Antietam off the beaten path: 11th Connecticut monument

For $45, did Georgia collector purchase Antietam history?

The photo of a Connecticut soldier bears a striking resemblance to 11th Connecticut Capt. John Griswold,
shown in an illustration from a book published in 1868. Griswold was mortally wounded at Antietam.
(Robert Wayne Elliott collection | Right: The Military and Civil History of Connecticut, The War of 1861-65)

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A war-time photograph of 11th Connecticut Captain John Griswold, object of my nearly decade-long search, finally may have surfaced. Unsurprisingly, the purported image of the officer mortally wounded at Antietam popped up on social media -- on Facebook's Civil War Faces page -- on Monday afternoon.

(Thank you, Mark Zuckerberg. Now about those political ads.)

Carte-de-visite, probably John Griswold, won on an eBay auction.
(Robert Wayne Elliott collection)

Robert Wayne Elliott, a 71-year-old retired commercial pest control account manager from Grayson, Ga., recently submitted the winning bid on eBay for a war-time carte-de-visite of a Connecticut soldier. Elliott, who believed before he bid that the image was Griswold, figured the CDV would go for perhaps $500 if someone connected it to a soldier who was killed at Antietam. His winning bid: $45.

The eBay seller, Elliott told me, said the image came from an album of 11th and 16th Connecticut soldiers, two of the four regiments from the state that fought at Antietam. Elliott's detective work included a visit to this 2011 post on Griswold on my blog. He compared the CDV to an illiustration of Griswold, which originally appeared in this 1868 book on Connecticut's Civil War role.

"I believe, without a doubt, this is Griswold," Elliott said.

Although not definitive proof, the illustration bears a strong resemblance to the soldier in Elliott's CDV, which has a backmark of a Hartford photographer. The 11th Connecticut organized in Hartford in late October 1861.

Elliott, a Civil War-era photograph collector since 1999, owns only has a handful of Union images. The Georgia native, whose ancestors fought for the 42nd Georgia, collects mostly Confederate photographs. Among his collection is a beautiful, post-war painting of 20th Georgia Lieutenant Arthur C. Ford, who was severely wounded at Burnside Bridge. Perhaps Ford, a dentist as a civilian, was among the Georgians who fired on Griswold from the bluffs along Antietam Creek.

       The 11th Connecticut attacked from right to left across this field on Sept. 17, 1862.
   Antietam Creek is at left, behind trees. (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

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View John Griswold may have had of Burnside Bridge on  morning of Sept. 17, 1862.

               PANORAMA: Confederates' view of Burnside Bridge and Antietam Creek. 
                                     (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)     

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My interest in Griswold began in 2011, when I first came across his heart-rending story.

The 11th Connecticut had been ordered to storm Rohrbach Bridge (Burnside Bridge) and the Confederate position beyond on the morning of Sept. 17, 1862. Impatient, Griswold, a 25-year-old captain from Lyme, Conn., boldly led a group of skirmishers across the 4-foot deep creek.

It was a deadly move.

Backmark on Elliott's
CDV.

"In the middle of the creek a ball penetrated his body," Griswold's friend, Dr. Nathan Mayer of the 11th Connecticut, wrote in a letter from Sharpsburg to his brother on Sept. 29, 1862. "He reached the opposite side and lay down to die."

In an account written decades after the war, 11th Connecticut veteran Philo Pearce wrote:

"Our Capt. John Griswold was a brave man and jumped over the fence saying ‘come on boys!’ I, with some others, did jump. As we did, we got a volley of shots from the Rebel line. I had a ball cut through the top of my left side but did not cut the flesh. I fell into the road ditch where it had been plowed and scraped. This surely saved my scalp. Now it was time to do our duty. Capt. Griswold was hit and he rushed into the creek and kept plunging ahead until he got across. He shouted for us to come and get him but we had our hands full."

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Mayer claimed he summoned four privates, and together they forded the creek and climbed a fence while under fire to reach Griswold. The men carried the blood-soaked captain to a nearby small shed, Mayer wrote, where the surgeon from Hartford gave his "ashly pale" friend morphine to ease his pain. Griswold died the next day, probably on the Henry Rohrbach farm, a IX Corps hospital.

When I lived in Connecticut, I visited Griswold's gravestone in a small, private cemetery cemetery in Old Lyme. The ornately carved marker is a work of art. And during many visits to Antietam over the years, I've walked in Griswold's footsteps, wondering about the remarkable courage the captain summoned on Sept. 17, 1862.

Elliott has visited Antietam three times. His most recent trip, in 2016, was especially eventful.

"I stepped up on Burnside Bridge with my camera to take some shots," he said. "Then I stepped backwards and fell off bridge flat on my back and literally knocked myself out. ... A group of school kids there said, 'Oh, my gosh. Is he OK?'"

Back in Georgia two days later, Elliott was in pain from the fall. By the third day, he said, "I thought I was dying." Thankfully, good meds and rest saved him.

And, thankfully, a descendant of Rebel soldiers may have saved an image of a Connecticut Yankee. Keeping history alive is what it's all about.

John Griswold's final resting place in Griswold Cemetery in Old Lyme, Conn. His
monument was described as "strikingly beautiful" in the Hartford Courant on Aug. 5, 1863.

