PERSONAL REMINISCENCES.
Telling How Our Soldiers Lived--What They, Saw--How They
Fought--Hardships Endured--Bravery Shown in the Face of the Deadly
Mauser Bullets as Well as Fever-Stricken Camps, Etc., Etc.
Charles E. Hands, writing from Santiago to the London Mail, says
of the wounded after the battle of July 1 and 2:
There was one man on the road whose left foot was heavily bandaged
and drawn up from the ground. He had provided himself with a sort
of rough crutch made of the forked limb of a tree, which he had
padded with a bundle of clothes. With the assistance of this and a
short stick he was paddling briskly along when I overtook him.
"Where did they get you, neighbor?" I asked him.
"Oh, durn their skins," he said in the cheerfulest way, turning to
me with a smile, "they got me twice--a splinter of a shell in the
foot and a bullet through the calf of the same leg when I was
being carried back from the firing line."
"A sharpshooter?"
"The son of a mongrel was up in a tree."
"And you're walking back to Siboney. Wasn't there room for you to
ride?" I expected an angry outburst of indignation in reply to
this question. But I was mistaken. In a plain, matter-of-fact way
he said:
"Guess not. They wanted all the riding room for worse cases 'n
mine. Thank God, my two wounds are both in the same leg, so I can
walk quite good and spry. They told me I'd be better off down at
the landing yonder, so I got these crutches and made a break."
"And how are you getting along?" I asked.
"Good and well," he said, as cheerfully as might be, "just good
and easy." And with his one sound leg and hist two sticks he went
cheerfully paddling along.
It was just the same with other walking wounded men. They were all
beautifully cheerful. And not merely cheerful. They were all
absolutely unconscious that they were undergoing any unnecessary
hardships or sufferings. They knew now that war was no picnic, and
they were not complaining at the absence of picnic fare. Some of
them had lain out all the night, with the dew falling on them
where the bullets had dropped them, before their turn came with
the overworked field surgeons.
CAPTAIN PADDOCK TELLS OF THE FIGHTING BEFORE SANTIAGO.
On the Battlefield, One Mile East of Santiago, Sunday, July 3.
My Dear "Jim": I have passed safely through the most horrible
three days imaginable. We marched nearly all night Thursday (June
30), to a point about one and a half miles east from here, and
then waited for morning. About 5 o'clock we started again, and at
6 A. M. our extreme right opened, the fight. The center (our
front) and the left moved into position, and at 8 o'clock the
Spanish artillery opened on us from the position we now hold. We
deployed as skirmishers and advanced through woods and brush, a
perfect thicket; our artillery was hard at work behind us, but we
with our small arms could not do much, as the Spanish were
perfectly intrenched for a mile or more along our front.
We kept pushing along, although their fire, both shrapnel and
small arms, was murdering us; but on we came, through the tropical
underbrush, and wading a stream up to our chests, firing when we
could see the enemy.
We reached the first line along a hillcrest and drove them out;
then the next line, and they then started back to the city. The
fighting was fast and fearful and never slackened until dark. The
second day (Saturday) was a continuous fight again till dark; but
our loss was small, as we simply held our position, having driven
them all in; at night, however, they made a furious attack and
attempted to retake the place. We were not surprised, and drove
them back, with small loss on our side.
To-day was like the second day up to 12:30 o'clock, when a truce
was made. Up to now (5 o'clock P. M.) there has been no firing
since then, but I don't yet know what the result of the conference
was. We offered the truce after the naval battle. I only give a
brief outline, as the papers have told everything. I am unhurt and
perfectly well.
TOLD FROM THE TRENCHES-COUNCIL BLUFFS BOY DESCRIBES THE FIGHTING
BEFORE SANTIAGO.
The following letter was written in the trenches before Santiago
the morning after the attack:
Heights Before Santiago, July 8.
Dear Father: I have not been hurt and am fully convinced that
Providential protection alone took me through it. Contrary to all
principles of tactics, but unavoidably, the Twenty-fourth infantry
was marched for three miles in a flanking fire from artillery, and
when we were within about one and a half miles from the first
Spanish position we were hemmed in a narrow road and subjected to
a hail of fire from two blockhouses and intrenchiments on the
hills on our right.
We waded about 400 yards down a stream up to our shoulders under
protection of its banks and charged across a field of bull grass
as high as our heads for about 600 yards, and then up the hill
about 200 feet and drove the Spaniards out of their fort. The one
we took is called San Juan. We lost terribly. Lieutenants Gurney
and Augustine are dead. Colonel Liscum, Captains Ducat, Brett and
Burton and Lieutenants Lyon and Laws are wounded. We lost about
100 men, but the fight is virtually won.
During the engagement I threw away my sword. I saw the colonel
fall and I gave him my canteen and he soon revived. We occupied
the hill by the blockhouse. We are within about 400 yards of the
city and they have put up a flag of truce. They want until 10 A.
M. July 9 to hear from Havana. We have them sewed up tight. I have
a piece of an eight-inch shell which tried to get me, but struck
the parapet of my trench. Will try to send it home.
