DATTO HAKKUT MAKES A NEW MOVE
To the civilian mind, being sent forward purposely to draw the enemy's
fire, looks like "ticklish" business.
Yet it is better to risk a few men rather than sacrifice many. It is on
the same principle that a "point" of several men is always sent in
advance of the larger body when moving supposedly in the face of the
enemy. The "point" often draws disastrous fire upon itself, but the
larger body of troops is saved from catastrophe.
The soldier accepts calmly this work of going out ahead to draw a
possible enemy's fire. It's "all in the game," as he understands it.
Of course, when troops are sent out only for the purpose of drawing
fire, these troops withdraw, if necessary, as soon as they attract the
enemy's fire to themselves, and thus locate the enemy.
Sergeant Hal Overton kept at the right of his thin, sparse line of men
as they moved forward.
Every man had his eyes ahead; each was watching for the first sign of
trouble.
When the line had reached a plane within a hundred yards of the edge of
the woods the soldiers expected, momentarily, to hear the signal shot,
then the first scattering shots, followed by the heavy, crashing
volleys.
Yet they passed this point safely and went on. The edge of the woods was
gained, still without provoking hostile shots. It would have looked to
one untrained in the art of war as though there were no enemy there. But
this handful of soldiers knew better than to jump at any such
conclusion. The Moros, like the Tagalos and Pampangos, are fond of
getting an enemy at close quarters, and then leaping on him with cold
steel. The Tagalo or Pampango fights with the bolo, the Moro often with
the creese, and with all these brown-skinned men the game is the
same--to leap up unexpectedly, from the tall grass, before the soldier
has had time to throw himself on his guard.
A swift, short-armed cutting movement--a mere slash, delivered with
muscular effort, and the soldier is gashed across the abdomen. After
this cutting has been effectively delivered the white fighting man
usually sinks down in a pool of his own blood, and his fighting days are
likely to be over.
Small wonder that Uncle Sam's infantrymen prefer facing native bullets
to native steel! The bolo man, or the sword man, is the soldier's
greatest aversion. It is like fighting rattlesnakes!
Glancing down the line, Sergeant Hal saw one or two of the newer men
flinch slightly.
"Steady, there!" Hal called, in an easy but business-like tone. "If we
strike the rascals an unbroken line is the one hope for us all."
They had now reached the woods, but no halt was made. The boyish
sergeant, who knew his business, marched his little command about six
hundred yards under the trees.
Still no Moros were encountered.
Then Hal turned his line to the left, marching on through the woods. In
this manner, in less than an hour, he had thoroughly explored the
territory near the Seaforth plantation, and had returned to the point
where his command had first entered the forest.
"Halt!" ordered the young sergeant. "Fall out, but don't scatter."
Then Overton stepped to the edge of the woods, waving his hat. In the
distance Lieutenant Prescott, with his own hat, returned the signal.
Then Hal, using one arm in place of a signal flag, wig-wagged the
information:
"We have thoroughly scouted all about your position, and find no sign of
an enemy."
From the lieutenant came the answer, wig-wagged by arm:
"Good! March your men in."
"I have allowed men to fall out and rest," Hal answered. "They are tired
after their hike."
"Rest your men five minutes, then march them in," replied Lieutenant
Prescott.
"Very good, sir," Hal signaled.
Exactly five minutes later, Overton commanded:
"Fall in! By twos right, march!"
Within the hour several of the former Moro laborers on the plantation
returned. They reported that the Datto Hakkut and some three hundred men
were on the march, miles away and evidently headed for the mountains.
"These men are honest and loyal, Lieutenant," explained Mr. Seaforth.
"They are my regular laborers. Of course, when the attack came those who
could not reach the house took to their heels. But these natives, like
many Moros, are dependable. They are not to be classed with the idle,
vicious cut-throats that follow the datto."
"Hm!" replied Lieutenant Prescott, politely, but he scanned all of these
returned natives, keenly. None of them, however, showed any wounds, or
bore any other signs of having seen recent military service with the
datto.
"Mr. Seaforth," said the young officer, presently, "I am going to follow
the course laid down by Captain Cortland, and return to Bantoc with the
greater part of my command. I shall, however, leave Sergeant Dinsmore
and a dozen men here. I urge that all the white people of the plantation
return with me to town."
"You can take the women with you, Lieutenant, if you will," replied the
planter, "but we men feel that we should stay here and make every effort
to go on running the plantation."
"If you do not think it too dangerous, Mr. Seaforth."
"No; I can trust my laborers, and they tell me that Hakkut and his
rascals appear really bent on reaching the mountains."