A post-war painting of 20th Georgia Lieutenant Arthur C. Ford, who was severely wounded
in the right side during the fighting at Burnside Bridge on Sept. 17, 1862. Did he fire on John Griswold?
(Robert Wayne Elliott collection)

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SOURCES

--Hartford Courant, Oct. 6, 1862, Page 2

Off the beaten path: 11th Connecticut monument at Antietam

Letter from Sharpsburg: 'Buried him with my own hands'

The off-the-beaten path 11th Connecticut monument near Burnside Bridge.

       The 11th Connecticut attacked from right to left across this field on Sept. 17, 1862.
                                      (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)


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During visits to Antietam, I always stop at Burnside Bridge early in the morning, perhaps the best time and place to contemplate the slaughter that took place in western Maryland long ago. I’ll touch the witness tree feet from the bridge, stare at the long-ago site of Yankee graves along the stone wall and marvel at mist hovering over Antietam Creek. Occasionally, I’ll walk about 150 yards or so, usually through tall grass, to visit the out-of-the-way 11th Connecticut monument.

No one’s ever around, so I’ll linger and read the names on the gray-granite monument, often running my fingers over the inscriptions of those who sacrificed their lives for the Union. Their stories I know so well.

Daniel Tarbox, 11th Connecticut
private, was mortally wounded
at Antietam. He was 18.
(Image courtesy Scott Hann)

• Captain John Griswold, from Old Lyme and the grandson of a Connecticut governor, was mortally wounded as he splashed across the creek in a hail of gunfire on the morning of Sept. 17, 1862. "I die as I have ever wished to die, for my country," he told IX Corps commander Ambrose Burnside shortly before his death.
• Private Daniel Tarbox, an 18-year-old private from Brooklyn, Conn., was shot through the bowels during the attack on the bridge. He died the next day in nearby Middletown, Md. In anticipation of fighting, he had written his father two weeks earlier, "If we go in, we can’t think of coming out."
• Private Fennimore Weeks, from Norwalk, lived a few moments after he was shot through the head. "His effects I will send to you as soon as I have an opportunity and will write you more of the particulars," his captain wrote the soldier's mother.
• And Private William Hall, from Mansfield, also killed in fighting at the bridge. More than 150 years later, the 17-year-old soldier's descendant cleaned his begrimed marker in a rural cemetery in Connecticut.  

And now a poignant letter -- auctioned on eBay -- has surfaced revealing how another soldier in the regiment died at what the 11th Connecticut hospital steward called "the creek of death." In the three-page letter to his brother Charles, written four days after the battle, a shaken George L. Dayton, an 11th Connecticut private, quickly got to the point.

"He is dead," he wrote about their brother Lewis, who was shot through the heart in the charge on the stone-arch bridge. The next day, George wrapped Lewis' body in "4 or 5 blankets" and buried the 11th Connecticut private where he fell.

Uninjured physically, George Dayton certainly suffered mental scars from the battle, perhaps lasting a lifetime. "I am unwell and about crazy," he concluded his letter, "so I will not write any more now."

Lewis, from Winchester, Conn., is buried in an unknown grave, but some believe his spirit may linger near the 11th Connecticut monument.

(Letter posted with permission of eBay seller.)

Sept. 21, 1862
Sharpsburg, Md.

Dear Brother Charles

I received your letter directed to Lewis whitch came to late for him ever to read, he is dead.

It is terrible news, but it is true. He was shot while we were making a charge on the rebels at Sharpsburg in the northwestern part of Maryland on the 17th of Sept. He was shot though the heart and fell saying I am killed ,,,

(Letter posted with permission of  eBay seller)

We were obliged to leave the ground where he fell and when we found him the next day the rebels had taken everything from his pockets.

I dug his grave and buried him with my own hands in the field where he fell after wrapping him in 4  or 5 blankets.

We have been in 4 of 5 skirmishes and battles lately and our regt. is terribly cut to pieces. Also the 8th Conn. and 16th [Conn.]. Our regt. lost about 50 killed and 200 wounded on the 17th of Sept. I escaped without a wound. We have driven Stonewall Jackson across the ...

(Letter posted with permission of eBay seller.)

... Potomac and I suppose we are to follow him. Their is no telling when or how this war will end.

I am unwell and about crazy so I will not write any more now.

Yours,

George L. Dayton.

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Teen's Antietam: Close calls, slumber on amputated limbs

11th Connecticut Private Philo S. Pearce survived the Battle of Antietam and the war.
(Hayes Research Library, Fremont, Ohio via Dan Masters)

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Nothing could have prepared 18-year-old Philo Stevens Pearce for the harrowing sights and sounds of Sept. 17, 1862.

Before an attack at Rohrbach Bridge, the 11th Connecticut private narrowly dodged a colonel's falling horse, victim of shrapnel from a Confederate artillery shell. "I can say it took some nerve to keep cool," he wrote decades later in his war memoir, "as shells were bursting all around us."

When Pearce and other skirmishers in companies A and B advanced through a cornfield near Antietam Creek, they happened upon an unusual sight: horns and other instruments left behind by a Rebel brass band that had skedaddled.

Then  the "fun commenced" about 10 a.m.

11th Connecticut Captain John Griswold
was mortally wounded near
the Rohrbach Bridge, commonly
known today as Burnside Bridge.

"Come on, boys!" 11th Connecticut Captain John Griswold shouted as he urged his Nutmeggers to plunge across Antietam Creek with him. 

On the bluff above the stone-arch bridge, Georgians poured hot lead into the 25-year-old officer and other skirmishers. Clipped in the left side by a bullet, Pearce dived into a ditch, avoiding a more serious wound -- or worse. "This," he recalled, "surely saved my scalp."

