On the 30th day of June, General Shafter pitched his camp about half a
mile in advance of Camp Wheeler in a valley, and about five o’clock in
the afternoon communicated the plan of battle to the division
commanders and to the commander of the Gatling Gun Detachment.
Reconnaissance had developed the fact that the enemy occupied the
village of El Caney, and that their first line of works surrounded the
city of Santiago at a distance of about a mile, crowning a semicircular
ridge. Between the position occupied by the general’s camp and this
ridge, a distance of about two and one-half miles, flowed the Aguadores
and San Juan rivers, and about one mile from the San Juan River, on the
east side, was a ruined plantation and mission house, called El Poso.
Midway between El Caney and the Spanish position was a large handsome
mansion, called the Du Cuorot house, standing in the midst of a large
plantation and owned by a Frenchman, which both sides had agreed to
respect as neutral property. The general plan of the battle as given to
these officers on the 30th of June was for one division of the army
(Lawton’s), assisted by one battery of artillery (Capron’s), to make an
attack at daybreak upon the village of El Caney, and drive the enemy
out of it. Another division (Kent’s) was to make an attack upon the
semicircular ridge of hills south of El Caney as soon as Lawton was
well committed to the fight, both for the purpose of preventing
reinforcements from going to El Caney and to develop the enemy’s
strength. It was expected that Lawton would capture El Caney about
eight or nine o’clock in the morning, and pursue the retreating enemy,
by the way of the Du Cuorot house, toward Santiago. This movement would
cause Lawton to execute, roughly, a left wheel, and it was intended
that in executing this maneuver Kent’s right should join, or nearly
join, Lawton’s left, after which the whole line was to move forward
according to the developments of the fight. Kent’s attack was to be
supported by Grimes’ Battery from El Poso. The Gatling Gun Detachment
was to move at daylight on the morning of July 1st, take position at El
Poso sheltered by the hill, in support of Grimes’ Battery, and there
await orders.
Skirmish Line in Battle.
This outline of the battle, as laid down by Gen. Shafter on the 30th
day of June, was eventually carried out to the letter; its successful
operation shut up a superior force in the city of Santiago, and
compelled the surrender of the city.
Perhaps no better comment can be made upon the generalship of the corps
commander, no higher compliment be paid, than the mere statement that
he was able, fifteen hours before a shot was fired in the battle, to
prescribe the movements of the different organizations of his command,
and to outline the plan of battle as it was finally carried out, with a
degree of precision which can be fully appreciated only by those to
whom the plan was communicated in advance. In spite of slight changes,
made necessary by local failures and unforeseen circumstances; in spite
of the very poor cooperation of the artillery arm; in spite of the
absence of cavalry, which made good reconnaissance practically
impossible; in spite of the fact that he was operating against a
superior force in strong intrenchments—the plan of battle thus laid
down was finally carried out with perfect success in every detail.
The Gatling Gun Detachment was assembled at six o’clock, and so much of
the plan of battle was explained to them as it was proper to give out,
with orders that breakfast was to be prepared by four o’clock and the
detachment be ready to move at 4:30. The plans were heard with careful
attention by the men, and the wisdom of giving to them some idea of the
work they were expected to do was fully vindicated on the following
day, when they were compelled to lie nearly three hours under a
dropping fire, waiting for “Lawton to become well engaged,” after which
the detachment moved forward, without a man missing, with the utmost
steadiness and coolness, to the attack.
There was no nervousness displayed by the men. They knew their work was
cut out for them, and each man was eager to play his part in the great
drama of the morrow. There was no excited talk indulged in. None of the
buzz of preparation nor the hum of anticipation which to the civilian
mind should precede a desperate battle, but three or four members of
the detachment took out their soldiers’ hand-books and wrote in them
their last will and testament, requesting their commander to witness
the same and act as executor. The courage evinced by these men was not
of that brutal order which ignores danger, but of the moral quality
which, fully realizing that somebody must get hurt, quietly resolves to
face whatever may happen in the performance of the full measure of
duty.
At four o’clock the guard aroused the members of the detachment
quietly, and each man found a good hearty breakfast waiting for him,
consisting of hardtack, coffee, condensed milk, sugar, bacon, canned
roast beef, and some canned fruit, which had been obtained somehow and
was opened upon this occasion. It was the last square meal they were to
have for several days. At half past four the camp equipage had all been
packed upon the guns in such a manner as not to interfere with their
instantly getting into action, and the battery started for the front.
The road to El Poso was very good and the mules trotted merrily along,
preceded and followed by infantry also bound for the front. The Cubans,
too, were in evidence; an irregular, struggling mob of undisciplined
barbarians, vociferous, clamorous, noisy, turbulent, excited. Presently
the Cubans and infantry in front of the battery halted and it passed
beyond them, immediately throwing out the crew of the third gun in
front as an advance guard. It reached El Poso at six o’clock, at which
time there were no other soldiers there. The battery took position as
directed, under cover in rear of the hill and to the right front of the
El Poso house. The camp equipage and blanket-rolls, were removed and
piled neatly upon the ground, and Priv. Hoft was detailed to guard
them, as well as one of the spare mules. About half past seven o’clock
Grimes’ Battery arrived, and Col. McClernand, the assistant
adjutant-general of the corps. The battery of artillery halted upon the
hill near the Gatlings, while its commander, the adjutant-general, the
_Army and Navy Journal_ correspondent, and the Gatling gun man climbed
to the top of the hill to reconnoiter the enemy. They were accompanied
by several _attachés_ and a battalion of newspaper correspondents.
