"If you turn around, folks, you'll see a road like most of you have in your own home town," says Jerry Holsworth.
Union Generals William French and Israel Richardson moved their divisions up this elongated ridge to assist Sedgwick but veered slightly to their left and directly into the center of the Confederate line under General Daniel Hill who was reinforced by General Richard Anderson. An 800 yard long sunken road, worn deep over the years by heavy grain wagons made an ideal defense for Hill's troops to aim at Union forces marching toward them in almost parade rank formation. The roar of gunfire was loud and long. Anderson's backup division of 3,400 troops was mostly destroyed. One Union officer later wrote: “For three hours and thirty minutes, the battle raged incessantly without either party giving way.” Over 5,500 men died in the area of Bloody Lane.
He points south, to a sunken dirt road set behind a snake-rail fence about 500 yards from the Dunkard Church. "See, back in the Civil War, folks didn't like to get caught in traffic any more than we do today. So what do you do? Why, you build a bypass, that's what you do. This is the Sharpsburg, Maryland, Civil War bypass. Over the years, it had worn down from heavy use, and folks called it the Sunken Road."
The Confederates were crouched in that Sunken Road. It made a good natural trench -- even better after the Rebels tore down William Roulette's fences and piled the rails in front of them. Dug in, they waited for the Federals to attack.
Remembering his assurance to General Lee that the Confederate center would be defended against the Federals, Colonel John B. Gordon in the oppressive heat near the noon hour stumbles from one flank of his fighting regiment to the other. With blood flowing from his wounds, he inspires the Sixth Alabama to fight on. As he inspects the determined Gray line, Colonel Gordon notices a wounded father holding his lifeless son and also the many devoted Southern soldiers ensuring that the promise to General Lee will be kept. He has sent a young messenger toward the right flank to remind the men of their duty to General Lee, but the messenger has fallen dead. Colonel Gordon knows if the message is to be delivered, he alone must take the risk. Surppressing his pain, he pushes on, knowing he can never abandon his men unless his will is stripped from him by a bullet. This is shortly to occur when a shot strikes him in the face, rending him unconscious. Nevertheless, his men will stand steadfast.
Just as the battle in the Cornfield died out, the attack came. Gen. William French's division was supposed to follow Sedgwick's troops to the Dunkard Church, but French's men got lost in the smoke and confusion and marched, shoulder to shoulder, right toward the Sunken Road. The Confederates waited silently, watching the Yankees march over the crest of a hill that ran parallel to the road about a hundred yards away -- first the American flags appeared, then their heads and shoulders. Finally, when the Rebels could see the bluecoats' belts, they rose and fired, blasting away 150 men in French's front line.
The Federals retreated, regrouped, then returned. Again the Rebels blew them away. Again they fell back. Again they attacked. Again they were driven back, suffering terrible casualties. Finally, after three hours of fighting and the arrival of reinforcements, the Yankees seized a little hill above the Rebels' right. From there, they could fire down into the Sunken Road, killing Confederates by the score. It was, one Union soldier said, like "shooting sheep in a pen."
The Rebels fled, leaving behind so many dead comrades that, as one Union soldier put it, a man could have walked the road from end to end without ever touching ground. The Sunken Road had earned a new nickname: Bloody Lane.
Now, the Confederate line was broken in its center. With one quick push, McClellan could have cut Lee's army in two, then destroyed it. He had fresh troops ready to go. But he never gave the order to attack.
"It would not be prudent," he explained.
A battered old school bus now painted the color of dried blood bounces into the parking lot and rumbles to a stop at Bloody Lane.
Inside are 20 members of the Civil War Society, a group based in Berryville, Va., that sponsors battlefield tours and seminars. These are hard-core buffs. They've come from Ohio, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, even Bermuda to ride canoes down Antietam Creek with historian Dennis Frye. Last night, Frye, who grew up near Antietam and has been studying it since was 4 years old, delivered a long, passionate lecture on the battle. This morning, he marched the group across the battlefield so he could explain exactly what happened to Sedgwick's division. Now, he has stopped the bus for a few words about Bloody Lane.