Severely wounded, Griswold — grandson of a Connecticut governor — somehow made it to the opposite bank. Firing all 60 of his rounds in his breech-loading Sharps rifle, Pearce borrowed more from a wounded comrade. 

"I fired so fast," he remembered, "that my rifle got hot and I had to pour water on it to cool it."

After the Rebels retreated from the bluff, Pearce and two other soldiers scrambled to the other bank, scooped up Griswold and carried the mortally wounded captain to a nearby field hospital — probably on the Henry Rohrbach farm. But Pearce's battle was far from over.

Ordered by a surgeon to aid with an amputation, the teenr administered chloroform to a severely wounded soldier. Then the surgeon quickly sawed off an arm and a leg, and the limbs were gruesomely tossed through an open window.

"I kept on holding chloroform for a few more," Pearce remembered. "I began to get dizzy from the effect. I staggered outside and when I came to my senses, I was laying on arms and legs.

"This was enough for me around there."

PHILO PEARCE'S 1925 ANTIETAM REMEMBRANCE

Post-battle image of Burnside Bridge by Alexander Gardner taken n 1862. In his 1925 memoir, 
11th Connecticut Private Philo Pearce writes he was one of three soldiers to carry mortally wounded 
11th Connecticut Captain John Griswold from the far bank after he was mortally wounded. 
(Library of Congress)

Account of Private Philo Stevens Pearce, Co. A, 11th Connecticut Volunteer Infantry of the Battle of Antietam: 

The battle of Antietam was fought September 17, 1862. On the day before, our army was marched into a large field probably one half mile in the rear from where the Rebel line was waiting for us across the creek. We all lay down on our arms that night. Some of the boys were detailed to fill canteens with water. They went to a house on a ridge beyond us to get water from a well. This house was between the two lines. The boys found the Rebels were after water, too. No one was armed. They agreed not to hurt each other. They got into quite a chat and the Rebels said, “We’uns won’t fight you now, but wait until morning and then we’uns will clean you’ns out!”

The boys returned back to us and reported it to the officers, who were fools to go with a squad of men and arrest a few of their men. Of course the Rebels reported this to their men. In a short time, a battery of Rebels opened fire on us, but being dark they couldn’t quite tell where we were. They had range so their shells caused some excitement. We were close together, but our side did not reply. Soon they quit firing but we well knew what would come in the morning. When we received our arms after being mustered into U.S. service in Hartford, Conn., our Co. A and B were presented by the people with Sharps’ breech loading rifles, while other companies had red Springfield rifles. Companies A and B most always were put on the head skirmish line.

On the morning of September 17th, we ate our hardtack without any coffee and were soon called to order. We were on the move, getting the lines formed for an advance, on the ridge above the creek. The Rebel battery got a range on us. Soon our batteries were swung into position and the artillery duel commenced. While our colonel was getting us into line and was on his horse, a shell from the Rebels broke and a piece struck his horse. As the horse fell, I had to dodge to keep it from falling on me. The colonel was not hurt and was soon on his feet, calling us to keep cool. I can say it took some nerve to keep cool as shells were bursting all around us.

       The 11th Connecticut attacked from right to left across this field on Sept. 17, 1862.
                                      (Click at upper right for full-screen experience.)

We were soon ordered forward. Cos. A and B as usual were put on the skirmish line ahead of the battle line.  We deployed in line, being about a rod apart and down the ridge toward the creek. Before we got to the creek, we came into a cornfield. This was quite a protection, but [it did] not last long. In this cornfield, we came upon a Rebel brass band who had run and left their horns and instruments laying on the ground. We came to the edge of the field where there was a rail fence along the road. The Rebel line was just across the creek from us. Now the ‘fun’ commenced.

I don’t think we were over 20 rods apart. Our Capt. John Griswold was a brave man and jumped over the fence saying ‘come on boys!’ I, with some others, did jump. As we did, we got a volley of shots from the Rebel line. I had a ball cut through the top of my left side but did not cut the flesh. I fell into the road ditch where it had been plowed and scraped. This surely saved my scalp. Now it was time to do our duty. Capt. Griswold was hit and he rushed into the creek and kept plunging ahead until he got across. He shouted for us to come and get him but we had our hands full. To say we worked well is putting it mildly. I fired every shot I had and Sgt. [Irving] Stevens, the man next to me, was hit through his left hand and couldn’t fire anymore. He shoved his cartridge box to me and said ‘I can’t fire anymore.’ I fired so fast that my rifle got hot and I had to pour water on it to cool it.

Georgians fired on the Union IX Corps
 from this position on the bluffs
above Antietam Creek.

I had a good view of their line across the creek on the ridge. Before our battle line got down, I had fired all my shells and what Sgt. Stevens had left. Each man had 60 rounds and all of our company who did not get over the fence fired all their shells. When the battle line came down, each one fell behind the fence. I lay in the ditch in the front as close as I could as the line was falling over me. This lasted until our men to the right charged the bridge with three charges. This forced the Rebel line back as our men kept crossing and driving the Rebels back. Our loss was heavy. Colonel [Henry] Kingsbury was killed, Lt. Col. [William] Moegling wounded and most all the staff officers killed or wounded.

After the bridge was taken, two men and myself waded the creek and brought Capt. Griswold back. He lived about an hour after we got him across. He gave his watch to the first one over who was Ira Taylor. The other one was Joe Mallory and myself. We carried him back to the hospital on the hill where he died.

