Too Useful to Sacrifice: Reconsidering George B. McClellan’s Generalship in the Maryland Campaign from South Mountain to Antietam

By Steven R. Stotelmyer

The importance of Robert E. Lee’s first movement north of the Potomac River in September 1862 is difficult to overstate. After his string of successes in Virginia, a decisive Confederate victory in Maryland or Pennsylvania may well have spun the war in an entirely different direction. Why he and his Virginia army did not find success across the Potomac was due in large measure to the generalship of George B. McClellan, as Steven Stotelmyer ably demonstrates in Too Useful to Sacrifice: Reconsidering George B. McClellan’s Generalship in the Maryland Campaign from South Mountain to Antietam, now available in paperback. History has typecast McClellan as the slow and overly cautious general who allowed opportunities to slip through his grasp and Lee’s battered army to escape. Stotelmyer disagrees and argues persuasively that he deserves significant credit for moving quickly, acting decisively, and defeating and turning back the South’s most able general. He accomplishes this with five comprehensive chapters, each dedicated to a specific major issue of the campaign: Fallacies Regarding the Lost Orders Antietam: The Sequel to South Mountain All the Injury Possible: The Day between South Mountain and Antietam General John Pope at Antietam and the Politics behind the Myth of the Unused Reserves Supplies and Demands: The Demise of General George B. McClellan Was McClellan’s response to the discovery of Lee’s Lost Orders really as slow and inept as we have been led to believe? Although routinely dismissed as a small prelude to the main event at Antietam, was the real Confederate high tide in Maryland the fight on South Mountain? Is the criticism leveled against McClellan for not rapidly pursuing Lee’s army after the victory on South Mountain warranted? Did McClellan really fail to make good use of his reserves in the bloody fighting on September 17? Finally, what is the true story behind McClellan’s apparent “failure” to pursue the defeated Confederate army after Antietam that convinced President Lincoln to sack him? In Too Useful to Sacrifice, Stotelmyer combines extensive primary research, smooth prose, and a keen appreciation for the infrastructure and capabilities of the terrain of nineteenth century Maryland. The result is one of the most eye-opening and groundbreaking essay collections in modern memory. Readers will never look at this campaign the same way again. By the time they close this book, most readers will agree Lincoln had no need to continue his search for a capable army commander because he already had one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Sep 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781611213058

Book preview

Introduction

on July 4, 1863, Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee, with nearly a quarter of his Army of Northern Virginia dead or dying on the field after the Battle of Gettysburg, had no choice but to abandon his second movement into the North and retreat across the Potomac River into the Confederacy. The bloody battle ended Lee’s quest for a decisive victory on enemy soil.

This was not the first time Lee had led his army northward and suffered a similar end. Just nine months earlier on September 18, 1862, with nearly a quarter of his Army of Northern Virginia dead or dying on the field after the Battle of Antietam, Lee had no choice but to abandon his first movement into the North and retreat across the Potomac into the Confederacy. The bloody battle on September 17 ended Lee’s quest for a decisive victory on enemy soil.

Gettysburg has been called the High Tide of the Confederacy and is traditionally considered to be the turning point in the war. It is widely celebrated as a glorious victory for Maj. Gen. George G. Meade, the commander of the Army of the Potomac. Antietam, on the other hand, is usually looked upon as a stalemate—a tactical draw and a battle Maj. Gen. George B. McClellan was lucky to have won and negligent for waging in the manner in which he did.

There is another interesting parallel to consider. Meade essentially entrenched his army on higher ground and let Lee attack him for two days (July 1 and 2, 1863). McClellan, who honestly believed he was outnumbered, aggressively attacked Lee on higher ground.

There is a growing recognition in the historical community that Antietam, part of the fascinating and complex Maryland Campaign of 1862, represented the true high tide of the Confederacy and was a major turning point in the Civil War. And yet, McClellan has traditionally been ridiculed and vilified for not doing more.

I was twelve-years-old during the centennial anniversary of the Battle of Antietam. What I like to call the centennial theme of events was little more than a caricature pitting Robert the Bold against George the Timid—the accepted stereotype of the slow and overly cautious general who did not want to fight an aggressive enemy dominated most of the twentieth century. I believed it myself for at least half of my adult life.

