When Hell Came to Sharpsburg: The Battle of Antietam and its Impact on the Civilians Who Called it Home

By Steven Cowie

Discover a forgotten chapter of American history with Steven Cowie's riveting account of the Battle of Antietam.

The Battle of Antietam, fought in and around Sharpsburg, Maryland, on September 17, 1862, was the bloodiest day in American history. Despite the large number of books and articles on the subject, the battle’s horrendous toll on area civilians is rarely discussed. When Hell Came to Sharpsburg: The Battle of Antietam and Its Impact on the Civilians Who Called It Home by Steven Cowie rectifies this oversight.

By the time the battle ended about dusk that day, more than 23,000 men had been killed, wounded, or captured in just a dozen hours of combat—a grim statistic that tells only part of the story. The epicenter of that deadly day was the small community of Sharpsburg. Families lived, worked, and worshipped there. It was their home. And the horrific fighting
turned their lives upside down.

When Hell Came to Sharpsburg investigates how the battle and opposing armies wreaked emotional, physical, and financial havoc on the people of Sharpsburg. For proper context, the author explores the savage struggle and its gory aftermath and explains how soldiers stripped the community of resources and spread diseases. Cowie carefully and meticulously follows the fortunes of individual families like the Mummas, Roulettes, Millers, and many others—ordinary folk thrust into harrowing circumstances—and their struggle to recover from their unexpected and often devastating losses.

Cowie’s comprehensive study is grounded in years of careful research. He unearthed a trove of previously unused archival accounts and examined scores of primary sources such as letters, diaries, regimental histories, and official reports. Packed with explanatory footnotes, original maps, and photographs, Cowie’s richly detailed book is a must-read for those seeking new information on the battle and the perspective of the citizens who suffered because of it. Antietam’s impact on the local community was an American tragedy, and it is told here completely for the first time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Savas Beatie
• Release date: Aug 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781611215915

Steven Cowie

Steven Cowie earned a degree from California State University, Long Beach. As part of the Los Angeles film industry, he penned spec screenplays and sold his award-winning short film Lola to the Sundance Channel. A lifelong student of the Civil War, Cowie dedicated eighteen years to researching and writing When Hell Came to Sharpsburg.

Book preview

List of Maps

Overview of the 1862 Maryland Campaign

Overview of the Battle of Antietam

Wide View of the Sharpsburg Vicinity

1862 Sharpsburg Area Landowners (Northwest)

1862 Sharpsburg Area Landowners (Southwest)

1862 Sharpsburg Area Landowners (Northeast)

1862 Sharpsburg Area Landowners (Southeast)

1862 Sharpsburg Village Lots

Sharpsburg Village Lot Owners: September 1862

Sharpsburg Village Lot Owners: September 1862

Based on the author’s research of land records, equity cases, wills, war claims, census records, and other primary sources

Chapter 1

Something of the Terrible: The Gathering of the Armies

Cannon fire shook the earth as villagers fled their homes. Buildings burned. Dogs howled. Birds darted through the smoky sky, shifting direction with each explosion. In the street there was the greatest confusion, remembered one witness. Dead and wounded men and horses lay about in every direction … waggons and ambulances overturned in the hurry and anxiety of everybody to get out of the village, where cannon-balls whizzed incessantly through the air, and pieces of bursting shells, splinters of wood, and scattered fragments of brick were whirled about in the dense cloud of powdersmoke that enveloped all things. ¹

We hadn’t gone only a couple of houses, recalled a villager, when a shell busted right over our heads. So we took back to the cellar in a hurry. The way they was shootin’ and goin’ on we might have been killed befo’ we was out of town.²

Elizabeth Miller Blackford, 50 and widowed, studied the terrifying scene from her village home while wrestling with a gut-wrenching decision. Stay to protect her property or flee the missiles plunging into town?

I was standing in the window, Elizabeth remembered, when a shell exploded in Mr[s] Russel’s house between the roof and the ceiling [it] sent the shingles flying every direction … it was that, that unnerved me at the moment. I gave way and we left.

Elizabeth, her children, and a slave named Nan fled their village home, rushing west up Main Street. All was chaos. Ambulances rumbled past burning buildings, hauling mangled Confederates, their blood dripping onto the dusty street. A dead horse lay in the road with his whole backbone split wide open. Elizabeth and her family ran for their lives, going out the back way to Gerry Groves Town woods, with the shells flying over our heads and around us, we were in more danger than if we had staid home.³

It was September 16, 1862. For all the violence, the actual battle had yet to begin. The rural village of Sharpsburg, Maryland was just hours away from the bloodiest day in American military history, during which 100,000 soldiers would clash near a creek called Antietam.

*   *   *

Up to 1862, Sharpsburg had avoided the ravages of war. Historian Stephen W. Sears described it as a quiet place, an entirely ordinary little rural community where the roads came together. Founded in 1763, Sharpsburg rested near the Potomac River, which bisected Federal Maryland and Confederate Virginia. Because Maryland was a Union state, U.S. forces picketed the river to watch for potential passage by the Rebel army. Maryland was also a slaveholding border state. Its eastern and southern sections had many Confederate sympathizers, while citizens in Western Maryland—which included Sharpsburg—predominantly favored the Union. As a result, Sharpsburg’s initial military experiences were reasonably pleasant. When the 9th Regiment, New York State Militia, marched through town in July 1861, pro-Union villagers cheered the troops and showered them with American flags. One New Yorker recalled, It is doubtful whether any regiment in the service ever marched under so many banners as did the Ninth on its departure from Sharpsburg.