The field was strewn with wounded. We had red stripes tied on our arms and were put to work taking care of the wounded. I carried water and helped the best I could. I was working on one of the worst wounded men who had one leg shattered and one arm broken. One of the surgeons ordered us to carry him to the hospital where they amputate. We laid him on the table where surgeons were working in great haste.  I held chloroform to his nose and mouth and soon they had one arm and one leg off, throwing the limbs out the window. As soon as this was done another man was laid on the table. I kept on holding chloroform for a few more. I began to get dizzy from the effect. I staggered outside and when I came to my senses, I was laying on arms and legs. This was enough for me around there.

I made a break back to find where our company was located. I had to pass over the field where our dead lay. Such a valley of death was enough to turn a man’s heart to stone. I could hardly step without stepping over a corpse. The field was literally strung with our dead. Two others and myself were pretty well exhausted and hungry for something to eat. I saw one of our dead soldiers had a knapsack with some coffee and hardtack, more than I had. I thought it was no more use to him. I took my knife and cut the strap, then taking it with me. We went down on the creek bank and made a fire to make some coffee. After eating, we had some strength and satisfied our hunger. Then we went to find our company. I found one of our boys’ rifles which I needed because I left mine on the bank when we carried our captain.

After he was wounded, 11th Connecticut Captain John Griswold was taken to "the hospital on 
the hill"  -- probably Henry Rohrbach's farm. Here are the Rohrbach farmhouse and barn.

When we found our company there were only 18 of the 75 going into action the morning before. The rest were killed, wounded, or missing. A sergeant took charge about 2 o’clock in the afternoon. We formed in line with some fresh troops who had not been engaged in the morning. The fresh ones were placed in advance and we were held in reserve to support them. The Rebel line had fallen back upon a ridge and formed their line again, throwing rail piles and whatever they could get for protection. They waited for us to advance. The green troops in front of us old troops -- all were ready.

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Lieutenant [Morris] Kraszynski took charge and said "Now boys, no man falls out to carry back the wounded. Plenty of men to the rear to do this." His language was broken, but he was a brave little officer. Our line was moving forward and our batteries opened fire on the Rebel line with shells cracking all around. We moved ahead on a double quick charge and were close to their heels. As we neared the top of the bridge, bullets were singing thick and sharp. We spotted a four foot wide woodpile in front of us and we were making for it. The first man shot was our lieutenant, struck through the rear part of his pants and hips. The first thing we heard was, ‘Oh my God, I’m shot! Two free men carry me back!’ Just about 10 minutes before, he cautioned us to fall out to carry men back. Some of the boys sang out, ‘You go to hell. Plenty of men to the rear to carry you back!’ We ran forward and covered ourselves behind the woodpile from which we could fire at the enemy with good advantage.

We didn’t remain there long as our boys were going forward at a double quick charge and we were following to support them. The new troops in front made a fine charge but they got impulsive so we had to hold them on our line. When they came back on us, we had a time to hold them and make them fall into our line. I know we had made good work of our guns to keep them from rushing over us. I can say a stampede like this is hard to keep men from pushing through anything. We held and made them get into our line.

Present-day image of Burnside Bridge, also known as Rohrbach Bridge.

The Rebels saw their chance and charged back on our line, thinking they could get our army routed and defeat us. Our batteries in position were waiting for the enemy. When we got in reach of our line, it was our time to make it hot for the Rebels. We broke their line, charged, and gained the rail piles from where they had started. We held them after they again formed but were repulsed and we gained our ground.

It was now getting towards evening and both sides were glad the bloody day was over. Such a sight as that field again where we fought in the forenoon. The field was filled with our men and Rebels. While we were behind the rail piles and the Rebels were making their last charge, in came our wild Irishman  Jim Conboy (of the shell incident). We were firing as fast as we could load and shoot and the bullets were coming over us like hail stones. Jim sang out, ‘Bejabers, hear those muskets sing!’ I can say they were singing but rather the bullets. This showed the grit of which Jim was made. This put us in, mad enough to give them our best licks.

Now evening closed on that bloody day of September 17, 1862. We laid down on our arms that night completely exhausted. Our loss was heavy and our regiment lost with about 250 killed, wounded, and missing.

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POSTSCRIPT: After the war, Pearce, from New Fairfield, Conn., lived in New York before he settled in Catawba Island, Ohio, where he married a woman named Ora Barnum, The couple had five children together. A prosperous farmer, he became one of the county's leading citizens. "His orchards are among the best cultivated and most productive," an account published in 1896 noted, "and by his sterling ability and amiable disposition he has won himself a host of friends."

At the request of "old friends," Pearce wrote the 36-page war memoir in 1925, when he was 80 or 81. A typescript copy of the memoir, believed to have never been published, was donated sometime in the 1980s to the Harris-Elmore Library in Elmore, Ohio. (Hat tip: Dan Masters.)

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Paying respects to teenager William Hall, killed at Antietam

Lonnie Schorer cleans the marker of her ancestor, 11th Connecticut Private William Hall, 
in Chaplin, Conn. (Photos courtesy of Lonnie Schorer)

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At the Battle of Antietam, scores of teenagers on both sides became casualties.

Shot through the side, George Crosby died of his wounds at his parents' house in Middle Haddam, Conn. The 14th Connecticut lieutenant, a student at Wesleyan University, was only 19. Marvin Wait, a 19-year-old lieutenant in the 8th Connecticut, was riddled with bullets and killed near Harpers Ferry Road. "His death brings a peculiar and poignant sorrow," noted his hometown newspaper, The Norwich (Conn.) Daily Bulletin.

