EXPERIENCES AS A GOVERNMENT CENSOR OF TELEGRAPH
The few years succeeding the great strike were ones of calm, peaceful
tranquility. Each recurring November 1st, brought the initiation of Post
Lyceums at all garrisons, in which the officers were gathered together
twice a week, and war in all its phases was studied. We didn't exactly
know where the war was coming from, but, still we boned it out. Old
campaigns were fought over; the mistakes made by the world's greatest
commanders, from Alexander the Great to Grant and Lee were pointed out;
Kriegspiel was played; essays written and discussed, recommendations
made as to ammunition and food supply; use of artillery in attack and
defense; the proper method of employing the telegraph in the war; and a
thousand and one things relative to the machine militaire were gone
over. All this time we were slumbering over a smoldering volcano, and on
February 16, 1898, the eruption broke loose; the good ship _Maine_ was
destroyed in Havana harbor, and the feelings of the people, already
drawn to the breaking point by the inhuman cruelties of Spain towards
her colonies near our own shores, burst with a vehemence that portended,
in unmistakable language, the rending asunder of the once proud kingdom
of Spain. The army wanted a war; the navy wanted it, the whole
population wanted it and here it was within our grasp. It was the
dawning of a new day for the United States; a new empire was being born
in the Western hemisphere. The feverish preparations attendant upon the
new conditions are of too recent date to need any sketching here.
When it was finally determined that the time had arrived for the
assembling of the small but efficient regular army, I was stationed with
my regiment at Fort Wayne, Michigan. Like all other troops, we were at
the post ready for the start. The pistol cracked on the 15th of April,
and on the 19th we started. Mobile, Alabama, was our objective where we
arrived on the 22nd of the month. Here began the ceaseless preparation
for the part the regiment was to play in the grand drama of war that was
to follow, all this camp life and concentration being but the prologue.
The camp was a most beautiful one, the weather pleasant, and it was
indeed a most inspiring sight to see the long unbroken lines of blue go
swinging by, keeping absolute time and perfect alignment to the
inspiring strains of some air like "Hot time in the old town to-night,"
or "The stars and stripes forever."
I had started in with my regiment and expected to remain on duty with it
until the end of the war, sharing all its perils and hardships, doing my
part in the fighting, and partaking of any of the renown it might
achieve should the Dons ever be met. But "Man proposes and God
disposes," and on the afternoon of May 21st, I was sitting in my tent
correcting some manuscript when a very bright-eyed colored newsboy came
along and said:
"Buy a paper, cap'n."
That was the day that a wild rumor had been in circulation that Sampson
had met Cervera in the Bahama Channel and completely smashed him, so I
laid down my manuscript and said:
"Anything in there about Sampson licking Cervera?"
"Naw, sir, dat were a fake, cap'n, but dere is lots of oder news fur
you."
"No, kid, I don't want a paper to-night, and besides I'm not a captain,
I'm only a lieutenant."
"But yer may be one some day. Please buy one cap'n," and with this he
laid a paper down on my table (a cracker box). I was about to shove it
aside and sharply tell him to skip out when my eye fell upon:
"Nominations by the President."
"To be captains in the Signal Corps," then followed my name. I bought a
paper, yes, all he had.
On May 27th, I was ordered to proceed at once to Tampa, Florida,
reporting upon arrival by telegraph to the chief signal officer of the
army for instructions. Tuesday morning, the 29th of May, I reported my
arrival and spent the rest of the morning in looking around the camps,
renewing old acquaintances. I supposed of course that I was to be
assigned to the command of one of the new signal companies then forming
to take part in the Santiago campaign and was filled with delight at the
prospect, but about eleven o'clock I received an order from General
Greely directing me to assume charge of the telegraphic censorship at
Tampa. Three civilians, Heston at Jacksonville, Munn at Miami, and
Fellers at Tampa, were sworn in as civilian assistants and directed to
report to me, thereafter acting wholly under my orders. Mr. B. F.
Dillon, superintendent of the Western Union Telegraph Company, was in
Tampa, and I had a long conference with him. He assured me of his
confidence and cordial support, and placed the entire resources of his
company at my disposal. Operators all over the state were instructed
that anything I ordered was to be obeyed and then the work began.
The idea of a telegraphic censorship was a new and irksome one to the
great American people and just what it meant was hard to determine. Much
has been written about "Press Censorship." That term was a misnomer.
