WHEREIN IS NARRATED OUR LANDING AT DAIQUIRI AND SOME THINGS WHICH
SUBSEQUENTLY HAPPENED.
It was not until well along in the afternoon that the Knickerbocker's
passengers started for the shore and as it was not all of them landed
that day, the third battalion being left on board until the 23d.
For many long hours the steamer backed and filled together with the
other vessels and the men, loaded down as they were with their field
equipment and waiting for the word to disembark, found plenty of time
to enjoy the stirring scenes about them. There were the grim painted
war ships, all ready for business and their hustling "Jackies" working
like beavers to aid in landing us "doughboys." Between the big ships
danced the saucy torpedo boats and destroyers and quick puffing
launches having in tow strings of small boats, these being our means of
transportation from the ship to the land. In front were the frowning
hills which guarded the coast line and from which an enemy of any
determination could have easily prevented our landing. On a plateau
directly in front of us was the village of Daiquiri, abandoned that
morning by the Spaniards after a brief bombardment by our fleet, while
a force of Cubans got along in time to worry the retreating enemy. A
portion of the village and the works were still smoldering, having been
fired by the Spaniards before they left the place.
Daiquiri was the seat of the Spanish-American Iron company and a
narrow gauge railroad connects it with Juguaracito or Siboney where
the company had quite an extensive establishment. Jutting out into the
water was a high iron pier and it was supposed we were to land there,
but this was found to be impossible after one or two trials.
Meanwhile after long waiting a dinky little steam launch from the
battleship Massachusetts and followed by a string of small boats,
came alongside the Knickerbocker and the youthful ensign in charge
allowed that he was ordered to take headquarters and as many others
of the regiment as possible on shore. This was agreeable and Col.
Clark and his field and staff embarked in the launch without much
trouble, although the job of climbing down a slippery rope ladder,
then hanging on by both hands to the side ropes and waiting until the
next high wave brought the launch up to within a couple of feet of you
and then falling more or less, mostly less, gracefully into it, was
not particularly pleasing. After headquarters, a platoon of G company
embarked and this filled the boats.
How to get on shore from the boats appeared to grow into a serious
problem as we neared the landing place. This was an old wooden pier,
which jutted out some little distance from the land. There was a heavy
surf on and the little basin in which the pier stood was jammed with
boats and launches, all apparently very much snarled up but which in
reality were being ably managed. After much maneuvering our launch was
jammed alongside the pier and the next problem was how to get upon
it. The supporting piles rose high up from the water and their slimy
surface offered no inducement to attempt climbing. One moment we would
be down in the trough of a wave and then the launch would be lifted
up almost to the top of the pier and the sailors would be hard put to
it to keep the boats from being dashed against the huge piling of the
pier. The method of our landing could hardly be called dignified. As
the boat would be raised almost to a level with the floor of the pier
by a wave our rolls and equipment would be tossed up to some soldiers
waiting to assist us. Then down the boat would go again and when the
next wave raised it we would stand up on the thwarts of the boat, reach
up our hands, two of the men on the pier would grasp them and we would
scramble up the best we could. In this way the first lot was landed and
the boats hustled back to the ship after another load of passengers.
The pier was connected with the land by some loose planks and across
these we walked gingerly, finally reaching terra firma. We were on
Cuban soil at last.
On shore there was as much bustle and confusion as in the landing.
Many of the regulars and a part of "Ours" had already landed but there
appeared to be no system, and officers and men were scattered about
everywhere. A short distance from the pier was a typical Cuban "shack"
as the regulars called it, a roughly built shed with a roof of palm
leaf thatch and around this was a lot of Cuban soldiers who were making
themselves "good fellows" by giving away cocoanuts, of which they had
a couple of large bags. They, the soldiers, were of varying shades of
blackness and their "uniforms" consisted mostly of nothing. Some had
more clothing than the others, but few had anything like a complete
outfit. They were barefooted and bareheaded but all had the inevitable
machete and some kind of a firearm, from the latest model Spanish
Mauser and the navy Lee to an old shotgun. They could talk English
about as well as we could Spanish and the sign language was used with
more or less success.
Having filled up on cocoanuts, which tasted good, we became thirsty.
