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November 27, 1862

Dear Family,

It's been nearly a year since I last wrote to you. Forgive me for the delay but it's been a most unusual time and I have put miles and miles on my wits and reputation. I am now a general's best man and an outlaw to my people.

When last I wrote, I was holding camp in Tennessee. I was ordered to deliver a message to a captain across the river from our spot and along the way I happened upon two men drowning in quicksand. They were up to their necks in the muck and without considering their allegiance I rescued them from certain death. The two gentlemen turned out to be Johnny Rebs, as I had feared, but these men had good hearts and thanked me for the rescue. The men were sentinels watching the nearby road and they had set up camp not far away. They offered me a quick rest along with some whiskey and cooked rabbit and against my better judgment I accepted. These men couldn't have been older than 21 and seemed to possess a boyish trust. On my faith, I returned their trust.

Along the way to camp however we were met by a regiment of Union soldiers we had fought with recently. The captain recognized me and figured me for a spy. He shot the two Johnnies and seized me. I was branded a traitor and taken to a nearby railroad bridge over the river. Hearing the train whistle the frenzied men prepared me with a long noose and left me for dead, without even mention of a trial. I could either intercept the oncoming train or jump off the bridge, thus hanging myself. Instead I opted for quicker thinking. I lied down flat in between the tracks and hoped the train was tall enough to pass over me while cutting the noose. By chance it worked! The train rolled over me and after the last car passed I lept up and dove into the river. I swam as fast as my body allowed while bullets wizzed over my head and beside me in the water.

I was not out of the thicket yet. As I swam for miles downriver I happened upon a man bathing near the bank of the river at a clearing. The gentleman stopped me and demanded to know my destination. I could tell immediately that I had stumbled into another Rebel trap. I took the man to be an officer of high rank. I knew that he might catch me in any quick lie I invented, so I told him the truth as I knew it to be at that moment. I told him I was an architect from the north who had been in service of the Federal Army until they cited me for treason and that I had escaped and that I was now a man without a country, without a home and without a purpose.

The man, named Shegog, went ashore and dressed and took me to his tent. He supplied me with fresh clothes and we spoke at length for perhaps the rest of the day on a number of subjects &emdash; from architecture (of which he is very knowledgable, claiming, like me, the Italians as his muse) to literature to politics and the war. He was an extremely knowledgable gentleman, a General I soon found out, and he was impressed by my own education. I turned over valuable information about my regiment and he sent orders to his troops near my former camp. I don't know why but the General trusted me, just as the Johnny Rebs I had encountered on the road had trusted me. Perhaps I am someone whose loyalty cannot be so easily defined by region and politics.

I joined his troop as they slithered southward, crawling on hands and knees "like swamp rats" and zig-zagging all over the land like an enormous and hideous serpent. His objective was to surprise the enemy and leave an impossible trail, to leave no clues for the enemy to study and find us. It seemed to me that Shegog was a bit of an outlaw himself. He set about his own missions, never giving into the other generals. He seemed at times as if he was fighting his own war, using these poor, ignorant men for some obscure maneuvers.

But his assault was swift and brutal. We met Union troops at Corinth and dispensed their numbers in under an hour. Yet we were quick to leave as the General was eager to return to his plantation in Natchez where he welcomed all of us to camp and wait for Grant, who was on the move and headed our way. The General proclaimed to have seen this message in the stars.

We are still on the way to Natchez but I fear the General has fallen ill. Word of Grant's approach has arrived and there is less time than we hoped. The General has put his plans into action and left me in command of his project. I cannot say anymore, only that I miss you all. Under these circumstances it would not be wise to return and in the event of my death in the oncoming battle I wanted for you to know that I died in valor. Out here it is impossible to choose a side. You follow those you believe, you fight beside the ones you trust. These men and their brilliant General have shown me the importance of their cause, and I will continue until God absolves me from this life. Take care and send my love to you know who...

Always your loving son,

I.T. Stark

 

The Battle Of Bloody Lane

 (Antietam)

 

As Written By General 

John B. Gordon

General Lee had decided that the Union commander's next heavy blow would fall upon our centre, and those of us who held that important position were notified of this conclusion. We were cautioned to be prepared for a determined assault and urged to hold that centre at any sacrifice, as a break at that point would endanger his entire army. My troops held the most advanced position on this part of the field, and there was no supporting line behind us. It was evident, therefore, that my small force was to receive the first impact of the expected charge and to be subjected to the deadliest fire. To comfort General Lee and General Hill, and especially to make, if possible, my men still more resolute of purpose, I called aloud to these officers as they rode away: "These men are going to stay here, General, till the sun goes down or victory is won." Alas! many of the brave fellows are there now. 