During my tenure with the Central Maryland Heritage League I learned a good deal about the battle of South Mountain. That experience made me painfully aware of my ignorance of the Maryland Campaign. The more I studied the campaign, the more I came to discover that several aspects of the operation did not fit the accepted stereotype. My quest to understand it forced a rethinking of what I thought I knew about General McClellan.

Take, for example, the Battle of South Mountain on September 14, 1862. This important and largely overlooked battle came about primarily because McClellan moved his army westward through Maryland much faster than his opponent anticipated he would or could. McClellan caught General Lee flatfooted and totally unprepared to fight for the control of the critical passes of South Mountain. The Union victory there changed the course of the entire campaign. Three days later Lee found himself essentially trapped with his back to the Potomac River and any route north cut off by Union forces. McClellan assumed the offensive and forced the Virginian into another major battle. Little Mac attacked an enemy positioned on high ground even though he believed he was outnumbered—a bold decision that did not suggest timidity. To this day the combat at Antietam holds the distinction of being the bloodiest single day of any war in our nation’s history. Something is wrong with the accepted stereotype.

Many other adjectives have been thrown at McClellan and most of them have stuck in the public consciousness. The general has been (and still is) described as indecisive, petty, vain, secretive, vindictive, and even traitorous. Some authors suggest, without any clinical evidence, that he suffered from emotional and psychological disorders. Attempts to suggest otherwise usually invite ridicule and charges of being an apologist for the mediocre general who let Lee (i.e., the Confederacy) escape to fight another day.

Just like the rest of us, McClellan was an imperfect human being. He also possessed many admirable traits that are too often overshadowed when compared to his many supposed shortcomings repeated in the familiar telling of these events. As we will see, most of the negative criticisms have their origin in the political, not the military, arena. His greatest shortcoming may have been that he belonged to the opposition party during wartime. The Union was simultaneously at war with the Confederacy and itself over many things, including its war aims. In that particular conflict, McClellan fought on the losing side. History might have remembered him differently had he not been the Democratic presidential candidate who challenged Lincoln the Republican incumbent in 1864.

* * *

This study consists of five original essays. The first, Fallacies Regarding the Lost Orders and the Maryland Campaign of 1862 centers around Frederick, Maryland, the locus of one of the most popular stories of the Maryland Campaign. Most histories blame McClellan for failing to capitalize on his serendipitous good fortune of landing a copy of General Lee’s Special Orders No. 191. Closer scrutiny suggests that he made the best of whatever opportunity the document provided (which probably wasn’t as much as most people believe).

Between Carroll Creek in Frederick, and Antietam Creek at Sharpsburg, stands South Mountain. The first major Civil War battle in Maryland took place on this mountain chain on September 14, 1862. Our second essay, Antietam: The Sequel to South Mountain, studies this combat that has for too long been relegated to the backwaters of history. The Battle of South Mountain is usually dismissed as nothing more than the prelude to Antietam. In fact, the battle (which was a direct result of McClellan’s generalship) had a profound effect on the course of the rest of the campaign. Why it remains so little understood is a mystery. An analysis of Antietam’s relationship to South Mountain is long overdue.

Finally, three essays address General McClellan and events after South Mountain. McClellan is often criticized for failing to rapidly pursue Lee’s army after the Union success at South Mountain. All the Injury Possible: The True Prelude to Antietam, underscores that, like other aspects of the campaign, the popular criticism has no basis in reality.

The fourth essay, General John Pope at Antietam and the Politics Behind the Myth of General Fitz-John Porter’s Reserves, addresses the influence of the Federal defeat at Second Bull Run less than three weeks earlier. One of the Antietam participants, Maj. Gen. Fitz-John Porter, would become not only a hapless victim of the earlier debacle, but bear unjustly the responsibility for McClellan’s less-than-decisive victory at Antietam. As it turns out, Porter was unreasonably censured in both engagements not for his military actions, but for his party affiliation and friendship with McClellan. Fitz-John Porter is quite likely the most unjustly persecuted military figure in our nation’s history. I hope this essay not only contributes to his redemption, but debunks the myth that McClellan failed to commit thousands of troops held in reserve at Antietam.