Sharpsburg, Md., Principal Street. This 1862 view of Sharpsburg village, taken from the eastern edge of town, looks northwest down Main Street. Photograph by Alexander Gardner. Library of Congress

Two months later, citizens embraced the 13th Massachusetts Infantry during its two-week encampment near town. Relations with the people of Sharpsburg were very pleasant, wrote the regiment’s historian, and they did their best to prevent our departure.⁴

When the 12th Indiana Infantry occupied Sharpsburg during the winter of 1861–62, townsfolk welcomed the Hoosiers. Jacob H. Grove boarded the regiment’s officers while Robert Leakins, an eleven-year-old African-American who lived in town, visited the camp to hear the band play. When temperatures dropped, the Indianans leaned on the community for support, requesting timber from private woodlots for constructing military cabins. The troops had our tinner here to make them sheet iron stoves which they used in the huts, remembered one townsman.⁵

As winter progressed, some soldiers sheltered along the Potomac River in Jacob C. Grove’s warehouse and Squire Jacob Miller’s sawmill complex. Others, exposed to the elements, asked citizens for firewood or felled trees at will—and without asking. Much of the wood was valuable oak reserved for market sale and building barns. Squire Jacob Miller, a prominent landowner, complained that the soldiers were comitting great depradations to the timber supply and thining it out most retchidly. Destruction ceased when the 12th Indiana departed in March 1862. Yet, by this time, some residents no longer saw them as soldiers crusading to save the Union but as an unwelcome army of occupation.⁶

Despite suffering property damages from U.S. troops in 1861 and early 1862, Sharpsburg had avoided the scourge of war. Nevertheless, fears swirled that the Confederate army might cross the Potomac River one day. As one skittish Unionist put it, Invasion by the Southern army was considered equivalent to destruction. Not only could a battle erupt near the town; Rebels might plunder personal property, force Maryland men into the Confederate ranks, or banish them to a Southern prison, none of which were attractive prospects for quiet, Union-loving citizens.⁷

Not all Sharpsburg residents feared the Rebels. Many Southern sympathizers lived in the area, and more than a dozen stole across the Potomac to enlist in the Confederate army. Still, Sharpsburg was predominantly pro-Union, described by one historian as a Unionist and Republican bastion. More than 130 Sharpsburg men fought for the United States. The district raised two companies of the 1st Maryland Infantry, Potomac Home Brigade, and sent other men into the 1st Maryland Cavalry, known initially as Cole’s Cavalry.

Notwithstanding, the political divide strained relations in the Sharpsburg environs. Pro-Lincoln Republicans deemed Democrats as disloyal because they opposed the war. In our community politics ran pretty high during the war, explained farmer David R. Miller, and some persons called every man who voted the democratic ticket a rebel, but there were many democrats who were loyal and patriotic citizens. James Marker, an outspoken Democrat, was not allowed to vote from 1862 until after the war on account of his disloyal sentiments. Adam Michael’s family were strong Democrats, and on some occasions the father and sons were stoned at the polls by some of the Republican elements of the town and not allowed to vote.⁸

Political tensions escalated as the war progressed. Secessionists hacked down the U.S. flag on Sharpsburg’s public square, while Unionists torched the barns of Reverend Robert Douglas and John E. Knode. Douglas had two sons in the Southern army. Knode, a pro-Northern Whig, married into the Rebel Stonebraker family. After Knode’s barn burned, his nephew, a Confederate soldier, quipped, It cost something in those days to be joined to a Southern woman in wedlock.

Tragedy struck when unknown parties murdered Dewitt Clinton Rentch, a local Democrat. Debate swirled as to whether Rentch was shot by Union soldiers as a rebel spy or killed by pro-Northern roughs in a drunken row. Sheriff E. M. Mobley went with the states attorney to make an investigation, but nothing was done about it. Rentch’s family seethed at the injustice. Oh my I did not know I had so much gall in my nature until this war question was brought up, wrote Rentch’s cousin. I shudder now at my feelings … I hated my most intimate friends because they were in favor of the Union right or wrong.⁹

*   *   *

When September 1862 arrived, farmers of both political parties focused on the fall harvest. They busily threshed grains and stuffed mountains of hay into barns while eyeing their nearly-ripe corn, potatoes, fruits, and vegetables. Pastures bloomed with second crops of clover. Freshly plowed fields awaited seeding with winter wheat. The community depended on all of these resources for subsistence, livestock feed, and annual income. In many respects, this was the worst possible time for disruption of farming.

Then came the shocking news that the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia had marched into Maryland.

General Robert E. Lee had good reasons for advancing north. The Confederacy recently seized the initiative in the war by repulsing the Union army from the Richmond peninsula and then crushing it at the Battle of Second Manassas (Bull Run). By entering Maryland, Lee could build on the momentum and bring the war out of Virginia. He also entertained the hope of liberating the slaveholding Old Line State, which, as he and other Secessionists believed, the United States withheld from the Confederacy against the will of a majority of its people. Most important, Lee sought a decisive battle against the battered Yankees on ground of his choosing. Despite the advantages of fighting a defensive war on home territory, Lee knew the Confederacy could not win a long-term war of attrition against the industrial North. He needed a quick victory, now, while the Union was on the ropes.

The United States was indeed reeling. Routed at Second Manassas, Federal forces had retreated to the fortifications of Washington. Fall mid-term elections were looming, and if morale continued to decline, Northern voters might demand an end to the bloody war by granting independence to the Confederacy. Moreover, the American crisis was injuring the economies of England and France. If Rebel armies continued their military successes, these foreign powers might intervene on behalf of the South.¹⁰

In early September, Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia (ANV) crossed the Potomac River into Maryland at White’s Ford and other points, more than forty miles southeast of Sharpsburg. Unfortunately for Lee, many Marylanders in the vicinity did not welcome the ANV as he had hoped, despite the large number of southern sympathizers living in Montgomery and Frederick counties. On the contrary, numerous civilians hurriedly packed valuables, withdrew savings from banks, and fled north. In Sharpsburg, however, there was no great panic. Most residents remained to thresh their grain crops and watch over their property. Lee’s army seemed to pose no immediate threat.