A water pipe ran along the ground and we soon found a faucet, but the
first man to take a drink spat out the water and said some sharp and
emphatic things concerning it at which we mildly wondered until he
calmed down sufficiently to tell us that it was "hot enough to boil
eggs in." Sure enough it was. The pipes ran along on the surface of the
ground and the sun did the rest.
"_Mucho caliente agua_," commented a ragged "Cubana" as he noticed our
disgusted looks and one or two who understood enough Spanish to know
what he meant agreed with him. Then he grinned as only a Cuban can and
pointing to the plateau where the main part of the village was located,
said: "_Agua fresca_," which being interpreted meant "cold water."
So off we started for the plateau and there found several barrels of
fresh water which was fairly cool. Among the "shacks" which composed
the town we found a "brigade" of the "brave" Cuban soldiers. They were
having a good time recounting their exploits and staring at "_los
Americano soldados_," whose rough and ready manners were not always to
their liking. A few of their field officers were almost white in color
and decently uniformed but the majority, like the men, were black and
distinguished from their men by small silver stars worn on a strap
across the breast, three being the insignia of a captain, two of a
first lieutenant and one of a second lieutenant.
A point of much interest to our men were the burning shops, which the
Spaniards had fired before retreating. On the railway track was a
locomotive and some cars which had been disabled and burnt. Additional
interest was caused by the pursuit, capture and summary execution of an
unwise pig by a mob of our men and Cubans.
All our battalions having landed, we began our march into the interior
just before 5 o'clock. The brigade commander, Col. Van Horn of the 22d
was injured on the 22d and the command was temporarily assigned to our
commander, Col. Clark. As Lieut. Col. Shumway was left on the boat,
Major Southmayd took command of the two battalions on shore. We marched
some five miles toward Santiago, across country, the march being along
a narrow and rough trail and halted for the night by the side of the
trail. On our way we had to ford a stream and began to experience some
of the realities of war.
That night we had to face our first real experience at going hungry.
It had been understood that we were not to go inland that day and
that rations would be sent us from the ships so no orders to take any
with us had been issued. A few of the men had the foresight to stuff
whatever food they could into their haversacks but the majority had
nothing and went supperless to bed. The regulars bivouacked near us
were in the same fix and there was much grumbling. However, officers
and men were in the same box and there was nothing to do but make the
best of it.
At dawn the next morning we rolled up our outfits and started off
again. Our method of packing up was expeditious. Each man carried one
half of a shelter tent, better known to us as a "dog" tent and later
"pup" tents because of their small size, they being just about large
enough for two men to crawl into. The half shelter was laid on the
ground and upon it was spread first the rubber blanket and then the
woolen one. Our canvas blouses and whatever personal property we had
were then placed on top, together with the tent sticks and pegs and
the whole neatly rolled. The ends were secured with the tent rope and
the roll thus formed was carried over the left shoulder, the ends
hanging down on the right side of the body. Thus equipped, with our
full canteens and empty haversacks, we took to the road again after our
first night on Cuban soil. Details of men from each company were sent
back to the ships after rations and we started for Siboney. An early
morning march on an empty stomach is not conducive to an appreciation
of scenery be it ever so grand, but some of us enjoyed it. All about
us were hills and mountains, their peaks clear cut against the blue
sky, while from the tops of two or three rose thin smoke columns which
we supposed were from signal fires. Our trail led us through valleys
and over hills until finally about 11 o'clock we struck upon something
that looked like a road and on which we were enabled to march for a
short time in columns of fours. Anyone who had ever seen the Second on
a parade in Springfield or Worcester or at camp and seen us straggling
along the Cuban trail in single file would have laughed outright at the
contrast, as we were forced to ourselves. Later on we looked even worse.
That day the "stripping" process, familiar to all armies in a campaign,
was begun. Two companies of the second battalion, E and M had "toted"
their knapsacks with them from their transports and about the second
day out they were sorry for so doing. Hardly had we been an hour on
the march that morning before the knapsacks began to disappear and the
troops which followed us soon knew that the Second Massachusetts had
passed by, meeting scores of Cubans with E and M company knapsacks
on their backs and sweltering but happy in the closely buttoned cape
overcoats discarded with the knapsacks. Fortunately our knapsacks and
all our heavy baggage had been left on board ship but it was not long
before we found our rolls becoming heavy and burdensome. Pretty soon a
man would quietly drop out of the line, off would come his roll which
was quickly opened, and some article he fancied he could do without,
thrown into the bush. Then the roll would be fastened together, thrown
over the owner's shoulder and he would hasten to rejoin his company. A
few moments afterward a ragged Cubano might be seen poking around about
the bushes and next the discarded articles would be in his possession.