No one except those thoroughly acquainted with this country will
ever know how dreadfully desperate the fight and charge were. It
is a mistake that the Spaniards won't fight. The Spaniards have
their barracks and other buildings covered with the Red Cross and
abuse all the established principles of 'warfare. They put their
men in trees hidden with leaves and bark and they pick off
officers, surgeons and men of the hospital corps.
Finally it became necessary to systematically hunt these down, and
this has been done with considerable success. The night of the 4th
Sampson began countermining, and the dynamite made such a racket
that the Spanish officers ran out under a flag of truce about
11:30 P. M. and wanted to know what we meant by firing under a
flag of truce. It did not take us long to tell them that our flag
of truce did not include the navy. Now, about 9 am, I hear the
guns of the navy and Morro castle exchanging compliments.
Of all the precautions advised before we started for Cuba I could
follow but few. I wear my woolen bandages, but in wading the
stream I was unable to put on dry clothes again. In fact, for
seventy-two hours we were under fire without sleep and thirty-six
hours without water or food of any kind.
Bacon and hard bread are fine. I sleep on the side of San Juan
hill in a ditch, so I won't roll out. I have a raincoat, blanket
and shelter half.
This is the most beautiful country I have ever seen, and if we
should have peace I know of no place I would rather live in. I
have seen enough of the horrors of the war, but am proud of the
gallant boys of the Twenty fourth. The fighting is practically
over, so have no fear. Your son,
WILL.
COLONEL WOOD WRITES OF HIS BATTLE--ROUGH RIDERS' LEADER DESCRIBES
THE AMERICAN ATTACK AT LA QUASINA.
Camp First United States Volunteer Cavalry, Six Miles Out of
Santiago, June 27, 1898.
Dear General: Thinking that a line about our fight and general
condition would interest you, I take this opportunity to drop you
a line. We are all getting along very comfortably thus far and
find the climate much better than we expected; also the country,
which, aside from being awfully rough and full of undergrowth, is
rather picturesque and attractive.
We commenced our advance from our first landing place on the 23d,
and that night General Young and I, as second in command of the
Second Cavalry brigade, had a long war talk about taking the very
strong Spanish position about five miles up the road to Santiago.
He decided that he would make a feint on their front and hold on
hard, while I was to make a detour by trail under a couple of
Cuban guides and take them in flank and try to get them out of
their strong position, which was in the wildest and roughest part
of the trail toward the town. Our little plan worked. I located
the Spanish outpost and deployed silently and when in position
fired on them. Shortly after I opened I could hear Young on the
right, down in the valley.
FOUGHT TWO HOURS AT CLOSE RANGE.
The fight lasted over two hours and was very hot and at rather
close range. The Spanish used the volley a great deal, while my
men fired as individuals. We soon found that instead of 1,500 men
we had struck a very heavy outpost of several thousand. However,
to cut a long story short, we drove them steadily but slowly, and
finally threw them into flight. Their losses must have been heavy,
for all reports coming out of Santiago show a great many dead and
wounded and that they, the Spanish, had 4,000 men and two machine
guns (these we saw) and were under two general officers, and that
the Spanish dead and wounded were being brought in for six hours;
also that the garrison was expecting an assault that night; that
the defeated troops reported they had fought the entire American
army for four hours, but, compelled by greatly superior numbers,
had retreated and that the army was coming.
My men conducted themselves splendidly and behaved like veterans,
going up against the heavy Spanish lines as though they had the
greatest contempt for them. Yours sincerely, LEONARD WOOD.
To General B. A. Alger, Secretary of War.
WIRT W. YOUNG OF CHICAGO TELLS OF THE DESTRUCTION OF CERVERA'S
FLEET JULY 3.
We have seen some hot times since the Harvard left Newport News
with the Ninth Massachusetts and the Thirty-fourth Michigan on
board. We landed them about six miles from Santiago at a little
town called Siboney, or Altares, and laid there four days
unloading stores. On the morning of the 3d I was lucky enough to
row in the boat that the officers took to the shore. The ship was
lying about one and a half miles from shore, and you can bet it is
no Sunday-school picnic affair to pull a twenty-foot oar back and
forth all day. When we landed the officers one of them said: "Wait
for me." We waited three hours. Then we saw the New York come on
the line. We made for the boat, so as to reach it before the
lieutenant. Just as he got in the Harvard flew the recall signal.
When we reached her we heard that the New York had said that the
Spanish ships had left the harbor and that the Harvard was to join
the Iowa. We cleared for action and went up past Morro castle.
Away up on the coast we could see great columns of smoke. The
Spaniards had come out and started to run, but the Indiana, Iowa,
Massachusetts, Gloucester and the rest of the fleet were waiting,
and in an hour the two Spanish torpedo-boats were blown out of the
water. The Infanta Maria Theresa and Oquendo were beached and on
fire close together, and the Vizcaya the same about a mile farther
down. It was about 3 o'clock when the Iowa signaled the Harvard to
take the Spanish sailors from the burning ships and from the
shore. Before the first boat was lowered it had grown quite dark
and the sea was running high.
