An Army Officer's Curious Experience in Luzon.--A Tight Place and a
Close Call.
It was during the early part of the month of June that my company
was doing outpost duty on the north line at San Fernando, one of
the largest inland towns on the Island of Luzon. We had been on the
south line, but on the morning on which this incident took place,
were directed to relieve a company of another battalion of the same
regiment on the north line.
Our arrival at the outpost was very early in the morning; so early
that it was impossible to distinguish a man from a high stump at a
distance of 100 feet. The lay of the land was new to me; I hadn't the
slightest idea of the contour of a foot of the ground to be covered
by my company. After getting my men properly stationed along the
line, guarding a front of about 1700 or 1800 yards, I took an old,
reliable sergeant with me and proceeded to reconnoiter the territory
to my front, and to make a rough sketch map, showing on it what I
could of the Filipino trenches and their outposts.
We started just as the sky began to turn a deep red in the east,
and the "chuck me" chameleon, the harbinger of the early dawn,
began his morning challenge. Our progress was very cautiously made
through the cane-fields, banana groves, and bamboo jungles, halting
and investigating the slightest noise, the rustling of a leaf or the
breaking of a twig not escaping our attention. First, I would take the
advance and then the Sergeant. When we passed through cane-fields we
found the plowed grounds but little less than marshes, for the rainy
season had just begun with torrential showers. Our bodies were soon
soaked to the skin, for the leaves of the cane and banana stalks were
burdened with water. The cane was a trifle higher than our heads,
and the wide-spreading leaves of the banana hid the sky from view.
After wading and splashing along toward the Filipino lines for about
1400 yards, we suddenly and very unexpectedly came upon a well-traveled
road, fringed with bamboo on either side, with quite a stretch of open
ground beyond, in which was lying at the farther edge, the trenches
of our enemies, which seemed to be at the time swarming with dusky
soldiers preparing their morning meal.
Believing ourselves not have been observed, we withdraw a short
distance from the bamboo fringe into a banana grove, a position
that afforded us concealment as well as an opportunity to make
observations of the position of the trenches and location of the
outposts of the rebels.
I was busy making copious notes and my maps, while the Sergeant, with
my field-glasses, was making most wonderful discoveries of masked
batteries and gas-pipe cannon, when, all of a sudden, a cavalcade of
insurgent officers, followed closely by a large body of foot soldiers,
appeared down the road to our left, where there was a slight curve,
not more than 200 yards away.
What were we to do? At that short distance from our open-eared and
alert rebellious fellow-citizens, we could not beat a precipitate
retreat, or an orderly one, without disclosing our presence; and that
fact once known to this body of armed men meant almost certain death,
or worse, to be taken prisoners by this half-savage band. We held
a hasty council of war in whispered tones, and decided to hold our
ground till the danger passed.
It was but a moment till the little steeds and their haughty riders
were directly in front of us, not fifty paces away, and, to our
intense surprise and discomfort, halted. There they stood, with
the first ray of the rising sun resting full upon them, seventeen
horsemen, officers, and just back of them about 5,000 infantrymen,
all within a stone's throw of us. What made our position all the more
precarious, the infantry was standing at a "rest," and were, as all
soldiers do when first halted, looking in every direction in search of
something--an enemy, fruit, a stray porker or a fowl. Our chances of
being discovered were becoming momentarily greater. We could plainly
see them, so naturally, if they would but look in the right direction,
they could see us. What may not five hundred busy eyes discover?
The danger of the mounted men seeing us was not so great, for they
had discovered something interesting in our lines and were active
with their glasses looking over our heads.
Sixteen of these officers were dressed in light blue uniforms of
some thin cloth, wide-brimmed sombreros, russet leather leggings,
and clanking sabers dangling by their left sides, almost trailing the
ground, while the trappings of their horses were enough to make the
eyes of a militia major snap with envy. The other officer, who rode
at the head, and the recipient of the most obsequious attentions,
a man about middle age, with close-cropped hair, small restless
eyes, and somewhat lighter complexioned than the average inhabitant
of those far-away tropical islands, wore a neat-fitting uniform of
khaki cloth over his diminutive body, and a helmet of the same color
upon his well-shaped head. His mount was a beautiful dapple gray
Filipino stallion, some larger than the average-sized native animal,
and much more gorgeously caparisoned than the charges of the other
officers. This pompously equipped commander wore at his left side
a most handsome saber, and on his right he carried a revolver and
field-glass case.
The foot soldiers were of the famous Corps d'Elite, Aguinaldo's
body-guard. We knew them by their bright red uniforms. Where Aguinaldo
goes, there they go also. They are his constant attendants. They were,
of course, all armed with Mauser rifles and laden with ammunition.
