Joseph K. F. Mansfield, Brigadier General of the U.S. Army / A Narrative of Events Connected with His Mortal Wounding at Antietam, Sharpsburg, Maryland, September 17, 1862

by John Mead Gould

THE PART TAKEN BY THE 10TH MAINE.

The 12th Army Corps, Mansfield commanding, marched on the Boonsboro pike, late at night of Sept. 16th, from “the center” through Keedysville to the farm of George Line (G. Lyons on the old maps) and there rested till daybreak. Gen. Mansfield slept on the west side of a fence which ran south from Line’s garden to woods. His bed was the grass and his roof a blanket. The 10th Maine was on the east side of the fence (see [map]), and some of our boys who indulged in loud talk were ordered by the General to lower their tones to a whisper. The other regiments of our brigade were near us, while the other brigades of the corps appeared to be behind ours (or east). Our brigade[6] was the advance of the corps, and marched a little before 5 o’clock on the morning of the battle, first to the west across the Smoketown road, and nearly to John Poffenberger’s, and then south to nearly abreast of Joseph Poffenberger’s (marked 6.20 on the map), and there halted for almost an hour, during all of which time, that is from before 5 A. M., Hooker’s corps was fighting in and around “the great cornfield,” the enemy being south and west of it.

As well as could be judged, all of the 12th corps followed our movements, and halted to the right or left of the rear of our brigade.

The 124th and 125th Penn. were detached from the brigade at some early hour, but at 7.20 by my watch, which may have been five to ten minutes fast, the other four regiments were started for the fight.

The 10th Maine was guided by Gen. Mansfield in person. We had all seen him for some time previous sitting on his horse at the northwest corner of the East Wood, marked W on the map. He hurried us, first to the front, down hill through a field where several piles of stone lay, the Smoketown road still being on our left. We barely entered the “ten acre cornfield” when Mansfield beckoned us to move to our left. We then marched a few steps by what the tactics call “Left oblique,” but did not gain ground to the left sufficiently to suit the General, so Col. Beal commanded “Left flank,” whereupon each man faced east, and we presently knocked over the two fences of the Smoketown road and marched into Sam Poffenberger’s field. While going across the Smoketown road Gen. Hooker rode from the woods (M) and told Col. Beal “The enemy are breaking through my lines; you must hold these woods,” (meaning East Woods.)

After crossing the road, bullets from the enemy began to whiz over and around us. When well into Sam Poffenberger’s field the Colonel commanded “Right flank,” then each man again faced south (or west of south to be more exact) and we all marched straight for the enemy, whom some of us could see in the woods, close to where our Mansfield marker is now standing, marked M on the map.

The 10th Maine was in “double column at half distance” (or “double column in mass,” as some remember.)

Each line in the diagram represents about 15 men all facing “front.” In this order we had bivouacked and marched to Sam Poffenberger’s field, only that while in the ten acre corn field every man turned on his left heel and marched toward what had been the “left,” until arriving in Sam Poffenberger’s field, where a turn of each man to his right, or the technical “front,” brought us to our original position.

Apparently fifty to a hundred Confederates were strung along the fence (M) firing at us. They had the immense advantage that they could rest their rifles on the fence and fire into us, massed ten ranks deep, while we could only march and “take it.”

It was high time to deploy,[7] and Col. Beal proposed to do so, but Gen. Mansfield said “No,” and remarked that a regiment can be easier handled “in mass” than “in line”; which is very true in the abstract. Gen. Mansfield then rode away, and Col. Beal, hardly waiting for him to get out of sight, ordered the regiment to deploy in double quick time. Everybody felt the need of haste.