Supplies and Demands rounds out this collection by dealing with the often-told story of McClellan’s failure to pursue the defeated Confederate army after Antietam, and President Lincoln’s frustration over the matter. The impasse eventually resulted in McClellan’s removal from command. The primary evidence swirling around this complex decision to sack him demonstrates it had little to do with any military shortcomings, but much to do with the political machinations of the Lincoln Administration.

It is my hope that these essays inspire deeper research and interest in these and other subjects surrounding the ever-fascinating Maryland Campaign of 1862, and a better and more balanced understanding of the Union general in charge of the operation.

Acknowledgments

I would like to acknowledge everyone who offered invaluable assistance over the years to make this book possible. I fear it will not be a complete list because I have talked to so many people since I began my research I cannot remember them all.

First, I wish to express my gratitude to my publisher Theodore P. Savas for the opportunity to not only present a positive work about McClellan, but to also contribute to the scholarship of the Maryland Campaign. I am also extremely grateful to Bradley M. Gottfried for his valuable assistance with the maps in this book, and Tom Schott and Ted Savas for helping edit my book.

I need to posthumously thank Joseph L. Harsh, one of the first to seriously cast doubt on the popular stereotypes surrounding the campaign and General McClellan. In the brief time I knew him, he provided invaluable assistance.

I am indebted to Kurt Graham for helping me solve the mystery surrounding events at Fox’s Gap. My understanding of events there would have remained incomplete were it not for archeologist Joe Baker. I shall always be indebted to George Brigham who taught me a great deal about South Mountain, and for the opportunity to walk ground usually denied the visitors. Although our vision for the battlefield’s future may have differed towards the end of my tenure with the Central Maryland Heritage League, our respect for the ground and for those who gave that last measure of devotion at South Mountain always remained the same. Likewise, my thanks to Al Preston, former assistant park manager of the South Mountain State Battlefield, who shared my feelings about the place. A battlefield cannot be understood without walking the ground and George and Al contributed to my understanding of the fighting on South Mountain.

Thanks also to Mary Mannix and the staff of the Maryland Room at the C. Burr Artz Public Library, Frederick, Maryland, and John Frye and staff of the Western Maryland Room at the Washington County Free Library in Hagerstown. The immensity of the resources and assistance available through these two facilities cannot be adequately put into words.

My appreciation also to Lt. Col. Kevin Anastas, US Army (ret.), and historian Ethan S. Rafuse for their invaluable assistance with my understanding of military doctrine and its terms and jargon. Both Kevin and Ethan have greatly improved my civilian understanding of military events. I wish to also posthumously thank Antietam National Battlefield Park Ranger Paul Chiles, who was always available and eager to help on any topic related to Antietam. Thanks also to current rangers Brian Baracz and Keith Snyder for their help and support over the years.

I want to thank all my fellow tour guides at Antietam National Battlefield. They have proven time and time again to be a resource of immense value. Park ranger (ret.), historian, and former gatekeeper of the Antietam library Ted Alexander offered his invaluable assistance and thoughtful suggestions. Ted was responsible for me becoming a volunteer at Antietam, an experience I treasure to this day. I am especially grateful to fellow guides Gary Rohrer and Jim Buchanan for their time and talent with the tedious duty of proofreading. I consider Daniel Carroll Toomey not only a friend but an authority on all things Maryland. I owe him a great debt of gratitude for his help and support over the years. No list of acknowledgments would be complete without special thanks to my dear friend John W. Schildt. Without the contributions of these extraordinary people, this book would not have been possible.

I especially want to thank Dr. Thomas G. Clemens. I have known Tom since my early days with the Central Maryland Heritage League. Tom was, and still is, greatly involved in the Save Historic Antietam Foundation, so our paths often crossed when it came to issues involving battlefield preservation in Maryland. Tom is not only one of the most knowledgeable Civil War historians I have had the good fortune to know, but one of the most even tempered and affable human beings I have ever met. I have never seen Tom short-tempered or angry or petty or condescending. His patient assistance with questions about Antietam and the Maryland Campaign is beyond description.

