordered to join
General
Banks at Darnstown.
|
Top of Page
Letters of James Ramsey,
Company E.
August 15th 1861.
James Ramsey of Company E writes that members of
his
company and Company H captured Alexander Boteler at
his home near Shepardstown, WVA.
Boteler was a U.S. Congressman in 1861 who went with his
state
when it seceded and became a Confederate states congressman.
He was also an aide to Stonewall Jackson.
His house was burned to the ground by Union Major General
David
Hunter's men in 1864, destroying valuable books, records and portraits.
This information on Boteler comes from the book "The Civil
War
in Washington County Maryland" A guide to 66 points of
interest;
by Charles S. Adams, revised edition, 2001.
Banks
of the Potomac Wed. Aug 15th 1861
Dear Mother I am very well I should have written before but I have not
felt much like writing something has made me feel as though I was
coming home soon. When we had taken Alexander Boetler and had
exposed our lives doing so and then to see him set at liberty the men
all felt like going home two of them have gone already. He is
the
biggest rebel leader in Virginia. When the people heard that
our
company had captured him they were all glad of it. In
Sharpsburg
the people raised the stars and stripes. Everybody said we
had
got the right man. He had ordered the bridge across the
Potomac
river at Sheppardstown to be burnt. All of the people in the
vicinity dislike the Col. for giving him his liberty. Our
company
all hate him. About 30 of our men and 30 of company H forded
the
river and traveled about 6 miles across the country to Boetlers
house. When they took him he asked them who they were and
when he
was told they belonged to the 13th Mass Regt. he said Massachusetts men
“come here to take me.” When they came back to the camp with
him
they passed through Sheppardstown where they’re was a hundred armed
men. Yesterday after dinner there was a guerrilla band of rebels
opposite us on the bluffs they fired three shots at us but did not do
any damage to us, we sent for reinforcements and they arrived last
evening. Last night they doubeled the guard at the ford and along the
river, they also sent out pickets in all directions. I was
sent
out twords (sic) the west with three other men we went about one mile
two of
us would watch while the others would sleep. There is some
excitement just now we expect an attack from the rebels but I gess they
will get the worst of it. The folks around here think the war
will not last long. I should like to be back now but I am
willing
to stay.
I thought of asking the Col. [for] my discharge but I do not believe he
would give it to me so I will have to be contented here I suppose I am
homesick but I will have to get used to it some time I might
as
well get used to it now as never. I have not seen Joe
Halstrick
for some time he is about 8 miles further up the river at another
ford. Give my
love to all.
Kiss Hugh for me
P.S. Send some papers I should like to read the
news. Direct your letters and papers to
Jas. F. Ramsey.
Company E 13th Regt Mass Vol.
Banks Division.
P.S. I read your gift about every day. |
 The Ford from the
Virginia side looking toward Maryland. Photo by
Craig Swain
Letter of James Ramsey;
August 18th 1861.
|
Bridgeport,
Md. Aug 18th 1861.
Dear Mother.
I am well I received your letter this afternoon
and was glad to hear
from home I have been expecting a letter some
time I received a letter from Nellie the other
day.
She said that she got that letter I wrote to her too late to see me she
said she little thought when she saw the steamboat with the 13th Regt
that I was with them. If you write to her you can direct your
letters to the care of Mrs Johnston 687 3d Avenue New York city
N.Y. I have written to her she said she had heard that you
were
all well by Jerry. She said her father was trying to get a
Quarter Masters berth in Lesley’s guard. I am sorry to hear that you
are unwell. There is nothing you can send me except papers. I
would [like] a herald every day and perhaps some weekly paper once and
a while. There is nothing I can write about now except the
rebels
I told you about in my last letter have all disappeard last
night
one of our Ostlers was fired upon while coming from head quarters on
horse back one of the balls passed through the visor of his cap. Most
of our company went in swimming in the Potomac river this
morning
when we go in the river we have a body guard with loaded
rifles
there are rifle pits dug on this side of the river to pick off the
rebels with I have got a piece of the burnt bridge
at
Sheppardstown. I will send you a piece of it with a flower I
got
this morning. Sundays the slaves have a holiday in Va, they
come
down to the river and watch the proceedings in our camp. I
was on
guard. We have to go on guard every other day and it comes very
hard. They say it is only a report it may be true that we are
to
be sworn in again at Washington and that the President had no authority
by congres to swear us in if it is true I will not be sworn in for I do
not think the U.S. government comes up to its agreements we
do
not have half our rations and the men grumble. When they have
got
the 13th Regiment to deal with they have not got the ruff scuff of the
city that most regiments have got but they have got men that have got
good education and are gentlemen so they had better look out for them
selves. I cannot think of any thing more to write about
except
the boys are all well. I must bid you good bye
From your
son.