Fort Roosevelt.
To the southwest, at a distance of about 3,000 yards, the city of
Santiago lay slumbering in the morning sun. The chain of hills which
surrounded the city, lying between it and our position, was crowned
with rank tropical verdure, and gave no indications of military
fortifications. There was no sign of life, a gentle land breeze swayed
the tops of the royal palms, and the little birds flitted from bough to
bough caroling their morning songs as though no such events were
impending as the bombardment of a city and the death of 400 gallant
soldiers. The gentle ripple of the creek, lapping over its pebbly bed
at the foot of the hill, was distinctly audible.
The artillery officers produced their range-finders and made a
scientific guess at the distance from the hill to a red brick building
in the northern edge of Santiago. This guess was 2600 yards. They
signalled to the lead piece of Grimes’ Light Battery to ascend the
hill. It was delayed for a moment while picks and shovels were plied
upon the top of the hill to make slight emplacements for the guns, and
at last, at ten minutes before eight o’clock, the first piece started
the difficult ascent. The drivers stood up in their stirrups and lashed
their horses and shouted; the horses plunged and reared and jumped. The
piece stuck half way up the hill. The leaders were turned slightly to
the right to give new direction and another attempt was made—ten yards
gained. The leaders were swung to the left, men and officers standing
near by added their shouts and blows from sticks. A tall artillery
officer, whose red stripes were conspicuous, jumped up and down and
swore; the team gave a few more jumps, then they wheeled the gun by a
left about, with its muzzle pointing toward the city. It was quickly
unlimbered and run to its place.
The second piece started up the hill. The drivers of this piece sat
quietly in their saddles, and, with a cluck, started up the hill at a
walk. The tall artillery officer shouted, and a driver muttered under
his breath, “Damned fool!” Regardless of the orders to rush their
horses, the drivers of this piece continued to walk up the hill. At the
steepest part of the hill, they rose slightly in their stirrups, as one
man, and applied the spur to the lead horses, and, at the same time, a
lash of the quirt to the off horses of the team. The horses sprang
forward, and in an instant the second piece was in battery. The third
and fourth pieces were taken up in the same manner as the second.
The pieces were loaded; a party of newspaper correspondents produced
their lead pencils and pads, and began to take notes; the little birds
continued to sing. The Gatling Gun man, the Army and Navy Journal man,
and the assistant adjutant-general stepped to the windward a few yards
to be clear of the smoke. The range was given by the battery
commander—2600 yards; the objective was named, a small, almost
indistinguishable redoubt, below the hospital about 300 yards. The
cannoneers braced themselves, No. 3 stretched the lanyard taut on his
piece, and Grimes remarked, in a conversational tone, “Let her go.”
The report of the field-piece burst with startling suddenness upon the
quiet summer morning, and a dense cloud of grayish-colored smoke
spurted from the muzzle of the gun. Everybody involuntarily jumped, the
sound was so startling, although expected. The piece recoiled eight or
ten feet, and the gunners jumped to the wheels and ran it forward again
into battery. Field-glasses were glued upon the vicinity of the brick
hospital. There was a puff of white smoke and an exclamation, “A trifle
too long!” The second piece was aimed and fired. There was no response.
The third, and fourth, and fifth, with like results. It was like firing
a salute on the Fourth of July. There was no indication of any danger
whatever; laugh and jest were beginning to go round.
Suddenly a dull boom was heard from somewhere, the exact direction
could not be located. The next thing was a shrill whistle overhead, and
then a most startling report. The first Spanish shell exploded about
twenty feet above the surface of the ground, and about twenty yards in
rear of the crest of the hill. It exploded in the midst of our brave
Cuban contingents, killed one and wounded several. The valiant sons of
Cuba libre took to their heels, and most of the newspaper
correspondents did likewise. The members of Grimes’ Battery, who were
not needed at the guns, were sent back to the caissons, and another
round of shrapnel was sent in reply. Again a hurtling sound rent the
air; again there was the fierce crack of a Spanish shell in our
immediate vicinity, and, on looking around to see where this shell
struck, it was observed that it had burst over the Gatling battery.
Luckily, it had gone six or eight feet beyond the battery before
exploding. A fragment of the shell had struck Priv. Bremer upon the
hand, producing quite a severe contusion. The Missouri mules stamped
the ground impatiently; one of them uttered the characteristic
exclamation of his race, “Aw! hee! aw! hee! aw!” and the members of the
detachment burst into a merry peal of hearty laughter. It was evident
that this detachment was not going to run, and it was equally evident
that the Missouri mules would stand fire.
A Fighting Cuban, and Where He Fought.
Map—Siege Lines at Santiago.
A third shell whistled over the hill. This one burst fairly over
Grimes’ third piece, killed the cannoneer, and wounded several men.
The members of the detachment were now directed to lie down under their
guns and limbers, except the drivers, who declined to do so, and still
stood at the heads of their mules. Priv. Hoft, disdaining to take
cover, shouldered his rifle and walked up and down, sentry fashion,
over the pile of camp equipage.