Lastly, I wish to thank the three most important people in my life: my wife and daughters. Daughters Amber and Holly endured innumerable trips throughout their childhood to Antietam and especially South Mountain. They suffered through countless discussions on arcane subjects that made their eyes glaze over and their hair hurt. The same goes for my wonderful wife Deborah, who has always tried to understand my passion for South Mountain and Antietam. It is largely due to her gentle prodding and friendly persuasion that this collection of essays has come to be. Through it all she remains my most loyal advocate and my best friend. Consequently, she gets my final and most grateful thanks.

Steven R. Stotelmyer

March 2019

Chapter 1

Fallacies Regarding the Lost Orders and the Maryland Campaign of 1862

Few generals in history have had a greater piece of fortune than that which had befallen George McClellan . . . It is to be hoped that some capable smokers derived more good out of the three cigars than McClellan was to get out of the order in which they were wrapped.

– Kenneth P. Williams¹

Following the Confederate army’s pyrrhic victory on the Virginia Peninsula in early July 1862, the tactical victory at Second Manassas on August 30, 1862, and clash at Chantilly two days later, General Robert E. Lee moved his army of Northern Virginia across the Potomac River into Northern territory for the first time during the Civil War. The bold move began the Maryland Campaign of 1862. ²

Elements of Lee’s army left Virginia on Thursday, September 4, 1862, and crossed the Potomac River. Although the battle of Gettysburg is often referred to as the high tide of the Confederacy, many historians have come to realize that the events nine months earlier better fit the metaphor. The Maryland Campaign represented the true high tide of the Confederate States of America and the best chance the South would ever have for realizing the fledgling nation’s strategic goal of independence. At no time during the war were Confederate prospects so bright, wrote James Ford Rhodes. Scholars still argue whether Lee planned to operate in western Maryland or move into Pennsylvania, but either way, many in the South hoped such an ambitious and risky move would accomplish certain objectives.³

Some newspapers in the North were already declaring the war a failure, and the Confederate leadership thought that another victory, this time on Union soil, would lead the North to sue for a negotiated peace. Some also hoped that such a victory might persuade the European governments to grant diplomatic recognition and with it, much needed aid and assistance negotiating a treaty with the North. A movement north would also relieve Virginia of the burden of feeding Lee’s hungry army. Across the Potomac lay the untouched fields of Maryland. Many Southerners considered Maryland a sister state whose citizens might be persuaded to cast their lot with the Confederacy if given the opportunity. With a Confederate Maryland, the Union capital at Washington would be completely surrounded by enemy territory. Regardless of campaign objectives, the movement into the North maintained the initiative gained by Lee during the summer of 1862.⁴

On Saturday, September 6, the Confederate army began its occupation of Frederick, Maryland. Evidence indicates that Lee intended to use the Shenandoah Valley as his line of communication and supply during the campaign. However, controlling the northern terminus of the valley was a Union garrison at Harpers Ferry, Virginia. That garrison represented a threat to Lee’s operations, and he could not allow those Federal troops to operate against his supply line. Consequently, Lee decided to neutralize the threat. Historians still disagree over whether Lee truly meant to lay siege to the hapless garrison, or merely induce it to leave and chase it away. Nonetheless, one thing remains certain: The decision to operate against Harpers Ferry, and the method of accomplishing it, adversely affected Lee’s entire campaign.⁵

Frederick, Maryland. In 1862, all roads led into or out of Frederick. Hagan’s Gap, where the National Road passes over the Catoctin Mountains, is visible on the far left. 1858 Isaac Bond Map

Ultimately, Lee divided his army into five parts for the Harpers Ferry operation and separated the parts by as much as 20 miles from Harpers Ferry, Virginia, to Hagerstown, Maryland. On September 9, Lee issued Special Orders No. 191, which set forth how his army was to conduct operations. Lee’s operations against Harpers Ferry were set to conclude on September 12. It appears Lee was convinced it would be weeks before the demoralized Union army that had been badly beaten at Manassas would be able to respond to the Confederate threat. The evidence indicates Lee assumed he had ample time to remove the threat to his supply line and reunite his divided army at Hagerstown for future operations. By September 11, the Confederate army had departed Frederick in its pursuit of the Harpers Ferry operation.

