THE SURRENDER, AND AFTERWARDS.
In the Trenches--The Twenty-fourth in the Fever Camp--Are
Negro Soldiers Immune?--Camp Wikoff.
After the battle of El Caney the Twenty-fifth Infantry started for the
mango grove, where the blanket rolls and haversacks had been left in
the morning, and on its way passed the Second Massachusetts Volunteers
standing by the roadside. This regiment had seen the charge of the
Twenty-fifth up the hillside, and they now manifested their
appreciation of the gallantry of the black regulars in an ovation of
applause and cheers. This was the foundation for Sergeant Harris'
reply when on another occasion seeing the manifest kind feelings of
this regiment to the Twenty-fifth, I remarked: "Those men think you
are soldiers." "They know we are soldiers," replied the sergeant. The
regiment bivouacked in the main road leading from El Caney to
Santiago, but sleep was out of the question. What with the passing of
packtrains and artillery, and the issuing of rations and ammunition,
the first half of the night gave no time for rest; and shortly after
12 o'clock, apprehensions of a Spanish attack put every one on the
alert. At 3.30 the march to the rear was commenced and the entire
division passed around by El Poso and advanced to the front by the
Aguadores road, finally reaching a position on Wheeler's right about
noon, July 2.
Subsequently the line of investment was extended to the right, the
Cuban forces under General Garcia holding the extreme right
connecting with the water front on that side of the city. Next to them
came Ludlow's McKibben's and Chaffee's forces. In McKibben's brigade
was the Twenty-fifth, which dug its last trench on Cuban soil on July
14th, on the railroad running out from Santiago to the northwest. This
intrenchment was the nearest to the city made by any American
organization, and in this the regiment remained until the surrender.
The Twenty-fourth remained entrenched over to the left, in General
Kent's division, lying to the right of the 21st. This regiment (24th)
had won great credit in its advance upon the enemy, but it was to win
still greater in the field of humanity. Capt. Leavel, who commanded
Company A, said: "It would be hard to particularize in reporting upon
the men of the company. All--non-commissioned officers, privates, even
newly joined recruits--showed a desire to do their duty, yea, more
than their duty, which would have done credit to seasoned veterans.
Too much cannot be said of their courage, willingness and endurance."
Captain Wygant, who commanded the Second Battalion of the regiment,
says: "The gallantry and bearing shown by the officers and soldiers of
the regiment under this trying ordeal was such that it has every
reason to be proud of its record. The losses of the regiment, which
are shown by the official records, show the fire they were subjected
to. The casualties were greater among the officers than the men, which
is accounted for by the fact that the enemy had posted in the trees
sharpshooters, whose principal business was to pick them off." There
is no countenance given in official literature to the absurd notion
maintained by some, that it was necessary for the officers of black
troops to expose themselves unusually in order to lead their troops,
and that this fact accounts for excessive losses among them. The fact
is that the regular officer's code is such that he is compelled to
occupy the place in battle assigned him in the tactics, and no matter
how great his cowardice of heart may be, he must go forward until
ordered to halt. The penalty of cowardice is something to be dreaded
above wounds or even death by some natures. "Colored troops are brave
men when led by white officers."(?) As a matter of fact there is very
little leading of any sort by officers in battle. The officer's place
is in the rear of the firing line, directing, not leading, and it is
his right and duty to save his own life if possible, and that of every
man in his command, even while seeking to destroy the enemy, in
obedience to orders. The record of the Twenty-fourth for bravery was
established beyond question when it swept across that open flat and up
San Juan Hill on that hot mid-day of July 1st, 1898.
After lying in the trenches until July 15th, the news reached the camp
of the Twenty-fourth that yellow fever had broken out in the army, and
that a large hospital and pest-house had been established at Siboney.
