Welcome to Sharpsburg, American's Most Important Civil War Town
Geocache Description: The cache is a small, round, metal gray container labeled #2. Keep in mind there is no pen or pencil here, just a log inside. Please replace the cache very carefully where it rested. By the way, you don't need to complete this geocache history and ghosts tour in order. Proceed in any manner convenient to you.
The Earth Opened Up
The Federal army opened up an artillery barrage aimed at Sharpsburg with the first shells falling in the village before dawn on September 17, 1862. For the next fifteen hours, the town suffered an onslaught of artillery designed to hold back Confederate reserves. With Lee’s army firmly set in the town and crowded into barns, stables, outbuildings and vacated homes, it may have been a wise view, militarily, to attempt to dislodge them or, at least, keep them on their toes and on the move. For the people who lived in Sharpsburg and stayed there huddled in clusters in basements, it was the beginning of two days of terror.
The first day, September 17, 1862, kept the four hundred or so Sharpsburg citizens who remained in the village jammed together inside sturdy homes. There were, however, a few adventurous souls, notably Jacob McGraw, Savilla Miller and Theresa Kretzer. Each took opportunities to look much farther than the view out their front windows or rear porches, and you can read their detailed accounts in the chapters named for them. The cannonading lasted through the day into the darkness of evening before slowing and then finally ceasing. Overnight from the seventeenth to the morning of the eighteenth, there was scattered musket fire across the battle lines but nothing that remotely equaled the engagements of the all-out battle.
The second day, September 18, found the Confederate and Union armies in nearly the same positions as the day before. This meant Sharpsburg was still occupied by Rebels and therefore a possible artillery target. It also meant that those who had left their homes and fled the town could not yet return. No one could cross the lines of two armies and return to the village. For those who stayed in the town but sought safety in sturdier buildings, it meant another day of worry; there was no thought of going anywhere as long as Lee held the town. History tells us the eighteenth was a kinder day for the civilians of Sharpsburg because the Union artillery did not engage it as a target. The day lulled by slowly while those who were in others’ homes pondered thoughts of leaving.
Overnight from the eighteenth to the nineteenth of September, Lee’s army gathered and started to move out, headed to the west at three river crossings. With the new day came relief: those who were out of the village started their treks home, only to find alarming and gruesome scenes of death on every road and path. Those who had been guests at the fortress-like stone homes moved back to their own cabins to discover homes that were ransacked, looted and, very likely, occupied by wounded or dead Confederate soldiers.
Miraculously, there were no civilians injured from the bombardment of Sharpsburg on the bloodiest day in American history. There were, however, many survivors of the town who lived long into the next century after the events of September 1862. We are fortunate to have their profoundly interesting observations of shot and shell, stories that were told, retold and eventually recorded in writing. We know their primary emotions of fear and deep concern for the wellbeing of their homes because hundreds survived and dozens recorded the details of their stories.
Although nearly every home and building was struck, and records indicate seven to nine buildings were destroyed, today, the effects of the deluge of artillery on the village are barely noticeable by examination of the exteriors of the structures. Unlike Gettysburg, which features artillery shells lodged in the bricks and mortar in dozens of buildings, the remnants of the cannonading of Sharpsburg are today visible only on one building in town. The former home of Dr. Biggs, a notable citizen and town surgeon, features a ball of about three inches diameter still resting firmly where it found its mark over 150 years ago. The home sits on the northwest corner of the town square, and the black iron ball is clearly visible from the sidewalk there. 005
Nearly every character in this book experienced firsthand terror, death and destruction from the Union artillery that fell that day. Their lives were changed, and their stories were made vibrant and thrilling for them to tell and for others to hear. Many of the stories, told with subtle variations over time, have taken hold and are now living in newer stories, ones that survived the original owners and have moved on and grown in shape and dimension. They are invisible cultural fabric not well understood because the backdrop of their history is not understood—until now.