Serg. Weigle, who had brought along a small portable camera, with a
large supply of film-rolls, requested permission to photograph the next
shot fired by Grimes’ Battery. It was granted. He climbed to the top of
the hill, stepped off to the left of the battery, and calmly focused
his camera. Grimes fired another salute, and Weigle secured a good
picture. A Spanish shell came whistling over the hill; Weigle, judging
where it would burst from previous observations, focused his camera,
and secured a picture of the burst. He then rejoined his detachment,
and photographed it as it stood. He seemed chiefly worried for fear he
would not get a picture of everything that happened.
The artillery duel continued for some twenty minutes. The infantry
began to pass on, to the front. Grimes no longer needed the support of
the Gatling guns, because he now had an infantry support in front of
him, and was firing over their heads. Col. McClernand sent orders to
the detachment to move to the rear, out of range. The order was obeyed.
Private Hoft, with the instinct of a true soldier, continued to tramp
back and forth guarding the pile of camp equipage. The battery moved to
the rear at a gentle trot, and, as it turned down the hill into the
first ford by the El Poso house, a Spanish shell whistled over the head
of Private Shiffer, who was leading the way, and burst just beyond his
off mule. Shiffer didn’t duck and nobody was hurt. Providence was
taking care of this experiment. Corporal Doyle and two other members of
the detachment got lost, and wandered off among the crowd of Cubans,
but soon found the battery and rejoined. Orders were given that as soon
as the battery was out of range, it should halt and face to the front,
at the side of the road.
The battery halted about half a mile to the rear, and the 13th Infantry
passed it here, on their way to the front. The comments bestowed were
not calculated to soothe the ruffled feelings of people who had been
ordered to retreat. “I told you so.” “Why don’t you go to the front?”
“Going to begin firing here?” “Is this the place where you shoot?” “Is
this all there is of it?” “I knew they would not get into the fight.”
“Watch them hang around the rear.” “Going to start in raising bananas
back here, John Henry?” “What do you think of machine guns now?” and
similar remarks, of a witty but exasperating nature, greeted the
detachment, from both officers and men, as the regiment passed on its
way to the front. The only thing that could be done was to endure it,
in the hope of getting a chance to make a retort later in the day.
About nine o’clock, the artillery firing ceased, and the Gatling Gun
Battery returned to El Poso. Grimes’ guns were still up on the hill,
but there were no cannoneers; they had ceased to fire, and had left
their guns. Two or three dead men were lying on the side of the hill;
wounded men were limping around with bandages. Cubans were again
passing to the front. These fellows were trying to reach El Caney. They
never got into the fight. They did reach the vicinity of El Caney, and
the Spanish fired one volley at them. The Cubans set up a great howl,
accompanied by vociferous gesticulations—and then “skedaddled.”
During all this time the sound of firing had been heard toward El
Caney. It had been opened up there about half an hour before Grimes
first spoke at El Poso. The fire in this direction sounded like ranging
fire, a shot every two or three minutes, and it was supposed that
Capron was trying to locate the enemy. The sharp crack of musketry was
heard on our front, it swelled and became continuous. It was evident
that quite a fight was going on at El Caney, which was to our right
about one mile and to our front perhaps half a mile. Kent’s Division
kept pushing forward on the El Poso road. Col. McClernand was asked for
instructions for the Gatling Gun Detachment. He replied, “Find the 71st
New York, and go in with them, if you can. If this is not practicable,
find the best place you can, and make the best use of your guns that
you can.” These were the only instructions received by the Gatling Gun
Detachment until one o’clock.
Gatling Camp and Bomb-Proofs at Fort Roosevelt.
The Gatling Gun Detachment moved forward about half a mile. They found
the 71st New York lying down by the side of the road, partially
blocking it. Troops passing them toward the front were compelled to
break into columns of twos, because the road was crowded by the 71st.
The colonel and his adjutant were sought and found, and informed of the
detachment’s instructions. Information was requested as to when and
where the 71st was going into the fight. It appeared that they had a
vague idea that they were going in on the left center of the left wing.
Lawton’s Division at El Caney will be considered the right wing; Kent’s
Division and Wheeler’s Division the left wing of the army at San Juan.
The 71st did not seem to know when it was going to move toward the
front, nor just where it was going; and there was no apparent effort
being made to get further down the road to the front. Wheeler’s
Division was also pressing forward on the road, dismounted cavalrymen,
with no arms in their hands except their carbines without bayonets.
With these same carbines these men were, a little later, to storm the
intrenchments, manned by picked and veteran soldiers, who knew how to
die at their posts.
With Wheeler’s Division were the Rough Riders, the most unique
aggregation of fighting men ever gathered together in any army. There
were cowboys, bankers, brokers, merchants, city clubmen, and society
dudes; commanded by a doctor, second in command a literary politician;
but every man determined to get into the fight. About three-quarters of
a mile in advance was the first ford, the ford of the Aguadores River;
beyond this a quarter of a mile was another ford, the ford of the San
Juan. The road forked about two hundred yards east of the Aguadores
ford, turning sharply to the left. Down the road from El Poso crept the
military balloon, it halted near this fork—“Balloon Fork.” Two officers
were in its basket, six or eight hundred feet above the surface of the
ground, observing the movements of the troops and the disposition of
the enemy.
