Next
morning
Early
tapped
harder,
just
to
make
certain that
the
reinforced
defenses
were
as
solid
as
they
looked. The
VI
Corps
sent
a
whole
brigade
out
to
meet
him,
and
in Fort
Stevens
and
nearby
Fort
De
Russey
the
long-range cannon
came
to
life,
plowing
up
the
slopes
where
the
Rebel skirmishers
were
in
line
and
knocking
down
the
houses
where the
sharpshooters
were
hiding.
The
noise
echoed
and
rolled across
the
open
country
north
of
the
city,
a
blanket
of
ragged white
smoke
slid
down
into
the
hollows,
and
a
trickle
of wounded
men
began
to
flow
back
to
the
rear.
Then
a
carriage pulled
up
by
the
barracks
that
had
been
built
just
behind Fort
Stevens,
and
a
tall
man
in
frock
coat
and
stovepipe
hat got
out—an
unmilitary
figure
among
all
of
these
soldiers,
but moving
nonetheless
with
the
air
of
one
used
to
exercising command—and
here
was
Abraham
Lincoln,
out
to
see
for himself
a
little
of
the
death
and
destruction
which
he
had been
living
with
for
three
years
and
more.
General
Wright
was
in
the
fort,
and
he
greeted
the
Presi
dent;
and
without
stopping
to
think,
never
imagining
that the
invitation
would
be
accepted,
he
asked
if
Mr.
Lincoln would
care
to
get
up
on
the
parapet
with
him
and
watch
the battle.
The
President
said
he
would
like
to
very
much,
and while
Wright
wished
earnestly
that
he
could
recall
his thoughtless
words
the
President
clambered
up
on
top
of
the parapet.
He
was
tall
and
gaunt,
towering
over
everybody,
an obvious
target,
standing
right
where
Southern
sharpshooters were
peppering
the
place
with
Mini6
bullets.
Wright
begged
him
to
get
down,
but
Lincoln
refused,
the idea
of
personal
danger
seeming
not
to
enter
his
head.
A
surgeon
who
had
got
up
on
the
parapet
was
struck,
just
a
few feet
away
from
where
Lincoln
was
standing,
and
other
bullets
flicked
up
the
dirt
near
him,
and
Wright
in
desperation moved
around
to
stand
between
the
President
and
the
enemy fire.
His
entreaties
having
no
effect,
Wright
at
last
bluntly told
the
President
that
he,
General
Wright,
was
in
charge of
operations
here
at
the
fort
and
that
it
was
his
order
that the
President
get
down
out
of
danger;
and
when
Lincoln still
failed
to
move,
Wright
threatened
to
get
a
squad
of
soldiers
and
remove
him
by
force.
This
seemed
to
amuse
the President,
and
while
Wright
gulped
at
his
brashness
in threatening
to
arrest
the
commander
in
chief,
Lincoln
got down
obediently
and
sat
with
his
back
to
the
parapet.
He
was
safe
enough
now,
unless
some
Rebel
gunner
happened
to
burst
a
shell
overhead,
and
Wright
felt
better.
He noticed,
however,
that
Lincoln
was
forever
spoiling
the
effect by
jumping
up
and
peering
over
the
ramparts
for
another look,
and
Wright
later
wrote
to
a
friend:
"I
could
not
help thinking
that
in
leaving
the
parapet
he
did
so
rather
in
deference
to
my
earnestly
expressed
wishes
than
from
any
consideration
of
personal
safety."
13
Meanwhile
the
fight
was
getting
warmer.
Wright's
infantry went
forward,
taking
losses,
and
Lincoln
saw
men
killed
and watched
while
wounded
men
were
carried
to
the
rear.
But Early
realized
that
the
situation
was
hopeless,
and
after
a while
called
in
his
skirmishers,
and
at
dusk
he
ordered
a
retreat.
He
was
in
an
acrid,
festive
humor,
and
as
his
troops fell
into
column
for
the
march
back
to
Virginia
Early
turned to
an
aide
and
remarked:
"Major,
we
haven't
taken
Washington,
but
we've
scared
Abe
Lincoln
like
hell!"
The
aide agreed
that
this
was
so,
but
he
suggested
that
when
the
VI Corps
line
moved
out
to
drive
back
Early's
skirmishers
there might
have
been
a
few
Confederates
who
were
equally scared.
Early
chuckled.
"That's
true,"
he
said,
"but
it
won't appear
in
history!"
14
It
had
been
a
brisk
scrap
while
it
lasted,
but
one
of Wright's
veterans
confessed
that
he
supposed
the
Confederates
had
retired
"more
we
think
from
the
sight
of
the
VI Corps
flag
than
from
the
number
assailing
them."
A
man
in the
Vermont
Brigade
wrote
that
"the
dignitaries
in
the
fort returned
to
their
homes,
having
witnessed
as
pretty
and
well-conducted
a
little
fight
as
was
seen
during
the
whole
war," and
the
War
Department
recorded
that
the
whole
business had
cost
the
VI
Corps
some
200
in
killed
and
wounded.
General
Meigs
took
his
quartermaster
details
back
to
town, proudly
writing
that
he
had
had
command
of
a
battle
line
two miles
long
containing
5,000
troops,
and
he
presently
got
from Secretary
Stanton
a
letter
containing
a
brevet
major
general's commission
and
thanking
him
for
his
services.
The
Rebels drew
off
through
Rockville,
heading
for
the
Potomac
River fords,
and
some
of
General
McCook's
men
advanced
as
far as
the
Sligo
Creek
post
office,
capturing
a
field
hospital
containing
seventy-odd
wounded
Southerners
plus
a
corporal's guard
of
surgeons
and
orderlies.
Washington
relaxed.
The big
scare
was
over.
15