James.
|
Return to Top
Letter of Oliver C. Walker;
Company C; August 20th
|
On
Picket duty, outposts Camp Taylor
Co.
C 13th Regt Mercerville Md Aug 20th
Dear Father and Mother
My last
letter to you has brought no response, and yet I cannot let another
week go by
without letting you have a line from me. My last was written
at Camp Sharpsburg,
where the whole Reg’t lay. On the day
after I wrote, al but four of our Companies were sent out along the
river to
guard several fords where the rebels were in the habit of crossing.
Our Company made a further march of seven
miles to this camp, and pitched our tents at first on the banks of the
Potomac,
between that river and the Chesapeake
and Ohio Canal;
this was Camp Berbe. As we were in danger of being attacked
from the Virginia shore on the
next Sunday we moved about ¼ of a mile off on
the other side of the Canal in a more defensible position, and our
pickets are
now sent out daily to guard the ford at the old site of our Camp.
We live a pretty busy Life here, no fighting
at present but plenty of work to do. Our
Company is divided into five messes and each mess performs guard duty
in succession. And as we have two guards posted, one at the
Camp, and one at the picket, our mess does guard duty twice in five
days,
performs fatigue duty once and rests two days, so we cant be very lazy.
We mount guard at 9 A.M the guard is divided
into three reliefs, each relief standing guard for two hours in
succession and
resting four so that we each get 8 hours guard duty in 24, we of course
get
little sleep, and the following day of rest is very welcome. We mounted
guard to
day as usual, but at 11 ‘oclock a
courier came in from Head quarters with
an order for us to join the main body of he Regt at once; so the
pickets ere
called in and the baggage trucked down a most awful hill to the canal
and
loaded on a boat, and the Company line was being formed, when a few of
us who
were left finishing the stowing of the goods saw another courier in the
person
of the assistant Surgeon dash up and deliver an order and ride off to
Capt
Schriber’s camp, a mile beyond us, we were not long in placing the
order in the
hands of the Capt. who at once ordered our arms stacked our equipments
off, and
the baggage brought up again, as soon as this was done our
picket guard was sent out again, and all is as before,
but we shall be here but a day or two at most, as we are to be relieved
by the
1st Maryland Reg’t. and our Regiment will then
join Gen Bank’s column. We shall be very sorry to
leave this place as it is very
pleasant, the water is good, we can bathe to our hearts content, and
more than
all the people are very kind and supply us with many delicacies at a
low rate,
we buy splendid butter for 11 cts a pound, and other things in
proportions. We should not buy much if
our rations were furnished us regularly But we have not been able to
get our
full rations for one day since we left Boston, and as we must eat, and
we can’t
go hungry for much and do duty we must, and so we draw on our own
resources;
but for a week our living has much improved, and we hope to deep no
more of
short allowance. My health is still very
good, and I have taken no cold since I left, though I have sustained
all manner
of exposure one half of which in New England would have made me sick,
we have
had rain every day for 9 days and though the rain poured into my tent
and I
have frequently been very wet, I have escaped all illness. I
am very thankful, for I feared that I should
fare the same as others. And be laid up with Rheumatism, or slow fever,
but I
hope to weather it all. Please write me
as often as you can for letters from home are so much prized.
With love to all I am as ever your son
Oliver-
|
Return to Top of
Page
Antietam Village
 From
"The Civil War in Washington County,
Maryland by Charles S. Adams, revised 2001; "Some three miles
south of Sharpsburg at the confluence of Antietam Creek and
the
Potomac River sits Antietam Village. By 1853 , just before
the
Civil War, a tidy village had sprung up there, with the iron works as
its center.
According to Thomas J. Scharf, in his "History of
Western Maryland,"
water power for the works was supplied by Antietam Creek "and the works
comprised rolling and slitting mills, a sheet-iron mill, a
shingle-mill,
saw mill, paddle-mill, and an extensive nail factory. Near the works is
a large bed of iron ore."
Scharf says the village consisted of:
"...dwellings for the operators, ...a large grist and saw-mill, a
black-smith shop, a store and office, and a handsome mansion for the
proprietor. About 500 operatives were employed at the works.
 As
late as 1880, according to Scharf, the Antietam Iron Works produced 8
to 10 tons of cast iron per day. At the time of the Civil War, a
tramway carted raw materials up from the C & O Canal to the
place
where the furnace was, and finished product down to canal boats.