The Union Artillery
The good news for the people of the village, as well as the Confederates who were in Sharpsburg when the artillery fire began, is that the Union army’s batteries of its largest and most modern gun, the twenty-pound Parrott rifle, were aimed at taking on the Confederate army’s artillery at battlefield locations north of Sharpsburg. The twenty-pounder Parrott weapons were designed to be fired with the some of the largest charges of powder ever devised for field guns, and shells for these weapons exploded overhead. They could be fired over a distance of two miles with charges timed to explode on target by a fuse. They were greatly feared weapons and were well known for their devastating effects on massed army units. While they could also be effective for rendering damage to structures, eyewitness accounts of the Union artillery fire levied on the village indicate that it was mostly smaller aerial charges and solid-shot balls that rained down. Sometimes, the balls smacked and crashed through plaster ceilings and walls without explosions. After piercing the structure and smashing the furniture and interiors of homes, some accounts say the masses of blackened metal continued their journeys through floors into lower rooms or basements or exited through exterior walls. On the other hand, charged shells, those designed to explode, sometimes did so while still in the air while others erupted upon contact with a target. In either event, charged shells sent shrapnel flying everywhere—through doors, walls, roofs and windows.
Many of the shells fired by the Union army landed in Sharpsburg but did not explode. For months and years after the battle, people of the town found them with results that any ordinary, prudent person would expect. Almost immediately after the battle, a wise reporter predicted dire consequences from the inundation of fields with the unexploded ordnance:
Herald of Freedom and Torchlight, October 1, 1862
A Vast Grave-yard
The fields over which the battles of the Antietam raged are dotted in every direction with graves. These graves are generally very shallow, and it will be difficult hereafter to turn up the soil to any depth without disturbing the bones of those who repose in them. Many unexploded shells have also buried themselves beneath the surface, and if they should come in violent contact with the plow-coulter they would certainly explode, and render ploughing a very unsafe work in such a soil.
News accounts quickly came to light to reveal ghastly results about tragedies in the area. The following story was reported from Williamsport, Maryland, a river town just north of Sharpsburg:
Maryland Free Press, January 30, 1863
Two boys, Polk and Dallas, twin sons of John Nowl of Williamsport were on Monday, the 18th inst., trying to remove the charge from an unexploded shell; one of the boys in striking upon the plug which contains the percussion cap, exploded it a piece struck one of them on the leg, carrying away a large portion of the flesh and producing such a fracture of the bone as to require amputation of the limb. Another piece struck the other boy on the arm, also producing extensive laceration of the soft parts, and badly fracturing both bones. The amputation of the leg was performed by Dr. 
assisted by Dr. Croft. Both boys are doing well. Many similar accidents have occurred from the improper handling of explosives and as our county is now strewed with them persons cannot be too careful in handling them as sometimes the slightest stroke or falling from the hand to the ground may cause their explosion.
Despite the warning and obvious danger, people continued to try to explore the inner contents of unexploded ordnance. A minister of the town lost his teenage son to an explosion in the spring of 1863.
Maryland Free Press, March 6, 1863
Fatal Accident
On Saturday last a youth 15 or 16 years of age, son of Rev. M.L. Shuford, of Sharpsburg, in this county, was so seriously injured by the explosion of a shell, from which he was endeavoring to remove the contents, as to cause his death on the following day. Great care should be taken in handling these shells, large numbers of which have been taken from the battle-field and are scattered over the county. Many of them are easily exploded as is evidenced by the number of accidents which have already occurred in handling them.
The armies were gone, but left behind were incidental and deadly reminders of their visit.
The Sharpsburg Experience
Ghosts v. Reenactors
Try to imagine walking by an alley in Sharpsburg at nighttime and looking down its length. In the dim but streetlamp-lit distance, you see a lone soldier or maybe a group of gray-clad, gaunt and grizzled Confederates. What instincts would you follow to understand the sighting?
All human experience tells us to believe what we see in terms of what we have experienced. The easiest and safest explanation would be to surmise that because we are in Sharpsburg the images must be Confederate reenactors. Not only is there logical safety in the explanation, it is also probably true. Yet this is a common error among both villagers and visitors because not everything you might see in Sharpsburg is real. Much of it can be explained or directly related to the events of September 1862. Without understanding the historical events of long ago, you might miss the greatest connections we know of in Civil War history between the past and present. Even among the people who live in Sharpsburg, the immediate assumption of “reenactors again” leads to misidentifications. Not every Confederate reenactor is a ghost, and not every sighting of a ghost is a reenactor.
Confederate reenactors predominate in Sharpsburg because it was the central operating base for Lee’s army. In the days before the battle on September 17, 1862, the Confederate army marched into the town and moved into every uninhabited, and sometimes inhabited, home, barn, church, stable and shop in the village. These days, Confederate reenactors frequently camp on farms just a stone’s throw away from the town center, within an easy quarter-mile walk of the town. It is no wonder Sharpsburg has so many late night and early morning sightings of moving Confederate foot cavalry. The main question to be answered is are any of them living, breathing persons of the current day? Or could they possibly be fleeting remnants, mysterious reminders that flow from events from over 150 years ago? Sometimes we know and can be certain, but mostly we are left to guess one from the other. An understanding of the town’s Civil War history and events can lead to unmistakable connections that make sense.
