History Hike: A.P. Hill’s March to Antietam, Part 2

(Being the second part in a two-part series on a hike to Antietam)

By hour three a few hikers were noting sore legs. I felt fine, except for my ankles: the pounding on pavement for miles was starting to cause pain. We made a turn to the north, heading for Pack Horse Ford. As we did we entered the Shepherdstown battlefield, and Kevin discussed recent preservation here. The road here runs downhill through a canopy of trees as we neared the Potomac.

Here was the highlight of the adventure, and potential problem spot. As we neared the crossing at Pack Horse Ford, I recall Confederate troops saying how they heard cannon fire in the distance. I told our merry little band to close up and keep moving, that Lee expected us to arrive soon.

We had all been monitoring the weather for the previous week or so, hoping for no rain. If the Potomac was too high we could not cross the ford. Thankfully (sorry farmers) we’d had a dry spell and the river was low. I was determined to cross the river, I wanted to experience what those soldiers did in crossing the ford. The suggestion was made that perhaps we should have life jackets as we crossed, but we entered the river without those devices and trudged ahead. Rich produced the whiskey and we all had another round as we prepared to enter the river.

The water was amazingly clear, cool, and swift! It wasn’t so cold that it was uncomfortable, it honestly felt great. What surprised me the most was how clear it was, I could see to the rocky bottom. Most of us followed long stretches of bedrock, which were strewn with rough rocks. We could easily envision wagons moving along these features. Rich spotted some bricks laid alongside one stretch of bedrock, obviously meant to fill in a gap and provide access for wagons.

Drew crossed barefoot, stepping carefully. Midway though I had to stop and take it all in. There I was in the middle of the Potomac River. The water was much swifter than I expected, and thankfully I had grabbed a walking stick to steady myself. I’m pretty sure I would have fallen in without it.

While crossing we could clearly see a line of rocks marking the ford. But the water was so shallow we could have crossed about anywhere along here. I drifted into deeper water, just to experience it. I could see water was going to be waist deep so I moved back to the rocks and the water at knee level. Everyone took their time, enjoying the view, the water, and the experience. Drew and Rich talked about spots for fly fishing. You could say we nerded out.

I had long considered the issue of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal in studying A.P. Hill’s march. The canal runs along the north bank of the Potomac, and was surely an obstacle for the Confederate army. The canal’s towpath and bank were several feet high. Records are silent on how the Confederates managed to mitigate these issues. General Nelson Pendleton states that his engineers improved the area for the army’s access. Without specifics, it may be assumed that they either cut the canal banks down or bridged them somehow.

What the History Hikers had to do was scamper up the side, wet from the river crossing, go down into the old canal bed, and up the other side, to finally reach dry land on Canal Road where Richard met us. After a quick drying off and change of shoes and socks (yes, the Confederates had no such luxury), we were off again. Three miles to go. Lee needed us.

Here was the only time we had to deviate from the historic route. A.P. Hill’s division marched straight up a farm lane towards Sharpsburg, then turned right onto Miller’s Sawmill Road to reach the raging battle. That path is now private property and was not open to us. We instead took the canal towpath to Miller’s Sawmill Road, eventually rejoining the historic route. The distance was the same, and I was ok with that.

Kevin showed us the entrance to that farm lane, and a few of us walked right up to a locked gate, beyond which was private property. Standing there, knowing that Hill’s men passed through this very spot, was inspiring. The march uphill here was the hardest part of the journey, ascending 100 feet in about a quarter mile. My water was just about out, I was savoring every sip, rationing it for the last mile.

At about 3 p.m. on September 17, 1862, the Union Ninth Corps began its advance, facing a weak division led by General D.R. Jones. The Federals seized the high ground below Sharpsburg, overwhelming the defenders. Then A.P. Hill’s division arrived in a made-for-Hollywood moment. Side rant: I hate how movie producers twist or reinvent stories for dramatization, the real story is often dramatic enough. This certainly was.

The advance uphill from the river valley was by far the toughest part of the march. And by now many of us were sore. But motivation and adrenaline kept us going. We rejoined the historic route on Miller’s Sawmill Road, and turned towards the last mile.

Our advance guard, led by Jim and Rich, emerged from Miller’s Sawmill Road onto the Harper’s Ferry Road, exactly as General Maxcey Gregg’s South Carolinians had, the first of Hill’s infantry to arrive. Here we regrouped and formed for a charge. I brought a small battle flag and Drew carried it as our color bearer. I took the flag and we all charged the last hundred yards to Pegram’s battery position. Looking out over the same view Hill’s men had as they entered the field was amazing.

The History Hikers advanced down the same slope as the Confederates, and ended the march at the Antietam Creek Vineyards. Here the group, tired but feeling accomplished, had a celebratory toast on ground where Gregg’s men charged, and only accessible when the winery is open. I longed to see that ground, I’d been looking at it from across the fence for years. I had an incredible sense of accomplishment, and the adrenaline flowing would not subside for hours. Then, with six of us squeezed into Richard’s car (Kevin fit nicely into the trunk), it was off to Potomac River Brewing for more drinks and some NFL action.

Jim’s watch said we did 13 miles, which surprised all of us as we fully expected it to be 15 or so. We had started in the same place and used the original route. Of course, Hill and others may have estimated in good faith, or may have exaggerated for greater glory (but that never happens…). We did it in five hours, which included two short breaks, and a long, lingering river crossing where we took our time. I estimate our march time was probably four and half hours. Hill’s troops did not move that quickly, but they were toting their gear and not in modern walking shoes.

Doing this trek was very insightful, being able to experience, to a degree, what those men experienced. We walked the same roads, and saw what they saw.

The march was hard, but not awful. We were certainly tired, but could have done more. Hill’s troops wrote that it was a fast march, without the usual ten minute per hour break, but no one wrote that it was exhausting. It was not the most rapid or the farthest march in the war. Its fame is due to their arrival at the right place at the right time. The History Hikers departed, agreeing to muster again for another march on another battlefield.

After Action Report:

History Hikers: 6

Miles Marched: 13

Rivers Crossed: 1

States Covered: 2

Whiskey Bottles Consumed: 1

Casualties: 2 (Rich stubbed toe, Drew bee stings)