Today some vestiges of the furnace works till
stand
after Antietam Iron Works Bridge is crossed on Harpers Ferry Road. Many
of the village houses still stand, around the bridge, and are occupied,
but the village now is not much more than a small collection of homes
on a rural back road. --Company B was posted here in August, 1861. Photos of the Iron Works and
bridge © Craig Swain.
Letter of John B. Noyes,
Company B.
The usually observant&
descriptive Noyes doesn't mention the revolutionary
war period iron works near his camp though it seems it would be of
interest. Perhaps he saw the village as just another 'rough
built' Maryland town. Certainly it was less of a novelty than
getting shot at by the rebels for the first time. Apparantly
the
fleas made more of an impression than anything else.
Photo of Noyes courtesy of the
Massachusetts Historical Society; used with permission.
|
MS Am 2332 (8a). By permission of the Houghton
Library, Harvard University.
Knoxville, or Sandy Hook opposite
Harpers Ferry Md. Aug 26th 1861
Dear Father
 I have received no letters
from home since Aug 17th
when Wm Allen’s package arrived, although I have been looking anxiously
for them. Perhaps you have been away visiting and have not
yet
had time to reply to them. On Tuesday the 20th Aug. I left,
Knapsack on back, I thought for good, Antietam, or Flea eat-em or Flea
town, or Flea bite-em, as you please. Of all the disagreeable holes I
was ever in this was the worst. Till our skirmish with the
enemy
our tents were surrounded on 3 sides by water within a few rods of
us. As if the dampness arising from the position itself were
not
enough it must needs rain for 4 or 5 days in succession so as to render
it impossible to wash and dry our clothes. After the removal
of
the camp we were obliged to descend a steep hill to obtain water, an
inconvenience which was felt more by the cook and his assistants than
the men generally. To add to the general disagreableness of
the
place the fleas in the straw bit intolerably & soon covered the
bodies of the men with itching blotches which for a long time they
could not satisfactorily account for. Many there thought the
blotches were “the Hives,” others laid them to bathing while hot,
unwilling or unable to learn the true causes. The only
redeeming
feature of the place was the breakfasts & suppers at the
Miller’s
for a “levy” that is two “fips” which in N.E. currency makes
up a ninepence. The miller underbid the other house keepers
who
charged 25 cents.
On the 20th I say, I left Flea-town with the hope of
never seeing it again. But when we had reached Sharpsburgh,
we
were obliged after a few hours rest to march back again and stand guard
during the night till 12 % M of the 21st. At that time two
companies from the first Va. & a Md. Regiment which had come
during
the night relieved us. The men who formed these Regiments
were
rough specimens of the genus homo, and the miller trembled in his shoes
for his ripening corn, and the miller’s wife prudently determined to
stop keeping a boarding house. “We are very sorry to have you
leave; those fellows are not such men as you be I reckon” said the men
and women about town who sold gingerbread.
Being relieved we marched back to Sharpsburgh only
to take up our Knapsacks to march to Boonsborough distant six or seven
miles. This is the best looking town we have yet seen, the
houses
mostly made of brick & not presenting that ruinous look which
almost every wooden house has in this country. We reached B. at about
10 P.M. and camped out for the night. Rain pouring down I got
under a wagon with my head between two spokes of a wheel for a pillow,
and feet between two other spokes, passed a very comfortable
night. Next morning we continued on our march til 2 ½ P.m.
covering 10 or 12 miles. As luck would have it on this march
– to
Frederick City our orders were countermanded and we were directed to
proceed to Sandy Hook. The only difference to us was that our
march was 15 to 20 miles longer thereby. We encamped over
night
and set out again in the morning for a 13 mile march, which was
needlessly prolonged two or three miles, by our marching past the place
we were to encamp upon. The march on the last day was without Knapsacks
but the sun was hot & water was scarce.
I am now here at Pleasant Valley, within 2 miles of
our former encampment in the same valley, this place being neither
Knoxville which is below, nor Sandy Hook which is above us.
Our
field was that on which Banks had his Division , or a large part of
it. It is a fine place, dry & near plenty of good
drinking
water. Bread and pies are brought here in
abundance.
And now about prices. At Antietam we got eggs
at from 12 to 18 p. a dozen already boiled. Chickens roasted
are
18 ¢ a piece, pies 10 or 12 ¢ and other small matters about us at home.
Milk was 5 or 6 ¢ a quart. Here milk is sold at from 8 to 10
¢
though if we can get the milk we do not scruple to give merely its
actual value. Chickens are 20 cents. Biscuits
& ginger
cakes are not as large as they were at Antietam. Water-melons are from
15 ¢ to 20 ¢ a piece but these are brought from Baltimore. We
forage our corn. A provision dealer charged a 1.00 a bushel
for
potatoes. I want you to buy me a map of the seat of war in
Maryland & Va. & send it. It will probably go
as a
newspaper. George Francis and E.P. Dutton will have
one. I
wrote to have my NY World sent from Aug 1st or earlier and a
paper occasionally.
