In my research for an historical novel that I am writing, I came across a book that was published in 1903 by Lieutenant Louis N. Chapin of the New York 34th Regiment. The 34th fought in the Battle of Antietam on September 17, 1862 and suffered enormous casualties, primarily due to the courage of its soldiers and some tragic mistakes in judgement by some officers. Such was story of the day which still stands as the single bloodiest day in American history.
Below are two accounts the fighting in a place now known simply as “The Cornfield”:
REPORT OF COLONEL JAMES A. SUITER, THIRTY-FOURTH NEW YORK INFANTRY, OF THE BATTLE OF ANTIETAM
Headquarters, Thirty-fourth Regiment, New York Volunteers, Battlefield near Sharpsburg, MD., September 20, 1862.
SIR—I would most respectfully make the following report of the battle of the 17th instant.
We lay in camp near Keedysville, MD, on the 16th instant. In the evening of that day I received an order to be prepared to march at daylight on the morning of 17th instant. In obedience to said order, I was under arms with my command, and so remained until the order was given to move, which was about 7:30 o’clock A.M. We moved in a northwesterly direction. Having arrived within about one and a half miles of the battlefield, where General Hooker’s forces had been engaged with the enemy, we were formed in line of battle by brigades, Gorman’s to the front, First Minnesota Regiment on the right, Eighty-second Regiment New York Volunteers second, Fifteenth Regiment Massachusetts Volunteers, third, and my command, Thirty-fourth Regiment New York Volunteers, on the left General Dana’s brigade formed the second line, and General Howard’s brigade formed the third line. We were moved at double-quick. Arriving near the battlefield, we were moved by the right flank through a piece of timber land (the East Woods—ED.) in three columns. At this point we were considerably crowded, the three columns occupying an extent of not more than forty paces from our left to the right flank of General Howard’s brigade, the Seventh Regiment Michigan Volunteers being crowded in my ranks, causing considerable fusion.
Arriving at the open field, we were again ordered in line of battle, being still at double quick. We moved over this field to the pike road leading to Sharpsburg. Front this was a piece of timber land [the West Woods] into which I moved my command, still at double-quick, arrive at about twenty yards in rear of a schoolhouse [the Dunkard Church], when I discovered the enemy under the hill. I immediately ordered my command to fire, which they did in gallant order.
From some cause to me unknown, I had become detached from my brigade, the One hundred and twenty-fifth Regiment Pennsylvania Volunteers being on my right. On my left and rear I was entirely unsupported by infantry or artillery. The enemy were in strong force at this point, and poured a tremendous fire of musketry and artillery upon me. At this time, I discovered that the enemy were making a move to flank me on the left. Lieutenant Howe arriving at this time, I informed him of my suspicions. He replied that he thought they were our friends. Lieutenant Wallace, of Company C, proposed going to the front to make what discovery he could, which I granted. He returned, saying that the enemy were moving upon my left flank with a strong force. I turned and discovered Lieutenant Richard Gorman, of General Gorman’s staff, and requested him to inform the general that the enemy were flanking me. He immediately returned for that purpose. Presently, General Sedgewick arrived upon the ground. Moving down my line, he discovered the situation of my command, and that the point could not be held by me, and gave the order for me to retire, which I did. Rallying my command, I formed them in line battle, supporting a battery of some 400 yards in rear of the battlefield.
In this engagement the casualties were as follows: vis.: 32 killed, 109 wounded and 9 missing. Commissioned officers: 1 killed. 2 wounded, 1 taken prisoner.
In connection with this, I cannot speak in too great praise of my officers. When all acted gallantly, it is impossible to single out any. I would, therefore, say that all did well and behaved in the most gallant manner. Of Major Beverly I would say that he was invaluable to me, in assisting me on the left of my line in the most trying time. Of my color sergeant I cannot speak in too high turns. He (Sergeant Charles Barton) had carried the banner through all the battles in which we had been engaged while on the peninsula without receiving a wound. Here it was his fate to be struck five times, and when he was compelled to drop his colors, he called on his comrades to seize them and not let them fall into the hands of the enemy. This was done by Corporal G. L. Haskins, who nobly bore them from the field.
All of which is respectfully submitted.
JAMES A. SUITER
Another account comes from Lieutenant H. W. Sanford of Company E, as it appeared from his standpoint, from the time the regiment issued from the East Woods:
Rushed forward at the top of their speed in broken order, one company in rear of the other, out of breath and almost fainting, Company E was brought to the very summit of the ground, to the left of the lane leading to the “Dunkard Church.” From this point could be seen the shining bayonets of the enemy then forming on the east of the pike and south of the church. This was evidently unheeded by the officers in command, as the order, forward run, was still repeated by aid and staff of the commanding general. The enemy was not in large force, protected by a ledge of rocks, west of the pike and in rear of the Dunkard Church. In less than five minutes after the regimental line had been formed, five of Company E lay dead or dying, almost within touch of each other. The hast with which this advanced position as taken, opened a space of a one-half mile between the left of this line and the next line of Federal troops. This fatal error had no sooner been committed than it was taken advantage of by the Confederates, by moving through that open space and to the rear of our line. This it was, when we had altogether the worst of the position, and were engaged by those in our front at short range, we found ourselves flanked and enfiladed by a vastly superior force. Surrender or death seemed to be the only thing in sight. To secure liberty the “cornfield” must be re-crossed, over the bodies of the dead and dying, not in the route we had come, but by a circuitous course, in the face of a destructive fire of musketry at short range. It is a mystery that will never be solved, how it was possible for anyone to pass through such a death-trap and live to record the fact. Many of the men fell from exhaustion, and were swept beneath the wave, like the undertow of the ocean beach. The writer of this sketch fell but a rod or two in front of our battery, and within about the same distance from the charging foe. Our artillerymen were waiting, with cannon charged with grape and canister, to uncover the enemy so that they might not slaughter their friends. Shot after shot was fired in quick succession full in the face of the foe, opening wide gaps, at every discharge, and sending fragments of men into the air, in all directions, adding rivers of gore to a field already deeply dyed by the blood of both armies. Probably there was never a time known in the history of modern warfare where so many were slain as upon that consecrated ground on that 17th day of September 1862. Surely, the demon of death must have been fully satiated. Company E lost more than half it’s men present for duty. While several were with in the enemy’s lines, and were prisoners, only one remained and was taken to Richmond.
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