"These attacks were never ordered by McClellan," he says. "They were accidental. They happened because they couldn't see Sedgwick. They were lost."
Frye isn't thrilled to be explaining all this from the bus. "The only way you can understand a battlefield," he likes to say, "is to stand on the battlefield." But he's eager to get his students into canoes for their trip down the creek, so he has to cut this lecture short. He asks if there are any questions.
"How many casualties were there here at Bloody Lane?" asks Lawrence Donohoe.
About 3,000 for the Federals, Frye replies, more than 2,000 for the Confederates.
"In three hours?" Donohoe asks.
"Right," Frye replies.
"Incredible," Donohoe says.
He's a 68-year-old lawyer from Louisiana, a short, portly gentleman with glasses and a gray mustache. This is his second trip with the Civil War Society. He went to Gettysburg last year. His interest was sparked by Ken Burns's Civil War series on PBS. "All those old pictures intrigued me," he says.
Now, as the bus chugs down the road, Donohoe recalls the day some 60 years ago when he met his grandmother's uncle, who had fought for the Rebels at Vicksburg. "He was kind of a scary fellow. He wore dark clothes and had a long gray beard and a walking stick, and he was frightening to a little fella like me."
General Burnside
After the fall of Vicksburg, grandma's uncle got home to Louisiana by grabbing hold of a big log and floating across the Mississippi. Or so the family legend goes.
"I'm intrigued by the fact that: Here I am, alive, and I talked to a fellow who actually fought in that war 130 years ago," Donohoe says. "It's amazing."
"Don't forget your great-great-grandfather," says his son, Tim Donohoe, a psychologist and Civil War buff who has researched the family tree.
"My great-great-grandfather was killed at the Battle of Mansfield," Donohoe says, referring to the fighting along the Red River in Louisiana in 1864. "We tried to find his grave, but we couldn't . . . All we know is that we could trace him to the battle and he never came home. He was a young man who just never came home."
The bus stops at the Pry house, where McClellan made his headquarters during the battle. Frye wants to show the group what McClellan could and could not see from his command post.
Donohoe is talking about a book on Antietam that he tried, and failed, to read. It contained those Alexander Gardner photographs of the battlefield. "I would take a look at that book in bed," he says, "but I found I could not look at it without crying. I'd look at those faces and read the names of these kids 17, 18, 19 years old and I'd get tears in my eyes. I was touched by the fact that so many of these young kids got killed there. It's such a sad thing."
Donohoe shuffles off the bus with the other buffs and starts up the hill to the overlook where McClellan watched the carnage unfold in the valley below.
"This is quite an emotional thing for me right now," he says softly.
"The final phase of the battle concerned the lower bridge -- the Rohrbach Bridge," says Jerry Holsworth. "After this battle, it will be forever known as the Burnside Bridge. Why? Because Ambrose Burnside is ordered to take his Ninth Corps and seize the bridge ! Take Sharpsburg ! The bridge is defended by 400 Georgians -- and they have the best defensive positions on the field!"
Union General Ambrose Burnside had been trying for hours to move a corps of 12,000 men across this 125 foot narrow stone arch bridge over Antietam Creek to the southeast of Sharpsburg, in an attempt to over-run Lee's right flank. On the west side of the bridge and greatly outnumbered was General Robert Toombs with about 400 Georgia sharpshooters who easily repulsed Federal troops by aiming down on them from a wooded bluff. Level fields to the east side of the bridge made Union troops easy targets; a virtually turkey shoot as the men in Blue had to come out into full view in order to get across the open structured bridge. Only with the promise of whiskey did Union troops propel themselves into a suicidal charge across the bridge. Fortune rings unpredictably though, for as the Confederates were finally being dislodged from this hill and driven toward Sharpsburg, they were reinforced by the arrival of General Ambrose Hill who had just led his troops on a hurried seventeen mile return march from Harpers Ferry. Georgia born Robert Toombs, who narrowly missed being selected as Vice-President of the Confederacy, was elated to welcome Hill's tired but committed troops. This unnamed bridge was later called Burnside Bridge.