There is a letter from our Regt in the Traveller
of the 19th which I
send & one in the Transcript of about the same date.
The last
I have not seen but it is said to be very good. Have Martha
make
me an oil silk bag about 3 ½ inches square and send it in a
letter. Send also 3 or 4 new postage stamps.
Your Aff.
Son
John B. Noyes
|
On the march back
to Virginia in July, 1863, just after the Gettysburg
Campaign, Noyes, now a Lieutenant with the 28th Mass. Vols
wrote
home: "Wednesday Am. We left Falling Waters, and marched
through Sharpsburgh to Antietam Iron Works, passing over the identical
camping
ground of Co. B. 13th Mass. Vols, which with Co. A, you
will recollect, was stationed at Antietam Ford in August
1861. The ground
was perfectly familiar to me, and I only regretted that I could not
fall out
and get dinner at the Miller's, one of my old haunts when I wanted a
good meal,
of old. I assure you I was never hungrier than when I passed that same
Miller's
house."
Return
to Top
A Midnight Ride
Sergeant-Major Elliot Clark
Pierce was an important figure in the chronicles of the 13th Mass.
He was soon promoted to 1st Lieutenant of Company H, jumping the
line of 10 second lieutenants. He would finish out his 3 year enlistment
as Major of the 13th Regiment. The day the regiment left the
front lines at Petersburg in July, 1864, to prepare to return home,
Major Pierce was captain of the picket guard. This made him the
last man of the 13th Regiment to leave the front lines. The
following is one of my
favorite articles from the 13th Regiment Association Circulars. I
was saving it for my book "Stories from the 13th Mass" but since that
project is not likely to happen soon, I offer it up here with
illustrations. If any publisher is interested in creating a
book from a collection of the best stories of the 13th Mass. regiment,
-its already completed. Feel free to contact me.
A MIDNIGHT RIDE.
BY THE SERGEANT-MAJOR.
 During
the month of August, 1861, the Thirteenth Regiment Massachusetts
Volunteers was in camp near Sharpsbiirg, Md. Its special duty was the guarding of various fords on the Potomac river,
from Dam No-4 to the confluence of Antielam Creek with the Potomac, six
or eight miles above Harper's Ferry, and very zealous and watchful were
they in the performance of their duties.
Jackson and Ashby were
very active on the Virginia side, and were
expected to cross at each and all of these fords every night in the
week.
The fact that these fords
covered a distance on the river of thirty or
more miles made no difference, for even at that early stage of the war
the air resounded with stories of the valor and ubiquity of those
rebel officers and their commands, and in our later campaign in old
Virginia we learned that there was not much exaggeration in regard to
Stonewall Jackson. So while reports were brought to regimental
headquarters almost daily from the fords, that the enemy appeared in
more or less numbers, nothing alarming to our commander occurred until
late in the afternoon of the sixteenth of August. Then
the report from our detail at Sheppardstown Ford was to the effect that
the enemy was apparently gathering in force on the opposite shore;
which demonstration might be construed as evidence of intent to cross
over the river somewhere.
At the consultation of the
field officers of the regiment, which
immediately followed the arrival of this report, it was decided that
the information was of sufficient importance to be forwarded to the
commander of the department, Gen. N. P. Banks, whose head-quarters were
then at Sandy Hook, a few miles below Harper's Ferry and eighteen or
twenty miles from our camp at Sharpsburg.
I cannot recall just how I happened to be the bearer of this important
despatch. Possibly I offered my services - possibly the services of the
sergeant-major could better be spared from camp than
that of others,- but I was the bearer, and I am writing this that my
few surviving comrades may know who saved them (and incidentally the
country) from dire disaster-and that all who read may learn that Paul
Revcre was not the only midnight rider.
It's a long hark back to
1861-forty-seven years, nearly half a century -so some of the minor
details, as to whys and wherefores, time and distance, may have
slipped my memory, but the most of my experience that night is as fresh
in my mind as though it took place but yesterday.
It was seven P.M. by Sharpsburg clocks, when I tightened the
saddle-girth on Colonel Batchelder's sorrel horse, the only available
one at the time. The colonel gave me special instructions about the
animal, which he valued highly. He was to be ridden quietly for a few
miles, as not having been used for a few days, was out of condition for
immediate speed.