In the execution of this order Companies I and G, with the color guard, continued marching straight ahead at the ordinary step, just as if no order had been given. The men of Co’s F, C, D and B turned to their left and ran east—toward Sam Poffenberger’s Co’s H, A, K and E turned to the right and ran west—toward the Smoketown road. As fast as the respective companies “uncovered,” they came to “Front” and advanced to the front, still running. In other words, after Co. B had run east and Co. E west, the length of their company, each man turned to the front (or the woods) and the company ran till B was left of G, and E was right of I, which being done B and E quit running and took up the ordinary step. It will be seen that D had twice as far to run to the east, and K twice as far to the west, and that C and A ran three times, and F and H four times as far as B and E had done.

I have been so circumstantial in describing all this for two reasons. First, because standing to-day on the battle line of the 10th Maine (which is the position the enemy occupied at the time the 10th was deploying), and looking over the fence northeast into Sam Poffenberger’s field, as the Confederates did, one will see how it was that when the 10th Me., with about 300[8] men, came to deploy and to advance afterward, the Smoketown fence, and the trees of Beal and Goss, with “the bushes,” were an obstacle to the right companies, and the ledge would have been somewhat so to the left companies if Capt. Jordan had not halted his division[9] behind it. He did this for shelter as the first reason, and because, perceiving there was no Union force on our left, he knew it was better to have our left “refused” and hence not so easily “flanked” by the enemy. (See [map].)

Second, and more particularly, I wish to state that on Nov. 9, 1894, Major Wm. N. Robbins, 4th Alabama, Law’s brigade, Hood’s division of the Confederate army, met me by appointment on the field and compared experiences. We had previously had a long correspondence, in which he persistently referred to seeing a “hesitating” Union regiment which he ordered his troops to fire into. The result of this fire was the dispersion of the Union regiment, whereupon he himself went over towards his left and attended to affairs nearer the great cornfield. After a great deal of correspondence with every Union and Confederate regiment that fought in the vicinity, I could not learn of any Union regiment that was dispersed, either in Sam Poffenberger’s field, or in the “field of stone piles,” nor could the Major determine, by consulting the map alone, whether it was the Smoketown road or Joe Poffenberger’s bypath that was on his left when the Union regiment dispersed.

In November, ’94, when we met on the ground, he was sure that the Smoketown road was on his left. Hence it was plain that it could be only the 10th Maine that “dispersed.”

Yet we certainly did not!!

For a little while it was a very dark problem; then it dawned upon me that from where the Major stood he did not see (because of the slight rise of land between us) the movement of our center and right as we deployed, while the running to the east of Co’s F, C, D and G appeared to him precisely like a dispersion. I do not know a better illustration of how difficult it is to see things in battle as they really are happening.

With this vexed question settled, it becomes easier to understand the movements of other regiments, but these do not concern us now, further than that there was no other regiment at the time and place for Maj. Robbins to “disperse.”

The result of this extensive correspondence assures me that Gen. Mansfield was wounded by Maj. Robbins’ command, to which I will refer presently.

The reader will readily see how easily we can remember these prominent features of the field, and how surely we can identify our old position after the lapse of years. We are not confronted with the difficult task which those have who fought in the open field with no striking landmarks near; and where the position of the fences have been changed.

To resume the narrative: The enemy fell back as we approached. On arriving at the fence, we opened fire, and then rushed into the woods for such cover as the trees, &c., offered. The enemy also was well scattered through the woods, behind numerous ledges, logs, trees and piles of cord wood, a few men only being east of the Smoketown road, which at that time was not fenced.

The fire of the enemy was exceedingly well aimed; and as the distance between us was only about one hundred yards we had a bloody time of it.