About 4 o'clock that day an order came to the commanding officer of
the regiment directing him to proceed with his regiment to Siboney and
report to the medical officer there. The regiment started on its march
at 5.30, numbering at that time 8 companies, containing 15 officers
and 456 men. Marching on in the night, going through thickets and
across streams, the men were heard singing a fine old hymn:
When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of woe shall not thee o'erflow;
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,
And sanctify to thee they deepest distress.
In view of what was before them, the words were very appropriate. They
arrived on the hill at Siboney at 3.30 on the morning of July 16th.
Without discussing the graphic story told by correspondents of the
highest respectability describing the regiment as volunteering, to a
man, to nurse the sick and dying at Siboney, we will rather follow the
official records of their doings in that fever-stricken place. On
arriving at Siboney on the morning of July 16, Sunday, Major Markely,
then in command of the regiment, met Colonel Greenleaf of the Medical
Department, and informed him that the Twenty-fourth Infantry was on
the ground. Colonel Greenleaf was just leaving the post, but Major La
Garde, his successor, manifested his great pleasure in seeing this
form of assistance arrive. Such a scene of misery presented itself to
Major Markely's eyes that he, soldier as he was, was greatly affected,
and assured Major La Garde that he was prepared personally to sink
every other consideration and devote himself to giving what assistance
he could in caring for the sick, and that he believed his whole
regiment would feel as he did when they came to see the situation. In
this he was not mistaken. The officers and men of the Twenty-fourth
Infantry did give themselves up to the care of the sick and dying,
furnishing all help in their power until their own health and strength
gave way, in some instances laying down even their lives in this noble
work.
On the day of arrival seventy men were called for to nurse yellow
fever patients and do other work about the hospital. More than this
number immediately volunteered to enter upon a service which they
could well believe meant death to some of them. The camp was so
crowded and filthy that the work of cleaning it was begun at once by
the men of the Twenty-fourth, and day by day they labored as their
strength would permit, in policing the camp, cooking the food for
themselves and for the hospital, unloading supplies, taking down and
removing tents, and numberless other details of necessary labor.
Despite all the care that could be taken under such conditions as were
found at Siboney, the yellow fever soon overran the entire camp, and
of the 16 officers of the regiment, 1 had died, 2 more were expected
to die; 3 were dangerously ill, and 5 more or less so. Out of the
whole sixteen there were but three really fit for duty, and often out
of the whole regiment it would be impossible to get 12 men who could
go on fatigue duty. Out of the 456 men who marched to Siboney only 24
escaped sickness, and on one day 241 were down. Those who would
recover remained weak and unfit for labor. Silently, without
murmuring, did these noble heroes, officers and men, stand at their
post ministering to the necessities of their fellowman until the
welcome news came that the regiment would be sent north and the
hospital closed as soon as possible. On August 8 Major La Garde, more
entitled to the honor of being classed among the heroes of Santiago
than some whose opportunities of brilliant display were vastly
superior, succumbed to the disease. The fact should be borne in mind
that all of these men, officers, soldiers and surgeons, went upon this
pest-house duty after the severe labors of assault of July 1-2, and
the two weeks of terrible strain and exposure in the trenches before
Santiago, and with the sick and wounded consequent upon these battles
and labors--none were strong.
On July 16th, the day after the Twenty-fourth left the trenches, the
surrender was made and on the next morning the final ceremonies of
turning over Santiago to the American forces took place, and the
soldiers were allowed to come out of their ditches and enter into
more comfortable camps. The hardships of the period after the
surrender were not much less than those experienced while in the
lines.
On the 26th of August the Twenty-fourth Infantry, having obtained an
honorable release from its perilous duty, marched out of Siboney with
band playing and colors flying to go on board the transport for
Montauk; but of the 456 men who marched into Siboney, only 198 were
able to march out, directed by 9 out of the 15 officers that marched
in with them. Altogether there were 11 officers and 289 men who went
on board the transport, but all except the number first given were
unable to take their places in the ranks. They went on board the
steamer Nueces, and coming from an infected camp, no doubt great care
was taken that the transport should arrive at its destination in a
good condition. Although there was sickness on board, there were no
deaths on the passage, and the Nueces arrived in port "one of the
cleanest ships that came to that place." The official report states
that the Nueces arrived at Montauk Point September 2, with 385 troops
on board; 28 sick, no deaths on the voyage, and not infected. Worn out
by the hard service the regiment remained a short time at Montauk and
then returned to its former station, Fort Douglass, Utah, leaving its
camp at Montauk in such a thoroughly creditable condition as to elicit
official remark.