Adjutant Bradlee gave me an
official document addressed to Maj. Gen. N. P. Banks, commanding at
Sandy Hook, Md., with instructions to deliver the same to the general
in person, and other instructions more or less mysterious and important.
Thus, finely mounted and thoroughly instructed, I rode at a trot out of our camp in the woods and took the road to Sharpsburg.
I can recall that I felt glad to be relieved for even a few hours from
the monotony of life in camp and, as I had been much in the saddle from
my youth up, was happy to be once more astride a good horse.
While passing through the town of Sharpsburg, the clickety clack
of a
loose shoe made a call upon the village blacksmith a necessity. After fifteen minutes delay I
was again jogging along the highway
leading from Sharpsburg to Antietam Creek. Thus far I had acted upon
the advice of Colonel Batchelder in regard to "Bucephalus," but
now starting him into an easy lope, I began to speculate upon the
possibilities of this ride. Naturally my thoughts turned to the now
famous poem of Longfellow, "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere,"
published 1860, which I had memorized.
I wondered if anything would occur during this ride to make it
immortal. Would some great poet think it worth while to sing a
song about it?
Would some great artist picture "Bucephalus" on a full gallop with a
wild-eyed hatless rider?
I really could not see
much resemblance just at the time. Paul has always been
represented as making a terrible noise and hullabaloo - his steed was
snorting fire "through every Middlesex
village and farm" and "the hurrying hoofbeats of that steed "are still
echoing from Bunker Hill, through Lexington, to the old bridge at
Concord, where was fired the gun "heard round the world."
He was riding to arouse all the rebels to arms - I was riding to
proclaim the coming of rebels in arms. The word rebel suggests a
similarity, but there are classes as kinds in Rebeldom, and two kinds
are referred to here.
He rode over highways which in a few days were to become
historic. Quite possible he realized it. I rode over a
highway
where in a year, a month, anda day the bravest of the nut-brown
legions of Lee and the bravest of Burnside's "boys in blue" were to
meet and struggle for the right of way.
Across the peaceful
pastures where now the crickets chirp and
song birds warble, through acres of waving corn, in a year, a month,
and a day will rush battalions, batteries, cavalry and infantry - one
hundred thousand men and more - tearing up the Mother Earth, tearing
down the Brother Man. Along the length of this road from
Dunker Church to the Burnside bridge on Antietam Creek, river pasture
and meadow, through many a corn-field, will roll and break the
great waves of battle, and between the rising and setting of the sun of
Sept. 17, '62, more men will have fallen beneath the relentless
power of those waves, dead or bruised and battered, than the British army lost during the
eight years' War of the Revolution.
Fortunately, I was not
conversant with the language of the stars, so
while looking frequently above in admiration of the starry firmament
(if those bodies of the solar system called planets do influence
the destinies of men), I had no vision or power to read, and thankful
am I those twinkling stars gave no sign of "the bloody work they should
look upon" in a year, a month, and a day. For being in ignorance of
what the fates had in store for the future, I rode on in full enjoyment
of the present.
I recall that I had an ambition to become a cavalry-man. Who that has
read "Charles O'Malley, the Irish Dragoon" has not? This ambition
received a new and fresh impetus to-night, growing and keeping pace
with the speed of my steed. Life in the saddle has such charms-no heavy
arms, no knapsack, no tramping through mud that sticks to your shoes
till they weigh twenty pounds each!
What a fascination and inspiration there is in the dashing cavalry-man with his jingling spurs and rattling sabre-chains !
For a while I contemplate
resigning my office of sergeant-major of the
Thirteenth and accepting a captaincy in the cavalry. Possibly General
Banks will be so impressed by my appearance, when I dash up to
his headquarters, that he will at once commission and detail me to
serve on his staff. I decide to accept.
Thus meditating and
castle-building I rode along this pleasant way and drew rein at the old
iron works at the confluence of Antietam Creek and the Potomac river.
Here were stationed Companies A
and B of the Thirteenth. Lieut. A. N. Sampson was officer of the guard
at the time. I remained here long enough to drink
a dipper of coffee, give him some instructions as directed by Adjutant
Bradlee, then hastened on my journey. Over the bridge, which
here crosses the Antietam, up a little hill on the other side, then
down again, turning sharply to the left and I was on the road
which follows for a few miles and quite near to the Potomac river,
along which runs the Chesapeake and Ohio canal.
It is written of Revere :
"He felt the damp of the river fog
That rises when the sun goes down."
Now the fog on the Mystic is a
thin vaporous thing, but the fog I struck that night on the Potomac was
heavy as a snow-bank, so dense no human sight could pierce it five feet
away.
Some old legend tells of a horse who bore a headless rider - my legend is of a rider on a headless horse!