Holsworth is really rolling now. Sweat is pouring from under his ranger hat and dripping down his face, but he keeps moving, telling the story of the battle with plenty of gestures and exclamation points.
"Early in the morning, Burnside attacks ! And it fails !
"Early afternoon, he tries again! And fails again!
"The third time, though, he takes the bridge !"
Holsworth pauses, looks at his audience. "Is there anybody here from Georgia? Your guys just ran out of ammunition."
He returns to his storytelling mode. "Burnside brings the entire Ninth Corps -- 9,000 Union soldiers -- across that bridge, forms them in line of battle, and begins to attack Sharpsburg ! Sharpsburg is defended by an under-strength Confederate division -- barely 2,000 men. They're hopelessly outnumbered! They're being pushed back everywhere because Burnside's attack is relentless !
It was nearly 1 p.m., September 17, 1862. The rumbling of artillery and rattle of musketry to the north had been going on for six hours now and word had reached Colonel Edward Ferrero that Major General Burnside wanted his troops across this stone bridge spanning Antietam Creek.
Some of General Robert E. Lee's Georgians were dug in on the opposite bank making the bridge a focal point for their fire. The Union assault had been held up since 10 a.m. that morning. Now, something must be done.
The 51st Pennsylvania and the 51st New York had nearly gotten into position. The Pennsylvanians were particularly surly that afternoon; for misconduct on the march, their whisky ration had been cut. Ferrero spoke to them: "It is General Burnside's special request that the two 51st regiments take the bridge. Will you do it?"
The silence was broken by one of the Pennsylvanians making a soldier's bargain: "Will you give us our whisky, Colonel, it we take it?"
"Yes, by God!" The colonel sealed the pact. "You shall have all you want, if you take that bridge."
Led by Captain William Allabaugh, three color bearers and their guards, and their Colonel John Hartranft, they stormed the bridge and established a Union foothold on that end of the field.
"Take Sharpsburg and Lee's escape will be cut! Lee is watching this disaster from a place pretty close to where our national cemetery is today. There, he's watching the destruction of his army! There, he's watching the end of the war in total defeat ! There, he's watching the lives of every one of his soldiers who has died so far in this war lost in vain ! He has a broken wrist on one hand, the other hand is sprained -- both from a fall off his horse a few days earlier. He can't hold a telescope, so he calls over a staff officer. He points in the direction of Burnside Bridge: Who are those men?' Staff officer comes over, pulls open his telescope" -- Holsworth mimes the action as he describes it -- "looks in the direction of the Burnside Bridge, says, General Lee, they're flying the United States flag.' "
Holsworth stops. "If you remember, don't say a word! But I'll bet most of you forgot."
He resumes his story: "Now, Lee sees dust clouds from another direction! Who are those men?' The staff officer brings forward his telescope, looks in the direction of Harpers Ferry, says, General Lee, they're flying the Confederate and Virginia flags.' Lee turns to the staff officer and very calmly says, It is A.P. Hill from Harpers Ferry.' "
Holsworth pauses dramatically, then proceeds. "Hearing the shots very early in the morning, A.P. Hill has moved his division out! They've marched 17 miles in eight hours! He's brought his whole division across the wide, rock-bottom Potomac River! It's one of the great military miracles in American history -- because now, as Burnside is about to seize Sharpsburg and end the war, A.P. Hill suddenly appears on his left flank! Crashes into it! Throws Burnside back to the bridge! Ends the battle! Saves Lee's army!"
Burnside's Bridge - Confederate view
"You don't know what a thrill this is for me," says Edmund Burnside Sr. as his son pulls his white Oldsmobile into the parking lot overlooking the Burnside Bridge.
He's so thrilled that he can barely wait for the people who are climbing into a car with Indiana license plates to hurry up and move out of the way. "Come on, you damn Yankees, get on in!"
Finally, the Indiana Yankees drive off and Burnside's son, Edmund Jr., parks the Olds. They climb out and walk past a group of tourists studying a sign about the battle.