THE SIGHT OF A LIFETIME.
The sight of those magnificent battleships burning and the
magazines exploding one by one as the flames reached them, made an
impression upon me I will never forget. They called for volunteers
to man the boats, as it was dangerous work. We did not know
whether the Spanish sailors on shore would show fight or not.
There is a cadet on board named Hannigan, from Chicago, who will
always show his boat's crew any fun there is going on. Arling
Hanson and I determined to get in his boat, and we did.
We made for the Vizcaya, and as we neared her we could see men
hanging to ropes down the sides. The ship was on fire from stem to
stern, and any moment the magazines were likely to explode. If
they had while we were pulling the Spaniards off, there would have
been several Chicago naval recruits missing. The surf was running
high and made the work dangerous and difficult, but we made
connections and brought off over 600 men. They were all naked and
almost dead.
The only light we had was from the burning ships, and the scene
was one of great confusion. Officers shouted orders, Spaniards
running up and down the beach and the magazines exploding one by
one as the fire reached them. And to crown all a party of Cubans
came down from the hills and announced their intention of "making
angels" of all the helpless Spaniards. Whereupon the American
naval officers said if they tried anything like that "there would
be some strange Cuban faces in hades." The Cubans thought better
of it and stood and watched us.
I have got the dagger and sheath of the Spanish officer Francisco
Silvia. He was pretty near gone, and when he had almost reached
the boat he let go of the line. I swam out, held to the line, and
just as he swept by me, caught him by the belt and got him up to
the boat. He got me around the neck in the struggle, and once I
was so full of salt water I thought I should never see Chicago
again. He wanted to give me anything he had. He had only his belt
and cap, so I chose his dagger.
MUTINY AMONG THE PRISONERS.
I suppose you have by this time got the report of the mutiny on the
Harvard and the killing of eight and wounding of twenty-five of the
Spaniards. Jones from Auburn Park, Hanson and I were on guard with some
marines and soldiers. We heard the signal, a long-drawn hiss, and in an
instant the "push" was up and at us. They had about ten feet to come,
however, and not one of them ever reached us. There was a hot time for a
few minutes. It was shoot as fast as you could throw up your gun. We did
not stop to pick our men, but fired at the crowd; and when a Winchester
or a Springfield bullet hits a man at ten or twelve feet he is going to
stop and go the other way.
There has been a burial at sea for the last five days. When the
bugle sounds "taps" over the place where the bodies are thrown
into the sea it seems to make your blood come to your face with a
rush. There is something solemn in it, and a man who dies and is
buried with his country's flag around him and the bugle and guns
to do him honor is lucky.
TOWN OF SANTIAGO DESCRIBED BY ONE OF OUR BOYS.
Santiago, August 6.
A peculiarity of the climate here is that it is the hottest in the
morning. The sun rises hot; in fact, the heat is most severe from
sunrise to 10 am, when the sea breezes set in and make the
situation more endurable. If it remained as hot all day as it is
at 9 A. M. our condition would be unbearable indeed. The ocean
helps us out, however, and by noon we have a very refreshing and
cooling air stirring.
The sickness in the company is on the decrease. On some days only
about half the men were fit for duty, but they are all doing
nicely now. The same proportion obtained throughout the whole
regiment. Not all of the disabled were sick, but some were
recovering, while others were sick and thus we had from 25 to 40
per cent. of the men under the weather, and it took those who were
well to care for the sick.
I was at Santiago the other day with Colonel Dick. We called on
General Shafter and had a very nice chat with him. He showed us a
message from the Secretary of War directing that the Eighth Ohio
be closely isolated for a period of ten days and if at the end of
that time no yellow fever appears in our ranks we are to be put on
transports and sent away from here.
Santiago is a queer place. We approached the city along the road
that passes by our camp. The street was narrow--not more than
twenty-five or thirty feet wide--not wider than the paved portion
of the street in front of our house. Many are much narrower--mere
alleys in fact--but people living all along them. Across the
streets trenches had been dug by the Spanish troops and barbed
wire netting in front of the trenches. There were many trenches,
showing what preparation they had made for a desperate resistance
to our advance. The houses are nearly all one-story and have brick
or stone floors. Few have wood floors and all seem dirty. No glass
is used in the windows, and very little window glass is seen in
the city. The window openings are grated on the outside and have a
sort of portiere or wooden shutters on the inside. The streets are
not straight, but wind and turn until one loses the points of the
compass. The houses are built out even with the streets, no front
yards and no spaces between the houses. Houses are mostly covered
on the outside walls with plaster and roofs of red tile. The city
is very old and the houses show it. We went into the cathedral, an
old building. They rang the bells and rang them again, but so far
as we could see no one came to worship. The janitors and priests
lounged about--the latter saluted us. We strolled all about the
interior of the structure with our spurs on our boots and wearing
cartridge belts and revolvers. The American soldier goes about
where he pleases in the city. Of course we recognized the
character of the building and removed our hats when we went in.
The interior was adorned like most Catholic churches, with
pictures and altars and other regalia of the Catholic service.