The sharp crackle of the musketry began in front, and still the Gatling
Gun Detachment lay beside the road with the 71st, waiting, swearing,
broiling, stewing in their own perspiration, mad with thirst, and
crazed with the fever of the battle. The colonel of the 71st was again
approached, to ascertain whether he was now going to the front, but
still there were no signs of any indication to move forward. So the
long-eared steed was mounted and the ford of the Aguadores
reconnoitered. The bullets were zipping through the rank tropical
jungle. Two or three men were hit. Those who moved forward were going
single file, crouching low, at a dog trot. There was no evidence of
hesitation or fear here. Some of the “Brunettes” passed, their blue
shirts unbuttoned, corded veins protruding as they slightly raised
their heads to look forward, great drops of perspiration rolling down
their sleek, shiny, black skins. There was a level spot, slightly open,
beyond the ford of the Aguadores, which offered a place for going into
battery; from this place the enemy’s works on San Juan were visible, a
faint streak along the crest of the hill illumined from time to time by
the flash of Mausers.
On return to the battery, there were no signs of being able to enter
the action with the gallant 71st, and, acting under the second clause
of the instructions, the Gatling battery was moved forward at a gallop.
Major Sharpe, a mounted member of Gen. Shafter’s staff, helped to open
a way through this regiment to enable the guns to pass. The reception
of the battery by these valiant men was very different from that so
recently given by the 13th Regulars. “Give ’em hell, boys!” “Let ’er
go, Gallagher!” “Goin’ to let the woodpeckers go off?”—and cheer after
cheer went up as the battery passed through. Vain efforts were made to
check this vociferous clamor, which was plainly audible to the enemy,
less than 1500 yards away. The bullets of the enemy began to drop
lower. The cheering had furnished them the clew they needed. They had
located our position, and the 71st atoned for this thoughtlessness by
the loss of nearly eighty men, as it lay cowering in the underbrush
near Balloon Fork.
Just before reaching the Aguadores ford, the battery was met by Col.
Derby, who had been observing the disposition of the troops, from the
balloon, and had afterward ridden to the front on horseback. The
colonel was riding along, to push the infantry forward in position from
the rear, as coolly as if on the parade-ground. A blade of grass had
gotten twisted around a button of his uniform and hung down like a
buttonhole bouquet over his breast. There was a genial smile on his
handsome face as he inquired, “Where are you going?” and, on being
informed of the orders of the detachment and of the intention to put
the battery into action, he replied, “The infantry are not deployed
enough to take advantage of your fire. I would advise that you wait a
short time. I will send you word when the time comes.” The advice was
acted upon, the guns were turned out by the side of the road, and the
men directed to lie down.
Tree Between Lines Showing Bullet Holes. This Tree Grew on Low Ground.
During the gallop to the front they had been compelled to run to keep
up, there not being sufficient accommodation for them to all go mounted
on the guns. They were panting heavily, and they obeyed the order and
crept under the guns, taking advantage of such little shade as was
offered. Troops continued to pass to the front. The crackle of musketry
gradually extended to the right and to the left, showing that the
deployment was being completed. More men were hit, but no complaints or
groans were heard. A ball struck a limber-chest; a man lying on his
face in the road, during a momentary pause of one of the companies, was
perforated from head to foot: he never moved—just continued to lie
there; the flies began to buzz around the spot and settle on the
clotted blood, that poured out from the fractured skull, in the dust of
the road. Down at the ford, some twenty-five or thirty yards in
advance, men were being hit continually.
Shots came down from the trees around. The sharpshooters of the Spanish
forces, who had been up in the trees during the artillery duel, and
beyond whom our advance had swept, fully believing that they would be
murdered if captured, expecting no quarter, were recklessly shooting at
everything in sight. They made a special target of every man who wore
any indication of rank. Some of our heaviest losses during the day,
especially among commissioned officers, were caused by these
sharpshooters. They shot indiscriminately at wounded, at hospital
nurses, at medical officers wearing the red cross, and at fighting men
going to the front.
The firing became too warm, and the Gatling battery was moved back
about fifty yards, again halted, and faced to the front. It was now
nearly one o’clock. The members of the detachment had picked up their
haversacks on leaving El Poso, and now began to nibble pieces of
hardtack. A bullet broke a piece of hardtack which a man was lifting to
his mouth; without even stopping in the act of lifting it to his mouth,
he ate the piece, with a jest.
Suddenly the clatter of hoofs was heard from the front. Lieut. Miley
dashed up and said, “Gen. Shafter directs that you give one piece to
me, and take the other three beyond the ford, where the dynamite gun
is, find some position, and go into action.” Sergeant Weigle’s gun was
placed at Miley’s disposal, and the other pieces dashed forward at a
dead run, led by the musical mule who uttered his characteristic
exclamation as he dashed through the ford of the Aguadores.
The place formerly selected for going into action had been again twice
reconnoitered during the wait, and a better place had been found about
thirty yards beyond the ford of the San Juan River. The dynamite gun
had stuck in the ford of the Aguadores; a shell had got jammed in it.