Somehow Dwight Carey of Canterbury, Conn. — killed at Antietam — persuaded his parents to allow him to join the Union Army. He was 15. Wrote his local newspaper:

"In September, 1861, while yet but fifteen years of age he entered the service of the United States, as a private, in the Eighth Regiment, Connecticut Volunteers. This act originated in no rash, impulsive enthusiasm, impatient of restraint and headstrong for excitement and novelty, but was the result of calm discussion with his parents and friends, who unwillingly gave their assent on account of his extreme youth."

The 11th Connecticut suffered 139 casualties during
its attack at Burnsde Bridge on the
morning of Sept. 17, 1862.
(Library of Congress collection)

A private in the 11th Connecticut, Daniel Tarbox suffered a wound through the abdomen at Burnside Bridge. The 18-year-old died the next day.

William H. Hall, Daniel's comrade in the 11th Connecticut, was also killed at Antietam, almost certainly in the attack at Burnside Bridge. It's unclear if his body, like the remains of Tarbox, made it back to Connecticut or if the 17-year-old rests in the national cemetery in Sharpsburg, Md., or elsewhere. Years ago, I found a marker for Hall in Bedlam Road Cemetery in rural Chaplin, Conn. Tree branches, weeds, briars and grime covered his slate-gray, state-issued stone. 

In 2016, Antietam guide William Sagle told me about a battlefield tour with a descendant of a soldier from Connecticut. He wondered if I knew the soldier's name.

"Ever hear of William Hall?

"He was killed at Antietam. His descendant really wants to find his grave."

"There," I said, "is your William Hall." I pointed to a post on my iPhone.

And so I started corresponding via e-mail and over the phone with Hall's descendant, former Connecticut resident Lonnie Schorer, who lives in Virginia. It was a  moving experience for her to stand by the 11th Connecticut monument, near Burnside Bridge, and see Hall's name etched on the granite marker among others killed there. I explained that William may not be buried in Chaplin and told what little I knew of her ancestor. No image of the private or wartime correspondence from Hall are known to exist.

On a trip to Connecticut in 2016, Schorer and her husband Dave stopped at Bedlam Road Cemetery. Using toothbrushes, water and determination, they cleaned Hall's out-of-the-way marker. Swarms of mosquitoes couldn't spoil the moment or the view of the cemetery grounds dotted with wildflowers. .

"We had our own Memorial Day service when we finished," Schorer told me, "thanking William for his courage and his life — and letting him know that his family remembers."

A close-up of William Hall's marker in Bedlam Road Cemetery in Chaplin, Conn.

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Antietam KIA discovery: Image of 11th Connecticut private

11th Connecticut Private Benjamin Beach is buried at Antietam National Cemetery. 
(Beach image courtesy of descendant.)

Research at archives, historical societies and elsewhere has helped me tell the stories of several 11th Connecticut soldiers who were killed or mortally wounded at Antietam. Fennimore Weeks, an unmarried private in Company F from Norwalk, Conn., was shot through the head during the regiment's disastrous attack at Burnside Bridge, according to his captain, "and did not live but a few moments after he was struck." John Holwell, a 41-year-old corporal in Company H, concluded at least one of his wartime letters to his wife with the words "your husband to death."  A rope maker from Norwich, Conn., the Mexican War veteran also left behind two young children.

Beach's widow and son filed for assistance from the government
 after the 11th Connecticut private's death. (fold3.com)

Unfortunately, no images are known to exist of Weeks, Holwell and most of the other soldiers whose names are etched on the 11th Connecticut's monument on a knoll near Burnside Bridge. If an image of one of those fallen soldiers does turn up, it's a pretty big deal. A post on my blog five months ago led to a connection with a descendant of Benjamin Beach, an 11th Connecticut private who also was killed at Antietam. She kindly shared the faint wartime image of her great-grandfather that appears at the top of this post and also has been added to my Pinterest page of Connecticut soldiers who made the ultimate sacrifice at Antietam.

Quick research yielded basic information about  Beach: A 25-year-old private in Company E, he mustered into the 11th Connecticut on Oct. 7, 1861. A farmer, Benjamin was married to a woman named Mary and had two sons, William and Ben. When U.S. census taker visited the Beach household in Norfolk, Conn., on July 6, 1860, he noted Mary was a year younger than Benjamin and William was only 2; Ben had not yet been born.

On Feb. 6, 1863, nearly five months after her husband was killed, Mary filed for a widow's pension, possibly because she had little means of financial support. One of Beach's sons also filed for government assistance after his father's death, perhaps soon after his mother died. My hope is that a visit to the National Archives this spring will uncover documents in Beach's pension file that shed much more light on the life of the young soldier whose remains lie today in the national cemetery in Sharpsburg, Md.

On the 11th Connecticut monument at Antietam, Beach's name appears among those killed or
mortally wounded during the battle on Sept. 17, 1862.

Antietam panoramas: September morning at Burnside Bridge

Click here for battlefield panoramas from Antietam, Cedar Mountain, Chickamauga, Gettysburg, Harris Farm, Manassas, Malvern Hill, Salem Church and Spotsylvania Courthouse.

   A Union soldier's view from Burnside Bridge of  Rebel positions on the bluff (pan left).

The morning was perfect: Deep-blue sky, a few clouds, little breeze and the fog that nearly blanketed Antietam Creek two hours earlier had finally lifted. I was the only one on Burnside Bridge -- the only soul, for that matter, apparently anywhere near the iconic stone-arch bridge during the morning in late September. 

