Flint, at the head of his cavalry, emerged from the woods, Mosby
had about twenty of his men mounted and was ready to receive him. The
Union cavalry paused, somebody pulled out the gate bars at the foot of
the lane, and the whole force started up toward the farm. Having
opened the barnyard end of the lane, Mosby waited until Flint had come
about halfway, then gave him a blast of revolver fire and followed
this with a headlong charge down the lane. Flint was killed at the
first salvo, as were several of the men behind him. By the time
Mosby's charge rammed into the head of the Union attack, the narrow
lane was blocked with riderless horses, preventing each force from
coming to grips with the other. Here Mosby's insistence upon at least
two revolvers for each man paid off, as did the target practice upon
which he was always willing to expend precious ammunition. The Union
column, constricted by the fences on either side of the lane and
shaken by the death of their leader and by the savage attack of men
whom they had believed hopelessly trapped, turned and tried to
retreat, but when they reached the foot of the lane it was discovered
that some fool, probably meaning to deny Mosby an avenue of escape,
had replaced the gatebars. By this time, the rest of Mosby's force had
mounted their horses, breaches had been torn in the fence at either
side of the lane, and there were Confederates in both meadows, firing
into the trapped men. Until the gate at the lower end gave way under
the weight of horses crowded against it, there was a bloody slaughter.
Within a few minutes Flint and nine of his men were killed, some
fifteen more were given disabling wounds, eighty-two prisoners were
taken, and over a hundred horses and large quantities of arms and
ammunition were captured. The remains of Flint's force was chased as
far as Dranesville. Mosby was still getting the prisoners sorted out,
rounding up loose horses, gathering weapons and ammunition from
casualties, and giving the wounded first aid, when a Union lieutenant
rode up under a flag of truce, followed by several enlisted men and
two civilians of the Sanitary Commission, the Civil War equivalent of
the Red Cross, to pick up the wounded and bury the dead. This officer
offered to care for Mosby's wounded with his own, an offer which was
declined with thanks. Mosby said he would carry his casualties with
him, and the Union officer could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw
only thre