This history of the Union XII Corps “skillfully weaves firsthand accounts into a compelling story about the triumphs and defeats of this venerable unit” (Bradley M. Gottfried, author of The Maps of Antietam). The diminutive Union XII Corps found significant success on the field at Antietam. Its soldiers swept through the East Woods and the Miller Cornfield—permanently clearing both of Confederates—repelled multiple Southern assaults against the Dunker Church plateau, and eventually secured a foothold in the West Woods. This important piece of high ground had been the Union objective all morning, and its occupation threatened the center and rear of Gen. Robert E. Lee’s embattled Army of Northern Virginia. Yet federal leadership largely ignored this signal achievement and the opportunity it presented. The achievement of the XII Corps is especially notable given its string of disappointments and hardships in the months leading up to Antietam. M. Chris Bryan’s Cedar Mountain to Antietam begins with the formation of this often-luckless command as the II Corps in Maj. Gen. John Pope’s Army of Virginia on June 26, 1862. Bryan explains in meticulous detail how the corps endured a bloody and demoralizing loss after coming within a whisker of defeating Maj. Gen. “Stonewall” Jackson at Cedar Mountain on August 9; suffered through the hardships of Pope’s campaign before and after the Battle of Second Manassas; and triumphed after entering Maryland and joining the reorganized Army of the Potomac. The men of this small corps earned a solid reputation in the Army of the Potomac at Antietam that would only grow during the battles of 1863. This unique study, which blends unit history with sound leadership and character assessments, puts the XII Corps’ actions in proper context by providing significant and substantive treatment to its Confederate opponents. Bryan’s extensive archival research, newspapers, and other important resources, together with detailed maps and images, offers a compelling story of a little-studied yet consequential command that fills a longstanding historiographical gap.

“Profusely illustrated . . . an extraordinary and detailed account of a major battle that is often overlooked and underappreciated by Civil War historians.” —Midwest Book Review In early August 1862, Confederate Maj. Gen. Stonewall Jackson took to the field with his Army of the Valley for one last fight—one that would also turn out to be his last independent command. Near the base of Cedar Mountain, in the midst of a blistering heat wave, outnumbered Federal infantry under Maj. Gen. Nathaniel Banks attacked Jackson’s army as it marched toward Culpeper Court House. A violent three-hour battle erupted, yielding more than 3,600 casualties. “The carnage was fearful,” one observer wrote. The unexpected Federal aggressiveness nearly won the day. Jackson, attempting to rally his men, drew his sword—only to find it so rusted, it would not come unsheathed. “Jackson is with you!” he cried, brandishing the sword still in its scabbard. The tide of battle turned—and the resulting victory added to Stonewall’s mystique. Civil War history typically breezes by the battle of Cedar Mountain, moving quickly from the Seven Days’ Battles into the Second Bull Run Campaign, but the stand-alone battle at Cedar Mountain had major implications. It saw the emergence of the Federal cavalry as an effective intelligence collector and screening force. It also provided Confederate Maj. Gen. A.P. Hill’s first opportunity to save the day—and his first opportunity to raise Jackson’s ire. Within the Federal Army, the aftermath of the battle escalated the infighting among generals and led to recriminations and finger-pointing over why the battle was even fought. Some called it outright murder. Most importantly, the Federal defeat at Cedar Mountain halted an advance into central Virginia and provided the commander of the Army of Northern Virginia, Gen. Robert E. Lee, an opportunity to take the fight away from Richmond and toward Washington. For years, Michael Block has been deeply involved in developing interpretation for the Cedar Mountain battlefield. The Carnage was Fearful presents the battle with the full boots-on-the-ground insight Block has earned while walking the ground and bringing its story to life.

At Cedar Mountain on August 9,1862, Stonewall Jackson exercised independent command of a campaign for the last time. Robert Krick untangles the myriad original accounts by participants on both sides of the battle to offer an illuminating portrait of the C

On the Boston Common stands one of the great Civil War memorials, a magnificent bronze sculpture by Augustus Saint-Gaudens. It depicts the black soldiers of the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts Infantry marching alongside their young white commander, Colonel Robert Gould Shaw. When the philosopher William James dedicated the memorial in May 1897, he stirred the assembled crowd with these words: "There they march, warm-blooded champions of a better day for man. There on horseback among them, in the very habit as he lived, sits the blue-eyed child of fortune." In this book Shaw speaks for himself with equal eloquence through nearly two hundred letters he wrote to his family and friends during the Civil War. The portrait that emerges is of a man more divided and complex--though no less heroic--than the Shaw depicted in the celebrated film Glory. The pampered son of wealthy Boston abolitionists, Shaw was no abolitionist himself, but he was among the first patriots to respond to Lincoln's call for troops after the attack on Fort Sumter. After Cedar Mountain and Antietam, Shaw knew the carnage of war firsthand. Describing nightfall on the Antietam battlefield, he wrote, "the crickets chirped, and the frogs croaked, just as if nothing unusual had happened all day long, and presently the stars came out bright, and we lay down among the dead, and slept soundly until daylight. There were twenty dead bodies within a rod of me." When Federal war aims shifted from an emphasis on restoring the Union to the higher goal of emancipation for four million slaves, Shaw's mother pressured her son into accepting the command of the North's vanguard black regiment, the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts. A paternalist who never fully reconciled his own prejudices about black inferiority, Shaw assumed the command with great reluctance. Yet, as he trained his recruits in Readville, Massachusetts, during the early months of 1963, he came to respect their pluck and dedication. "There is not the least doubt," he wrote his mother, "that we shall leave the state, with as good a regiment, as any that has marched." Despite such expressions of confidence, Shaw in fact continued to worry about how well his troops would perform under fire. The ultimate test came in South Carolina in July 1863, when the Fifty-fourth led a brave but ill-fated charge on Fort Wagner, at the approach to Charleston Harbor. As Shaw waved his sword and urged his men forward, an enemy bullet felled him on the fort's parapet. A few hours later the Confederates dumped his body into a mass grave with the bodies of twenty of his men. Although the assault was a failure from a military standpoint, it proved the proposition to which Shaw had reluctantly dedicated himself when he took command of the Fifty-fourth: that black soldiers could indeed be fighting men. By year's end, sixty new black regiments were being organized. A previous selection of Shaw's correspondence was privately published by his family in 1864. For this volume, Russell Duncan has restored many passages omitted from the earlier edition and has provided detailed explanatory notes to the letters. In addition he has written a lengthy biographical essay that places the young colonel and his regiment in historical context.