Quite a nice picture of the Virgin appears in the ceiling, and a
number of good pictures are found about the walls. We also went
into the "palace," now used as General Shafter's headquarters. It
is one of the best buildings in the city, but doesn't compare with
the more ordinary public buildings in our country. There are no
street cars--few, if any electric lights, and the surface of many
streets is so rough and uneven that you can have no conception of
them. The few that are better than others are paved with
cobblestones, but these are few. Most streets are full of loose
stones and not paved, and little, if any, pretense at grading. The
dirt lies in the streets and side streets are filthy. In fact, it
looked to me like the greater the stink the better the people like
it. My sense of smell was too acute to relish it. Our troops have
gathered up large numbers of Cubans and put them to work cleaning
up the streets, and the prospects for cleanliness are better. I
don't believe, however, that the Cuban and Spanish residents will
profit by it unless they are absolutely compelled to avoid
throwing rubbish in the streets. They have no cellars and no
sewers. The people themselves have very little regard for the
ordinary proprieties of civilized life and children run stark
naked on the streets.
The following letter has been received from Claude Neis of Company
G, First District of Columbia volunteers:
Santiago de Cuba, Aug. 9, 1898.
You said that Mr. Balcke's son was killed in Santiago. If so, I
must say that I saw his ghost on the wayside in a cluster of
woods. I remember seeing the name. His first name was Charley, if
I am not mistaken. I feel very sorry to have heard of his death,
but I know that he perished for a noble cause and fought gallantly
as any soldier could.
Lon White is all right, and this trip is doing him a great deal of
good, only he has had an attack of malarial fever lately. It seems
to affect all the boys, and if they do not take us out of this
place, since peace is virtually declared, we all will have a
harder fight to contend with the yellow fever than we had with the
Spaniards. It has already broken out among several regiments and
we have lost two men already.
Last Friday the First battalion was ordered to guard the Spanish
prisoners, 7,000 in number, and my four days' expedition with them
has made me conceive very readily that they are superior to what I
expected. I made friends with Captain Garcia, a very fine-looking
man and a very gentle sort of a fellow. We were forbidden to talk,
receive or give anything from or to them, but a soldier in these
circumstances disobeys a minor order like that, I was invited to
take dinner with the captain and his two lieutenants, Menez and
Hernandez, two very nice sort of Spaniards. Though prisoners, they
are more cordial than our own officers. The bill of fare and
manner of eating was as follows:
1. Bean soup with rice, well seasoned with pepper a la Mexicano.
2. Fish, with the best sauce ever tasted since I left home. 3.
Fried eggs and potatoes. (Eggs in the market here are 10 cents
apiece.) After each intermission a glass of claret wine. 4. Rice
and roast meat a la Francaise. 5. Rice pudding. 6. Coffee
(Francaise), bread and butter. 7. Fruit. Glass of good Spanish rum
a la rhum.
I have quite a few souvenirs from them and some Spanish buttons
for sister.
We are situated on top of a mountain while the Spaniards are down
in the valley. They bring quite a number of sick people out every
morning. I have even become so acquainted with the men of the--
battalion, Captain Garcia commanding, that they call me Senor
Neis. I have named one, who is the real picture of an Irishman of
the Mick type, "Mickey," and his comrades call him such. They
carry my water for me and seem to be willing to do anything I ask
them. The majority of them are very illiterate, very few
intelligent privates, comparatively speaking. I have a young
fellow about my age to teach English, and I am attempting Spanish.
Both of us are getting along fairly well. I can make myself
understood.
While I was dining with Captain Garcia his orderly was fanning the
flies away from me. The country is beautiful, nothing but
mountains and valleys. With American people here it will be worthy
to have the island called the Gem of the Antilles. I can thank God
that I have had the best of health and only two of us in the
company have not had the fever. I seem to have gained in weight
and full flushed in the face.
This letter was written just before the battle of Santiago:
Ten Miles North of Baiquiri, June 29, 1898.
Dear Jim: I am writing this on picket. My troop was sent to the
front and we are bivouacked in the woods. Oranges, lemons and
cocoanuts are plentiful, and every trooper has his canteen full of
lemonade all the time. We were seventeen days on the transport,
but did not suffer. Every one is in good spirits and anxious to
get at the dons. DICK.
The following breezy letter was written by a Washington lad in the
trenches around Santiago:
Siboney, July 7.
My Dear General: Have really been too busy to write. Have been in
a real nice, lively battle, and wasn't a bit scared and didn't
run. The poor old Twenty-fourth. Markley commands the regiment
now, and temporarily the brigade. He is a daisy. He really ought
to get something. So ought every one. It was glorious. Only so
many were killed and wounded. Poor old Shafter. Everybody is
roasting him because he was lying on his back in the rear having
his head rubbed, which isn't my idea of what a commander should
do.