While the Twenty-fourth Infantry had without doubt the hardest
service, after the surrender, of any of the colored regiments, the
others were not slumbering at ease. Lying in the trenches almost
constantly for two weeks, drenched with rains, scorched by the burning
sun at times, and chilled by cool nights, subsisting on food not of
the best and poorly cooked, cut off from news and kept in suspense,
when the surrender finally came it found our army generally very
greatly reduced in vital force. During the period following, from July
16th to about the same date in August the re-action fell with all its
weight upon the troops, rendering them an easy prey to the climatic
influences by which they were surrounded.[20] Pernicious malarial
fever, bowel troubles and yellow fever were appearing in all the
regiments; and the colored troops appeared as susceptible as their
white comrades. The theory had been advanced that they were less
susceptible to malarial fever, and in a certain sense this appears to
be true; but the experience of our army in Cuba, as well as army
statistics published before the Cuban War, do not bear out the popular
view of the theory. The best that can be said from the experience of
Cuba is to the effect that the blacks may be less liable to yellow
fever and may more quickly rally from the effects of malarial fever.
These conclusions are, however, by no means well established. The
Twenty-fourth suffered excessively from fevers of both kinds, and in
the judgment of the commanding officer of the regiment "effectually
showed that colored soldiers were not more immune from Cuban fever
than white," but we must remember that the service of the
Twenty-fourth was exceptional. The Twenty-fifth Infantry lost but one
man during the whole campaign from climatic disease, John A. Lewis,
and it is believed that could he have received proper medical care his
life would have been saved. Yet this regiment suffered severely from
fever as did also the Ninth and Tenth Cavalry.
Arriving at Montauk[21] early the author had the opportunity to see
the whole of the Fifth Army Corps disembark on its return from Cuba,
and was so impressed with its forlorn appearance that he then wrote of
it as coming home on stretchers. Pale, emaciated, weak and halting,
they came, with 3,252 sick, and reporting 87 deaths on the voyage.
But, as General Wheeler said in his report, "the great bulk of the
troops that were at Santiago were by no means well." Never before had
the people seen an army of stalwart men so suddenly transformed into
an army of invalids. And yet while all the regiments arriving showed
the effects of the hardships they had endured, the black regulars,
excepting the Twenty-fourth Infantry, appeared to have slightly the
advantage. The arrival of the Tenth Cavalry in "good condition" was an
early cheering item in the stream of suffering and debility landing
from the transports. Seeing all of the troops land and remaining at
Camp Wikoff until its days were nearly numbered, the writer feels sure
that the colored troops arrived from the front in as good condition as
the best, and that they recuperated with marked comparative rapidity.
The chaplain of the Twenty-fifth Infantry, while en route to join his
regiment at Montauk, thinking seriously over the condition of the men
returning from such a hard experience, concluded that nothing would be
more grateful to them than a reasonable supply of ripe fruit, fresh
from the orchards and fields. He therefore sent a dispatch to the
Daily Evening News, published in Bridgeton, N.J., asking the citizens
of that community to contribute a carload of melons and fruits for the
men of the Twenty-fifth, or for the whole camp, if they so wished.
Subsequently mentioning the fact to the commanding officer of the
regiment, Lieutenant-Colonel Daggett, he heartily commended the idea,
believing that the fruit would be very beneficial. The good people of
Bridgeton took hold of the matter heartily, and in a short time
forwarded to the regiment more than four hundred of Jersey's finest
watermelons, fresh from the vines. These were distributed judiciously
and the health of the men began to improve forthwith. Soon five
hundred more arrived, sent by a patriotic citizen of Philadelphia.