There never _was_ an attempt to _censor_ the _great American press_. The
newspapers were just as free to print as they were before the war
started. _All the censorship that existed was over the telegraph lines
militarily occupied._ A government officer was placed in charge and his
word was absolute; he could only be overruled by General Greely, the
Secretary of War or the President. It was his duty to watch telegrams,
regulate the kind that were allowed to pass, and to see that no news was
sent whereby the interests of the government or the safety of the army
might suffer.
The instructions I received were general in their nature and in all
specific cases arising, my judgment was to determine, and I want to
remark right here, the rapidity with which those specific cases would
arise was enough to make a man faint. The first rule made was that
cipher messages or those written in a foreign tongue were prohibited
unless sent by a government official on public business. There were a
few exceptions to this rule. For instance; many large business houses
have telegraphic cipher codes for the transaction of business, and it
was not the policy of the government to interfere in any manner with the
commercial affairs of the country, so these messages were allowed to
pass when the code book was presented to the censor and a sworn
translation made in his presence. Spanish messages were transmitted only
after being most carefully scanned and upon proof of the loyalty of the
sender or receiver and a sworn translation. Not a single private message
could be sent by any one, that in any way hinted at the time of the
departure or destination of any ship or body of troops. Even officers
about to sail away were not allowed to telegraph their wives and
families. If they had a pre-arranged code, whereby a message could be
written in plain English, there was no way to stop their transmission.
Foreign messages were watched with eagle eyes and many and many a one
was gently consigned to the pigeon hole, when the contents and meaning
were not plain.
From Key West (which was shortly afterwards placed in my charge) there
ran the cable to Havana, and this line was the subject of an
extraordinarily strict espionage; not a message being allowed to pass
over it that was not perfectly plain in its meaning. Mr. J. W. Atkins
was sworn in as my assistant at Key West, and thus I had the whole state
of Florida under my control. All the lines from the southern part of the
state converge to Jacksonville, and not a message could go from a point
within the state to one out of it without first passing under the
scrutiny of either myself or one of my sworn assistants.
My office was in H. B. Plant's Tampa Bay hotel, and there, every day,
from seven A. M. until twelve midnight, and sometimes one and two in the
morning, I did my work. My own long experience as a practical
telegrapher stood me in good stead and when any direct work was to be
done with the White House in Washington, or any especially important
messages were to be sent, I personally did the telegraphing. At the
Executive Mansion was Colonel B. F. Montgomery, signal corps, in charge
of the telegraph office, so when anything special passed, no one knew
it but the colonel and myself.
The Tampa Bay hotel was at this time the scene of the most dazzling and
brilliant gaiety. Shafter's 5th Corps was preparing for its Santiago
campaign and each night many officers and their wives would meet in the
hotel and pass the time away listening to the music of some regimental
band or in pleasant conversation. Men who had not seen each other since
the close of the great civil war renewed old acquaintances and spun
reminiscences by the yard. Military attaches from all the countries of
the world were daily arriving, and their gaudy uniforms added a dash of
color to the already brilliant panorama. The bright gold of Captain
Paget, the English naval attache, the deep blue of Colonel Yermeloff,
who represented Russia, contrasted vividly with the blue and yellow of
Japanese Major Shiska, and the scarlet and black of Count Goetzen of
Germany. But prominent among all this moving panorama of color was the
plain blue of the volunteer, and the brown khaki of the regular. My view
of the scene was limited to fleeting glimpses from my office where I was
nightly scanning messages, doing telegraphing or overlooking 30,000 or
40,000 words of correspondents' copy. Preparations for the embarkation
were going on with feverish haste, and orders were daily expected for
the army to move.
There were at this time nearly two hundred newspaper correspondents
scattered around through the hotel and in the various camps. They
represented papers from all over the world, and were typical
representatives of the brain and sinew of the newspaper profession, and
were there to accompany the army when it moved. Such men as Richard
Harding Davis, Stephen Bonsai, Frederick Remington, Caspar Whitney,
Grover Flint, Edward Marshall, Maurice Low, John Taylor, John Klein,
Louis Seibold, George Farman and Mr. Akers of the London papers, and
scores of others. They were quick and active, intensely patriotic, alert
for all the news, a "scoop" for them was the blood of life, and the
censorship came like a wet blanket. In a small way I had been
corresponding for a paper since the beginning of the war, but when the
detail as censor came I gave it up as the two were incompatible.