After trudging along a gravel path along the creek, I made my way through a field coated with dew up to the 11th Connecticut monument, hidden among the trees on Kingsbury knoll 150 yards or so from the bridge. An old War Department marker gives away the monument's position, and just as I have dozens of times before, I read the 37 names carved into the back of the hunk of Massachusetts granite.

William Lane, Christian Steinmetz, Asa Rouse, Edward Demming -- they all were either killed or mortally wounded near the monument and bridge.

Condolence letter from 11th Connecticut Captain John Kies to
 the mother of Private Fennimore Weeks, who was killed near
 Burnside Bridge at Antietam.
(Fold3,com via National Archives)

And then I thought of what these men and boys left behind.

The wife of the 11th Connecticut's much-admired colonel, Henry Kingsbury, was pregnant with a boy, who was born almost three months after his father died. 
Wounded four times during the attack at Burnside Bridge on the morning of Sept. 17. 1862, Kingsbury expired at Henry Rohrbach's farmhouse a short distance away.

Frederick Culver, a 23-year-old private from Preston, left behind a wife named Emily and an infant daughter, Emily. John Murray, a 23-year-old weaver from Putnam, and his wife, Cornelia, had a daughter named Ida.

Sarah Rising, the mother of Private Henry Rising, was a widow. What was her reaction when she received the tragic news from Sharpsburg, Md.?

In a letter home to his wife during the war, 40-year-old John Holwell mentioned his young boys. "Kiss Edward and Henry for me and I hope they will be good boys," he wrote to Sarah Holwell. "...I will bring them a handsome present when I come home." The private has no marker with his name on it in his hometown of Norwich or in the national cemetery in Sharpsburg. His final resting place is unknown.

Twenty-four-year old Hiram Roberts, a sergeant from Winchester, was born in England. When did his parents, Edward and Mary, receive word of his death? Private George Heplin, the son of Daniel and Lydia Heplin of Plainfield, was only 18. Private Alvin Flint, whose father and teen-aged brother both died in service to the Union army later in the war, also was just 18. His mother and 15-year-old sister had died of disease shortly after he enlisted, an enormous tragedy for the family from East Hartford.

Private Fennimore Weeks was shot through the head and, according to condolence letter from his commanding officer to his mother back in Norwalk, "did not live but a few moments after he was struck."

"His effects I will send to you as soon as I have an opportunity and will write you more of the particulars," Captain John Kies wrote to Rachel Fennimore.

For all of them, the end came here, on a field dotted today with yellow wild flowers.


              The 11th Connecticut attacked the bridge from right to left across this field.

Antietam: 11th Connecticut monument's original position

11th Connecticut monument near Burnside Bridge.

Close-up of monument plaque, which depicts the attack at Burnside Bridge.

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Tucked away on a knoll near Antietam Creek, 150 yards south of Burnside Bridge, the 11th Connecticut monument is often overlooked. Interestingly, it wasn't always located there.

On Oct. 11, 1894, Connecticut veterans and their families gathered at the battlefield to dedicate monuments to the four regiments from the state that fought at Antietam. The 14th Connecticut monument, near Bloody Lane, was dedicated at around 10 a.m., followed by the 8th Connecticut monument ceremony near Harpers Ferry Road, a short distance from Sharpsburg, Md.  In late afternoon, dedication ceremonies were held for the 16th and 11th Connecticut monuments on what in 1862 was the farm of Joseph Sherrick. The 10-acre plot for the monuments -- once part of Sherrick's 40-acre cornfield, where the 16th Connecticut suffered 204 casualties -- was called Connecticut Park. (Hat tip: Stephen Recker, author of "Rare Images of Antietam.") 

11th Connecticut Colonel Henry Kingsbury was mortally
wounded near Burnside Bridge.

The 11th Connecticut veterans originally intended to have the monument placed near Burnside Bridge, where it fought on the morning of Sept. 17, 1862, and where its beloved colonel, Henry Kingsbury, was mortally wounded. But a lack of funds apparently necessitated an adjustment of plans. 

 "Let there be no strife or warlike contention among our people," 11th Connecticut veteran Samuel Horne said at the dedication of the 11th Connecticut monument, just yards from the 16th Connecticut monument. "Let us dwell in peace, harmony and happiness in this grand and glorious country, made free by your courage, devotion and patriotism. We honor our state for this beautiful gift. It is a lesson of love. Its mute bearing will tell the present and future generations why and for whom it was placed here."

But not for long.

In late fall 1895, veterans purchased a 100-square foot plot on the knoll near Burnside Bridge from Mrs. Victor Newcomer, and the massive block of Massachusetts granite was moved there the week of Dec. 19, 1895. The images below of the monument at its original location were shot in the late 19th century by John Wagoner, a prolific photographer of the battlefield. 

The 11th Connecticut monument at Antietam originally was placed near the 
16th Connecticut monument, about a half-mile from where the veteran regiment 
fought near Burnside Bridge. This image was shot by John Wagoner, a photographer 
from Hagerstown, Md. (Connecticut State Library)

A Wagoner image of the reverse of the 11th Connecticut monument, looking toward Sharpsburg. 
The monument includes the names of soldiers in the regiment who were killed or
 mortally wounded at Antietam. (Connecticut State Library)

Reverse of the first Wagoner image above. He shot images of many Antietam battlefield scenes.