These were also distributed. Ladies of Brooklyn forwarded peaches and
vegetables, and supplies of all sorts now were coming in abundance.
Our men improved so rapidly as to be the occasion of remark by
correspondents of the press. They were spoken of as being apparently
in good condition. While engaged in the work of supplying their
physical wants the chaplain was taken to task by a correspondent of
Leslie's for being too much concerned in getting a carload of
watermelons for his regiment, to go over to a graveyard and pray over
the dead. The next day the chaplain made haste to go over to that
particular graveyard to relieve the country from the crying shame that
the correspondent had pointed out, only to find two men already there
armed with prayer-books and one of them especially so fearful that he
would not get a chance to read a prayer over a dead soldier, that the
chaplain found it necessary to assure him that the opportunity to pray
should not be taken from him; and thus another popular horror was
found to be without reality.
The colored ladies of Brooklyn organized a Soldiers' Aid Society, and
besides contributing in a general way, as already mentioned, also made
and presented to the soldiers about four hundred home-made pies, which
were most highly appreciated. They also prepared a tasty souvenir
commemorative of the heroic work performed by the troops in Cuba, and
expressive of high appreciation of the gallantry of the colored
regiments. A beautiful stand of colors was also procured for the
Twenty-fourth Infantry, which were subsequently presented to the
regiment with appropriate ceremonies.
At the camp were three colored chaplains and one colored surgeon,
serving with the Regular Army, and their presence was of great value
in the way of accustoming the people at large to beholding colored men
as commissioned officers. To none were more attention shown than to
these colored men, and there was apparently no desire to infringe upon
their rights. Occasionally a very petty social movement might be made
by an insignificant, with a view of humiliating a Negro chaplain, but
such efforts usually died without harm to those aimed at and
apparently without special comfort to those who engineered them.
The following paragraphs, written while in camp at the time indicated
in them, may serve a good purpose by their insertion here, showing as
they do the reflections of the writer as well as in outlining the more
important facts associated with that remarkable encampment:
* * * * *
CAMP WIKOFF AND ITS LESSONS.
Now that the days of this camp are drawing to a close it is profitable
to recall its unique history and gather up some of the lessons it has
taught us. Despite all the sensationalism, investigations, testings,
experimentation, and general condemnation, the camp at Montauk
accomplished what was intended, and was itself a humane and patriotic
establishment. It is not for me to say whether a better site might not
have been selected, or whether the camp might not have been better
managed. I will take it for granted that improvement might have been
made in both respects, but our concern is rather with what was, than
with what "might have been."
To appreciate Camp Wikoff we must consider two things specially;
first, its purpose, and secondly, the short time allowed to prepare
it; and then go over the whole subject and properly estimate its
extent and the amount of labor involved.
The intention of the camp was to afford a place where our troops,
returning from Cuba, prostrated with climatic fever, and probably
infected with yellow fever, might receive proper medical treatment and
care, until the diseases were subdued. The site was selected with this
in view, and the conditions were admirably suited to such a purpose.
Completely isolated, on dry soil, with dry pure air, cool climate,
away from mosquitoes, the camp seemed all that was desired for a great
field hospital.
Here the sick could come and receive the best that nature had to
bestow in the way of respite from the heat, and pure ocean breezes,
and, taken altogether, the experiences of August and a good part of
September, have justified the selection of Montauk. While prostrations
were occurring elsewhere, the camp was cool and delightful most of the
time.
As to the preparations, it must be remembered that the recall of the
whole Army of Invasion from Cuba was made in response to a popular
demand, and as a measure of humanity. Bring the army home! was the
call, and, Bring it at once!
[Illustration]
Such urgency naturally leaps ahead of minor preparations. The soldiers
wanted to come; the people wanted them to come; hence the crowding of
transports and the lack of comforts on the voyages; hence the lack of
hospital accommodations when the troops began to arrive. Haste almost
always brings about such things; but sometimes haste is imperative.
