McClellan’s actual order, which Schenck also overlooked, is headed “9.10 a.m.” Allowing a couple of minutes for transcription, a few more minutes to assign the envelope to the courier and to explain the location of Burnside’s headquarters, and at least 15 minutes for that rider to gallop overland with it, Burnside would not have had it in his hands before 9:30. Any of the likely variations from that basic scenario, such as a wrong turn or a halt for directions, would have brought the delivery closer to 10. Certainly it must have been that time before the first troops moved against the bridge and the bogus ford, so the IX Corps actually consumed less than three hours carrying the creek, rather than five.

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In his 1957 biography of McClellan, Warren Hassler reiterated the bogus 8 a.m. attack order and Douglas’ inaccurate jibe about the depth of the creek. Also relying on McClellan’s self-serving autobiography, McClellan’s Own Story, posthumously published in 1887, Hassler described the commanding general dispatching a second staff officer to Burnside by 9 a.m. with orders to carry the bridge “at the bayonet.” He also cited the highly suspect 1894 reminiscence of one William Biddle, who insisted that McClellan sent Colonel Thomas Key to IX Corps headquarters at noon with a third imperative order to take the bridge at all costs.

Burnside’s troops had made their way over both creek crossings by 1 p.m. Samuel Sturgis’ division, which took the bridge, had exhausted both its ammunition and its stamina, so Burnside had to move Oliver Willcox’s fresh division in to replace it. Before he could continue his assault into the village of Sharpsburg, Burnside also had to bring his artillery and ordnance over the Rohrbach Bridge. Finally, he had to realign Rodman’s isolated division with the troops who had negotiated the bridge. By then McClellan had allowed the fighting on the right to fizzle out, so Lee was able to attend to Burnside a little more effectively, turning firepower on him from other parts of the line. McClellan had infected his subordinates with the fantasy that Lee had 100,000 men on the field, so Burnside proceeded somewhat cautiously with his 13,000.

Ironically, it was Hassler who tried to revise the estimate of McClellan’s available troops downward and Lee’s upward—from a Union strength of more than 80,000 and a Confederate force of about 40,000 to some 69,000 for McClellan and more than 57,000 for Lee. That reduced McClellan’s advantage in numbers from 100 percent to about 20 percent, but when it came to assessing Burnside’s performance Hassler seemed happy to revert to the traditional story of overwhelming Union forces—at least on Burnside’s front.

Hassler characterized Burnside’s realignment of troops as “sitting down” on the job, surmising that this additional delay is what prompted McClellan to send “Captain Biddle” with an imaginary fourth and final directive to move forward. To bolster this message, Biddle ostensibly carried a signed order to relieve Burnside and replace him with another officer: That order was supposed to be handed over if Burnside lollygagged any further.

There Hassler hopelessly muddled Biddle’s tale, ascribing actions to Biddle that Biddle attributed to Colonel Key. Hassler also failed to question why no one else, including George McClellan, mentioned any order for Burnside’s removal during the 32 years that intervened between the battle and Biddle’s reminiscence. It seems fairly obvious that Biddle’s account was one of those inventive recollections that pollute the stream of Civil War history, and that he was obliged to leave his provocative accusation unpublished until after the deaths of all those who might have contradicted it. Giving Biddle’s rendition such conspicuous credence showed poor judgment, at best.

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