The Gatlings were compelled to go around it. They dashed through the
intervening space, across the San Juan ford, and up on the opening
beyond. The position for the battery, partially hidden from the view of
the enemy by a small clump of underbrush, was indicated. The right
piece, Serg. Green’s, was compelled to go into action in the middle of
the road, and in plain sight of the enemy. While the pieces were being
unlimbered, which was only the work of an instant, an inquiry was made
of Captain Boughton, of the 3d Cavalry, whose troop had just reached
this point, as to the position of our troops and of the enemy, with the
further remark that the battery had been under fire since eight
o’clock, and had not seen a Spaniard. “I can show you plenty of
Spaniards,” replied Boughton, and, raising his hand, pointed toward the
San Juan blockhouse and the ridge in its vicinity, sweeping his hand
toward the right. It was enough. Before his hand had fallen to his
side, the pieces were musically singing.
Corp. Steigerwald turned and asked, “What is the range, sir?” To which
was instantly replied, “Block-house, 600 yards; the ridge to the right,
800 yards,” and Steigerwald’s piece was grinding 500 shots a minute
within a quarter of a second, playing upon the San Juan block-house.
Serg. Green took 800 yards, and began to send his compliments to the
ridge beyond the block-house. In an instant Priv. Sine, at Green’s gun,
who was feeding, fell backward dead. At the same instant Priv. Kastner
fell out. Sine was shot through the heart, Kastner through the head and
neck. At this time Ryder’s gun began to talk. It spoke very voluble and
eloquent orations, which, although not delivered in the Spanish
language, were well understood by our friends, the enemy, upon the
hill.
Spanish Block-House.
Serg. Green, at the right gun, had run back for ammunition, and Corp.
Doyle, when Sine fell, seized the pointing lever, and was coolly
turning the crank while he sighted the gun at the same time. He was for
the moment the only member of the detachment left at the piece, but was
given assistance, and a moment later Green arrived and began to feed
the gun.
Steigerwald was short-handed. Some of his men had been sun-struck
during the run, and he, too, was compelled to work his gun with only
one assistant. Then some of those who had been unable to keep up
arrived at the battery and began to render assistance. Priv. Van
Vaningham, who had gotten lost from his own command, began to pass
ammunition. Priv. Merryman, who was holding his team back in the river,
was impressed by a doctor to help carry wounded men, and Priv. Burkley,
another man lost from his command, stepped into Merryman’s place. Priv.
Chase left his team, seeing the piece short-handed, and began to pass
ammunition. The mules merely wagged their ears backward and forward and
stamped on account of the flies.
All these changes were accomplished, and the pieces had not even ceased
fire. Doyle had fed about 100 rounds, alone. Capt. Landis, of the 1st
Cavalry, arrived just at this time, and volunteered to assist in
observing the effect of the fire. He stood fearlessly out in the middle
of the road, just to the right of Green’s piece, in the very best
position for observation, but, at the same time, a most conspicuous
target for the enemy, and observed the effect of the Gatling fire, as
though he were at target practice, reporting the same, continually, to
the battery commander.
For the first two minutes the enemy seemed dazed, then suddenly a
perfect hell of leaden hail swept through the foliage. The only thing
that saved the battery from absolute destruction was that the enemy’s
shots were a little high. As it was, many of them struck the ground
between the guns, and several hit the pieces. Three members of the
detachment were slightly hurt. One mule was shot through the ear. He
sang the usual song of the mule, shook his head, and was suddenly hit
again on the fore leg. He plunged a little, but Priv. Shiffer patted
him on the head and he became quiet. A bullet passed by Shiffer’s head,
so close that he felt the wind fan his whiskers, and buried itself in
the saddle on the same mule. This sudden concentration of the enemy’s
fire lasted about two minutes.
About the same time the detachment heard a wild cheer start on the left
and gradually sweep around to the left and right, until in every
direction, sounding high above the din of battle and the crackling of
the Mausers, even above the rattle of the Gatling guns, was heard the
yell of recognition from our own troops. There was, for an instant, a
furious fusillade on our right and left, and in a few moments the whole
line of our troops had risen and were moving forward to the San Juan
ridge. While moving forward, they necessarily almost ceased to fire,
but the fire of the Gatlings continued, deadly and accurate. A troop of
the 10th Cavalry, from our right and rear, came up, part of the
squadron commanded by Col. Baldwin. Some of this troop did not
understand the Gatling gun drama, and were in the act of firing a
volley into our backs, when Lieut. Smith, who was to so heroically lose
his life within ten minutes afterward, sprang out in front of the
excited troopers, and, with tears in his eyes, implored them not to
fire, that these were “our own Gatlings.” They did not fire in our
direction, but they did give a most thrilling and welcome cheer, as the
squadron swept forward by our right. Col. Baldwin ran up, and shouted
that he would place two troops in support of the battery as long as
they were needed. It was the first time the battery had ever had a
support of any kind.
After a couple of minutes, the enemy’s fire perceptibly slackened. It
was evident they were seeking cover from our fire in the bottom of
their ditches, and our fire at this time was being made chiefly from
the Gatling battery. This cessation of fire on the part of the enemy
lasted about two minutes, and then the Gatling gunners observed the
Spaniards climbing from their trenches. Until that time the Gatling
battery had been worked with dogged persistency and grim silence, but
from that moment every member of the battery yelled at the top of his
voice until the command “Cease firing” was given. Groups of the enemy,
as they climbed from their trenches, were caught by the fire of the
guns, and were seen to melt away like a lump of salt in a glass of
water. Bodies the size of a company would practically disappear an
instant after a gun had been turned upon them.
