The glens and streams and rocky hills of Western Maryland ran red with blood in September 1862, particularly around a mountain range called South Mountain and a creek known as Antietam. The Union’s Army of the Potomac and the Confederacy’s Army of Northern Virginia marched and fought over a wide range of territory during that single month, and in the process engaged in what may have been the single most important battle of the entire American Civil War. It is an epic story, and James Murfin tells it well in The Gleam of Bayonets.
Murfin, a Hagerstown-area journalist, recounts in a foreword that this study “began as an assignment for the Civil War Centennial edition of [Hagerstown’s] Herald-Mail newspaper” (p. 11). Through his careful work with a variety of authorities, from historian E.B. Long to the members of the Hagerstown Civil War Round Table and the United States Civil War Centennial Commission, Murfin assembled this fine study of The Battle of Antietam and the Maryland Campaign of 1862 (the book’s subtitle).
The drama of the Maryland Campaign is considerable. With a string of recent victories under his belt, Confederate General Robert E. Lee decided it was a “most propitious time” to take his Army of Northern Virginia up into Maryland, carrying the war onto Union soil. U.S. President Abraham Lincoln meanwhile found himself having to depend upon a singularly undependable general – George B. McClellan, who was extraordinarily skilled as an organizer of armies but seemed indecisive and resolute when it was time to lead those armies into battle.
As Lee led his army into Maryland, hoping to find in that slaveholding border state numerous new recruits for the Confederate cause, he and his A.N.V. soldiers received a courteous but cool reception; Western Maryland had few plantations or slaves, and most Marylanders in this region were Unionist. Still, Maryland communities, of whatever sympathy, generally wanted to see the two armies pass through without bringing the desolation of war to their doorstep. Some communities took this determination to extremes – as with the community of Keedysville, Maryland, where “both sides were greeted with equal enthusiasm”:
The Confederate flag was displayed for Lee. When McClellan rode through later, he found the Union flag flying from every window. Neither party knew of the little trick and Keedysville maintained its neutrality, serving the wounded of both sides during the battle. (pp. 100-01)
With a confidence that some might consider foolhardy, Lee split his invading army into five parts, sending three parts to reduce a Union garrison at Harpers Ferry, a fourth to watch for Union militia from Pennsylvania, and a fifth to watch the South Mountain passes for McClellan’s Army of the Potomac. What Lee could not have anticipated, when he made these plans, was that a copy of his Special Orders No. 191, with his complete battle plan, would be found by a couple of Union enlisted men on a field near Frederick. The orders, wrapped around three cigars, were promptly delivered to McClellan.
To this day, no one knows how the “Lost Order” became lost; but it presented McClellan with a grand opportunity to pounce upon the divided parts of Lee’s army and crush each one in detail. It would have been like playing a football game with eleven players against the other side’s six, while possessing a copy of the other team’s playbook. But McClellan dithered and hesitated just enough for two parts of Lee’s divided army to gather at South Mountain and delay McClellan’s progress through the mountain passes. Murfin’s verdict is harsh but fair: “McClellan had the grandest opportunity of his military career. How he squandered away precious time is…one of the saddest moments of the war for the Union” (pp. 171-72).
Against all odds, seemingly, Stonewall Jackson’s three detachments did secure the surrender of the Union garrison at Harpers Ferry – the largest Union surrender of the Civil War – and just enough of them, by the morning of September 17, made the long march from Harpers Ferry to the hills and fields north of Sharpsburg, just west of where a little creek called Antietam provided a natural barrier. There, Lee would wait and give battle, knowing McClellan’s predilection for caution. “McClellan knew Lee,” Murfin writes. “What he did not know was that Lee knew McClellan” (p. 206).
Murfin sets forth the events of the battle in a comprehensive and thorough manner, capturing the ebb and flow of the fighting at the various sites that have become known to history – the Miller Cornfield, the West Woods, the Sunken Road (“Bloody Lane”), the Lower Bridge (“Burnside’s Bridge”). The maps are exceptional; indeed, maps will often follow each other, on consecutive pages, with a page of text complemented by a full-page map each time, to facilitate a reader’s understanding of how the battle progressed. The details are so fine on the maps that a reader whose vision is not 20/20 may need to use a magnifying glass!
It is usual to hear of how the soldiers of the Army of the Potomac loved General McClellan; after all, he had taken the beaten and demoralized soldiers from the war’s first battle at Bull Run, and had made them a disciplined and well-organized army. But Murfin emphasizes how the piecemeal and poorly planned manner in which McClellan fought the battle of Antietam -- and failed to pursue Lee, once the bloody and incomplete Union victory there forced Lee to take his army back into Virginia – seems to have had at least some of McClellan’s soldiers no longer feeling the love. An Army of the Potomac surgeon minced no words in that regard: “The feeling against Gen. McClellan to-day is no longer expressed in muttered disaffection, but in loud angry execration” (p. 299)
Yet Antietam was victory enough for President Lincoln to issue, six days after the battle, a preliminary Emancipation Proclamation, freeing all enslaved people in any state still in rebellion against the United States of America as of January 1, 1863. Murfin captures well the importance of that moment: “In a few strokes of the pen, with the thin thread of ‘victory’ at Sharpsburg as his guide, Lincoln changed the Civil War from a war of economics and politics to a war for the abolition of slavery, and automatically made…the Battle of Antietam one of the most decisive of the war” (p. 311).
Helpful appendices include a thorough treatment of the still-unresolved controversy over which Confederate officer or courier might have lost the “lost order,” as well as complete examples of correspondence from Union and Confederate leaders and officers, as well as British politicians who – before Antietam – were watching the conflict with an eye toward mediation between the two sides and even possible recognition of the Confederacy. One certainly gets a sense of the high stakes involved in the events that unfolded around Sharpsburg and along Antietam Creek.
Appendix C, with its setting-forth of the organization of the two armies, is particularly telling regarding the particularly bloody nature of this campaign, because Murfin conscientiously notes each leading officer who was killed or wounded at South Mountain on September 14, or at Antietam on September 17. Major generals, brigadier generals, colonels, lieutenant colonels, captains – one name after another is followed by the words “killed 9/17,” “wounded 9/17,” “killed 9/14,” “mortally wounded 9/17,” “wounded 9/14,” “killed 9/17,” “killed 9/17,” “killed 9/17,” “killed 9/17,” “killed 9/17.” The repetition of the words speaks eloquently of the high cost of Antietam.
Over half a century after its original publication, The Gleam of Bayonets remains one of the truly essential studies of the Maryland Campaign and the Battle of Antietam.