The Ghostly Confederate Soldiers’ Passageway
There is more than just traffic moving along the streets and alleys in the northwest quadrant of Sharpsburg. There are also regular reports of Confederate soldiers moving down the roads headed west toward the Potomac River. Some are only witnessed in the middle of the night, while others appear in morning hours or at dusk. There are dozens, and on our ghost tours, we simply do not have time to mention every one that we’ve been told. Although the thousands of Confederate bodies left in Maryland could not cross the river with their regimental units, it seems they may still be trying to head west and cross over the Potomac River to rejoin them.
In this northwest corner of Sharpsburg, the sightings of Confederate soldiers continue like leftover memories from their past presence here. The quadrant is bounded by Chapline Street on the north, Main Street on the south, Mechanic Street on the east and the Potomac River on the west. Slicing east and west through the middle of the area is Alley No. 1, or what we call the Ghostly Confederate Soldiers’ Passageway. Over and over, during the Civil War, the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia moved through and occupied the town. Lee first came in September 1862 and fought the bloodiest day in American history from his base in Sharpsburg. In June 1863, the Confederate army passed through on the way to Gettysburg but left units behind in Washington County to secure the crossings over the Potomac River. In July 1864, the Army of Northern Virginia again was on the move. After crossing the river near Sharpsburg, it circled southeast in a last ditch and failed effort to capture Washington, D.C.
Sharpsburg is crisscrossed by streets and alleyways that give the appearance that nothing has changed here since September 1862. Houses look ancient with the oldest falling into one of three types. There are eleven large limestone block homes, called founder’s houses, and most have two original storeys. These are the homes of Sharpsburg’s first settlers. There are one-storey structures that were originally log cabins. These have gone through transitions since the end of the Civil War. Most added a second storey, and there are only a few examples that remain with just one floor. Many have exteriors that were later covered with boards for siding, and some were eventually bricked over or covered in stucco. Then there are larger, two-storey brick buildings. Some, but not all, of this type were here during the days of the battle, and some came after.
Likewise, the alleys of Sharpsburg still have solid wooden outbuildings that date back to the days of September 1862. Key to knowing which pre-date the war, and those that were erected afterward, are the styles of hinges used on doors or windows. Forged hinges are telltale for knowing that the building existed at the time, and there are ample examples along the alleyways. Some, however, send mixed signals and use both forged and machine-made hinges. The conclusion we draw from examples like these is that the machine hinges either replaced a forged hinge or were added with a new window or door.
Although the military incursions came and went, some of the Confederates did not go home. On September 18, 1862, Lee’s army evacuated Sharpsburg. In an effort to tidy up, the army soldiers got busy digging graves for thousands of their dead comrades. Hundreds were buried in the fields just north of town. Dozens were buried in the yards and cemeteries in Sharpsburg. Hundreds more were buried along the sides of roads leading west from Sharpsburg toward the Potomac River. Two to three miles from Sharpsburg, at the river crossing to Virginia called Bridgeport, the Confederates left behind many dozens of dead in field graves. Between 1862 and 1874, the roads from Main Street in Sharpsburg west to the Potomac, and from Chapline Street west to Snyder’s Landing were lined with graves of Confederate soldiers lost at Antietam. Likewise, within the area of Sharpsburg we call the Ghostly Confederate Soldiers’ Passageway, many lots were used to bury bodies that had been left in the houses and yards in the town. On our tour, we pass by those places that were converted into Confederate cemeteries and describe how deteriorated the graves became in a very short time.
Most accounts that recall them describe the graves as not more than eighteen inches deep; therefore, it was not very long before the dirt settled or washed away, leaving human skeletal remains out in the open. What garish visions! For years after 1862, a kind of numb immunity must have settled in as the people of the town grew used to such sights and learned to ignore them. In 1863, one Confederate on a march to Gettysburg described the area around Sharpsburg in a letter to his parents:
I have been this morning over the old Sharpsburg battle field this morning and have witnessed the most horrible sights that my eyes ever beheld I saw dead Yankees in any number lying on the top of the ground with a little dirt throwed over them and the hogs rooting them out of the ground and eating them and other lying on top of the ground with flesh picked off and their bones bleaching and they by many hundreds! Oh what a horrible sight for human being to look upon in a civilized Country!
