Dear Mama,

Yesterday I believe I fought in a battle with no winner. It is September 18, 1861, the day after the Battle of Antietam. Forty thousand Southern troops invaded Maryland a few days ago and we marched to meet them near Antietam Creek. We violently clashed for twelve long hours. We made uncoordinated advances on the Confederates, making a small amount of progress pushing the South out of Maryland. We outnumbered the Confederates but they held their ground impressively considering we almost doubled them in numbers. After the first eight hours, we had killed or injured over fifteen thousand southern men but the battle was hardly over. General Ambrose Burnside led us in a three-hour fight over the bridge spanning the creek. We eventually captured the bridge pushing the South even further back. As night fell, both sides held their ground and little progress was being made. That night over 23,000 Americans died before General Lee and his troops withdrew from Maryland. It was soon decided that we, the Union, had won the battle, but it was hardly a victory.

I know this may come as a disappointment to you as it seems that we have different opinions of who should win this war. I do believe that in fighting for the Union I am fighting for the ideals of freedom and that all men are created equal, but I see little point in trying to convince you. I have little pride over the southern men that I killed knowing that in a different world we could have been friends. The thought that the soldiers I fight next to may have ended the life of Father or John haunts me almost as much as the fear of killing them myself. I just got back from helping to count the dead and it sorrows me to say I lost over twelve thousand brothers in arms, one of them was Adam. Adam was my first friend in the Union Army and the only one who kept me sane. He didn’t believe in fighting against our brothers but he was here because he believed in the Northern cause. So far this war seems endless and the thought of me surviving it seems unlikely. I miss home but I don’t regret leaving to fight. Hopefully, we’ll see each other again before my seemingly certain doom. 

All the best,

Jeremiah