This flight of the enemy from their trenches had been caused by the
fact that the charging line had cut through the barb-wire fences at the
foot of the hill, and had started up the slope. The Spaniards were
unable to stay with their heads above the trenches to fire at the
charging-line, because of the missiles of death poured in by the
machine guns; and to remain there awaiting the charge was certain
death. They did not have the nerve to wait for the cold steel. They
were demoralized because they had been compelled to seek the bottom of
their trenches. American troops would have awaited the charge, knowing
that the machine gun fire must cease before contact could occur, but
the Spaniards forgot this in their excitement, and made the fatal
mistake of running.
The Gatlings had the range to perfection. Capt. Boughton, who was one
of the first officers upon the hill, stated, on the 1st of September at
Montauk, that he visited a portion of the Spanish trenches immediately
upon arriving at the crest, and that the trenches which he inspected
were literally filled with writhing, squirming, tangled masses of dead
and wounded Spaniards, and that the edge of the trenches was covered
with wounded and dead Spaniards, who had been shot in the act of
climbing out. This execution was done mainly by the machine guns,
because the infantry and cavalry were not firing much when it was done;
they were running up the hill to the charge.
Colonel Egbert, who commanded the 6th Infantry, states, in his official
report, that when his regiment reached the sharp incline near the top
of the hill they were brought to a standstill because the Gatling
bullets were striking along the crest. The officers of the 13th
Infantry state the same thing. It was Lieut. Ferguson, of the 13th, who
when the troops had climbed as high as possible under the leaden canopy
which the Gatlings made to cover their charge, waved his white
handkerchief as a signal to cease firing. At the same moment Landis
exclaimed, “Better stop; our men are climbing the hill now.” A shrill
whistle gave the signal “Cease firing,” and the Gatling Gun Battery, to
a man, rose to their feet and gazed with absorbing interest as the
long, thin, blue line swept forward and crowned the crest of the hill.
An instant later an American flag floated proudly from the San Juan
block-house; then the roar of musketry and the volley of rifles
indicated that the fleeing enemy was receiving warm messengers as he
ran down the hill toward his second line of intrenchments.
The next immediate duty confronting the detachment was to take stock of
losses and to occupy the captured position in case of necessity.
Private Sine had been killed and Private Kastner was supposed to be
mortally wounded. Private Elkins fell exhausted just as the Stars and
Stripes were run up on the block-house. He had been knocked down by the
pole of a limber, which struck him over the kidneys, but had continued
to feed his gun until the very last. He was utterly exhausted. Sergeant
Green had been wounded slightly in the foot, but not enough to disable
him. Private Bremer had been hit early in the morning by the fragment
of a shell on the hand. One or two other members had been merely
touched, grazed by balls. Private Greenberg had been overcome by the
heat. Merryman, one of the teamsters, as stated before, had been seized
to carry wounded. Private Lauer was missing and Dellett sunstruck.
Private Hoft had joined the battery on hearing it go into action, and
it was necessary to send someone back as guard over the camp equipage.
A volunteer was called for, and it was with the utmost difficulty that
a member of the detachment, Private Pyne, was induced to take this
duty. He shot four Spanish sharpshooters, who were shooting at our
wounded and our medical officers, out of trees near El Poso, during the
remainder of the day. Private Chase had sprained his back so badly as
to be unable to ride a mule; and two places were vacant for drivers. It
was necessary to instantly supply this deficiency. Private Burkley,
16th Infantry, who had assisted in passing ammunition during the
firing, volunteered to drive one of the teams, and Private Correll the
other. Private Raymond, 6th Cavalry, and Private Van Vaningham, of the
same regiment, also joined the detachment at this point, being
separated from their own commands.
The pieces were limbered up as soon as these dispositions could be
made, except Sergeant Ryder’s gun, which had bent the pintle-pin and
consequently could not be limbered quickly. The other two pieces and
the limber belonging to Ryder’s gun were moved forward on a run to the
captured position on the San Juan ridge, gun crews riding or following
as best they could. Both pieces went into action on the right of the
road. A limber was then sent back for Ryder’s gun, and it was brought
up, Priv. Shiffer performing this duty under a perfect hail of dropping
fire. In advancing from the position at the ford to the captured
position it was necessary to cut three barb-wire fences. The members of
the detachment behaved with the utmost coolness, all working together
to remove these obstructions, and not a man sought shelter, although a
dropping fire was striking around the detachment, from some source.
Where this fire came from it was impossible to tell; but it did not
come from the enemy.
Spanish Fort of Three-Inch Guns.
The two pieces which first reached the top of the hill were halted
under shelter of the crest, while the ground above was reconnoitered.
It was instantly observed that the enemy was coming back for a
counter-charge. Accordingly the pieces were immediately run to the top
of the hill, the drivers, Shiffer and Correll, riding boldly up and
executing a left-about on the skirmish line, where the skirmishers were
lying down. The pieces were unlimbered and instantly put into action at
point-blank range, the skirmishers giving way to the right and left to
make way for the guns. The enemy was less than 300 yards away, and
apparently bent on recovering the position.