—George K. Harlow, letter to family, June 3, 1863.
The writer, however, is probably mistaken about one detail because the graves he describes were not likely the graves of Yankee soldiers. More likely is that they were Confederate graves that were dug in a greatly hurried rush as the army tried to reorganize and move back across the Potomac River.
Two GPS locations to explore mysterious folklore of Sharpsburg are close by. The first is just west of the location of this cache. Walk west in the alley about 75 yards to 39°27'31.2"N 77°44'59.6"W and look towards the grassy hill to the right of the white building (Old Sharpsburg Fire Hall). The following story took place here:
Charley King’s War
In April 1849 in Chester County, Pennsylvania, a baby boy was born to Pennell and Adaline King. The parents named him Charles, but everyone called him Charley. He grew into a rather bright child and, when he became of school age, took an interest in drumming and received one as gift. As Charley’s proficiency grew, this interest became a regular hobby. The year he turned twelve, the Civil War erupted. Charley, like so many young people of the time, saw only the glory of battle instead of the ever-present danger and wanted nothing more in the world than to be a drummer boy for the Union Army. When he approached his father and asked to join, his father abruptly refused. Despite Charley’s persistent pleading, he remained steady in his decision.
Charley’s luck changed when Company F of the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry began recruiting near his home. He began to spend the little free time he had hanging about the recruiting office. The recruiter, a captain by the name of Sweeney, was very impressed with Charley’s talent for drumming, as well as his desire to join, and he agreed to speak with Charley’s parents. In early September 1861, Captain Sweeney paid a call on the King home. Pernell and Adaline bristled at the idea until Captain Sweeney told them that drummer boys did not go to combat but remained behind the lines assisting wounded soldiers. He sweetened his proposal and assured the parents that drummer boys are kept out of battle.
Finally, his parents conceded. Charley had won! In September 1861, he enlisted and became a drummer boy for Company F, Forty-ninth Pennsylvania Volunteers. Captain Sweeney’s record of Charley’s enlistment falsely recorded his age at the time as eighteen.
Throughout the following year, Charley gained the respect and admiration of his fellow soldiers. His drumming was so impressive that he earned a promotion to drum major and was paid a salary. Charley continued his duties during the Union assault against the Rebels during the Peninsula Campaign in Virginia. The Forty-ninth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry was engaged many times in that year at battles in Yorktown, Williamsburg, Chickahominy, Malvern Hill and Second Bull Run. Preceding the fighting at Sharpsburg, Charley and the Forty-ninth fought at the Battle of South Mountain (Crampton’s Pass). By the time the Forty-ninth stepped onto the field at Antietam on September 17, 1862, Charley was indeed a veteran.
One can only imagine the disquiet his poor parents experienced back at home. It is probable that their feelings of apprehension were only minimally tempered by the daring accomplishments of their twelve-year-old son.
When Charley’s unit, the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, arrived at Antietam under the command of Winfield Scott Hancock, the fighting had mostly finished in the area between the North and East Woods except for occasional artillery fire. One shell found its mark and exploded amid the Forty-ninth. A piece of shrapnel struck poor Charley, and he was severely wounded through the body. Civil War records of wounds described in this way were nearly always fatal, and much to the distress of his beloved Company F, Charley perished in a field hospital three days later. He was the youngest soldier on either side of the conflict to die as a direct result of the fighting.
No one knows exactly where Charley’s body is buried. There are conflicting stories about whether his father was able to recover Charley’s body and take him home. Most likely, Charley is buried in the Antietam National Cemetery as one of the many unknown.
It seems, however, that Charley King’s war is not over. </>
The 150th anniversary of the Battle of Antietam was commemorated at dawn in the Cornfield section of the battlefield. The National Park Service held a memorial that featured a volley of gunfire from about fifty reenactors directly at the right flank of the assembled crowd. Immediately after the volley of muskets, a mock artillery shot was fired from the Dunker Church to the rear of the assemblage, which screeched overhead and thundered in the morning mist. The effect on the crowd was chilling as they experienced a very small measure of the terror of war. What it must have been like in 1862!
After the commemoration, as guests departed the presentation, two women approached a park ranger to express appreciation for the event, including the musketry and cannon fire, which gave the experience an authentic feel. The women told the ranger they particularly liked the young Union drummer boy they saw off in the distance in the early dawn. Their favorite part of the commemoration, they explained to the ranger, was when the cannon fired and the drummer boy fell to the ground. The area they described matched where Charley’s unit, Company F of the Forty-Ninth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, occupied when he was stuck down.