This magisterial work breaks down the entire campaign into 21 map sets enriched with 124 original full-page color maps. These spectacular cartographic creations bore down to the regimental and battery level. Opposite each map is a full facing page of detailed text to make the story of General Lee's invasion into Maryland come alive.

Robert E. Lee, after decisively repelling John Pope's August 1862 invasion of Virginia at the Second Battle of Manassas, took the offensive. Moving north into Maryland, Lee divided his forces to capture Harpers Ferry while continuing his advance further into Union territory. George B. McClellan, the new Union commander, learned that Lee had divided his forces, and advanced to attack the Confederates. The armies, from squad to corps level, fought hard in both cavalry and infantry actions for control of the three gaps across South Mountain, about sixty miles from the Federal capital. The victory McClellan's officers and men gave him forced Lee to fall back and regroup near the town of Sharpsburg, Maryland, thus setting the stage for the Civil War's bloodiest day which soon followed at Antietam Creek. Three days before that September day, the opposing armies fought a series of engagements that came to be known as the Battle of South Mountain. Until Before Antietam those battles existed i

Readers of Civil War history have been led to believe the battle of South Mountain was but a trifling skirmish, a preliminary engagement of little strategic or tactical. In fact, the fight was a decisive Federal victory and important turning point in the campaign, as historian Brian Matthew Jordan argues convincingly in his fresh interpretation.

The Battle of Shepherdstown and the End of the Campaign is the third and final volume of Ezra Carman’s magisterial The Maryland Campaign of September 1862. As bloody and horrific as the battle of Antietam was, historian Ezra Carman—who penned a 1,800-page manuscript on the Maryland campaign—did not believe it was the decisive battle of the campaign. Generals Robert E. Lee and George B. McClellan intended to continue fighting after Sharpsburg, but the battle of Shepherdstown Ford (September 19 and 20) forced them to abandon their goals and end the campaign. Carman was one of the few who gave this smaller engagement its due importance, detailing the disaster that befell the 118th Pennsylvania Infantry and Maj. Gen. A. P. Hill’s success in repulsing the Union advance, and the often overlooked foray of Jeb Stuart’s cavalry to seize the Potomac River ford at Williamsport. Carman also added a statistical study of the casualties in the various battles of the entire Maryland Campaign, and covered Lincoln’s decision to relieve McClellan of command on November 7. He also explored the relations between President Lincoln and General McClellan before and after the Maryland Campaign, which he appended to his original manuscript. The “before” section, a thorough examination of the controversy about McClellan’s role in the aftermath of Second Manassas campaign, will surprise some and discomfort others, and includes an interesting narrative about McClellan’s reluctance to commit General Franklin’s corps to aid Maj. Gen. John Pope’s army at Manassas. Carman concludes with an executive summary of the entire campaign. Dr. Clemens concludes Carman’s invaluable narrative with a bibliographical dictionary (and genealogical goldmine) of the soldiers, politicians, and diplomats who had an impact on shaping Carman’s manuscript. While many names will be familiar to readers, others upon whom Carman relied for creating his campaign narrative are as obscure to us today as they were during the war. The Maryland Campaign of September 1862, Vol. III: The Battle of Shepherdstown and the End of the Campaign, concludes the most comprehensive and detailed account of the campaign ever produced. Jammed with firsthand accounts, personal anecdotes, detailed footnotes, maps, and photos, this long-awaited study will be appreciated as Civil War history at its finest.

Lauded as a hero in his native land for his sensational but ultimately unsuccessful exploits during the 1848 German Revolution, Franz Sigel—who immigrated to the United States in 1852—is among the most misunderstood figures of the American Civil War. He was appointed by Abraham Lincoln as a political general in the Union army, a move that successfully galvanized northern support and provided a huge influx of German recruits who were eager to “fight mit Sigel.” But Sigel proved an inept and ineffectual leader and, unfortunately, is most often remembered for his disappointing failure at the Battle of New Market and his subsequent loss of command. In his insightful biography, Stephen D. Engle provides the first complete portrait of this enigmatic leader and German standard-bearer, showing Sigel to be a disciplined, self-sacrificing idealist who sparked more pride among his fellow èmigrés, aroused more controversy among Americans, and perhaps enjoyed more admiration—despite his military shortcomings—than any other Civil War figure.

A Look Inside The trials & tribulations of one of the Civil War's most battle-tested units.