This was the case in getting the army out of Cuba and into Camp at
Montauk in August, '98. Haste was pushed to that point when omissions
had to occur, and inconvenience and suffering resulted.
We must also remember the condition of the men who came to Montauk.
About 4,000 were reported as sick before they left Cuba; but, roughly
speaking, there were 10,000 sick men landing in Montauk. Those who
were classed as well were, with rare exceptions, both mentally and
physically incapable of high effort. It was an invalid army, with
nearly one-half of its number seriously sick and suffering.
Ten thousand sick soldiers were never on our hands before, and the
mighty problem was not realized until the transports began to emit
their streams of weakness and walking death at Montauk. The
preparation was altogether inadequate for such a mass of misery, and
for a time all appeared confusion.
Then came severe, cruel, merciless criticisms; deserved in some cases
no doubt, but certainly not everywhere. The faults, gaps, failures,
were everywhere to be seen, and it was easy to see and to say what
ought to have been done. But the situation at Camp Wikoff from August
15th to Sep. 15th needed more than censure; it needed help. The men
who were working for the Government in both the medical and commissary
departments needed assistance; the former in the way of nurses, and
the latter in the way of appropriate food. The censure and exposure
indulged in by the press may have contributed to direct the attention
of the benevolently disposed to the conditions in the camp.
Then came the era of ample help; from Massachusetts; from New York, in
a word, from all over the country. The Merchants' Relief Association
poured in its thousands of dollars worth of supplies, bringing them to
the camp and distributing them generously and wisely. The Women's
Patriotic Relief, the Women's War Relief, the International
Brotherhood League, and the powerful Red Cross Society, all poured in
food and comforts for the sick thousands. Besides these great
organizations there were also the spontaneous offerings of the people,
many of them generously distributed by the Brooklyn Daily Eagle's
active representatives. The tent of that journal was an excellent
way-mark and a veritable house of the good shepherd for many a lost
wanderer, as well as a place of comfort, cheer and rest. The work done
was very valuable and highly appreciated.
To the medical department came the trained hand of the female nurse.
No one who saw these calm-faced, white-hooded sisters, or the cheery
cheeked, white capped nurses from the schools, could fail to see that
they were in the right place. The sick soldier's lot was brightened
greatly when the gentle female nurse came to his cot. Woman can never
be robbed of her right to nurse. This is one of the lessons taught by
the Hispano-American War.
This vast army has been handled. No yellow fever has been spread. The
general health has been restored. The disabled are mostly housed in
hospitals, and many of them are on the road to recovery. Some have
died; some are on furlough, and many have gone to their homes.
The regulars are repairing to their stations quite invigorated, and
greatly helped in many ways by the kind treatment they have received.
Camp Wikoff was not a failure; but a great and successful object
lesson, as well as a great summer school in nationalism. Here black,
white and Indian soldiers fraternized; here Northerners and
Southerners served under the same orders. Ten thousand soldiers and as
many civilians daily attended the best school of its kind ever held in
this country, striving to take home to their hearts the lessons that
God is teaching the nations.
The Rev. Sylvester Malone thus sums up the message of the war to us in
his letter to the committee to welcome Brooklyn's soldiers:
"This short war has done so much for America at home and
abroad that we must take every soldier to our warmest
affection and send him back to peaceful pursuits on the
conviction that there is nothing higher in our American life
than to have the privilege to cheer and gladden the marine
and the soldier that have left to America her brightest and
best page of a great history. This past war must kindle in
our souls a love of all the brethren, black as well as
white, Catholic as well as Protestant, having but one
language, one nationality, and it is to be hoped, yet one
religion."
These are true words, as full of patriotism as they are of fraternity,
and these are the two special lessons taught at Montauk--a broad,
earnest, practical fraternity, and a love of country before which the
petty prejudices of race and section were compelled to yield ground.
THE YOUNG MEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION IN CAMP WIKOFF.