About myself: I was upset by a shell back of Grimes' battery July
1, which killed some people. Very miraculous. Only I didn't get a
scratch to show for it, and, although I most conscientiously
wished for a bullethole, didn't get one the rest of the fight. I
overdid the business a little, rode to the rear twice that day and
back, and then walked after they shot my mule. Well, anyway, July
2 I was with Blank when he was forced back from San Juan hill. He
told me it was the hottest fire any artillery has had to stand in
modern times. Then he pulled out. Well, the fever came on the 3d,
and I have been sort of half crazy and delirious the last four
days. It isn't yellow fever, though, although it probably will be.
I'll cable if it gets serious. Really, I have distinguished
myself, and, if I pull out, may lead a fairly decent life and be
rather a credit. If anything does happen to me I'll feel like such
an ass for not being bowled over like a gentleman in the battle
last week. Love to all. CHARLIE.
P. S.--This is a little disconnected on account of forty grains of
quinine to-day.
MEMBER OF THE HOUSTON POST RIFLES PAINTS A ROSEATE PICTURE.
Santiago de Cuba, August 6, 1898.
Dear Mother: I am now in Cuba. I like Santiago; it is much cooler
here than at Camp Caffery.
The Cubans all talk Spanish and I am learning to talk Spanish
fast. We are now camped at the city park on the harbor. I saw the
smokestack of the Merrimac when we came through the neck of the
harbor. The Merrimac was sunk right near Morro castle. Morro
castle is almost at the top of a mountain and is made of white
stone. Santiago is surrounded by water and mountains. There is not
a case of yellow fever here at all. The only kind of sickness here
is malarial fever and wounded soldiers. The fever was caused by
laying in trenches for seventeen days during battle on light
rations.
I like Cuba better than Texas. I can sit right here and see where
all the fighting was done. The Rough Riders are here. General
Shafter is here also. There are enough rations in the city to feed
the volunteer soldiers for one year, and our money is worth twice
as much as Spanish money. We do not want for anything. We get more
to eat here than at Camp Caffery and have less sickness, and the
weather is not as hot here as it was there. We have pretty brown
duck and also blue flannel suits. It is fun to see us buy from the
Cubans and get the right change back. The sailors that were
captured off of Cervera's fleet are here. They can go anywhere
they want to in the city, and the rest of the Spanish prisoners
are here also, and we have charge of them. There are about fifty
or seventy-five men in the guardhouse at present for drinking rum
and eating fruit. We can buy anything we want except liquors and
fruit. I have seen a number of Spanish war vessels that are half
sunk, and there are lots more out of sight. On our trip to Cuba we
crossed the Caribbean sea. Tell Ernest that there is a fellow here
by the name of Parsons that he knows. This man Parsons was on
guard duty at the warehouse and a fellow came prowling around and
Parsons told him to leave, but he would not and he charged
bayonets on him and run him out. The next day he found out that
this man was his brother that he had not seen for five years.
The poor class of people are almost starved. They come around and
beg scraps to eat. Cuba has the richest land I have ever seen;
pretty shade trees and everything that it takes to make a country
look fine. The city of Santiago is laid off like an old Mexican
town. It does not rain here as often as at Camp Caffery and not so
hard. There are lots of cocoanut groves around here and no
monkeys. There were only five or six houses that were hit by the
bombshells during the war. I have a Cuban sweetheart already. It
is nothing to see the poor class half naked. Cuban children sleep
wherever night overtakes them and eat where they can find scraps.
The Red Cross ladies that stay in the hospitals are so good and
kind to us. We only have to drill one hour a day here. A few of
the boys on the trip got seasick. Colonel Hood has water boiled
every night and next morning we put ice in it to drink. We have
fresh meat packed in ice shipped by the Armour Packing Company.
Fried steak every morning, roast or stew for dinner and bacon for
supper. We eat lightbread and not hardtack now. There are a good
many transports laying in the harbor here. There is a basin here
in the park like the one in the market house there at home, which
we use to bathe our face and hands in. This letter might be a long
time in coming, as the boat does not run regularly. Well, I will
close for this time. With much love for you and the rest, I remain
your affectionate son,
PAGE LIGON.
BY LIEUTENANT COLONEL NICHOLAS SENN, U. S. V., CHIEF OF OPERATING
STAFF WITH THE ARMY IN THE FIELD AT SANTIAGO.
Headquarters Fifth Army Corps, Before Santiago, July 12.
As the hospital ship Relief came in sight of the seat of war every
one of its passengers watched with interest and anxiety the
indications of the present status of the conflict. When we sailed
from Fortress Monroe Sunday, July 3, fighting was in progress,
and, not having received information of any kind since that time,
we were impatient for news.
On reaching Guantanamo we came in sight of a number of warships
floating lazily on the placid ocean like silent sentinels some six
to eight miles from the shore. The little bay was crowded with
empty transports, all of which indicated that we were not as yet
in possession of Santiago. The pilot of a patrol boat finally, in
a voice like that of a foghorn, communicated to us the news that
the greater part of the Spanish fleet had been destroyed and that
the Spanish loss in dead, wounded and prisoners was great. Among
the most important prizes of the naval battle was the heroic
admiral of the Spanish fleet, who was then a prisoner on board of
one of the men-of-war. The land forces were near the city making
preparations for the first attack. A partial if not a complete
victory had been won, and we had the consolation of knowing that
we had not come in vain.