When he entered Maryland, Lee expected U.S. military garrisons near Harpers Ferry to evacuate, but, to his surprise, they stayed put, threatening his supply and communication lines to the Shenandoah Valley. To address this threat, Lee sent Major General Thomas Stonewall Jackson and two thirds of the army to confront the enemy at Harpers Ferry. Lee then continued toward Hagerstown with the rest of the ANV, but ordered a division to guard the gaps of South Mountain and thereby prevent the enemy from attacking his divided army.

When news of Lee’s incursion reached Washington, President Abraham Lincoln found himself forced to act fast. He reached out to Major General George B. McClellan, whom he had relieved as commander of the Army of the Potomac (AOP) a few weeks earlier. Lincoln restored McClellan to the AOP and gave the commander simple orders. Drive the Rebels out of Maryland.

Robert E. Lee assumed that his demoralized enemy would take some time to prepare for the field, but he was wrong. McClellan was a brilliant organizer, who quickly restored the vigor of the Union’s flagship force, rebuilt its crippled morale, and led his men into Maryland to locate the invaders. By mid-September, the Army of the Potomac caught up to the Army of Northern Virginia.¹¹

*   *   *

Sunday, September 14, started peacefully at Sharpsburg. Rumors of the approaching armies, North and South, put the community on alert. Nonetheless, in the absence of immediate threat, parishioners flocked to houses of worship, sang hymns, and sat through sermons—until the distant sound of cannon fire reached their ears.

The ominous harbingers of approaching battle wafted through open church windows as fighting erupted at South Mountain, seven miles east. Alarmed worshipers left their pews to study the distant heights, straining their eyes toward Fox’s Gap, where advance units of the Union army attacked the Confederates. Then, suddenly, horsemen from the Southern army rumbled through Sharpsburg village.

We were all up in the Lutheran Church at Sunday-school, recalled Maria Teresa Kretzer, when the Rebel cavalry came dashing through the town. The whole assembly flocked out … we just imagined something was going to happen, and the children ran home from church in terror. There was no dinner eaten that day. The people were too frightened.¹²

At South Mountain, a civilian named John J. Keedy assisted Union forces. The fifty-nine-year-old farmer lived in Keedysville, a town he helped found, located three miles from Sharpsburg. Described as intensely loyal to the U.S., Keedy observed Confederate movements before the mountain battle and hatched a plan. He rode to the Rebel picket line at Turner’s Gap and attempted to pass through the Confederate lines on the plea that his wife was sick. The ruse reportedly worked. After riding through the gap, Keedy penetrated into the Federal lines where he gave all the information possible to the Commanding General. Afterward, the farmer remained with the Federal army, serving as a guide during the Battle of South Mountain.¹³

It is unclear what information Keedy gave Gen. McClellan, but in the late afternoon of September 14, Federal forces attacked Turner’s Gap and Crampton’s Gap. Sharpsburg residents anxiously watched and listened past sunset, when the Union army captured both gaps.

As the evening passed, citizens waited in suspense to see what would happen next. As mentioned earlier, Stephen W. Sears described Sharpsburg as a place where the roads came together. These arteries connected Sharpsburg to Boonsboro, Hagerstown, Shepherdstown, and Harpers Ferry. Along with roads, though, Sharpsburg rested near a major crossing point of the Potomac River—Blackford’s Ford—a shallow stretch that allowed persons, horses, and wagons to wade between Union Maryland and Confederate Virginia. From a military perspective, after Southern troops burned the Sharpsburg-Shepherdstown bridge in June 1861, it left Blackford’s Ford as the only convenient crossing between the regional towns of Harpers Ferry and Williamsport.

When the fighting on South Mountain concluded on September 14, General Lee decided to retreat to Virginia via Blackford’s Ford. Additionally, he chose to reunite his army and abort the Harpers Ferry operation. The day has gone against us, Lee wrote to Major General Lafayette McLaws, and this army will go by Sharpsburg and cross the river. After sending those orders to McLaws, Lee descended with his men toward Antietam Creek.¹⁴

*   *   *

The night was tense for Sharpsburg’s townsfolk. Fourteen-hundred Union cavalrymen rode through the village that evening after escaping from Harpers Ferry. With mounted soldiers from both armies rushing through town the same day, residents feared an imminent clash. Teresa Kretzer recalled, We couldn’t help being fearful that we were in danger. We expected trouble that night, but all was quiet until the next day.¹⁵

At sunrise on September 15, waking villagers beheld two brigades of Confederate infantry march through town. These were advance forces Lee had sent to secure Blackford’s Ford for the army’s retreat to Virginia. Brigadier General Robert Rodes halted his brigade southwest of town while Colonel Alfred Colquitt led his command to the ford. Citizens who feared Rebels early in the war now had hundreds in their backyard, but movements toward the river crossing suggested the soldiers would pass to Virginia.¹⁶

While Confederates secured the ford, General Lee halted east of Sharpsburg at a meadow overlooking Antietam Creek. He could see that the U.S. army was not far behind, but two deliveries arrived around this time to lift his spirits: a hot pot of coffee and a game-changing message from Stonewall Jackson predicting the imminent capture of Harpers Ferry. Lee had already ordered Jackson to abort the operation there, but capturing the garrison would net 12,500 prisoners and much-needed supplies for the ill-equipped Rebel army while adding to Union demoralization. Moreover, if the Confederates at Harpers Ferry could march to Sharpsburg after the capture, Lee might continue the Maryland Campaign, with his army reunited.

The view from Lee’s meadow offered a commanding panorama. Sharpsburg lay to the west, fronted by a ridge running north to south. The rolling farmland provided hilltops for Lee’s artillery and low ground to hide his outnumbered infantry. Making a stand on such topography might keep the enemy at bay until Jackson finished his mission. Even so, halting here carried the risk of trapping Lee against the Potomac River. There was no bridge to afford swift crossing, and Blackford’s Ford provided a cumbersome passage to Virginia. If Lee suffered defeat on this ground, his army faced potential destruction. Ever the risk-taker, the Confederate commander chose to remain briefly at Sharpsburg.¹⁷

*   *   *

Residents of the Sharpsburg community stirred into early wakefulness on the morning of September 15. Collective anxiety disrupted regular business, and nervous citizens went door-to-door to learn the latest news. Farmhand Alexander W. Alex Davis remembered, We expected there was goin’ to be another battle, but we didn’t know where or when it would be fought. Nobody was a-workin’ … they was ridin’ around to find out what was goin’ to happen.

