To Gen. Hooker had been assigned the honor of opening the great combat. During the night previous he had crossed the Antietam on the Hagerstown road, and gained a position on the right bank of that stream, which curved round in front of our forces.
He was in the saddle before daylight, and the rising sun shone upon his troops moving forward in battle array—the right of our lines sweeping round towards the Potomac. They proceeded but a short distance before encountering the enemy, drawn up to receive them, and soon the profound stillness which precedes a battle was broken, and Saxon was pitted against Saxon in the contest of death.
Steadily the brave fellows pressed forward over the wooded and uneven ground, regardless of the infantry and artillery fire which was concentrated upon them from several points, and sweeping through the cornfields and grove at the right of the Sharpsburg turnpike, bore down with irresistible fury upon the rebel lines.
They stood the shock but a moment, and then the swarthy foe fell back in disorder, closely followed by our victorious boys, who made the welkin ring with their shouts and cheers. But now come reinforcements for the enemy, and our troops are forced back from the ground which they have so gallantly won. For a moment it seems as if Hooker will be overpowered, so heavily has the enemy’s left been reinforced, but the timely arrival of Mansfield stems the tide of rebel success. The two commands are massed together, and together resist the onslaughts of the enemy. There is as yet no fighting elsewhere. All the energy, skill and force of the respective commanders are, for the time being, centred on this point. Hither all eyes are turned. Ten o’clock finds the troops still fiercely engaged. Both Hooker and Mansfield are lost to them. Gen. McClellan soon arrives, inspiring the men by his presence. A few moments later Sumner comes up with his whole Corps to the relief of those who have been fighting for three hours.
His troops suffer severely. It was true he exposed them—unnecessarily some thought—but no more than he exposed himself. Wherever the conflict waxed hottest, there he was to be seen riding to and fro, brandishing his sword and cheering forward his men, his head uncovered and his long silver locks streaming in the breeze. French, Richardson, Kimball and other brave spirits were with him, seconding his commands.
The gallant young Howard, who laid aside his ministerial robes to lose an arm at Fair Oaks Roads, leads Burn’s old Brigade on a charge. Close by appears the intrepid Meagher, double-quicking his Irish braves through a field of corn, and the enemy, who have again commenced advancing, are checked. Our reserve artillery are now trained upon them, and
“Like a plow in the fallow through them
Plow the Northern ball,”
creating wide gaps and producing fearful carnage in their ranks. But determined on breaking this part of our line, Gen. Lee continued to mass his forces here, and portions of Sumner’s troops, weary and exhausted, began to recede.
It was now a most critical moment—Mansfield killed, Hooker wounded, Sedgwick, Richardson and Crawford carried bleeding from the field,—the enemy pressing on in overwhelming numbers,—our own troops giving way,—what should we have done had not Franklin arrived at this juncture from Pleasant Valley with two fresh Divisions?