RED CROSS FLAG FLYING.
Our captain was directed to bring his ship to anchor near Siboney.
When we came in sight of this little mining town we saw on shore
rows of tents over which floated the Red Cross flag, showing us
that we had reached the place for which we had been intended.
The little engine of a narrow-gauge mining railroad was puffing
and screeching up and down along the coast, conveying supplies
from the landing to the camp. On the side of a hill were the
shelter tents of a company of infantry on detail for guard duty.
On the crest of a number of high hills which fringe the coast
could be seen blockhouses recently vacated by the Spaniards. A
grove of palm trees in a near valley reminded us that we had
reached the tropical climate.
The steamer Olivette, floating the Red Cross flag, anchored near
the shore. Major Appel, surgeon in charge of this hospital ship,
was the first person to board our vessel, and gave us the first
reliable account of the recent battle. His appearance was enough
to give us an insight into his experiences of the last few days.
He was worn out by hard work and his anxiety for the many wounded
under his charge.
The camp is on the shore in a limited plateau at the base of the
mountain rising behind the little mining village. The condition of
the wounded men furnished satisfactory proof that good work had
been done here, as well as at the front. On my arrival many of the
wounded had already been placed on board a transport ship, but
more than 400 remained in the general hospital.
On the whole the treatment to which the wounded were subjected was
characterized by conservatism. Only a very small number of primary
amputations were performed. Bullets that were found lodged in the
body were allowed to remain unmolested unless they could be
removed readily and without additional risk. A number of cases of
penetrating wounds of the abdomen and chest were doing well
without operative interference. Penetrating gunshot wounds of the
skull were treated by enlarging the wound of entrance, removal of
detached fragments of bone and drainage. Several cases in which a
bullet passed through the skull, injuring only the surface of the
brain, were doing well. With a few exceptions wounds of the large
joints were on a fine way to recovery under the most conservative
treatment.
BULLET WOUNDS RAPIDLY HEAL.
A study of the immense material collected at the station convinced
the surgeons that the explosive effect of the small-caliber bullet
has been greatly overestimated. The subsequent employment of the X
ray in many of these cases will undoubtedly confirm the results of
these observations. The battle at Santiago resulted in 157 killed
and over 1,300 wounded. Nearly all wounds of the soft parts heal
rapidly--suppuration in these cases was the exception, primary
healing the rule.
The day after my arrival I went to the front, about ten miles from
Siboney. A colored orderly was my only companion. He rode at a
respectful distance to the rear. The whole distance the road was
crowded with mule teams, soldiers and refugees. The latter made a
seething mass of humanity from start to finish. At a low estimate
I must have passed on that day 2,000 souls, including men, women
and children and naked infants.
The day was hot and the suffering of the fleeing inhabitants of
Santiago, the besieged city, and adjacent villages, can be better
imagined than described. Indian fashion, the women walked, while
some of the men enjoyed the pleasure of a mule or donkey ride.
Most of them were barefoot and dressed in rags; children and
infants naked; dudes with high collars, white neckties and straw
hats were few and far between. An occasional old umbrella and a
well-worn recently washed white dress marked the ladies of
distinction. Their earthly possessions usually consisted of a
small bundle carried on the head of the women or a wornout basket
loaded with mangoes or cocoanuts. The color of the skin of the
passing crowd presented many tints from white to jet black. The
women were noted for their ugliness, the men for their eagerness
to get beyond the reach of guns.
VIEW ON CUBAN SOLDIERS.
Little squads of Cuban soldiers were encountered from time to
time, apparently anxious to get only as far as the rear of our
advancing army. These men display an appearance of courage just
now that is marvelous. Before the bluecoats came here they
infested the inaccessible jungles at a safe distance from the
Spanish guns, making an occasional midnight raid to keep the
Spaniards on the lookout. Now they can be seen on the roads in
small groups relating to each, other how they cut down the Spanish
marines with their national weapon on reaching the shore after
their vessels were demolished by our navy.
The ragged refugees, fleeing in all directions and mingling freely
with our troops, as they do, carry with them the filth of many
generations and a rich supply of yellow fever germs which will
ultimately kill more of our men than will the Spanish soldiers.
On reaching General Shafter's headquarters I reported to
Lieutenant Colonel Pope, chief surgeon of the Fifth army corps,
for duty. At head quarters is the principal field hospital, in
charge of Major Wood, a graduate of Rush Medical College, ably
assisted by Major Johnson and a corps of acting assisting
surgeons. At the time of my arrival sixty-eight wounded officers
and men were under treatment. Lieutenant Pope has worked night and
day since the troops landed here. He has done all in his, power to
make his limited supplies meet the enormous demands.
PERFORMS AN AMPUTATION.
At this hospital Major Wood kindly invited me to perform an
amputation of the thigh for gangrene caused by a gunshot injury
which had fractured the lower portion of the femur, and cut the
popliteal artery. Here I found many interesting cases on the way
to recovery in which the nature of the injury would have been
ample excuse for rendering a very grave prognosis, among them a
number of cases of penetrating wounds of the chest and abdomen.