In the early morning, the head of the Confederate column manifested at Sharpsburg, crossing Antietam Creek over the Middle Bridge. Watching from a nearby hilltop was twenty-one-year-old Mary Ellen Piper, who lived with her parents on a nearby farm. The principal part of them was then crossing into a field about half a mile from where I stood, she wrote shortly after the Confederate army’s arrival. In a short time, I perceived them throwing down our fence, and the whole column was entering. In a few minutes, the fences were all level with the ground and as far as the eye could see was one living mass of human beings.

Confederates besieged the Pipers’ house, begging for breakfast. Mary Ellen’s father, Henry Piper, was opposed to the rebellion and anxious to see it suppressed. Yet, he also needed to protect his property and thus set aside his political leanings to accommodate the hungry Rebels. They would come in six, eight, and ten at a time for breakfast, Mary Ellen recounted. They would eat anything they could lay hands on. I believe we fed 200 in half a day.¹⁸

South of the Pipers, a similar scene occurred at the home of John and Catherine Otto. Hungry Confederates swarmed onto the farm. Hilary Watson, one of the Ottos’ slaves, recalled, The hill at our place was covered with ’em. They’d walk right into the house and say, ‘Have you got anything to eat?’ like they was half starved. We’d hardly fix up for a couple when a lot mo’ would come in. Aided by the Ottos, Hilary and his mother Nancy struggled to feed many troops that morning.

The white people and my mother was in the kitchen givin’ ’em bread and bacon, explained Hilary. Some sat down at table, and some would just take a chunk of food in their hands. They e’t us out directly.¹⁹

*   *   *

As the morning progressed, Confederate artillery and infantry deployed across the fields of Susan Kennedy and Squire Jacob Miller on Sharpsburg Heights. Below the high ground, Rebels continued converging on the Piper farm. According to Mary Ellen Piper, Our yard was so crowded that it was almost impossible to move. Among the masses was Confederate high command. At 10 o’clock, Generals Longstreet, Lee, and Hill were on our porch, Mary Ellen remembered. We inquired of them if there was any danger, and if they anticipated having a battle. They answered us they did not—that they intended only remaining an hour or two and passing on, although they admitted it was the most splendid position they could possibly have. When asked about the cannon surrounding their home, the generals assured them it was merely to cover their retreat, and gave us every assurance if there was any danger whatever, they would give us warning in time.²⁰

The Pipers offered the Confederate commanders a meal, including Major General James Longstreet and Brigadier General Daniel Harvey Hill. Mary Ellen and her sister Susan were supposedly badly frightened [but] wanted to show their kindness to the officers by offering some wine. Longstreet declined, fearing the Unionist family poisoned the beverage. Nonetheless, after Hill took a sip and showed no ill effect, Longstreet changed his tune. Ladies, he asked, I will thank you for a little bit of that wine.²¹

Hungry Confederates also sought meals in Sharpsburg village. Locals took note of the Rebels’ ravenous appetites and poor appearance. The soldiers nearly worried us to death asking for something to eat, recalled a townswoman. Others described the Rebels as half famished and filthy and ragged … they would eat anything they could lay hands on. Dr. Augustin A. Biggs, the town’s physician, described them as barefooted, dirty, and filthy in the extreme … most of them indecently ragged and their person exposed. Additionally, Biggs noted, I never saw a set of men reduced so far to the point of starvation.²²

While some soldiers begged for meals, others took a tougher approach with the locals. Northwest of town, Confederate officers impressed citizens to point out additional river crossings to Virginia. Near Blackford’s Ford, Rebel guards confined the family of William M. Blackford inside their farmhouse for several days. When Blackford demanded an explanation, sentries explained it was for fear that I would give information to the Federal officers. In Keedysville, Frederick Wyand had just stocked his new store with goods. To his dismay, stragglers in Lee’s army pried open the shutters with bayonets and ransacked his inventory.²³

The mere presence of Confederates was sufficient to terrify some local citizens. Early on September 15, Samuel Ward, a machinist, rode to Captain David Smith’s farm west of Sharpsburg village. Ward intended to set a machine to thresh the wheat out of the barn, but soon after arriving, he observed Rebels deploying throughout the area. The sight drove him from Smith’s farm—his threshing machine left behind. I only stayed until breakfast was ready, Ward recounted, and didn’t stay to eat that.²⁴

*   *   *

At noon, a courier from Harpers Ferry delivered Lee an update from Stonewall Jackson: Through God’s blessing, Harpers Ferry and its garrison are to be surrendered. Jackson planned to march his command to Sharpsburg, leaving Major General Ambrose Powell Hill’s division to parole the 12,500 prisoners. This news may have elated Lee, but another message soon arrived informing him that the Federal army was approaching Antietam Creek.²⁵

Shortly after noon, the United States II Corps, commanded by Major General Edwin V. Sumner, led the Army of the Potomac into the Sharpsburg area. After skirmishers drove Rebel pickets across the Middle Bridge, Major General Israel Richardson of II Corps ordered Federal artillery atop a nearby bluff, then instructed the Irish Brigade to form east of Antietam Creek.