We were so interested at the sight of this picked regiment of Tagalos,
of which we had heard so much, that we almost forgot our danger, and
actually raised our heads higher in order that we might have a better
view of them. Just as we were craning our necks and straining our eyes
to their utmost capacity, we were suddenly brought to a realization
of our terrible danger by the officer in khaki dismounting, throwing
the reins to an orderly, and advancing to the edge of the bamboo just
in front of us. Like a flash the others followed him, and stood at
attention just in his rear, gawking and peering in our direction. This
was a trying moment for us. There stood the flower of the Filipino
Army, facing two almost helpless servants of Uncle Sam, and, for
all we knew, were deciding our fate, for they were discussing some
important subject in the Tagalog tongue, all of which was Sanscrit to
us. Our hearts were in our throats and kept up an increased throbbing
in their new positions. Had we been discovered? Were those snapping,
half-savage eyes now resting on us, and was the mode of our death being
discussed? We knew not. Our faces were being pushed in the mud till
our ears were begrimed in our mad efforts to conceal ourselves. We
felt it would be but a matter of seconds till our hides would be
perforated with Mauser bullets, or we would be bound, hand and foot,
prisoners of a revengeful enemy.
Their talk became excited. Something was being discussed with great
interest and moment. The suspense was awful. Minutes passed as
hours. Our skins would cringe when the thought of a volley liable to
be fired into our bodies at any moment occurred to us.
Would they never leave? Their conversation warmed. The khaki-clad
officer said a word, and then they faced about, reëntered the road,
and passed down it out of sight, one officer alone remaining with
the foot soldiers, who gave some directions to the orderlies, and
the horses were led across the road and hitched. We slowly raised our
mud-besmeared faces. The infantry, still looking and chattering in the
twangy language of their tribe, were holding their ground. We heard
the officer in command say something about "aqua" in Spanish, then a
few words of command followed. They instantly came to the "attention,"
moved forward till the center of the column was opposite us, wheeled
to the right by fours, and stacked their arms. "Aqua"; that meant
water. We knew they would soon break ranks and go some place, we knew
not where, to replenish their water-bottles. So far, then, we had been
unobserved. But we remembered that just a few yards to the rear of us,
and in a direct line from our enemies, was a rippling stream of crystal
water. We exchanged looks. Oh, what looks! The Sergeant's expression
was awful, and I knew mine to be none better. Here they came; 500 of
them were moving toward us. Was it too late to run? No. I whispered,
"Come on." We were about to rise and make a wild dash for life, when
a sharp blast of a trumpet was sounded to our front. All stopped in
their tracks. Another trumpet-call--a rush to arms. The officers came
tearing back and remounted.
We waited for the volley that was to send our souls into eternity. That
we had been discovered we were sure.
Boom! A loud report from our rear. It was unmistakably a cannon
shot. An instant later a shrieking shell passed over our heads and
tore its way through a stone sugar storehouse, 100 yards ahead,
rending demolition everywhere in that vicinity.
The officers madly spurred their diminutive mounts in a wild effort to
secure speed. Off they rode at break-neck rate over rice-paddies and
small ditches in the direction of the bamboo thickets beyond the open.
But the infantrymen remained steadfast! They kept their close
formation, facing us. I ventured to raise my head a trifle higher when
I noticed the Sergeant putting his face through a series of grimaces
that would tend to make it as muscular as his brawny arms. His struggle
was in vain; he could not help it--he sneezed, not once, but twice,
and once again.
Five hundred ears pricked up, and as many pairs of eyes were thrown
upon us. It was but a second till a dozen rifles were raised to as
many shoulders, the muzzles all pointing in our direction.
As a last effort to save our lives, I yelled to the Sergeant to follow,
and started a disorderly retreat toward our lines.
Boom! Was it a volley? No, another shot from the cannon. The shell
struck between our enemies and ourselves and exploded. The sky was
filled with everything. We looked back over our shoulders, but could
not see the red uniforms for flying _débris_.
An instant later we heared a crying, screaming, terror-stricken
mass of humanity breaking through the bamboo on the farther side of
the road. We halted. There they went, over dykes and ditches. All
organization had fled with the winds in their wild efforts to escape
the next shot from our artillery.
Now we were safe, and sauntered lazily back to the company, giving
our hearts an opportunity to resume a normal state of affairs.
When we reached our lines we found that a recruit battery of
light artillery had come out from the city that morning for
target-practice. An experienced non-commissioned officer fired the
first shot, which hit the sugar warehouse, the target. A recruit
gunner fired the second, which, falling short, saved our lives. They
knew nothing of the presence of the Filipinos or of my little
reconnoitering party.
The next day our native spies reported that Aguinaldo and his
body-guard had come down from Angeles early the morning before,
but had immediately returned.