General Lee had scarcely reached his left before the predicted assault came. The day was clear and beautiful, with scarcely a cloud in the sky. The men in blue filed down the opposite slope, crossed the little stream (Antietam), and formed in my front, an assaulting column four lines deep. The front line came to a " charge bayonets," the other lines to a "right shoulder shift." The brave Union commander, superbly mounted, placed himself in front, while his band in rear cheered them with martial music. It was a thrilling spectacle. The entire force, I concluded, was composed of fresh troops from Washington or some camp of instruction. So far as I could see, every soldier wore white gaiters around his ankles. The banners above them had apparently never been discolored by the smoke and dust of battle. Their gleaming bayonets hashed like burnished silver in the sunlight. With the precision of step and perfect alignment of a holiday parade, this magnificent array moved to the charge, every step keeping time to the tap of the deep-sounding drum. As we stood looking upon that brilliant pageant, I thought, if I did not say, " What a pity to spoil with bullets such a scene of martial beauty!" But there was nothing else to do. Mars is not an ęsthetic god; and he was directing every part of this game in which giants were the contestants. On every preceding field where I had been engaged it had been my fortune to lead or direct charges, and not to receive them ; or else to move as the tides of battle swayed in the one direction or the other. Now my duty was to move neither to the front nor to the rear, but to stand fast, holding that centre under whatever pressure and against any odds.

Every act and movement of the Union commander in my front clearly indicated his purpose to discard bullets and depend upon bayonets. He essayed to break through Lee's centre by the crushing weight and momentum of his solid column. It was my business to prevent this ; and how to do it with my single line was the tremendous problem which had to be solved, and solved quickly ; for the column was coming. As I saw this solid mass of men moving upon me with determined step and front of steel, every conceivable plan of meeting and repelling it was rapidly considered. To oppose man against man and strength against strength was impossible ; for there were four lines of blue to my one of gray. My first impulse was to open fire upon the compact mass as soon as it came within reach of my rifles, and to pour into its front an incessant hail-storm of bullets during its entire advance across the broad, open plain; but after a moment's reflection that plan was also discarded. It was rejected because, during the few minutes required for the column to reach my line, I could not hope to kill and disable a sufficient number of the enemy to reduce his strength to an equality with mine. The only remaining plan was one which I had never tried but in the efficacy of which I had the utmost faith. It was to hold my fire until the advancing Federals were almost upon my lines, and then turn loose a sheet of flame and lead into their faces. I did not believe that any troops on earth, with empty guns in their hands, could withstand so sudden a shock and withering a fire. The programme was fixed in my own mind, all horses were sent to the rear, and my men were at once directed to lie down upon the grass and clover. They were quickly made to understand, through my aides and line officers, that the Federals were coming upon them with unloaded guns ; that not a shot would be fired at them, and that not one of our rifles was to be discharged until my voice should be heard from the centre commanding " Fire ! " They were carefully instructed in the details. They were notified that I would stand at the centre, watching the advance, while they were lying upon their breasts with rifles pressed to their shoulders, and that they were not to expect my order to fire until the Federals were so close upon us that every Confederate bullet would take effect. 

There was no artillery at this point upon either side, and not a rifle was discharged. The stillness was literally oppressive, as in close order, with the commander still riding in front, this column of Union infantry moved majestically in the charge. In a few minutes they were within easy range of our rifles, and some of my impatient men asked permission to fire. " Not yet" I replied. " Wait for the order." Soon they were so close that we might have seen the eagles on their buttons; but my brave and eager boys still waited for the order. Now the front rank was within a few rods of where I stood. It would not do to wait another second, and with all my lung power I shouted " Fire ! "
My rifles flamed and roared in the Federals' faces like a blinding blaze of lightning accompanied by the quick and deadly thunderbolt. The effect was appalling. The entire front line, with few exceptions, went down in the consuming blast. The gallant commander and his horse fell in a heap near where I stood-the horse dead, the rider unhurt. Before his rear lines could recover from the terrific shock, my exultant men were on their feet, devouring them with successive volleys. Even then these stubborn blue lines retreated in fairly good order. My front had been cleared ; Lee's centre had been saved ; and yet not a drop of blood had been lost by my men. The result, however, of this first effort to penetrate the Confederate centre did not satisfy the intrepid Union commander. Beyond the range of my rides he reformed his men into three lines, and on foot led them to the second charge, still with unloaded guns. This advance was also repulsed; but again and again did he advance in four successive charges in the fruitless effort to break through my lines with the bayonets. Finally his troops were ordered to load. He drew up in close rank and easy range, and opened a galling fire upon my line. 

I must turn aside from my story at this point to express my regret that I have never been able to ascertain the name of this lion-hearted Union officer. His indomitable will and great courage have been equalled on other fields and in both armies; but I do not believe they have ever been surpassed. Just before I fell and was borne unconscious from the field, I saw this undaunted commander attempting to lead his men in another charge. 