The same citizens who earlier watched the Confederate army cross the Middle Bridge now saw U.S. forces swarm into the area. Major General Joseph Hooker’s I Corps (10,000 troops) followed II Corps (18,000) on the Boonsboro Pike. To the east, the XII Corps (8,000), commanded by Brigadier General Joseph K. F. Mansfield, followed Burnside’s IX Corps (12,000 troops) down the Old Sharpsburg Road into Keedysville. Resident John J. Keedy guided part of the U.S. army past his Keedysville farm, where Maj. Gen. McClellan based AOP headquarters. Soon, Artillery Cavalry am[m]unition Trains Hospital and Ambulance Trains and herd of Beef Cattle were quartered on and near Keedy’s farm.²⁶

Union troops overran nearby properties. Families, who hours earlier went about their daily business, now hosted hundreds of uniformed men. The scene appeared surreal as soldiers moved in all directions, the lines of the contending armies slowly uncoiling across farms like giant serpents. A New York Daily Tribune correspondent imbibed the vast deployment. We had arrived before their [Confederate] line of battle was complete, he wrote. Columns were moving and deploying in all directions and positions—almost all on open ground, or ground covered only with growing corn. As a spectacle it was magnificent.

Across the creek, farmhand Alex Davis saw Confederate pickets arrive near his employer’s farm. None of ’em didn’t offer to do me no harm, remembered Alex. They asked me for some tobacker. I had a right good plug in my pocket, and I divided it up among ’em. The Rebels took a liking to the young farmhand. An officer lent me his glasses, Alex recalled, and I could see the Union army maneuvering over on the hills beyond the creek.

General James Longstreet also studied the arriving Federals. The number increased, and larger and larger grew the field of blue until it seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, and from the tops of the mountains down to the edges of the stream gathered the great army of McClellan. It was an awe inspiring spectacle.²⁷

Confederate artillery opened on the arriving enemy. Any local folk unaware of the armies’ presence were now alerted spectacularly. Explosions rocked the countryside. The Pipers’ farmhouse was completely surrounded with cannon, which drew the attention of Union artillery. [B]efore 2 o’clock I was startled to hear the report of the cannon of the Federal army, wrote Mary Ellen Piper. The shell exploded about ten yards from the house and wounded two men. The next moment a messenger came directing us to leave the house instantly as it was in the range of the Federal army’s guns. We took a few dresses on our arms, locked up the house, and started off.

The Pipers left every thing as it was on the farm. Mary Ellen remembered that Jeremiah Summers, one of the Pipers’ slaves, took the horses and we all walked about a mile and a half when father said, if possible, we should walk on and they would go back for the buggy. They again reached the house though it was raining grape and shell in every direction. Henry Piper and Jeremiah returned with the horse-drawn carriage and drove the family three miles northwest to the farm of Henry’s brother, Samuel I. Piper.²⁸

Near the Nicodemus farm, Alex Davis continued mingling with Confederates as artillery thundered in the valley. The young farmhand found the experience sobering. [W]hile I was layin’ there talkin’ to the pickets, a shell landed in a fence ’bout thirty yards from me. I’d never seen no battle nor no war, and I was scared. Having seen enough, Davis left the soldiers and prepared to evacuate.²⁹

Fleeing one’s home is a difficult decision. True, artillery shells could maim or kill occupants standing guard inside dwellings to protect their belongings, but evacuating a house carried risk as well. With thousands of soldiers in the area, break-ins were a genuine threat, despite orders against plundering civilian property. Jacob McGraw, a canal boatman who lived in the village, recalled, The people was hidin’ and g’tting’ away as fast as they could. But we’d had word that any one who owned a good house had better stay and take care of it because in an army there’s always fellows who will plunder houses left unprotected. So I stayed at home.

Some residents hid or buried valuables before fleeing their homes. Joseph Sherrick allegedly stashed $3,000 of gold in the stone wall around his yard and later recovered this fortune—valued at more than $84,000 in 2022 money. Jacob C. Grove, however, had secreted his money so well that he forgot the hiding place and never did find it.³⁰

The decision to evacuate tore at Samuel and Elizabeth Mumma. The couple had nine children, ripening crops, and a host of neighbors seeking refuge at their house. Yet, with batteries firing nearby, self-preservation took priority, and the Mummas decided to leave. Their son, Samuel, Jr., took horses from the stable, but there was little time to pack provisions. Some clothing was gotten together, Samuel, Jr. recalled, and the silverware packed in a basket ready to take but in our haste to get away, all was left behind. The Mummas and their neighbors trekked four miles north and camped in a large church called the Manor Church, where many others were also congregated.³¹

*   *   *

Union artillery posed little threat to Sharpsburg village on the fifteenth, but the armies’ presence spooked many townsfolk into evacuating. Seventeen-year-old John P. Smith lived on East Main Street and remembered that some of the terror stricken inhabitants fled from the town to the country, carrying with them a few articles of clothing. Smith’s father chose to remain in the cellar, while John, his mother, and siblings fled to the farm of Harry Reel … just west of Sharpsburg.

On the west end of Main Street lived sixteen-year-old James Snyder and his parents, who were intensely loyal to the Union cause. When Rebels arrived in Sharpsburg, the Snyders closed their shutters and locked their doors. James’s father went to Killiansburg Cave on the river. James and his mother, meanwhile, fled south to Reverend John A. Adams’s farm, where a large number of refugees were already congregated, and the house and even the barns and stables [were] full of apprehensive and terrified people.

Dozens of villagers evacuated to Grove’s Landing on the Potomac River. Presumably, many left town via Chapline Street and took the landing road to the river. Some carried little but the reins of a horse or the hand of a child. Their ages and gender varied, but in the dire moment, all shared one singular motive. War had visited their doorstep.³²

The sporadic artillery fire on September 15 continued until nightfall. Across Antietam Creek, thousands of sleeping Yankees sprawled from Jacob H. Cost’s farm near the Upper Bridge to Joseph Thomas’s farm in Porterstown. In Keedysville, Gen. McClellan dined at Jeptha and Mary Taylor’s stone mill, paying the couple a two dollar and a half gold piece for the meal. Afterward, he rode to his headquarters on John J. Keedy’s farm.³³

At Sharpsburg, Hilary Watson left the Otto farm and went up to the village to check on his enslaved wife, Christina Watson. She was a slave owned by Jacob H. Grove and lived with her master on Sharpsburg’s public square, working as the family’s cook. That night, Christina Watson may have prepared dinner for generals Lee and Longstreet, who boarded at the house.

