But the rebels did not yield without resistance. They met our men bravely, and though forced to seek safety in flight, turned and poured their volleys into the ranks of the pursuers.
Battle of Fort Stevens.
Lieutenant-Colonel Johnson, commanding the Forty-ninth, a brave man, who had never shrunk from danger, and who had shared all the varied fortunes of the brigade since its organization, fell mortally wounded. Colonel Visscher, of the Forty-third, who had but lately succeeded the beloved Wilson, was killed. Major Jones, commanding the Seventh Maine, was also among the slain; and Major Crosby, commanding the Sixty-first Pennsylvania, who had but just recovered from the bad wound he received in the Wilderness, was taken to the hospital, where the surgeon removed his left arm from the shoulder. Colonel French, of the Seventy-seventh, was injured, but not seriously. The commanding officer of every regiment in the brigade was either killed or wounded.
The fight had lasted but a few minutes, when the stream of bleeding, mangled ones, began to come to the rear. Men, leaning upon the shoulders of comrades, or borne painfully on stretchers, the pallor of their countenances rendered more ghastly by the thick dust which had settled upon them, were brought into the hospitals by scores, where the medical officers, ever active in administering relief to their companions, were hard at work binding up ghastly wounds, administering stimulants, coffee and food, or resorting to the hard necessity of amputation.
At the summit of the ascent, the confederates were strengthened by their second line of battle, and here they made a stout resistance; but even this position they were forced to abandon in haste, and as darkness closed in upon the scene, our men were left as victors in possession of the ground lately occupied by the rebels, having driven their adversaries more than a mile.
The Vermont brigade now came to the relief of the boys who had so gallantly won the field, and the Third brigade returned at midnight to the bivouac it had left in the morning. But not all returned. Many of those brave fellows who went with such alacrity into the battle, had fallen to rise no more. In the orchard, in the road, about the frame house and upon the summit, where the rebels had made so determined a resistance, their forms were stretched upon the green sward and in the dusty road, stiff and cold. Many more had come to the hospital severely injured, maimed for life or mortally wounded.
The little brigade, numbering only a thousand men when it went into action, had lost two hundred and fifty of its number.
During the night the raiders made their escape toward Rockville. The prisoners left in our hands told us that they had anticipated an easy victory in front of Washington, believing that the forts were defended only by convalescents and quartermaster's men, and, when they saw the white crosses of the old Sixth corps, they were seized with consternation. They now understood that the city was guarded by veterans who had acquired, in the rebel army, a disagreeable reputation.
While the battle was in progress, President Lincoln stood upon the parapet of the fort watching, with eager interest, the scene before him. Bullets came whistling around, and one severely wounded a surgeon who stood within three feet of the President. Mrs. Lincoln entreated him to leave the fort, but he refused; he, however, accepted the advice of General Wright to descend from the parapet and watch the battle from a less exposed position.