The fire from these hostile American lines at close quarters now became furious and deadly. The list of the slain was lengthened with each passing moment. I was not at the front when, near nightfall, the awful carnage ceased; but one of my officers long afterward assured me that he could have walked on the dead bodies of my men from one end of the line to the other. This, perhaps, was not literally true; but the statement did not greatly exaggerate the shocking slaughter. Before I was wholly disabled and carried to the rear, I walked along my line and found an old man and his son lying side by side. The son was dead, the father mortally wounded. The gray-haired hero called me and said: " Here we are. My boy is dead, and I shall go soon ; but it is all right." Of such were the early volunteers. 
My extraordinary escapes from wounds in all the previous battles had made a deep impression upon my comrades as well as upon my own mind. So many had fallen at my side, so often had balls and shells pierced and torn my clothing, grazing my body without -drawing a drop of blood, that a sort of blind faith possessed my men that I was not to be killed in battle. This belief was evidenced by their constantly repeated expressions: " They can't hurt him." " He's as safe one place as another." " He's got a charmed life."
If I had allowed these expressions of my men to have any effect upon my mind the impression was quickly dissipated when the Sharpsburg storm came and the whizzing Minies, one after another, began to pierce my body. 

The first volley from the Union lines in my front sent a ball through the brain of the chivalric Colonel Tew, of North Carolina, to whom I was talking, and another ball through the calf of my right leg. On the right and the left my men were falling under the death-dealing crossfire like trees in a hurricane. The persistent Federals, who had lost so heavily from repeated repulses, seemed now determined to kill enough Confederates to make the debits and credits of the battle's balance-sheet more nearly even. Both sides stood in the open at short range and without the semblance of breastworks, and the firing was doing a deadly work. Higher up in the same leg I was again shot; but still no bone was broken. I was able to walk along the line and give encouragement to my resolute riflemen, who were firing with the coolness and steadiness of peace soldiers in target practice. When later in the day the third ball pierced my left arm, tearing asunder the tendons and mangling the flesh, they caught sight of the blood running down my fingers, and these devoted and big-hearted men, while still loading their guns, pleaded with me to leave them and go to the rear, pledging me that they would stay there and fight to the last. I could not consent to leave them in such a crisis. The surgeons were all busy at the fieldhospitals in the rear, and there was no way, therefore, of stanching the blood, but I had a vigorous constitution, and this was doing me good service. 

A fourth ball ripped through my shoulder, leaving its base and a wad of clothing in its track. I could still stand and walk, although the shocks and loss of blood had left but little of my normal strength. I remembered the pledge to the commander that we would stay there till the battle ended or night came. I looked at the sun. It moved very slowly; in fact, it seemed to stand still. I thought I saw some wavering in my line, near the extreme right, and Private Vickers, of Alabama, volunteered to carry any orders I might wish to send. I directed him to go quickly and remind the men of the pledge to General Lee, and to say to them that I was still on the field and intended to stay there. He bounded away like an Olympic racer ; but he had gone less than fifty yards when he fell, instantly killed by a ball through his head. I then attempted to go myself, although I was bloody and faint, and my legs did not bear me steadily. I had gone but a short distance when I was shot down by a fifth ball, which struck me squarely in the face, and passed out, barely missing the jugular vein. I fell forward and lay unconscious with my face in my cap ; and it would seem that I might have been smothered by the blood running into my cap from this last wound but for the act of some Yankee, who, as if to save my life, had at a previous hour during the battle, shot a hole through the cap, which let the blood out. 

I was borne on a litter to the rear, and recall nothing more till revived by stimulants at a late hour of the night. I found myself lying on a pile of straw at an old barn, where our badly wounded were gathered. My faithful surgeon, Dr. Weatherly, who was my devoted friend, was at my side, with his fingers on my pulse. As I revived, his face was so expressive of distress that I asked him: "What do you think of my case, Weatherly?" He made a manly effort to say that he was hopeful. I knew better, and said: "You are not honest with me. You think I am going to die; but I am going to get well." Long afterward, when the danger was past, he admitted that this assurance was his first and only basis of hope. 

General George B. Anderson, of North Carolina, whose troops were on my right, was wounded in the foot, but, it was thought, not severely. That superb man and soldier was dead in a few weeks, though his wound was supposed to be slight, while I was mercifully sustained through a long battle with wounds the combined effect of which was supposed to be fatal. Such are the mysterious concomitants of cruel war. 

Mrs. Gordon was soon with me. When it was known that the battle was on, she had at once started toward the front. The doctors were doubtful about the propriety of admitting her to my room ; but I told them to let her come. I was more apprehensive of the effect of the meeting upon her nerves than upon mine. My face was black and shapeless-so swollen that one eye was entirely hidden and the other nearly so. My right leg and left arm and shoulder were bandaged and propped with pillows. I knew she would be greatly shocked. As she reached the door and looked, I saw at once that I must reassure her. Summoning all my strength, I said: "Here's your handsome (?) husband; been to an Irish wedding." Her answer was a suppressed scream, whether of anguish or relief at finding me-able to speak, I do not know. Thenceforward, for the period in which my life hung in the balance, she sat at my bedside, trying to supply concentrated nourishment to sustain me against the constant drainage. With my jaw immovably set, this was exceedingly difficult and discouraging. My own confidence in ultimate recovery, however' was never shaken until erysipelas, that deadly foe of the wounded, attacked my left arm. The doctors told Mrs. Gordon to paint my arm above the wound three or four times a day with iodine. She obeyed the doctors by painting it, I think, three or four hundred times a day. Under God's providence, I owe my life to her incessant watchfulness night and day, and to her tender nursing through weary weeks and anxious months.

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