And it may as well be told here that it was not only the Second
Massachusetts that strewed more or less valuable or necessary articles
along the trails. The regulars were with us in that, and although, as a
rule, they had brought less baggage ashore with them than we did, they
soon found it convenient to get rid of much of it. They even discarded
their blankets, some cutting them in half and retaining only one part,
while we stuck to the blankets and sacrificed other things. We never
were sorry either that we kept our blankets, for if the days were
intensely warm, the nights were cool and coverings came in handy.
That afternoon, soon after we had struck the short piece of good road
referred to above, we left it and following a narrow trail debouched
into some woods and after passing through them, found ourselves in a
cocoanut grove. There were hundreds of the trees all laden with the
fruit, and a halt was ordered, arms stacked and we were allowed to
rest. About this time we were decidedly hungry, our breakfast having
consisted of nothing and our dinner menu being the same. The cocoanuts
looked inviting but they were far away at the tops of the branchless
trees. But hunger is a spur and it was not long before some daring ones
were "shinning up" the trees and down came the fruit. Alas! It was a
disappointment to hopes of a satisfactory meal. After the hard, green
outer husks had been chopped away it was found that the cocoanuts were
green, and a copious flow of soldier language greeted this discovery.
But it was not long before it was discovered that the milk of the green
cocoanut makes a very palatable drink, and in a few moments we all
became milkmen.
The march resumed we struck into another piece of woods, forded a brook
or two, (we had by this time gotten over minding our feet being wet,)
and found ourselves once more on a narrow and rough trail. On our way
through the woods we saw, stretched along a rough fence, the body of
a huge snake of the constrictor variety, not long killed and looking
decidedly fierce. The reptile was about eight feet long and as thick as
a man's arm. A little further along we saw something which indicated
that we were in a rough country. This was a human skull nailed on top
of a post and grinning at us with empty eye sockets and toothless jaws,
as we passed.
A little further along and we struck another narrow stream which, of
course, had to be forded, and up a hill, just beyond that we came to a
railroad station and the track. Here were some of our advance guard,
men of the Eighth regulars who informed us that Siboney was "just
'round the corner," as one of them put it, and sure enough after a few
moments more of the "Weary Willie" act, we came to a collection of
"shacks," and realized that we were in Siboney. Now that word "Siboney"
means much to us because it reminds us that there we ate, a fact
sufficiently momentous on that day to linger long in our memories.
Now as to the methods of our eating. It was only a short time before
our arrival that the Spaniards had evacuated Siboney after firing a
few shots at our advance guard and the natives, who had "jumped the
town" when the Spaniards told them there was going to be a big battle
in which they were going to annihilate the "pigs of Yanquis," were
just beginning to come back. We were ordered to camp on a low piece
of ground on one side of the railroad embankment and after putting up
our "pup" tents a few hungry ones went into the town to see what could
be seen and incidentally to acquire what there was to acquire in the
commissary line. They were successful in the latter. The natives were
glad to see them and freely gave of what little they had. This wasn't
much but there was some rice and some queer looking but good tasting
messes of which our men were freely invited to partake. In one house in
particular there were two aged women who busied themselves for hours
cooking rice and other dishes for our men and who at first would not
accept anything in payment. Finally it was forced upon them and before
evening there was more silver money in that poor "shack" than had
probably been the case for many a day. All through the village it was
the same and the hospitality we received at Siboney did much to change
for a time the unfavorable opinion we had formed of the Cubans.
Not only was there food but drink. There was cool water in all the
houses and there was also "bino," a sour Cuban wine like claret and
some fiery "rou" or rum which brought tears to the eyes of more than
one man who thought he was spirit proof. All that afternoon we mingled
freely with the people, looked all through the town, examined with
interest the Spanish block houses and some of us went in surf bathing
on the pretty little beach in front of the town.
Late that afternoon the third battalion came up and about the same time
the details which had been sent back for rations, made their appearance
with about enough provisions to whet our appetite, they having found
the task of lugging supplies for a company, nearly ten miles, beyond
their strength.