After an imposed hiatus by the Lincoln Administration following his failed Peninsula Campaign, Union Maj. Gen. George B. McClellan resumed field command of the Army of the Potomac by September 7, joining the army near Rockville, Maryland.⁶ Much controversy, most of it stemming from the partisan politics of the times, surrounds McClellan. Even his most ardent critics, however, agree that his resumption of command quickly restored the army’s morale. McClellan faced the difficult task of not only organizing an army for operations in the field, but of also leading that same army against an enemy that many in the North thought invincible. Regardless of the challenging tasks he faced, on September 12—less than a week after taking command of the field army—McClellan’s vanguard entered Frederick.⁷

Up until this point things were going reasonably well for Lee. True, the Harpers Ferry operation was taking longer than expected, but Lee still believed that he had ample time to conclude the operation and unite his scattered army. However, on September 13, events began to unravel for his campaign. On that day, while resting in a field near Frederick, Union soldiers from the 27th IN found a copy of Lee’s Special Orders No. 191 wrapped around some cigars, which had unknowingly been lost by the Confederates. How the document was lost, and who lost it, remain a mystery to this day. The famous Lost Orders revealed Lee’s plans and the dispositions of his troops. It provided his adversary with a rare opportunity seldom seen in the history of warfare, an opportunity wasted on the cautious and timid McClellan. The discovery of the orders helped change the course of the war. Or so the story goes. The facts, however, indicate otherwise.

One of the erroneous beliefs that need to be corrected is the idea that finding the document was a singular event, a turning point in the war. Other fallacies include the notions that the Lost Orders were responsible for Lee’s failed campaign, McClellan’s sudden rapid movement, and the genesis of both the battles of South Mountain and Antietam. This chapter provides a comprehensive analysis exposing long-established misconceptions about McClellan’s conduct on September 13, with special attention to the myth that 18 hours passed after the document reached McClellan before he issued any orders or took any action.

It is safe to conclude that no other document of the Civil War has generated so much mystery, controversy, and misinformation than the copy of Lee’s Special Orders No. 191—the notorious Lost Orders handed to Maj. Gen. McClellan on Saturday, September 13, 1862. Historians and authors critical of McClellan have written widely over the intervening years about the significance of the find and its effect on the campaign. One of McClellan’s earliest critics, Brig. Gen. Francis W. Palfrey, claimed: The finding of this piece of paper was a piece of rare good fortune. It placed the Army of Northern Virginia at the mercy of McClellan. One of Lee’s staffers, Maj. Walter H. Taylor, took the rhetoric surrounding the Lost Orders to a new level of exaggeration after the war. The God of battles alone knows what would have occurred but for the singular accident mentioned, he declared. Certainly the loss of this battle order constitutes one of the pivots on which turned the event of the war.

The belief that finding the Lost Orders represented a turning point in the war survived well into the next century. Bruce Catton, one of the most popular twentieth century Civil War authors, referred to the document as the greatest security leak in American military history—the only one that ever finally affected the outcome of a great war. Pulitzer Prize-winning historian James M. McPherson echoed the judgment: It was a remarkable example of the contingencies that change the course of history. This exaggerated prose has been accepted as fact, and the document has acquired the stature of paramount importance regarding its influence upon the Maryland Campaign, and in some instances upon the outcome of the war itself.⁸

However, this alleged importance is largely due to the mere happenstance that finding the Lost Orders coincided with other events of the campaign— non-related events that reversed General Lee’s fortunes. As historian Joseph L. Harsh noted, finding the Lost Orders was One of the most dramatic episodes and spinable yarns of the war. Most of the popular chroniclers of the campaign have spun the yarn and used the document to castigate George B. McClellan, while others have presented it as a ready- made excuse to explain the Lee failure to find success in Maryland.⁹

In conjunction with the belief that finding the Lost Orders represented a turning point in the war are other popular beliefs about McClellan and the document. These corollary misconceptions single him out for botching a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity seldom enjoyed in military history by other commanders. In addition, several other related themes pop up in the literature of the Maryland Campaign regarding this document. These misconceptions include the belief that finding the Lost Orders somehow presented a chance to actually destroy the Army of Northern Virginia and perhaps bring an early conclusion to the war. The most popular charge is the claim that McClellan failed to capitalize on the discovery by rapidly moving his army out of Frederick that same day. As events transpired, the Maryland Campaign ended in failure for the Confederacy and the Lost Orders have become an accepted explanation for Lee’s misfortune.

