The column was soon formed in the following order:—
28th Mass., 79th Highlanders, Col. David Morrison.
50th Penn., 8th Michigan, Col. Benjamin C. Christ.
100th Penn., 46th New York, Lieut.-Col. David A. Lecky.
The formation was nearly completed when General Reno appeared. He had been sick and off duty the day before. The conference between him and General Stevens was brief. The latter pointed out the supposed position of the enemy, in a few strong words showed the necessity of hurling back his threatened advance, and declared his intention of attack as soon as his column was formed. General Reno seemed undecided and hesitating. He seemed not to approve the movement, but he certainly did not disapprove it in words, nor did he give any orders, nor take command in any way, and soon turned and rode back.
General Stevens now dismounted, and directed his staff to dismount, and sent one of them to each of the leading regiments, with orders to go forward with it and make every exertion to force the charge home. He sent Captain Stevens to the Highlanders, and Lieutenant Dearborn, his aide, to the 28th Massachusetts.
The column now advanced, Benjamin’s guns firing shells into the woods in front. It descended a long, gentle slope, crossed a slight hollow, and swept steadily up the easy ascent in three firm, regular lines with the fixed bayonets glistening above them. Not a sight nor sound betrayed the presence of the enemy. There was nothing to be seen but the open field, extending two hundred yards in front and closed by the wall of woods, with an old zigzag rail fence at its edge. “There is no enemy there,” exclaimed Captain Lusk to Captain Stevens, as they were marching side by side; “they have fallen back; we shall find nothing there.”
Even as he spoke, the enemy poured a terrific volley from behind the rail fence. Captain Stevens struck the ground with great force and suddenness, shot in the arm and hip, and as he struggled to his feet saw the even battle line of the Highlanders pressing firmly and steadily on. A few minutes later General Stevens came up on foot, stopped a moment to ask his son if he was badly hurt, and to order a soldier to help him off the field, and, unheeding his remonstrances, moved on after the first line.
The enemy was smiting the column with a terrible and deadly musketry. The men were falling fast. General Stevens now ordered Captain Lusk to hasten to the 50th Pennsylvania, which was hesitating at entering the cornfield, and to push them forward, for, as the column advanced, the left struck and extended into this cornfield.
The troops, under the withering hail of bullets, were now wavering and almost at a standstill. Five color-bearers of the Highlanders had fallen in succession, and the colors again fell to the ground. At this crisis General Stevens pushed to the front, seized the falling colors from the hands of the wounded bearer, unheeding his cry, “For God’s sake, don’t take the colors, general; they’ll shoot you if you do!” and calling aloud upon his old regiment, “Highlanders, my Highlanders, follow your general!” rushed forward with the uplifted flag. The regiment responded nobly. They rushed forward, reached the edge of the woods, hurled themselves with fury upon the fence and the rebel line behind it, and the enemy broke and fled in disorder. The 28th Massachusetts joined gallantly in the charge, and the other brigades as gallantly supported the first. At this moment a sudden and severe thunderstorm, with a furious gale, burst over the field and the rain fell in torrents, while the flash of lightning and peals of thunder seemed to rebuke man’s bloody, fratricidal strife.
General Stevens fell dead in the moment of victory. A bullet entered at the temple and pierced his brain. He still firmly grasped the flagstaff, and the colors lay fallen upon his head and shoulders. His noble, brave, and ardent spirit, freed at last from the petty jealousies of earth, had flown to its Creator.