But wherever his head might be I knew his torso was under me and his
feet in the right place, for "loud on the ledge is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides."
 The rhythmical beating of
hoofs in the gallop is music in my ear. I
soon learned, however, there was another fellow some distance down the
road, who heard this hoof-beating and the sound which struck his
tympanum had to him no note of music.
Aware that a road, somewhere
near here, led away from the river up
Maryland Heights, I had pulled my horse to a jog trot when I was
suddenly ordered to "halt!" I could see no sentinel, nor could I locate
the direction from which the order came. For a moment only was there
any doubt, for
my horse shying so quickly caused a
tightening of the curb-rein, and he was sitting on his haunches with
the point of a bayonet at his breast, while a second command,
"Dismount, or I'll shoot!" came through the fog-bank in front of me.
The position of my horse made the act of dismounting an easy one.
It is possible I might have dismounted without any orders from
the fog.
The little "click-click" of the lock which occurs in the act of cocking
a musket is not in itself an alarming sound; I have heard it
a thousand times, but always when at or near the butt of the gun. Being
at the muzzle end, it is much more noticeable, sharper, and pierces the
densest fog; and when the "man behind the gun" is a total stranger and
imagines you to be an enemy, the clicking ofthe lock may be regarded as
an indication of an unfavorable issue of that particular interview.
In this instance the "man behind the gun" proved to be master of
it and himself, also the situation.
Omitting the formula of picket
duly, "Who goes there, etc.," he called
for the officer of the guard. The picket post was a few yards back in
thie woods, upon the very road I was to take over the Heights. Having satisfied this officer that I was really a bearer of
despatches to the commanding general, and not one of Ashby's cavalry in
disguise, I rode out of the damp of the river fog into the depths of
the dark forests that line the sides and crown the Heights of
Maryland. The road being quite steep in places and difficult to see,
plodding at a walk was the best speed to be made.
When about two miles from the
picket post my horse acted so strangely that I dismounted and had an
interview with him. He told me in horse vernacular that he had a touch
of colic and wanted to
lie down, and this he would have succeeded in doing if I had not made
urgent efforts to prevent it by turning him around, backing,
rubbing vigorously, applying the switch smartly, anything to keep him
on his feet. As soon as he would move forward I led him at a fast
walk. He was a horse of great spirit and responded quickly to my
efforts, but was evidently in pain for some time.
To add to my perplexity I had, during the struggles with the colicy animal, become confused as to the general direction of my
route and could find no evidence or sign of a trail.
With the loss of way and loss of horse, the life of a cavalryman seemed
to lose some of its charm and I decided not to accept any commission under that of a colonel.
 Struggling on through the underbrush, I reached a small clearing where
stood a shanty of logs which hardly seemed habitable, but I found on
approaching that I could hear the sound of voices. Its appearance was
not inviting and was immediately connected in my mind with the stories of the
moonshine whiskey stills of the mountains of Virginia and Kentucky.
Intent on finding my way out ofthis tangle, I rapped loudly on what seemed to be a door After a
short wait a voice asked, 'who's there ?" and "what do you want ?"
I replied, "a soldier - the shortest way to Harper's Ferry." Upon this
the upper half of the door swung out a little and by the dim,
flickering light of a candle held high above it appeared the face of
old John Brown! Well! Well! Startling? Yes, it was indeed!
For a month or more my
comrades and I had been singing the fact of
"John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the ground." Now I had
discovered
or uncovered him. Possibly my vision was somewhat distorted under the
circumstances; perhaps "I felt the spell of theplace and the hour and
the secret dread of that lonely shanty." So I'll
admit that it might have been John Brown's double who gave me such
clear directions that I was soon on the road to Harper's Ferry.
It does not seem strange to me that to-day I cannot recall whether the
distance from the shanty of John Brown's ghost, or double, to Sandy
Hook was accomplished on foot or horseback; whether we (the horse and
I) slid down the mountain side into Pleasant Valley,or cleared the precipice at the Ferry with one mighty bound, but I do
recall being in the saddle and urging Bucephalis to show up bravely, as the end of our journey and troubles was in sight.
The dashing act, which I
thought to perform through the street of Sandy
Hook, upon a "steed flying fearless and fleet," was abandoned as was
also my plan of approach to the headquarters of the commanding general.
My arrival was intended to be impressive as became a man from the Old
Bay State; brilliant as became a soldier from that State bearing
important despatches to her former governor, now general. The facts
are, that I rode quietly through a
wagon camp and mule yard, to a point as near headquarters as the guard
would permit, and dismounting, was directed to a large, old-fashioned
farm-house to find the general.