To fully understand the circumstances behind finding the Lost Orders, it is necessary to look at McClellan’s movement to Frederick. One of the corollary themes associated with the Lost Orders is that McClellan’s movements during the campaign were slow, and that it was only the discovery of the document that quickened his pace. As we will see, there simply is no basis in fact for this misconception.

One of the greatest challenges facing McClellan at this time was moving large bodies of men and equipment over the limited road network in Maryland. Civil War-era roads were not as limited in number as they were in their capacity. Most nineteenth century roads were not designed but developed over time. Indian trails and farm roads worn and eroded into little more than rutted paths formed the basis for many of the local or secondary roads in the United States at this time. Constructed and planned roadways, such as the National Road, were the exception rather than the rule. Even though Maryland had more privatized toll roads (or macadamized turnpikes) than other states, to the modern observer these turnpikes would appear as little more than gravel driveways. ¹⁰ Furthermore, since many of the rutted and eroded pathways were single lane affairs, their capacity was severely limited. A general rule of thumb for most Civil War armies on the move was that about one mile of linear roadway was needed for every 1,000 men. This includes everything that accompanied the infantry, including cavalry, artillery, transport wagons, and ambulances, plus horses and mules. Assuming the accepted number of roughly 87,000 men credited to him at Antietam, if McClellan had moved his Army of the Potomac on just one road, his command would have stretched at least 87 miles. To put this into context, by the time McClellan’s vanguard had reached the Antietam Creek, the rearguard would still have been in Washington, DC.¹¹

McClellan started his move toward Frederick with three broad campaign objectives: (1) Cover Washington and Baltimore from enemy attack, or occupation; (2) Prevent the anticipated Confederate invasion of Pennsylvania, and; (3) Force the enemy out of Maryland and back across the Potomac.¹²

The army McClellan began moving out of Washington toward Frederick was the Army of the Potomac in name only. The army of 60,000 or so men¹³ consisted of four parts: The remnants of McClellan’s Peninsula forces; the remains of Maj. Gen. John Pope’s defeated Army of Virginia; Maj. Gen. Ambrose E. Burnside’s independent IX Corps; and 18 new regiments of raw recruits who barely knew how to load and fire their weapons. McClellan inherited something akin to an armed mob with a command structure in chaos—a jigsaw puzzle thrown out on a table that he scooped up and put together on the march through the Maryland countryside. This description of McClellan’s army in September 1862 is not modern revisionism. Louise Philippe Albert the Comte de Paris, grandson of the king of France, joined the Union army when the war began under the name Philippe d’Orleans and served as a captain on McClellan’s staff. Two weeks only had elapsed since he [McClellan] had taken command of this army, or rather this disorganized mob, recalled D’Orleans.¹⁴

The Rear of the Column. This illustration (based on a war-time sketch) is in an article about 2nd Manassas, but it provides an idea of the congested nature of movement of Civil War armies and nineteenth century roads. Battles and Leaders