"But if they go to the mountains, you know, they go only that they may
be more secure until they have recruited other brown rebels. If Hakkut
can get enough men together, he will attempt to carry fire and bloodshed
even into Bantoc."
"Let the women go with you, and we men will stay here," was the
planter's decision.
Half an hour later the column, minus Sergeant Dinsmore and his squad,
swung off on the return march. A wagon had been provided for conveying
the dead soldiers, another for the wounded, and a third vehicle for the
women.
Four hours later the column was at barracks, from which the women were
escorted into Bantoc, where there was a military guard, and where they
could stop with friends.
Just before dark an escort of twenty men, guarding two wagons, marched
into Bantoc. Sergeant Hal had asked and secured permission to head the
escort, for he wanted to see his chum, Sergeant Noll Terry.
"Well, so you've been doing some real fighting," demanded Noll in a tone
of friendly envy.
"Yes," assented Hal.
"The Moros are not such very classy fighters, are they?"
"They're good enough for me," Hal Overton answered. "I don't mind their
rifle fire, but I can do very well with the least possible number of
brushes against their cold steel."
"But our fellows have their bayonets."
"Yes; but wait until you have to face a rush against those murderous
creeses. I can't tell you much about it. It sounds tame in the telling,
Noll, but you'll know all about it when you have to go up against it.
How have things been here in Bantoc?"
"Bad," Noll replied, with a shake of his head.
"Any serious trouble?"
"No; no fighting. For that matter, I think most of the Moros here in
Bantoc like us well enough, and are disposed to be orderly," replied
Terry thoughtfully. "Of course they're the more peaceable part of the
population, anyway. On the other hand, there are plenty of Moros here in
Bantoc who don't hesitate to let us see how sullen and restless they
are. Only a spark is needed, or maybe only a secret word from the datto,
and two or three hundred ugly fellows here in Bantoc will try to get the
upper hand, or else take to the brush with Hakkut."
"We're going to have a warm time here before we're through, I think,"
replied Sergeant Hal, with a shake of his head.
"What puzzles me," muttered Noll, "is why the government doesn't send
troops enough here to wind up the thing in short order. The whole of
our first battalion of the Thirty-fourth, for instance, ought to take
the field at once, backed by a platoon of light artillery. We ought to
be sent to chase Hakkut clean across the island and into the ocean on
the other side of Mindanao."
"It's not for me to criticize the government, or to say what it ought to
do," Hal rejoined.
"Yet I can understand, lads, that you're puzzled," broke in the quiet
voice of Lieutenant Holmes behind them. "You wonder, both of you, why
the government doesn't use more force. Have you any idea of the great
number of troops we already have here in the islands? As it is, it takes
an Army corps to keep the natives in anything resembling order. Yet, of
course, the government, in this especial case, could exert itself and
send an expedition of a regiment of infantry, a squadron of cavalry and
two batteries of light artillery, say, against Datto Hakkut."
"That would be enough to wind these rebels up in short order, sir,"
murmured Hal.
"No; it would do nothing of the sort," smiled Lieutenant Holmes. "Hakkut
and his crew would laugh at us. What would happen? The rebels would
disperse, and soon show up at their homes, all through this island. As
for Hakkut, he would go into hiding. He always is in hiding when he
isn't in the field defying us. I don't know whether you sergeants know
it, but it's a fact that no American Army officer has ever seen Hakkut.
He never shows himself, and his hiding place is a good one, for no
American knows where it is. So our big expedition that might go out
against Hakkut would find none of these rebels to fight. After the
troops of the big expedition had been withdrawn, however, then Hakkut
and his land pirates would come out again at their own convenience."
"Wouldn't it break up Hakkut's game altogether, sir, if the government
kept enough troops here to be able to send a crushing force against him
whenever he raised his hand?"
"Possibly it might," nodded Lieutenant Holmes; "but to police all of the
Philippine Islands in that fashion we'd have to make the United States
Army three times as large as it is to-day--and then station the whole
Army in these islands. On the other hand, our present plan of keeping
small forces at different points, and sending out small expeditions at
need, shows the natives that we don't take them very seriously. We also
show them that a hundred of Uncle Sam's regulars is a pretty large force
for them to attempt to fight. By attacking the Moros with small
expeditions we keep alive and always before them the fact that we know
one of our regulars to be equal to several of their pirates."
Both sergeants saluted as Holmes moved on.
"Maybe the lieutenant is right," muttered Noll thoughtfully. "But the
present way of fighting these wretches is pretty expensive in the matter
of soldiers' lives."