In the afternoon I was accompanied to Canea by Acting Assistant
Surgeon Goodfellow. The trip was made for the purpose of taking
charge of sixteen wounded Spaniards we were to transfer to the
Spanish army. On the way to Canea we found many recent graves and
numerous dead horses, covered only with a few inches of dirt. The
stench from this source was almost unbearable.
The little village of Canea is located on the summit of a hill,
with an old, dilapidated church as its center. The public square
and the few streets are thronged with refugees--from 8,000 to
10,000 in number. Crowds of refugees were also seen in the woods
around the village gathering mangoes and cocoanuts, about the only
food supply at the time. In the only room of the church we found a
representative of the Red Cross Association dealing out hardtack
and flour to the hungry multitude.
The wounded Spaniards were lying in a row on the floor of the
church--one of them in a dying condition. All that could be
transported were conveyed in four ambulances under a small
detachment of troops to our fighting line. Here a flag of truce
was secured, which was carried by an orderly. The detachment was
left behind and we passed our line.
IN SPANISH LINES.
As soon as the Spanish intrenchment came in sight the signal was
given and was promptly answered by the enemy. Two officers with a
flag of truce advanced toward us, and we were halted at a little
bridge very near Santiago and below the first intrenchment. We
were received very courteously by the officers and asked to a seat
upon the grass in the shade of a clump of trees. Rum, beer and
cigarettes were furnished for the entertainment of the callers.
The object of our visit was explained, whereupon a hospital corps
of about thirty men with sixteen litters in charge of a captain of
the line and a medical officer made their appearance. The wounded
were unloaded from the ambulances and conveyed in litters to
within the Spanish line.
The visit was such a cordial and pleasant one that we found it
very difficult to part from our newly made friends. After bidding
the officers a hearty adieu and mounting my horse I was urged to
dismount and say another farewell--a request which was responded
to with pleasure. The two little parties then separated and made
their way in a slow and dignified manner in the direction of the
respective breastworks.
TELLS OF BOMBARDMENT.
The first armistice expired at noon July 11. In the afternoon a
heavy cannonading commenced and was kept up until late in the
evening. Next morning it was resumed, however, with less vigor.
During this bombardment the Spaniards renewed their recently gained
reputation as effective marksmen. One of our best cannon was hit
and literally lifted into the air. An officer was killed and a--
number of men injured.
During the afternoon, while cannonading was still going on, I went
to the front, but on reaching our line the bombardment was
discontinued, and under a flag of truce the commanding generals
met and held a conference. The result of this interview remains a
secret at this hour.
Major-General Miles and staff reached Siboney yesterday on the
steamer Yale, and to-day he proceeded to headquarters.
The appearance of yellow fever at different places occupied by our
army has made our troops more anxious than ever to complete their
task. The frequent drenching rains and inadequate equipments have
also done much to render the men restless and anxious to fight.
W. B. Collier of the Second United States cavalry, in a letter
dated August 3, describes his part in the fight on San Juan hill
and the scene when the American flag was flung to the breeze in
captured Santiago. He says:
We have our 2 o'clock rains each day and then the sun comes out
and just burns. This is a good climate for snakes, lizards, etc.
Many of the boys have died, but, thank God, I am still in the land
of the living. Words are inadequate to express the feeling of pain
and sickness when one has the fever. For about a week every bone
in my body ached and I did not care much whether I lived or not.
The doctor shoved quinine into me by the spoonful until my head
felt as if all the bells in Chicago were ringing in it. I could
hear them, even when delirious. The news that we are to go back to
the United States in a few weeks has saved many a boy's life.
FEAR YELLOW FEVER.
I was scared at first when I was ordered to the yellow fever
hospital I thought my time had come, but they examined me and
pronounced my case some other than yellow fever. The boys fear
yellow jack like a rattlesnake. When I return I will know how to
appreciate my country. I am very weak and sick, but I think I will
be well in a short time after I get home. With all I have suffered
I am ready for more if Uncle Sam wants me.
As to the fight, our four troops of the Second United States
cavalry were the only mounted troops in Cuba. We were the staff
escort. I tell you, it is worth all the trials, and hardships, and
sickness which I underwent, when I contemplated the scene of the
surrender of Santiago. When Old Glory went up I cried and felt
ashamed and looked around to see if any of my comrades had noticed
me. I found they were all crying. Then we began to laugh and yell
again so we would not be babies. I tell you, it was the proudest
moment of my life.
PICKS OFF SPANIARDS.
I was in the San Juan hill fight. We were used mostly as scouts. I
know there are two or three poor Spaniards killed or in hospitals.
I took it coolly and just shot at every Spaniard I could see, far
or near. I aim sure I dropped three. It is quite ticklish at first
to be under fire, but the novelty soon wears off.
JUST BEFORE THE BATTLE AT MANILA.