Reaching the Grove home, Hilary Watson found that Christina was skeered up a little but hadn’t got into no trouble. After visiting, he bade his wife farewell and returned to his master’s farm. En route, Watson found Rebels sleepin’ along the edge of the road same as a lot of hogs might. I stumbled over some of ’em, but they didn’t say anything.³⁴

Sharpsburg citizens leaving for fear of the Rebels. Dated September 15, 1862, Alfred R. Waud’s sketch looks southeast down Snyder’s Landing Road where it bends east into West Chapline Street. South Mountain is visible in the distance, along with St. Paul’s Methodist Episcopal Church, the German Reformed Church, the Lutheran Church, and the irregular window pattern of Catherine Chapline’s stone home at 229 West Chapline Street. Library of Congress

*   *   *

When the sun rose on September 16, fog cloaked the Antietam Valley. General Lee paced the misty fields of Sharpsburg Heights, awaiting the arrival of Stonewall Jackson’s command from Harpers Ferry. Across Antietam Creek, George McClellan, blinded by the fog, wondered if the Confederate army had vanished in the night or swelled with reinforcements. Nearby, the Federal Reserve Artillery, twenty long-range guns, deployed along the ridge east of the creek. Many of Reserve’s 20-pound Parrott guns and 3-inch ordnance rifles swung their barrels toward Sharpsburg, targeting Confederate cannon dotting the heights near the village.³⁵

Southwest of Sharpsburg, Gen. Stonewall Jackson and a portion of his command splashed across Blackford’s Ford, having completed their night march from Harpers Ferry. After meeting with Lee on Sharpsburg Heights, Jackson rode through town and stopped at Jacob H. Grove’s house, where James Longstreet and Major General James Ewell Brown Stuart based their headquarters. The Groves, Southern sympathizers, invited Stonewall to breakfast. When Jackson declined and rejoined his troops, Julia Grove, a daughter in the household, sent a meal to the general. Touched by the gesture, Jackson scribbled a thank you note to the Confederate-sympathizing lass.³⁶

East of the Groves lived the family of John Kretzer, staunch Unionists known for flying an American flag over Main Street. When Confederates occupied Sharpsburg, the Kretzers hid Old Glory in a strong wooden box, and buried it in the ash pile behind a smokehouse. Soon, though, pro-South neighbors informed Rebel officers of the hidden U.S. flag. On the morning of September 16, Confederate troops confronted the Kretzers’ adult daughter, Teresa. When soldiers demanded the flag, she told them no such thing was in the house. Not buying the story, the armed men threatened to search the home at gunpoint. Thinking fast, Teresa played with words: I knew somebody would tell you about that flag, and rather than have it fall into your hands, I laid it in ashes. Assuming that the young woman burned the Yankee banner, the troops departed.³⁷

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The fog lifted between eight and nine that morning, uncloaking the contending armies. Batteries began sporadic cannonading, including several guns of the Federal Reserve Artillery—powerful cannon capable of firing deadly shells more than two miles. The town of Sharpsburg sat within this range, and many residents had not evacuated, risking their lives to guard personal possessions. Occupants of log and frame dwellings were especially vulnerable, as solid shots could smash through walls, while case shot and rifled shells might set houses ablaze.³⁸

Confederates urged the civilians to evacuate. One resident, Maggie Grice Hoffmaster, remembered that a short, stout man with curly hair went door to door on Main Street, telling all the people that they should vacate their homes. Another villager, Susan Lopp Santman, recalled that, on September 16, an order was given to cease firing so that women and children could leave the town for places of refuge.³⁹

Many villagers complied with the advice, and some fled to nearby stone homes. Teresa Kretzer remembered neighbors flocking to her parents’ house. Our basement was very large with thick stone walls, she recounted, and they wanted to take refuge in it … there were women and children of all ages and some very old men. Sarah Cronise lived in a weather-boarded home west of the Kretzers. Ordered to evacuate, she escorted her three children to the increasingly crowded house. Susan Ward also fled to the Kretzers’, bringing her newborn child, a girl born one week earlier. Before long, the Kretzer home became a refuge for scores of villagers.⁴⁰

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Most civilians who fled town on the 16th sought refuge along the Potomac, sheltering in caves, lockhouses, and dwellings. Union artillery fire, remaining light throughout the morning, funneled many evacuees to the riverside havens of Grove’s Landing and Killiansburg Cave.⁴¹

Grove’s Landing was a small, commercial port on the C & O Canal. Several buildings stood in the vicinity, including a grain warehouse and a dwelling owned by Jacob C. Grove and his siblings. Evacuees quickly overcrowded the Grove house. Bud Shackelford and Susan Lopp Santman estimated that 150 to 200 people crammed inside the home, many of whom were children and teens. Shackelford recalled that bedding was scant, and thus he slept on a piece of bark. The displaced children, he added, had nothing to eat until someone thought of getting flour out of the ware house. Two barrels were rolled out and soon they were all eating short cakes.⁴²

Killing’s Cave on the Banks of the Potomac near Sharpsburg. Incorrectly dated July 3, 1863, the image shows civilians and Confederate stragglers sheltering in Killiansburg Cave in September 1862. Sketch by Frank H. Schell. New York Public Library Digital Collections

When the Grove house filled to capacity, evacuees needing shelter pressed southwestward along the canal towpath until they reached various caves. The largest formation was Killiansburg Cave, its entrance resembling the gaping mouth of a whale. The cavern’s rocky floor, at a glance, might accommodate forty people. One villager, though, reckoned, [S]eventy-five went to that cave. Others described it as packed full of people and crowded with a variety of people of all classes. The occupants of Killiansburg Cave, safe from cannon fire, collected food from area farms and slept on the ground.⁴³

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Around 11:00 a.m. on September 16, artillery in both armies erupted. Heavy pieces of the Washington Artillery on Sharpsburg Heights opened fire on Union batteries across Antietam Creek. Federal long-range guns instantly replied. Badly outgunned, the Washington Artillery dueled the powerful U.S. batteries for forty minutes, creating a continual, rolling thunder. One Confederate described the exchange as one of the hottest artillery duels I have ever witnessed.⁴⁴

Some Rebel personnel took cover behind Sharpsburg Heights. Among them was William M. Owen, who recalled that the enemy’s batteries made their shot whistle over our heads, and plunge into the town, setting fire to some houses.