We had fired only a few rounds, before some of us noticed Gens. Mansfield and Crawford, and other mounted officers, over on the Croasdale Knoll, which, with the intervening ground, was open woods. Mansfield at once came galloping down the hill and passed through the scattered men of the right companies, shouting “Cease firing, you are firing into our own men!” He rode very rapidly and fearlessly till he reached the place where our line bent to the rear (behind the fence). Captain Jordan now ran forward as far as the fence, along the top of the ledge behind which his division was sheltered, and insisted that Gen. Mansfield should “Look and see.” He and Sergt. Burnham pointed out particular men of the enemy, who were not 50 yards away, that were then aiming their rifles at us and at him. Doubtless the General was wounded while talking with Jordan; at all events he was convinced, and remarked, “Yes, you are right.” He then turned his horse and passed along to the lower land where the fence was down, and attempted to go through, but the horse, which also appeared to be wounded, refused to step into the trap-like mass of rails and rubbish, or to jump over. The General thereupon promptly dismounted and led the horse into Sam Poffenberger’s field. I had noticed the General when he was with Crawford on the Croasdale Knoll, and had followed him with my eye in all his ride. Col. Beal was having a great deal of trouble with his horse, which was wounded and appeared to be trying to throw the Colonel, and I was slow in starting from the Colonel to see what Mansfield’s gestures meant. I met him at the gap in the fence. As he dismounted his coat blew open, and I saw that blood was streaming down the right side of his vest.

The General was very quick in all his motions and attempted to mount as soon as the horse had got through the fence; but his strength was evidently failing, and he yielded to the suggestion that we should take him to a surgeon. What became of the orderly and the horse none of us noticed. Sergt. Joe Merrill, of Co. F, helped carry the General off; a young black man, who had just come up the ravine from the direction of Sam Poffenberger’s, was pressed into service. He was very unwilling to come with us, as he was hunting for Capt. Somebody’s[10] frying-pan, the loss of which disturbed him more than the National calamity. Joe Merrill was so incensed at the Contraband’s sauciness, his indifference to the danger, and his slovenly way of handling the General, that he begged me to put down the General and “fix things.” It turned out that Joe’s intention was to “fix” the darkey, whom he cuffed and kicked most unmercifully. We then got a blanket and other men, and I started off ahead of the re-formed squad[11] to find a Surgeon.

The road had appeared to be full of ambulances a half hour before, but all were gone now and we carried the General clear to Sam Poffenberger’s woods. Here I saw Gen. Geo. H. Gordon, commanding the 3^d brigade of our division, told him the story and asked him to send an orderly or aide for a surgeon, but he said he could not as he had neither with him. He was moving the 107th N. Y., a new, large regiment; an ambulance was found and two medical officers, just inside the woods, a few steps north of where Sam Poffenberger’s gate now hangs, marked K on the map. The younger doctor put a flask to the General’s mouth. The whiskey, or whatever it was, choked the General and added greatly to his distress. We put the General into the ambulance and that was the last I saw of him. Lieut. Edw. R. Witman, 46th Penn., an aide to Gen. Crawford, had been sent back by Gen. Crawford, who evidently saw Mansfield in his fatal ride. I turned over ambulance[12] and all to him and returned to the regiment; but when I arrived I found that Tyndale’s and Stainrook’s brigades of Greene’s division had swept the woods a little while after I had gone, carrying a dozen or two of the 10th with them, and that Gen. Gordon had followed later with the 107th New York. Only twenty or thirty men of the 10th Maine were left on the ground; the colors and the others had gone out and taken position somewhere back of the Croasdale Knoll.

We buried some of the dead of our regiment in the north edge of “the bushes,” near to the Smoketown road fence. During the remainder of the day a very large number of the officers and men of the regiment were detailed by various medical officers to bring off wounded men from “the cornfield” and woods, for the ambulance department was not organized at that time as it was later in the war, and was not equal to the task.

We also buried the Confederate dead that fell in our immediate front, but somehow the cracker-box head boards were marked (20 GEO), and this little error made trouble enough for me as Historian of the regimental association.

At night we bivouacked north of Sam Poffenberger’s woods, and on the 18th marched into East Woods, just beyond where we fought, halted, stacked arms, and during the truce dispersed to look at all the sights in our neighborhood.

On the 19th we were moved into the woods again and took a more extended view of the field.