"If these people only knew who was walking by them," says the senior Burnside.
"Calm down, Pop," says his son.
But he can't calm down. Burnside, 71, a retired General Motors manager, is all keyed up. He has come all the way from Georgia to see where his most illustrious relative fought. Gen. Ambrose Burnside was, he says, the nephew of his great-great-grandfather. Growing up in Michigan, Burnside was aware of this connection to history, but he never paid much attention to it. Then, in the '50s, GM transferred him to Georgia, where he learned that many Southerners looked askance at his surname. One day, he was introduced to a man who immediately asked if he was kin to that Yankee general. Burnside proudly answered yes, and the man promptly threw him off his property. "They take it real serious down South," he says.
Burnside's Bridge - Union view
Curious, he started reading up on his distinguished relative. To his dismay, he found that many historians regard the general as a bumbling incompetent. In fact, quite a few of them blame Gen. Burnside for failing to get his troops across Antietam Creek quickly enough to seize Sharpsburg. "Burnside wasted the morning and part of the afternoon crossing the stubbornly defended bridge," wrote James M. McPherson in his Pulitzer Prize-winning book Battle Cry of Freedom, "when his men could have waded the nearby fords against little opposition." Other historians disagree, however, arguing that the creek was too difficult to ford, and Edmund Burnside Sr. is firmly convinced that they are right. So convinced, in fact, that he once delivered a lecture defending the general to a group of Civil War buffs in Georgia. And now he has come to Antietam to see the place for himself.
"I didn't know his bridge was this big," he says when he catches his first glimpse of the stone span. He lights up a cigar with a white plastic tip and watches the tourists wander by. "I could give these tourists a thrill if I tell 'em who we are," he says. "They want a history lesson? We'll give it to them. Give me a crowd! I'll tell you about this bridge!"
His son doesn't look too happy about that idea. A 28-year-old tree surgeon, the younger Burnside is a Civil War buff, too, but he's more interested in reenacting battles than in rehabilitating the Burnside name. The two men pose for pictures on the bridge, then cross to the other side -- the side that Burnside's troops attacked from -- and look at the scene from the general's perspective.
Not surprisingly, the elder Burnside quickly concludes that it would have been impossible to ford the creek. "If they woulda got across the water, they couldn't crawl across the bank," he says. "You've got a 10-pound rifle and 60 pounds of equipment on your back."
"I'd hate to be in the first dozen or so to get across," says his son.
On the bank, the Burnsides read a Park Service sign quoting Henry Kyd Douglas, a Sharpsburg native who fought with the Confederates at Antietam: "They might have waded it that day without getting their waist belts wet in any place. Why Burnside's Bridge? Is it sarcasm?"
"Stupidity," the senior Burnside mutters in disgust. "This is what the authors like Bruce Catton and all them bastards that wrote books about Burnside -- this is what they write."
A few yards away is a monument to the 51st New York Infantry, the regiment that seized the bridge. In steel letters, its plaque proclaims that the men took the bridge "at the point of a bayonet."
"They didn't use any bayonets here!" Burnside scoffs. "This is the kind of crap that I just blow my stack about! I'm gonna come here with my spray can and say, Burnside says bull!' "
As they walk back across the bridge, though, his spirits improve. "I love it!" he says. "I love walking where he walked!"
He stops, puffs on his cigar, thinks. "Actually, he rode," he says. "His horse's name was Major."
"The next day Lee -- his men down to their last two or three rounds of ammunition -- will stand on this ridge and dare McClellan to attack him again!" says Jerry Holsworth. "George B. McClellan, true to his personality, will not attack. That evening, Lee will take his army back to Virginia, thus ending the battle and the campaign."
And so the bloodiest one-day battle in American history ended in anticlimax. With 30,000 fresh troops that he'd held in reserve, McClellan could almost certainly have crushed Lee's battered army if he'd launched an attack on September 18. But he was, as historian Stephen W. Sears wrote, "so fearful of losing that he would not risk winning." So Lee was permitted to retreat, rebuild his army and fight on for another 2 1/2 horrific years.