Here I was requested by an orderly to give him my despatch, as the
general had retired. I said that my instructions were to deliver
them only to the general commanding; the orderly crossed a large hall
and disappeared through a doorway. When that door opened again, the
general appeared clothed in white from his neck to
the floor. Yes, he had on his - his "robe de nuit." Also, he was
clothed with that dignity so natural and becoming to him.
 I have seen him many times, as
governor of the Bay State; as its congressman, on the lecture platform;
on the stump; at the head of battalions, and at the head of the banquet
table; and always the
same air of dignity surrounded and gave him a majestic appearance,
although not a large man physically.
On this particular occasion he had but to throw one long loose end of
that robe over his shoulder, hold a scroll in the other hand and I
should have been standing in the presence of a Roman senator. He
read my despatch from the colonel then commanding at Sharpsburg, and I
was quite surprised at the calmness he displayed
after reading. He thanked me in a courtly manner, bade me thank the
colonel for his prompt report of proceedings up the river; called an
orderly and directed him to show me with my message to the tent of Gen.
Robert Williams, his adjutant-general.
During the interview no
reference was made to a vacancy now or likely to occur upon his staff.
The tent of General Williams was close by. As soon as he had read my
despatch I told him about my experience of the night and of the
condition of the horse I rode, which belonged to Lieutenant-Colonel
Batchelder. Late as it was,
his veterinary was called to attend him. The contents of my despatch did
not seem to alarm him and he said that he would have a
reply for me to take on my return in the morning, when, if my horse
proved to be no better, I should be mounted on another. He then advised
my retiring, which I was glad to do, in an adjoining tent escorted by
an orderly. Here I slept on a pile of blankets
till early morn, and would have slept till dewy eve had it not been for
those mules. Up to this time I had met but few of the genus mule,
had heard a solo occasionally from him, when he thought his ration short
or overdue; but to have six hundred of him suddenly burst
out in grand chorus, accompanied by six hundred iron hitching- chains,
rattled against one hundred sheet-iron plates, fastened to one
hundred wagon-poles to prevent abrasion, was a new experience to me. I
awoke. To the combination (which seemed to be sufficient) was
soon added the voices of the drivers, one hundred male voices!
 As to tones, they were in full
accord and harmony with the mules, but
the words (though in the English language) do not all appear in the
lexicon of people of culture. Being addressed in the form of responses
to the mules' requests for breakfast, they were in mule vernacular and
can hardly be recorded here.
Later, during my service, I
became more intimate with the army mule and
confess to some affection for him, and to-day could write chapters on
his characteristics,— his virtues which were many, and his vices which
were few. At present will only say that I do not think his voice
adapted to the rendition of any of Beethoven's
Symphonies, particularly just as "the morning light is breaking."
Somewhere in his anatomy — I should judge near the larynx — nature has
placed a number of saws and a few rasps, not in use for regular
breathing, but when excited, or he wants to raise his voice in
song, he draws it in and out through these obstructions. Well! He
thinks it music!
Now, right here, by all
precedents, my story should end. Who cares for the rider, his goal
being reached? Yet, thinking some comrades would like to learn the fate
of the horse, I will add that the veterinary surgeon advised me not to
use him.
By order of General Williams I was mounted on what he called a Scout's
horse. He was a saddler, sure; had the speed of the wind, and covered
the distance back to camp in less than two hours, showing a strong
desire to shorten that time. The horses were exchanged in a few
days. Colonel Batchelder's
entirely recovered and remained in good condition during the rest of
his service. I was not greatly surprised in reaching camp to find that
no attack had been made and "all quiet along the
Potomac" the last report from the fords.
"The rebel rides on his raids no more,"
And the story of my ride is o'er,
While in it are errors, I will not deny:
Facts are here told, to which history may tie.
ELLIOT C. PIERCE.
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The Burning of the Mill at
Shepherdstown Ford
Blackford's
Ford on the
Potomac River near Sharpsburg (the place where Companies E & H
did
picket duty) is known
by 3 other names; Shepherdstown Ford, Boteler's Ford and it's oldest
Indian name, Pack Horse
Ford. In a letter to his daughter, Sharpsburg resident Jacob
Miller mentions the burning of a large mill across from the ford while
Companies E & H of the13th Mass were camped there.
The letter
in general relates the chaos the war brought to the local residents.
The handwritten Jacob Miller letters were typed by Jan Wetterer and
given to the Western Maryland room of the Hagerstown Library, in
November, 1994. Originals are on file at the Antietam
National
Battlefield Visitor Center. I quote only a portion of this
letter
that deals with the 13th Mass. I have eliminated hyphenated
words
and changed the double s's which were written as f's.