To deal with the logistical problem of the limited road system and at the same time meet the possible contingencies resulting from the Confederate incursion into Maryland, McClellan organized his field army into three wings and moved by different routes toward western Maryland. The Right Wing consisted of Maj. Gen. Irvin McDowell’s former III Corps of Pope’s defeated army (redesignated I Corps and put under Maj. Gen. Joseph Hooker), and the IX Corps (expanded from two to four divisions commanded by Maj. Gen. Jesse Lee Reno). McClellan appointed Maj. Gen. Ambrose Burnside to lead this wing. The Right Wing traveled more or less north to the National Road and then west using the National Road to Frederick . McClellan’s Center Wing was commanded by Maj. Gen. Edwin Sumner, who retained command of his II Corps while exercising command of Nathaniel Bank’s former II Corps in Pope’s Army (redesignated XII Corps in the Army of the Potomac and placed under Maj. Gen. Joseph K. F. Mansfield, a relatively unknown officer). Mansfield’s order to command was not sent out until September 8, and he would not join his corps until September 15. Until then, command fell upon Maj. Gen. Alpheus S. Williams. Sumner’s troops followed a path northwest out of Rockville, through Urbana, and into Frederick. McClellan gave command of his Left Wing to another of his most trusted subordinates, Maj. Gen. William B. Franklin. Franklin’s route carried his troops by a path closer to the Potomac River, which meant that his command did not play a part in the finding of the Lost Orders.¹⁵

McClellan’s initial movements were meant to accomplish his first campaign objective of covering Baltimore and Washington, DC. Even so, the movement of his army was relatively rapid, not slow. The description of McClellan’s pursuit of Lee as rapid may make readers pause because it is widely believed in the popular literature of the Maryland Campaign that McClellan moved slowly through the countryside in his pursuit of the Confederate army.

William Swinton, one of the earliest chroniclers of the Army of the Potomac, described McClellan’s movement as so tardy as to justify the Confederate commander in the belief that the reduction of Harper’s Ferry would be accomplished and his columns again concentrated before he would be called upon to meet the Union army. Stephen W. Sears, one of the most popular modern writers critical of McClellan, explained it this way: The Young Napoleon advanced his army slowly and with elaborate caution, making no attempt to seize control of events. James V. Murfin, another influential Maryland Campaign author of the twentieth century simply wrote, McClellan dallied on his way to meet Lee. Even military analysts who should have known better were eager to jump on the bandwagon. Brigadier General Francis Palfrey, a nineteenth century historian and veteran of the Maryland Campaign, observed, The army moved slowly. In the early part of the twentieth century Maj. Mathew Forney Steele echoed earlier assessments of McClellan’s movement: Lee was emboldened . . . by the slow and leisurely way in which McClellan was following him.¹⁶

Given the plethora of supporting opinions offered by historians over the intervening years, it is easy to understand how such a misconception has become cemented into the standard telling of the Maryland Campaign. These same historians, and many others, often justified their judgment with what seemed to be conclusive empirical evidence. Writing in 1864, Swinton declared, McClellan, intrusted with the duty of meeting and crushing the invading army, moved out by slow and easy stages, at an average of six miles a day, and accommodated Lee with all the time he needed. This was affirmed by Brig. Gen. Peter S. Michie: The slow progress made by McClellan has been very severely criticized by military writers . . . it did not average more than six miles a day. Another military critic, Lt. Gen. Edward J. Stackpole, also affirmed this six-miles-a-day fact, as did Sears. By the late twentieth century, McClellan’s movement was not just slow, but nearly immobile. A. Wilson Greene ratcheted up the anti-McClellan rhetoric to a new level in an influential collection of essays on the campaign when he described the march thusly: The army progressed at a glacial pace, covering an average of just six miles per day between Washington and Frederick.¹⁷

The facts tell another story. On September 6, McClellan was verbally ordered by President Lincoln to take command of the forces in the field, which he did the next day.¹⁸ On September 7, he directed Burnside to march his army wing to Frederick. The Right Wing (Reno’s IX Corps and Hooker’s I Corps) had the longest marches to Frederick than any other troops in the Army of the Potomac.¹⁹ On September 7, the 23rd OH, one of six infantry regiments in the Kanawha Division and the vanguard of Reno’s IX Corps, marched from its bivouac in the vicinity of the suburbs of Washington twelve to fifteen miles, and on September 9 marched another eight miles.²⁰

On September 11, the Kanawha Division marched from Goshen through the hamlet of Damascus to Ridgeville, Maryland, a distance of 10-12 miles. The next day, the same division marched from Ridgeville to Frederick, a distance of at least 12 miles. This brought the total distance for two days to between 22 and 24 miles. For argument’s sake, let us accept the lower value of 22 miles. The average rate for two days of travel by the division becomes 11 miles per day.²¹ It is interesting to note that future