The fire immediately became very hot. A skirmisher, who had thought to
gain a little cover by lying down beside the wheel of the right gun
(Green’s), was shot through the arm. “I knowed it,” he growled; “I
might have knowed that if I got near that durned gun, I’d get potted.”
He rolled down behind the crest; a soldier produced an emergency
packet, staunched the blood, and the wounded soldier, finding no bones
broken, returned to the firing-line and resumed his work. The enemy, at
this part of the line, began to waver and again broke toward his second
line of intrenchments.
Just at this moment, Lieut. Traub came up and shouted, “Gen. Wood
orders you to send one or two of your guns over to help Roosevelt.” The
order to move the guns was disregarded, but Traub pointed out the
enemy, which was menacing Col. Roosevelt’s position, and insisted.
About 600 yards to the right, oblique from the position of the guns and
perhaps 200 yards, or less, in front of the salient occupied by Col.
Roosevelt and the 3d Cavalry (afterward called Fort Roosevelt), there
was a group of about 400 of the enemy, apparently endeavoring to charge
the position. There was no time to notify the second piece. Serg.
Green’s gun was instantly turned upon this group, at point-blank
elevation. The group melted away. Capt. Marcotte states that, after the
surrender, some Spanish officers, whom he met, and who were members of
this group, described this to him, stating that the enemy seen at this
point was a body of about 600 escaping from El Caney; that they were
struck at this point by machine gun fire so effectively that only forty
of them ever got back to Santiago; the rest were killed.
Serg. Green’s gun, already heated to a red heat by the continuous
firing of the day, had been worked to its extreme limit of rapidity
while firing at this body of the enemy, and on ceasing to fire, several
cartridges exploded in the gun before they could be withdrawn. A ball
lodged in one barrel from one of these explosions, and this piece was
drawn down out of action just as the piece which had been left at the
ford returned. Subsequently the disabled piece was sent back to the
ford, with the idea that that would be a safer place to overhaul it
than immediately in rear of the firing-line. The piece remained at the
ford until the night of the 3d of July, when it was brought up to the
battery, then at Fort Roosevelt, and on the 4th was finally overhauled
and put into action. This led to the impression, on the part of some of
the command, that one of the Gatlings had been blown up, which was not
true. The gun was not injured, except that one barrel could not be used
during the remainder of the fighting, but the gun was used on the
morning of the 4th, and during the whole of the engagement on the 10th
and 11th, as well as on outpost duty, using nine barrels instead of
ten.
Following this repulse of the enemy, which occurred about 4:30 p. m.,
there was a lull in the firing. Advantage was taken of this to visit
Col. Roosevelt’s position and inspect the line of battle. Upon reaching
the salient, Col. Roosevelt was seen walking up and down behind his
line, encouraging his men, while a group of them was held, just in the
rear of the crest, in charge of Maj. Jenkins, to support the
firing-line if necessary. On the right of the Rough Riders, the 3d
Cavalry were in the fight, and Capt. Boughton was again encountered.
The firing suddenly began again, and it was remarkable to observe the
coolness with which these two officers sauntered up and down the line,
utterly regardless of the bullets, which were cutting the grass in
every direction. There were no soft places on this part of the hill.
The enemy’s sharpshooters, up in high trees, were able to see every
point of the crest, and were dropping their shots accurately behind it
at all points.
Tentage in Cuba.
Just at this moment, Serg. Weigle came up with his gun. Serg. Weigle
had had a hard time. His gun had been taken, under direction of Lieut.
Miley, to a point near the San Juan farm-house, and pulled to the top
of the hill. Weigle, whose only idea of a battle, at this time, was a
chance to shoot, had been, to his intense disgust, restrained from
opening fire. Then the piece had been taken down from the hill and
around to the left of the line, where Lieut. Miley’s duty as aide had
carried him, to observe the progress of the battle, and Weigle had been
again denied the privilege of “potting” a Spaniard. He was the most
disgusted man in the American Army; he was furious; he was white-hot;
he was so mad that the tears rolled down his cheeks, as he reported
with a soldierly salute, “Sir, Serg. Weigle reports, with his gun.
Lieut. Miley did not allow me to open fire. I would like to have
orders.”
In spite of the critical condition of the engagement, it was extremely
ludicrous; but the reopening of the fire at this moment presented an
opportunity to accommodate the sergeant to his heart’s content. He was
directed to run his piece up on the firing-line, report to the officer
in charge thereof, and go into action as soon as he pleased. Within
thirty seconds he was getting his coveted opportunity. He fired until
his gun became accidentally jammed, pulled it down behind the crest of
the hill and removed the defective cartridge, returned it and repeated
this operation, actually bringing the gun down three times, and
returning it into action, doing very effective work, and all the time
displaying the utmost coolness and good judgment. A sharpshooter began
to make a target of Weigle’s gun, and “potted” a couple of men
belonging to the cavalry near it. This made Weigle so mad that he
turned the gun, for a moment, upon the tree in which the sharp-shooter
was concealed. That sharpshooter never shot again. Finally, Weigle’s
gun got so hot, and he himself so cool, that he concluded the piece was
too warm for further firing. So he ran it down behind the hill, and ran
his detachment back on the hill with rifles, and, during the remainder
of the evening, the members of this crew practiced with “long Toms”
upon the Spanish soldiers.