In one home, a townsman and his family prepared to sit down at the dinner table, when a solid shot crashed through the wall, and, falling on the table, spoiled the dinner and dishes, and … also our appetites. As villagers fled, straggling Rebels ducked into abandoned homes. A group of hungry Georgians entered a dwelling and found a table with the meal all ready to sit down to, when the occupants were frightened away. As the soldiers began devouring the food, a cannonball came crashing through the wall, knocked the legs off from under the table, and dropped it on the floor … That put an end to the feast.⁴⁵

Private Randolph Shotwell of the 8th Virginia Infantry left Sharpsburg Heights to seek food. He found that only a very few of the citizens had remained to face the bombardment which had already begun. He also observed, [S]everal houses and stables were in flames from the bursting shells. The crackling flames and lurid volumes of smoke, joined to the rapid clatter of horse’s hoofs, as couriers and aides de camp galloped up and down, gave a feverish aspect to the scene that was in singular contrast to the long rows of abandoned houses. As Shotwell hurried up Main Street to rejoin his command, he recalled that quite a number of huge missiles fell near me, making a terrible sound as they crashed through the thin walls and hurtled among the tree-tops.⁴⁶

As shells exploded in the town, General Lee left Jacob H. Grove’s house and transferred his headquarters west of Sharpsburg’s limits in the Town Woods. The Groves and their slaves remained inside their brick home, gawking at the commotion outdoors. Major Johann August Heinrich Heros von Borcke, a Prussian Confederate cavalry officer, also sheltered inside Jacob H. Grove’s house on September 16. When shells exploded nearby, von Borcke urged the residents to shelter in the cellar.⁴⁷

He remembered, About noon the bombardment became really appalling. A Union shell pierced the wall of the room a few feet above my head, covered me with the debris, and, exploding, scattered the furniture in every direction. At the same moment another missile, entering the upper part of the house, and passing directly through, burst in the courtyard, killing one of our horses, and rendering the others frantic with terror.

Von Borcke and his couriers fled outside amid the blinding dust and smoke and saddled up while artillery shells exploded around them. The heavy cannonading terrified the Grove residents. Christina Watson, joined by other slaves and members of the Grove family, made a run for it, but didn’t get far. Shortly after fleeing outside, a shell exploded overhead, driving them all back into the Groves’ cellar, where they huddled for the rest of the day.⁴⁸

Elizabeth Miller Blackford also risked her life by fleeing town during the artillery barrage. She initially planned to remain at home and go in the Seller, but Confederate surgeons occupying her home prevailed on us to leave. Elizabeth dreaded the thought of leaving her home and personal belongings to the mercy of stranglers [strangers]. Still, when a missile struck the neighbor’s house, Elizabeth, her children, and a slave fled west up Main Street, stopping near General Lee’s headquarters in the Town Woods. Seeing the women and children in danger, Confederates offered them a ride. [W]e went to Stephen Groves in an Ambulance from the woods, wrote Elizabeth, passing through several Regiments, poor men marching in to battle, I left the girls and nan there, took John Frank and walked down to Frances we found Mr. Peter Beeler, and all his family there, not many soldiers.⁴⁹

The artillery duel also forced farm families to evacuate. Southwest of town, the household of Jacob Avey, Sr., took flight. Nearby, the Ottos and their slaves fled down country for safety. Hilary Watson, one of the Ottos’ slaves, returned to ensure they had locked the house. He found that some one had broke a pane of glass in a window … he’d raised the window and crawled in. Watson confronted the burglar—a young Rebel lacking a weapon. I was skeered, Hilary remembered, but he was mo’ skeered than I was … I could have mashed him, for I saw he had no revolver. He didn’t say anything. He left. I reckon I was too big for him.⁵⁰

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In the East Woods, Confederate cavalry deployed near the farms of Daniel Miller and Samuel Poffenberger. Perhaps it was the artillery duel or the Rebels’ proximity, but Miller evacuated with his family at noon on the 16th. Indeed, it was not easy for Daniel to up and leave, for he was 84 and ailing.⁵¹

Next door, Samuel Poffenberger watched Confederates occupy his farm. Worried that Rebels might steal his horses, the farmer sneaked the animals into his cellar and then evacuated with his wife to Keedysville. Poffenberger was not the only farmer who hid horses in his home. William Unger, a near neighbor, muffled his animals’ hooves with grain sacks to prevent soldiers from detecting the equines in his cellar.⁵²

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During the artillery bombardment, McClellan prepared to attack Lee. First, he ordered IX Corps south to threaten the Confederate right flank. He then sent I Corps north toward the Confederate left.⁵³

After a slow start, advance forces of I Corps crossed Antietam Creek. The main column crossed the Upper Bridge while the 3rd Pennsylvania Cavalry, a few hundred yards downstream, led Brigadier General Abner Doubleday’s division across Pry’s Ford. Reaching the western side of the creek, Doubleday halted to observe the fording. Nearby, Confederate videttes of the 9th Virginia Cavalry, hidden in a nearby cornfield, also watched the activity. The Southern troopers immediately sent word to General J. E. B. Stuart that the enemy was crossing. Next, they opened a sharp fire on Doubleday and his staff. The musketry spooked nearby residents. Samuel Pry and his family lived northeast of Pry’s Ford and evacuated their home due to the firing of the rebels. Doubleday, meanwhile, sent sharpshooters to drive off the Southern pickets, who fell back across the farms of Henry F. Neikirk and Susan Hoffman. Directly opposite Antietam Creek from the Neikirk farm, members of Alfred N. Cost’s family went to their spring to fetch water, during which time the women of this family were fired at by the rebel skirmishers.⁵⁴

The artillery duel finally ended, and the outnumbered Rebel guns withdrew behind Sharpsburg Heights. Confederate General Daniel Harvey Hill described the lopsided artillery fight as a melancholy farce, but the violent exchange terrified town residents and damaged several homes.