The ranger was perplexed. He told them the reenactors had not used a drummer boy off in the distance. At the time of his conversation with the women, it did not even remotely occur to him that Charley King might be the drummer boy the women had seen in the field that day.
There have also been sightings of a young Union drummer boy on the hill beyond the Confederate Soldiers’ Passageway at odd times of the day, normally in the light of early morning and in the fading light of late summer evenings. He is seen facing westward overlooking an area in Sharpsburg where dozens of Confederate soldiers were buried in hastily dug and extremely shallow graves. He has been known to stop his drumming to raise his drumstick in salute to passersby—in one instance, to a small group of Confederate reenactors. Among the many unusual and lingering sounds of warfare in Sharpsburg, people of the town often hear the light cadences of military-style drums but are unable to pinpoint a source for the rat-a-tat-tats they hear ringing.
We have mentioned the anniversary of the Battle of Antietam as a time when strange occurrences in Sharpsburg as well as the battlefield seem more prevalent, just as peculiar sightings and happenings seem more common at the twilight and dawn of the day. We received the following unusual tale from three tired and weary souls at a breakfast eatery near Sharpsburg around the time of the anniversary of the battle.
Three Confederate reenactors from a unit in North Carolina were in the area for the annual commemoration of the battle and were camped with their unit at a farm within walking distance of Sharpsburg. The anniversary commemoration had been a very sunny, hot and humid day, even though autumn was just around the corner. After a long day at the battlefield, they decided to make a hike through Sharpsburg to the Potomac River at Snyder’s Landing to cool off a bit before sleeping. Although it was late afternoon and the walk was pleasant, it was still quite warm out and a rather long hike down to the river.
Once at the riverbank, they jumped in, swam a bit and cleaned their clothes of traces of sweat and grime. After some time had passed and they felt refreshed from the heat of the day, they headed back to their camp. The air had cooled somewhat with the sun nearly set, and they felt more comfortable than on the trip to the river. Along the way, they took up conversation about what a pleasant anniversary celebration it had been.
As they walked east from the river, they entered Sharpsburg on Chapline Street. After a few blocks, while passing by the fire hall, they noticed a Union drummer boy tapping out a slow, mournful cadence. He was standing in an unusual place, slightly off the street, a bit downhill in the grass and on the east side of the fire hall near its sidewall. They realized he had noticed them when the drummer boy turned and faced them directly. He stopped his drumming, raised his right arm while still gripping the drumstick and saluted them. He solemnly held his pose until they returned the salute. The North Carolina reenactors strengthened their pace and fell in line creating an improvised military march. The drumming then resumed as they continued on their way past the boy and down the street to the east. Taking a last glance back at the area where the drummer boy appeared, they could still hear the drumming, but the drummer boy was gone.
After they had passed a suitable distance, and believing they were out of earshot of the boy, they started to discuss his presence along the road. Did anyone notice where he was from? One said the drummer boy’s uniform had a Pennsylvania insignia but could not confirm the unit. Another said that he had noticed a small wooden cross pinned to the drummer boy’s uniform and wondered if his unit was a religious military band. The third said he saw a red bandana at the drummer boy’s neck, but he was rebuked by the other two reenactors, who explained it was the boy’s neck that was red, but it was most definitely not a bandana.
All agreed on one thing: it was an honorable experience to have seen the drummer boy and been recognized by his salute. This was precisely the kind of lost glory that each of them hoped to experience and recreate when they attended Civil War reenactments and commemorative events. For one brief moment, the men, marching together through Sharpsburg wearing heavy wool uniforms in the waning heat of the day, experienced, to the best of their understanding, that which a true battle-weary Confederate would have experienced while heading back to camp.
They were excited about the encounter but found nothing inordinately strange in the fortuitous exchange of salutes. It was, after all, an anniversary weekend. The town and the battlefield beyond were interspersed with various soldiers traipsing about, each reliving his own version of what it was like to be there the day of the actual events.
When they finally made it back to camp, they enjoyed a campfire meal and settled in for a long evening of conversation. They told everyone they came across about their encounter with the Union drummer boy. Much later in the evening, an older veteran of the unit sat down beside their campfire next to the men. They recalled the story once again, and when it was over, he asked them to describe the drummer boy. How old? What color hair and eyes? The men replied the boy was young, somewhat thin, with dark hair and blue eyes. The old veteran of their unit hesitated for a moment and then unfolded for them the story of Charley King. When he finished, together they wondered if a Pennsylvania unit visiting the park had in their ranks a drummer boy attempting to represent the real Charley King. Finally, they went to sleep under the stars, just as a Confederate soldier would have done, but they were curious to learn more about Charley.