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-- Have something to add (or correct) in this post? Email me here.

SOURCES:

-- Antietam Valley Record, Nov. 28, 1895, Dec. 19, 1895.

-- Hartford Courant, Oct. 12, 1894.

Antietam: Remembering Private Frederick D. Culver

Broken marker for Private Frederick Culver in Center Cemetery in Rocky Hill, Conn.

State-issued marker for Culver, who was mortally wounded at the Battle of Antietam.

Like most Civil War dead, 11th Connecticut Private Frederick D. Culver never made it home. After he died of his Antietam wounds on Oct. 6, 1862 at Crystal Springs Hospital in Keedysville, Md., he probably was buried near the hospital and his remains were disinterred after the war and re-buried in the national cemetery in Sharpsburg, Md., under Grave No. 1110. 

Perhaps the marker in Center Cemetery in Rocky Hill, Conn., 100 yards from the grave of another soldier who met his end at Antietam, brought some comfort to Culver's wife, Emily, and infant daughter, Nellie, who never knew her father. 

Only 27, Culver was a private in Company K of the 11th Connecticut, which on the the morning of Sept. 17, 1862, was ordered to attack Rebels entrenched on the bluff above Antietam Creek. During that charge near Burnside Bridge, Culver received a wound that proved mortal. According to my downloadable Excel spreadsheet of Connecticut Antietam deaths, he was one of 217 soldiers from the state who were killed or mortally wounded during the bloodiest day in American history.

                  See Culver's grave at Antietam National Cemetery by panning to the left.

Frederick Culver's name appears on this list of soldiers who died at Crystal Spring Hospital,
 a field hospital near the Antietam battlefield.  It notes he died Oct. 5, 1862, not Oct. 6 
as listed on his marker. This list  was compiled by Dr. Truman Squire, the
 89th New York surgeon who was in charge at the hospital. 
(Chemung, N.Y., County Historical Society)

In this document, dated March 12, 1864, 11th Connecticut surgeon James Whitcomb
 noted that Frederick Culver was "severely wounded" at Antietam and
 died Oct. 6, 1862.  (fold3.com via National Archives)

Death of Private Henry Ford: 'A priceless treasure to liberty'

"...his life was truly a sacrifice to his country,"
 Captain Edwin Lee (above) wrote of Henry Ford.
Lee also did not survive the Civil War.
(Photo: John Lee of Hartford Co. and His Descedants)

Teenager Henry Ford apparently was a good son, helping support his family financially before and during the Civil War and even purchasing a cow for his mother in 1861. Life must have been challenging for 46-year-old Rachel Ford, whose husband suffered from lung disease, so every little bit her eldest sons provided probably was greatly appreciated as she reared 10 children in Cornwall, Conn.

Along with his older brother William, Henry enlisted in the Union army on Oct. 4, 1861, and both soldiers were mustered into Company D of the 11th Connecticut in mid-November. The legal age to join the Union army was 18, so 16-year-old Henry probably lied about his age on an enlistment form. Perhaps he used a ploy of other underage soldiers, writing the number 18 on a slip of paper, putting it in his shoe and then telling the recruiting officer: "I'm over 18, and I stand on my word."

After the regiment left Hartford on Dec. 16, 1861, it settled into camps near Annapolis before it shipped out for its eventual destination of North Carolina as part of Burnside's Expedition on Jan. 8. The expedition's grand fleet, consisting of more than 125 vessels, was hampered by two major storms, fog and communication problems after it left Fortress Monroe at the southern tip of the Virginia peninsula.

"The auspices under which we have commenced operations are certainly not very encouraging," a New York Times correspondendent reported on Jan. 15, 1862. After the expedition arrived at Hatteras Inlet in North Carolina, a colonel and the surgeon of  the 9th New Jersey drowned during a trip back to their mother ship after a short visit ashore, "where they spent some time wandering the beach collecting shells." Nearly 90 horses suffered the same fate when the steamer Pocahantas wrecked near a lighthouse, and 500 11th Connecticut soldiers aboard the Voltigeur ended up stranded on a sand bar in the inlet for 23 days before they finally made it ashore.

The Union attempt to put a stranglehold on North Carolina did not start well.

Sketch artist Frank Schell drew this image of the stranded Voltigeur, with
 11th Connecticut soldiers aboard, in Hatteras Inlet in North Carolina in January 1862.
(New York Public Library Collection)

Shortly after the 11th Connecticut left Annapolis aboard the Voltigeur, Henry became ill with the "measles," according to his commanding officer, Captain Edwin Lee, who had him transferred to a more comfortable quarters in a cabin on the troop transport. Initially, Ford appeared to be recovering, but he eventually was overcome by "congestion of the lungs" and died on Jan. 16.

According to this death certificate, dated March 29, 1863, the 
cause of Private Henry Ford's death was typhoid fever.
(CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE.)

In breaking the news of  Henry's death to the soldier's father, Lee wrote that the teenager "died in the defense of his country's flag and sustaining our nation's honor although he did not die amid the roar and din of battle, in the face of our country's foe." The captain of Company D explained to Amos Ford that army regulations prevented his son's body from being kept long enough to take ashore, so he was buried at sea the morning after he died. That ritual undoubtedly was witnessed by a grieving William Ford, who also was aboard the Voltigeur. Lee assured Amos that should anything happen to his 20-year-old son, "I shall inform you at the earliest moment if I am spared but my chances are not better than others nor as good as many."