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Sharpsburg,
August 20th, 1861
Dear
Christian & Amelia and Child
Your letters
of the 16th
July to Sevilla & Jacobs to me came duly to hand.
I would have wrote sooner but for this confused warfare which
absorbs the minds of almost everybody and mine with the rest.
You
are all dear to me in my old age Some of which I have not yet seen but
I would b glad to see you all once more if it could so happen.
I
always calculated on getting out to Iowa and Illenouse and I think I
would have been out before this had I not got into those difficulties
in money matters, but now I have my doubts whether it will ever happen.
although my helth and strength at this time would be good
anough
to make the journey. but this black republean warefare has
thrown
everything into confusion but I cannot complain of being much molested
by the troops although they encampt in one of my fields twice but only
for a night at a time (these ware the northeren troops) the Southern
troops ware encamped at Shepherdstown for severeal months during which
time our dis union party ware verry uneasy they feared them berry much
I did not fear either party but I dreded some of our rowdies in town
the{y{ called us ceessionists and so reported us to the notheren troops
and expected to see us all arrested when the northeren troops came on
(page 2)
but they
ware disapointed the officsers said they did not intend to
molest any one on account of theer politicle opinon after they ware
hear a while they ware better pleased with the democrats than with the
Union or dis Union party as we call them and prove them to be such by
being in favour of the war which is disunion it Self there
can be
no union between two parties when war exists between them. - There was
rather a novelty occured hear sometime since when the first Regiment
came into are neighbourhood. they had thought of incamping in
my
field but the first days march from Hagerstown brought them to Snivelys
three miles from hear where they struck their tents a fiew days after
the General & his aides five or Six in number came on to town
rode
down [the] street to the square and inquired for me and where I lived
my house was pointed out to them when they all started off in a gallup
back to my house. this was late on friday evening when the
square
of the town was full of these disunion boys with their ears cocked up
expecting to see me arrested when about twenty or thirty came running
up but to their sad disappointment the General handed me a letter of
introduction and then said he would be glad to see me up at his camp
tomorrow when I thanked him and said I would try and get up when they
roda-off but stil left these disunionists in the dark not knowing what
the letter contained. - the next morning I went up to the Camp Helen
went with me she took
(page 3)
a large
bocade of flours along for the General with which he appeared
to be much pleased we staid in his Markee about an hour talking with
the General and Mager when we took leave of them took aview
of
the encampment then came of[f] home - there has been a Masichusets
Regiment encampt on Captn D. Smiths farm in the woods above Grove's
Spring for the last two weaks a part of which ware encamped oposit the
big Mill on Billy Blackfords land. but Sunday night the big
Mill
was burned down it is generally thought the northeren troops fiered it,
but the[y] deny it. The Southern troops burned the
Harpersferry
& Shepherdstown bridges before they left for Martinsburg
&
Winchester
(the letter
continues on for another 1 1/2 pages).
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According to this letter the mill was burned
Sunday, August 18th 1861. Both John B.
Noyes & James Ramsey mention it in letters home.
Noyes's
Company B had been posted a couple of miles away from the ford at
Antietam Village and did not know who was responsible for the burning
of the mill, but mentioned it in a letter to his father dated
August 28th 1861; he writes, "The
Sunday Herald Aug 18th contains the roll of all
the Companies which
belongs to the 4th Batallion.
You will find a very interesting letter in the Transcript of Aug. 22d
written by Corpl. Cundy of Co. A. It gives a fine account of our
experience at Antietam
minus the fleas. The fire he mentions
was that of a mill in Virginia from which shots were fired at us.
I do not know who set it on fire. Perhaps a union man.
The blaze was magnificent." (Houghton Library, Harvard
University; Ms Am2332 (09))
James Ramsey's Company E, was posted at the ford
and in a letter to his father dated October 9th James wrote,
"While we were at Sheppardstown we were in a
dangerous position which we then did not realize, our camp was situated
on a
hill within rifle range of the rebels, on their side of the river they
had
thick foliage besides a four story factory which some of our company
burnt, as
a good place of protection against our firing they could pick off our
guard
without danger from our rifles."
In September, 1862, during the Antietam
Campaign, War
Correspondent Alfred
Waud made a sketch of Union troops skirmishing with Confederates across
the Potomac River at Shepherdstown Ford. In the sketch a
burned
out mill can be seen along the Virginia side of the river. I
venture to guess this is the same mill burned by the soldiers of the
13th Mass a year earlier. The picture was published in
Harper's
Weekly October 11, 1862. (image from the Library of Congress).
©
Bradley M. Forbush, 2008.
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