With Federal batteries no longer firing toward the town, Robert E. Lee returned to Jacob H. Grove’s house and held a war council with Jackson and Longstreet. But then came a series of significant events. First, the Federal Reserve Artillery resumed firing at Sharpsburg Heights, the center of Lee’s line. Next, two messages arrived, informing Lee that the enemy was moving toward both Confederate flanks. The U.S. IX Corps, approaching the Lower Bridge, threatened to block passage to Virginia at Blackford’s Ford. The Union I Corps, marching toward Lee’s left, blocked the route north. With options for movement limited and the enemy threatening the Confederate center and both flanks, Robert E. Lee faced two choices: retreat to Virginia and lose the momentum he had gained or stay and fight. Lee chose to stand his ground. He began his preparations for a full-scale battle at Sharpsburg.⁵⁵

After crossing Antietam Creek, the 3rd Pennsylvania Cavalry led nearly 10,000 men of I Corps toward Lee’s left flank. The main column marched northwest along the Keedysville-Williamsport Road. Doubleday’s division, advancing 100 yards west, slowly traversed the fenced farms of Dr. Otho J. Smith and Sarah Snyder.

About this time, a civilian rode forth and offered his assistance. Jacob Snyder was a son of Sarah Snyder. He rented his mother’s farm on shares, receiving half the crops raised. He was also a Union man and saw the Yankees might benefit from a shortcut through his cornfield. General Hooker reportedly approved the idea, and Snyder guided U.S. soldiers through his 14-acre field, destroying most of the corn in the process. He continued leading the troops west until nearing George Line’s farm, where Confederate pickets opened fire. Hooker discharged Snyder and sent the patriotic farmer home.⁵⁶

Around five in the afternoon, Maj. Gen. McClellan established his observation post on the farm of Philip and Elizabeth Pry. Oral history holds that George Armstrong Custer, then an officer on McClellan’s staff, notified the Prys they would soon have company—and that they did. Their home became a beehive of activity as couriers, aides, and signal corps personnel converged on the farm to establish McClellan’s field headquarters. Messengers raced to and from the house while soldiers carried parlor chairs outside for the officers. Nevertheless, the Prys had more significant concerns. They owned two farms within view of the house, both containing a bounty of valuable crops. Like most farmers in the community, the couple certainly worried their fall harvest might be damaged by a potential battle or consumed by famished soldiers.⁵⁷

Hunger was chronic in the Confederate army, but it plagued Union soldiers as well. Logistical delays and road traffic following the Battle of South Mountain prevented commissary wagons from advancing. In consequence, many U.S. units lacked rations. To appease their hunger, Federal troops seized crops from farms east of Antietam Creek. An IX Corps regiment was ordered to go into a Corn field & potato patch which was Close by & to supply from that. A XII Corps soldier picked wheat seeds from a nearby stack to make pudding. After he pointed out the grain to his comrades, the ravenous troops swarmed onto the farm, and in less time than it takes to tell it, the stacks were so covered with hungry boys, it looked, in the distance, as if an immense flock of crows had lit on them.

For hungry soldiers in the I Corps, eating would have to wait. When U.S. forces approached the East Woods, Brigadier General John Bell Hood advanced his Confederate division to contest the enemy. Skirmishing exploded in the woods. Soon, artillery on both sides joined the fight, and Union long-range batteries fired into the West Woods, where Stonewall Jackson’s forces arrived to support Hood.⁵⁸

As skirmishing intensified, civilians near the West Woods fled toward the Potomac River. Samuel Reel took his horses up the Mercersville Road (now Mondell Road) to Moses Cox’s farm, while his wife, Cerusha, escorted their children north to Mercersville. Next door to the Reels, Jacob and Harriet Houser were ordered to vacate their buildings due to the danger. Jacob opted to remain at home. Harriet, meanwhile, led her young boys toward the river. While evacuating, William Houser, nine years old in 1862, remembered a shell hitting the fence near by. Finally reaching the Potomac, Harriet and her children stayed at Timothy and Eliza Coin’s lockhouse on the C & O Canal.⁵⁹

Adjoining the Coins to the north was the riverside farm of Samuel I. Piper, where other displaced citizens gathered. John Francis, a teenage African American farmhand, arrived at Piper’s farm after evacuating his residence. Jessie Price, another young farmhand, reached Samuel I. Piper’s farm after fleeing his tenant house on Samuel Reel’s farm. Jessie arrived at nightfall, finding quite a number of families over there who had taken shelter out of range of battle. One can imagine the mood on the Potomac farm as nervous citizens listened to the din of gunfire in the East Woods.⁶⁰

During the skirmish, two Union brigades commanded by Colonel Albert L. Magilton and Lieutenant Colonel Robert Anderson advanced toward the North Woods, crossing farms between Smoketown Road and Hagerstown Pike. However, fencing impeded their passage, prompting men from the pioneer corps to ax gaps in the barriers. A soldier from I Corps observed John C. Middlekauff and Joseph Poffenberger, owners of the farms, approach the pioneer corps to inspect damages to their fencing. Rather than complaining of the wreck and ruin, the soldier recounted, Middlekauff and Poffenberger aided us in demolishing their property as well as kindly encouraging us in our undertaking.⁶¹

As Federals marched onto Poffenberger’s farm, Confederate guns on Jacob and Hannah Nicodemus’s farm opened fire, hurling projectiles over the Nicodemus farmhouse. The blasts no doubt frightened the couple and their three children. Fortunately, U.S. pickets from the 10th Pennsylvania Reserves crept to the house and received this family within our lines.