behind AotW

I apologize to you if you’re interested in history, but not the Digital kind, especially. The past several posts have undoubtedly glazed your eyes, and those of most readers, I should think.

Let’s get back to another of the notable people of Antietam and a quick look at history from her perspective.

This dedicated looking woman is Isabella Fogg, a volunteer with the Maine Camp and Hospital Association, and mother of a soldier in the 6th Maine Infantry¹. On the first of November 1862, about 6 weeks after the battle of Antietam, she ventured out from Washington DC to observe the conditions of the sick and wounded troops around Sharpsburg, and to do what she could for their comfort.

Let me introduce you to “Gus” Osborne, late of North Carolina and Confederate service.

As a 25 year old Captain, he briefly led the 4th Regiment of North Carolina State Troops in action in the Sunken Road at Sharpsburg on September 17th, 1862, before being struck down and captured by the enemy there. He survived both that experience and the War, however, living to be nearly 90 years of age.

Edwin Osborne, 1864-5

Edwin Augustus Young Osborne was raised by his “pioneer” father, Dr. Ephriam Osborne, in the wilds of Alabama, Arkansas, and Texas in the 1840s and 50s before coming to North Carolina at age 22. Family lore has it that he walked alone from Texas to an aunt’s in Charlotte, and that he enrolled in a military school at Statesville.

He probably helped raise a company of soldiers in Iredell County, and was commissioned Captain in what became Company H of the 4th NCST as that unit was organized in May of 1861. He served with his Regiment in the campaigns of the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia thereafter. He was wounded in action at Seven Pines in May 1862, but was back with his unit in time to join the Maryland Campaign.

As I was exploring Mansfield Monument Road northeast of Sharpsburg, on the way to the upper bridge last Saturday, I passed two men, each in their own cars, stopped along the road facing the Battlefield. Looked like they were waiting for something.

I drove about 100 yards past, and stopped at the high ground on that stretch. The highest point before the land dives down a couple of more ridges to Antietam Creek about 1/2 mile east.

I got out, took my bearings–glad to see the wings of the eagle atop the New York State monument just poking over the trees about a mile and a half to the west–and tried to be William French. I looked at the map some more, put it away, and turned toward the bridge. Lost in my own, ancient place.

Who you following? a voice shouted up the road.

What? Not sure what I heard. I turned to see the two guys were striding up the hill toward me.

Following First Corps?

No, I yelled back, French’s Division, Second Corps.