The next morning, the men broke camp early. After all the gear was packed and stowed away, they headed to the nearest Sharpsburg restaurant for breakfast before heading back home to the real world. Once they had settled into their booth with coffee, they connected their various electronic devices to internet. The table fell quiet as each went to work looking for any information about young Charley King. It took almost no time at all. Within minutes, a picture of Charley was there on a laptop for all the reenactors to view. As they stared at the picture of the solemn young man, one conclusion occurred to all of them: this boy in the picture was the same drummer boy they saw the previous day. The men had witnessed Charley King performing the duty for which he had lost his short life.
Charley King enthusiastically attended his duties with Company F of the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry. He served his country and made the supreme sacrifice in his quest to quell the rebellion. It seems the spirit of young Charley King is just as reluctant to relinquish his post today as ever before.
From this point it's just a short walk to 39°27'29.6"N 77°44'57.0"W for a cool story about an artillery unit that appears on the Main Street of Sharpsburg. The following story is just one incident where a person of Sharpsburg saw the unit and noted critical details about it.
The Broken Confederate Artillery
One repeated sighting on Main Street in Sharpsburg, just west of the town square, is of a broken artillery caisson that is dragged by a team of horses and pushed by the remnants of a unit of men who appear fatigued and strained by the ardor of battle. The men and horses struggle to move the heavy load with smashed and broken wagon wheels up a long sloping rise as the street heads to the west. Sometimes the story is reported with a single broken-down caisson and cannon; other times there are two cannons, one of them described as severely smashed or bent at the barrel.
This is one of the very first ghost stories we learned while exploring the houses, streets and alleys in Sharpsburg, and every so often, the same story has been told to us again. It must be a startling scene. One person gave a thrilling and highly detailed description of twelve to fifteen men and two horses. She was not a student of history or of the Civil War, and she emphasized one detail that she found enormously curious. The soldiers, she said, had uniform insignia that appeared to be a palm tree. She jokingly asked if Hawaii had contributed Confederate troops to the war.
Until recently, the story was not explained on our tour even though the scene is directly on the tour route. It did not merit presentation because we were not aware of any historical thread to make a connection or to help explain the context of the sighting in that location. It was just another ghost story, and Sharpsburg has lots of those. However, the story status changed in a very stunning way when a connection between the reported sighting and a similar historical event was, by chance opportunity, uncovered.
We randomly discovered a similar historical event involving broken artillery moving through Sharpsburg while checking references for stories presented in this text. See Landscape Turned Red: The Battle of Antietam, by Stephen W. Sears (Houghton Mifflin, 1983). The book has a detailed account about a South Carolina artillery unit under the command of Captain Hugh R. Garden of the Palmetto Battery of the South Carolina Light Artillery. The unit was involved in heavy fighting against Union artillery from the ridge east of town where the Antietam National Cemetery is located. Sears reveals a story about the small battery of two cannons, both struck and disabled by a single shot from a Union counter-battery a mile or so to the east and across the Antietam near Keedysville. One of the Palmetto Battery cannons suffered a direct hit in the barrel and was bent and disfigured, while the other had its caisson wheels broken and blown to bits. The unit was ordered to the rear, and Captain Garden assembled his men, who quickly packed up and began hauling both cannons away, dragging them to the west along Main Street. Because the street in that direction is sharply downhill, initially the effort would not be very difficult. The steep decline ultimately levels within a block. However, as the retreat continued west along Main Street to the Confederate rearguard, once it reached the town square and moved slightly more to the west, an uphill battle would have begun in earnest.
By the way, South Carolina units were famously known for their uniform insignia featuring embroidered palmetto trees and crescent moons.
In Sharpsburg more than any place we know, the history of what happened helps explain the otherwise inexplicable. Attributions to Confederate reenactors notwithstanding, the best way to figure out if an image is real or not is to go to him and use your “ghost detectors” by offering to shake his hand or pat him on the back.
Geocache Description: The cache is a small, round, metal gray container labeled #2. Keep in mind there is no pen or pencil here, just a log inside. Please replace the cache very carefully where it rested. By the way, you don't need to complete this geocache history and ghosts tour in order. Proceed in any manner convenient to you.