The Young Men's Christian Association has done an excellent work in
Camp Wikoff. Their tents have afforded facilities for profitable
amusements, in the way of quiet games, thus bringing out the use of
these games distinct from their abuse--gambling.
Their reading tables have also been well supplied with papers and
magazines, religious and secular, generally very acceptable to the
soldiers, as attested by the numbers that read them. But perhaps best
of all, has been the provision made for the soldiers to write. Tables,
pens, ink, paper and envelopes have been supplied in abundance. These
were of great advantage to soldiers living in tents, and the work of
the Association in this respect cannot be too highly commended.
The specially religious work of the Association as I have seen it,
consists of three divisions: First, the meetings in their tents, held
nightly and on Sundays. These have been vigorously carried on and well
attended, the chaplains of the camp often rendering assistance.
Secondly, I have noticed the Y.M.C.A. men visiting the sick in the
hospitals and camps, giving the word of exhortation and help to the
sick. Perhaps, however, in their work of private conversation with the
well men, they have done as much real service for God as in either of
the other two fields. They have made the acquaintance of many men and
have won the respect of the camp. This I have numbered as the third
division of their work--personal contact with the soldiers of the
camp, at the same time keeping themselves "unspotted from the world."
B.
The 24th Infantry was ordered down to Siboney to do guard
duty. When the regiment reached the yellow-fever hospital it
was found to be in a deplorable condition. Men were dying
there every hour for the lack of proper nursing. Major
Markley, who had commanded the regiment since July 1st, when
Colonel Liscum was wounded, drew his regiment up in line,
and Dr. La Garde, in charge of the hospital, explained the
needs of the suffering, at the same time clearly setting
forth the danger to men who were not immune, of nursing and
attending yellow-fever patients. Major Markley then said
that any man who wished to volunteer to nurse in the
yellow-fever hospital could step forward. The whole regiment
stepped forward. Sixty men were selected from the volunteers
to nurse, and within forty-eight hours forty-two of these
brave fellows were down seriously ill with yellow or
pernicious malarial fever. Again the regiment was drawn up
in line, and again Major Markley said that nurses were
needed, and that any man who wished to do so could
volunteer. After the object lesson which the men had
received in the last few days of the danger from contagion
to which they would be exposed, it was now unnecessary for
Dr. La Garde to again warn the brave blacks of the terrible
contagion. When the request for volunteers to replace those
who had already fallen in the performance of their dangerous
and perfectly optional duty was made again, the regiment
stepped forward as one man. When sent down from the trenches
the regiment consisted of eight companies, averaging about
forty men each. Of the officers and men who remained on duty
the forty days spent in Siboney, only twenty-four escaped
without serious illness, and of this handful not a few
succumbed to fevers on the voyage home and after their
arrival at Montauk.
As a result, thirty-six died and about forty were discharged
from the regiment owing to disabilities resulting from
sickness which began in the yellow-fever hospital.--Bonsal's
Fight for Santiago.
FOOTNOTES:
[20] "After the surrender, dear Chaplain, the real trouble and
difficulties began. Such a period, from July 14, 1898 to August 14,
1898, was never before known to human beings, I hope. The starving
time was nothing to the fever time, where scores died per day. We were
not permitted to starve; but had fever, and had it bad; semi-decayed
beef, both from refrigerators and from cans. We had plenty of fever,
but no clothing until very late; no medicine save a little quinine
which was forced into you all the time, intermittent only with bad
meat."--Extract from a soldier's letter.
[21] While the Twenty-fifth Infantry was in camp at Chickamauga Park I
was ordered to Xenia, Ohio, on recruiting duty, and on July 5. on
seeing the reports of the wounded I asked officially to be ordered to
my regiment. An order to that effect came about a month later,
directing me to join my regiment by way of Tampa, Florida. Arriving in
Tampa, my destination was changed by telegraph to Montauk Point, N.Y.,
whither I arrived a few days before the regiment did.