In June, 1863, the 10th Maine Battalion, in its march to Gettysburg, passed near the field, and four or five of those who had been in the battle turned aside to see the old grounds. The graves near “the bushes” and those of the “20th Georgia” were just as we left them.

Lt.-Col. Fillebrown also visited the field some time during the war, and a party was sent out to bring home the remains of Capt. Furbish, which had been buried near Sam Poffenberger’s.

It will therefore be seen that almost every one of the 10th Maine, who came out of the battle unharmed, had a chance to view the field and to impress its topographical features in his mind. Therefore, when a dozen or more of us who had fought in the battle, visited the field in 1889, we had no difficulty whatever in finding our locality, and our testimony is sufficient; but more can be cited.

Mr. Sam Poffenberger, by whom I have been most hospitably entertained in two of my trips (1891 and 1894), assures me that the 10th Maine graves remained near “the bushes” until removed to the National Cemetery. He also says the graves of the 111th Penn. Vols., during all that time, were under the ledge where the left of our regiment (Co. F) rested. The 111th Penn. Vols. relieved us.

The course of the march of the 107th N. Y. has been identified by members of that regiment who have visited the field; and letters from several of them confirm the statements made on page 17.

The line of march of the 3d Maryland and 102d N. Y., who were on the left of the 111th Penn. Vols., has been fully identified and exactly joins our identification.

For substantial evidence of the truth of our narrative we will say that Maj. Jordan still has the cord which fell from the General’s hat as he waved it at our left companies in trying to make them cease firing.

The hat itself, which fell off inside the fence when the General gave himself into the care of Joe Merrill and the others of us, got into the hands of Gen. Nye (Capt. of Co. K) and he forwarded it to the family, and has the acknowledgment of receipt of the same.

Geo. W. Knowlton, Esq., Boston, Mass., has a pair of blood-stained gloves sent home by his father, Maj. Wm. Knowlton, (Capt. Co. F, but not present at Antietam) who wrote and afterward explained to Mrs. Knowlton that one of his men picked them up and gave them to him.

It will now be seen that though the regimental excursion of 1889 was positive of the position of the regiment, we could not decide exactly where Mansfield fell, for it so happened that the main witnesses of the wounding were not then present. On returning home, I made a special study of the facts, and found that Maj. Jordan was sure he could find “the boulder” which he mounted to attract the attention of Gen. Mansfield. Maj. Redlon, who was in command of Co. D, a man of remarkable memory and faculty of observation, also assured me that Maj. Jordan was there. Jordan is a short man, and naturally mounted the ledge to “get even” with the General. Sergeant Burnham, of Co. C, while living, frequently spoke of this to me.

On September 17, 1891, Maj. Jordan, Surgeon Howard and myself accepted the invitation of the 125th Penn. to visit the field with them. Major Jordan readily found the ledge without my assistance, on the afternoon of the 16th, but “the boulder[13]” was not visible. During the evening Mr. Sam. Poffenberger told of the change of fence and the building of the new road.

Early in the morning we went again, and there under the fence, with a small red cedar growing over it, was “the boulder.” We easily changed the fence and obliterated the road in our mind’s eyes, and thereupon everything came out clearly. We know precisely where the General sat on his horse when he talked with Jordan, and there it is, as we understand it, he was wounded. We borrowed tools from our host and set up our marker forthwith for the edification of our 125th Penn. comrades, who soon came trooping down on us. Maj. Jordan staid by his marker all day, defending the truth most vigorously. I went with Capt. Gardner and Lieut. Dunegan to the place where they say Mansfield fell from his saddle and was borne off by two of their men. The place is about 600 yards from where Mansfield was shot. From others of the 125th it was evident that Gen. Mansfield’s riderless horse did bring up at about the place pointed out, but we know the fatal shot came to the General himself while he halted in front of Captain Jordan.

The thoroughly good feeling shown to us by all of these good fellows of the old 125th has not been forgotten, and never can be; and in telling the true story I am not a little embarrassed with the fact that I seem to make reflections upon some of them.