"But grieve not at your loss," Lee wrote in the three-page letter written the day after Henry's funeral, "but rather consider it gain that you have thus contributed such a priceless treasure to liberty of man and your country. (See full text and transcription of the letter below.)

Tragedy soon rocked the Ford family again. Amos, a farmer, died of consumption in 1862, and William, who transferred to the U.S. Army 3rd Heavy Artillery in October 1862, died of disease on Dec. 9, 1863. Lee, too, would not survive the Civil War. During a charge on Confederate entrenchments at the Battle of New Bern (N.C.) on March 14, 1862, the captain from Barkhamsted, Conn., was killed when artillery fire ripped open his abdomen. He was only 28 years old.

Sources: 
Ancestry.com
Henry Ford pension file, National Archives and Records Service, Washington, D.C.
New York Times, Jan. 25, 1862
1860 U.S. census

X X X

In a three-page letter to the father of  Private Henry Ford,  his commanding officer
 broke the news of the teenaged soldier's death ftom disease. Henry was buried at sea.
(SEE TRANSCRIPTION AND REMAINDER OF LETTER BELOW.)

Hatteras Inlet, Aboard Bark Voltigeur,  Jan. 18, 1862

Mr. Ford

Dear Sir

It becomes my painful duty as commander of company D 11th C.V. to inform you of the sudden death of your son Henry, a member of my corps. A short time after we left Annapolis he was taken sick with the measels. I immediately had him transferred from the men's quarters to a comfortable place in the cabin. He appeared to be getting along finely until Thursday the 16th. About 7 o'clock Wednesday afternoon he partook of quite a hearty supper. In fact he had some of it in his hand when he was taken with congestion of the lungs and expired within a few hours. We buried him the next morning at sea with all the ceremonies due the occasion.

We could not possibly keep him until we arrived on shore and regulations demand that they shall not be kept over 12 hours. Sir, I know full well how sudden, how sad a blow this must be to you and his Mother. Tis true the loss is irreparable ...

"He was a good soldier and an upright man," Captain Edwin Lee wrote of Henry Ford.
Pages 2 and 3 of the letter were spliced together using picmonkey.com.

... but I have the consolation to offer you: He was a good soldier and an honest and upright man. He died in the defense of his country's flag and sustaining our nation's honor although he did not die amid the roar and din of battle, in the face of our country's foe. Yet his life was truly a sacrifice to his country as it would have been had such been the case. And rest assured tis an honor of the highest nature to die for one's country. William is here in good health. He will send all of any value belonging to him. There is some money due him from the government viz. two months bounty from the state, $5.00. Also two weeks pay from the U. States government $6.50 and  One Hundred Dollar bounty from the United States government. I shall notify the authorities at Washington so that the proper measures can be taken to secure it for you.

I enclose for you a letter from Wm. (William). We expect soon to be called into action. If anything happens to your other son I shall inform you at the earliest moment if I am spared but my chances are not better than others nor as good as many. But grieve not at your loss but rather consider it gain that you have thus contributed such a priceless treasure to liberty of man and your country. You will receive this as soon as they will permit letters to be forwarded. If you wish any information concerning Henry's effects I shall be happy to contribute it any time you may desire it.

I remain truly yours

Capt. Edwin R. Lee
Co. D 11th Regt. C.V.

Antietam: Two rural graves, two tragedies

Solomon Allen is buried near a huge pine tree in rural Melrose Cemetery in East Windsor, Conn. 
(CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE.)

While photographing the gravestone of  Solomon Allen this morning, I was again reminded of the terrible cost of war and the awful ripple effects of the Battle of Antietam in Connecticut in late summer and early fall 1862. Allen was a 24-year-old corporal in the 16th Connecticut from East Windsor, a rich agricultural area about 15 miles north of Hartford. More than 150 years ago, it was known for tobacco farming and even today the crop is grown near Allen's grave site in rural Melrose Cemetery, which is bordered on two sides by cornfields. On Aug. 10, 1862, Allen married Abalena Beebe. Thirty-nine days later, she became a widow when her husband was killed in John Otto's cornfield at Antietam. After the war, Abalena married Civil War veteran Henry Adams, a private in Allen's Company G who barely survived Antietam. Shot in the right leg, Adams lay in Otto's cornfield for 40 hours before he was discovered by a burial crew and taken to a field hospital on  Joseph Sherrick's farm. Years afterward, he wrote in amazement: "Why did I not die?" (Adams' story is told in more detail in my book, "Connecticut Yankees at Antietam.")

In a note dated Oct. 2, 1863, the Connecticut doctor who treated Warriner wrote of  the cause of the
soldier's death.  (CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE.)

Thirty yards from Allen's final resting place is the grave of another Antietam casualty, 11th Connecticut Corporal William D. Warriner of Windsorville. Wounded in the left forearm in the attack at Burnside Bridge, Warriner lingered for nearly a month after the battle before he died back home in Connecticut on Oct. 14, 1862. The attending physician noted that Warriner died of complications resulting from his wound and typhoid fever contracted in Sharpsburg, Md. William's death was a terrible blow for his wife, Elizabeth, whom he married in a Methodist church on Christmas Day 1848 in Springfield, Mass. And one can only imagine the effects of his death on his four sons, Charles, Gilbert, Alberto and Daniel, none of whom was older than 11 when their father died.

11th Connecticut Private William Warriner's weathered gravestone notes that he died "while 
absent on a furlough." (CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE.)

William Warriner's grave in Melrose Cemetery in East Windsor, Conn.