On returning to the other two pieces near the road, they were moved to
another position, on the other side of the road. This precaution was
judicious in order to conceal the pieces, or change their position,
because the enemy had pretty thoroughly located them in the previous
brush, and it was rather dangerous to remain at that place. It was now
nearly sundown. Scarcely had the pieces opened at this new position,
when a battery of the enemy’s artillery, located near the hospital,
began to fire at them. There was a heavy gun, which made a deep
rumbling sound, and this sound was supplemented by the sharp crack of a
field-piece. A shell came whistling overhead and exploded within thirty
yards of the battery, just beyond it. Another one came, and this time
the enemy’s artillery was located. Quick as a flash, the two Gatlings
were turned upon the enemy’s guns at the 2000-yard range. Another shell
came whistling along and exploded about ten feet overhead and twenty
feet in rear of the battery. It tore up the grass in rear of the
battery. After this engagement was over, Priv. Shiffer picked up the
still hot fuse of this last shell. It was a large brass combination
fuse, and set at eight seconds, which justified the estimated range.
This third shell was the last one the enemy was able to fire from these
pieces. The powerful field-glasses which were used in locating the
battery revealed the fact that as soon as the Gatling guns were turned
on it, the Spanish gunners ran away from their pieces. The big gun
turned out to be a 16-centimeter converted bronze piece, mounted on a
pintle in barbette, rifled and using smokeless powder. It was also
found that they were firing four 3-inch field-pieces of a similar
character in this battery, as well as two mountain guns.
It is claimed that this is the first time in the history of land
fighting that a battery of heavy guns was ever put out of action by
machine-gun fire. This battery of the Spanish was never afterward able
to get into action. Their pieces, which had been loaded for the fourth
shot, were found on the 18th of July, still loaded, and a Spanish
officer gave the information that they had lost more than forty men
trying to work that battery, since the 1st of July. This is accounted
for by the fact that this Spanish battery was made the subject of
critical observation by the Gatling Gun Detachment from this time on.
After the Rain.
During this last engagement it had been necessary to obtain more men to
assist in carrying ammunition, and Capt. Ayers, of the 10th Cavalry,
had furnished a detail, consisting of Serg. Graham and Privates Smith
and Taylor, Troop E, 10th Cavalry. These colored soldiers proved to be
excellent. They remained with the battery until the end of the fighting
on the 17th, and were in every respect the peers of any soldier in the
detachment. Serg. Graham was recommended for a medal of honor. Privates
Smith and Taylor did as good service, were as willing, as obedient, as
prompt, and as energetic in the discharge of their duties as any
commanding officer could wish to have. It is a great pleasure to be
able to give this testimony to the merits of our colored troopers, and
to say, in addition, that no soldiers ever fought better than the
“Brunettes” of the 9th and 10th Cavalry, who fought from the 3d of July
until the 12th, near or with the Gatlings.
After the firing at the ford had ceased, Capt. Marcotte had returned to
El Poso to investigate the movements of our artillery. These were then,
and have remained, one of those inscrutable and mysterious phenomena of
a battle; incomprehensible to the ordinary layman, and capable of being
understood only by “scientific” soldiers. The charge upon the San Juan
ridge was practically unsupported by artillery. No American shells had
struck the San Juan block-house; none had struck or burst in its
vicinity; not even a moral effect by our artillery had assisted in the
assault. So Marcotte had gone to investigate the artillery arm. He
returned at sundown, and brought the information that our baggage was
safe at El Poso; that Private Pyne, still alive and unhurt, had been
doing good work against the enemy’s sharpshooters; and, better than all
this, had brought back with him a canteen of water from the San Juan
River and a pocket full of hardtack. He poured out his hardtack, and it
was equally distributed among the members of the detachment, each man’s
share amounting to two pieces. Each man was also given a sup of water
from the canteen, and this constituted their only supper on that night,
as they had been compelled to throw away everything to keep up with the
guns. Having disposed of that, exhausted Nature could do no more; they
lay down in the mud where they stood, and slept so soundly that even
the firing which occurred that night did not arouse them from their
slumbers. They were not disturbed until Best’s Battery began to occupy
this hill about four o’clock in the morning. They were then aroused and
the Gatling guns were drawn down, and the whole battery moved to the
salient occupied by the Rough Riders, because their position was at
that time closest to the enemy, and, as was determined by the previous
day’s reconnaissance, offered a chance to enfilade several of the
enemy’s trenches with machine gun fire.
To dispose of the subject of artillery, it may be said that Best’s
Battery and some other artillery occupied the ground vacated by the
Gatlings on the morning of July 2d, fired four shots, and then withdrew
with more haste than dignity. They remarked, “This is the hottest fire
to which artillery has been subjected in modern times,” and lit out to
find a cooler place. They found it—so far in rear that their fire was
almost equally dangerous to friends and foes on account of the close
proximity of the two firing-lines. The obvious conclusion is that
machine guns can live at close ranges, where artillery can not stay.
There is no better light artillery in the world than that which had to
withdraw from San Juan block-house and its vicinity, on the morning of
July 2d.