A. J. Luther, second lieutenant of the First Colorado volunteers,
writes as follows, dated Camp Dewey, July 27:
You may talk about your Cuban war and all other wars, but you may
rest assured that the Philippine war is no snap, either. All the
land around us for miles and miles is nothing but deep jungles and
swampy ground. On our west lies Manila bay, 100 yards from our
camp. On the north, for four miles, to Manila, in fact, a jungle
and swamp, while on the east it is swamp and on the south more
swamp. Our camp is on a long strip of land between a heavy jungle
on all sides. It is a good camp, considering the location which is
made necessary by the position of the Spaniards.
I am reliably informed that the natives of these islands are no
farther advanced in civilization than they were 300 years ago.
They live in old boats on the water, in palm trees, in bark huts,
or wherever they can hold on long enough to live. Their life is
one of degradation and four-fifths of them have noxious diseases.
You can imagine what a nasty mess we have got into.
They wear for dress very thin cheesecloth and they keep that
scanty raiment as clean as any class of people on earth, but their
bodies do not seem to amount to that much trouble in their eyes.
From the way they take care of themselves I imagine that they
consider their clothes the only essential part of their exterior
that ought to be kept clean.
We have not gone into Manila yet and I cannot say just when we
will, but you will know through the papers when we do. I want you
to send me all the papers you get hold of which contain anything
relating to the Manila troops. We have a lot of correspondents
with us and between them you can glean all the news of importance.
We have only been called out once since our arrival here and
nothing happened then. I have been under the enemy's fire three
times, shot landing all around me. Major Moses, Captain Taylor,
Captain Grove and Lieutenant Lister, with an interpreter, were
detailed to make a special reconnaissance of the country and the
position of the enemy. They went within 300 yards of the Spanish
intrenchments and were sighted by the enemy's patrol. Captain
Taylor was standing on the top of a brick wall when they let fly
at the party and one bullet hit about ten inches under his feet.
The other day I was put in charge of the company to repair roads
along behind the insurgents' line, and we were only 300 yards from
the enemy's line all the time, so you can see how near to the jaws
of danger we work. Our camp is under the range of their big guns,
but they have never thrown any shells into us yet.
While working on the road they kept up a fire at us, however, and
one large cannonball plowed up the road not twenty-five feet away.
It whistled through the air like a nail when thrown from the hand.
At the same time you could hear Mauser balls whistling around us.
This is a warm country. One especially feels that way when the
bullets come zipping around as they did when we were on the road.
The insurgents and Spaniards keep up continual volley firing all
day and night. Neither side knows as much about a gun as a baby.
They fire into the air and expect the balls to light on the heads
of the enemy. When the Spaniards run up against us, I think they
will find a different game. We won't play horse with them nor
shoot up into the air, but will get right into direct aiming
distance and make them dance.
DIGGING GRAVES IN CUBA--WALTER ZIMMER OF FIRST ILLINOIS VOLUNTEERS
WRITES FROM SIBONEY.
Siboney, Cuba, Aug. 17.
Dear Sister and Brother: Received your kind and welcome letter
last evening and was glad to hear from you. We are expecting to
get back to the States any day, as they are shipping the army as
fast as possible. I am now on a detail at the yellow fever
hospital. This is tough work, digging graves and planting the
dead. The men are dying at the rate of about ten a day. A lot of
the boys in my company died of yellow jack. I am all right at
present.
We had a lot of fun chasing Spaniards. Some of them got after a
crowd of Cubans and killed them. We scoured the woods and located
the Spaniards and fired a few volleys at them, killing and
wounding a number of them.
Jimmy Edgar is dying. He has been out of his head for a week. I
saw him last night and he did not know me. Out of the regiment
there are about 400 in the hospital. We have a little graveyard on
the hill they call the Chicago cemetery. It is only three weeks
old and there are about 100 graves.
Santiago is a dirty place. All the sewers are on top of the
ground. This is Siboney, the town we burned about five weeks ago
to keep out the fever. I have a few souvenirs I hope to take back
to the States with me--two Spanish gold pieces, one machete, a
Krag gun, a set of prayer beads, and a piece of shell that struck
me in the hip. I was laid up only two days. The shell struck a
tree and bounded off, hitting me. The tree broke the force. If I
ever get out of Cuba I do not want to see it again, even on the
map. By the time you get this I expect to be on Long Island, New
York. Hinton went back to the States a few days ago. Edgar was too
weak to go. About 500 convalescents went home, and there are about
1,000 of the boys here too weak to go. It is pretty tough to see
the boys dying here. Our detail has to dig graves. My back is
nearly broke from digging and using the pick. If you do not dig
fast the major orders your arrest and off to the guardhouse you
go. YOUR BROTHER.
James Purcell, Company G, Eleventh Infantry, writes the following
interesting letter:
Camp Ponce, Between Town of Ponce and Shipping Port, August 6.
Dear Ones and All: I hope you received my letter from Samono Bay
and that you are all well. I am fine, as well as ever I have been.
We arrived here last Monday and landed on Tuesday. We were on the
water eleven days and it was a grand trip and all enjoyed it
greatly, but if would have been much better if we had good food.
What we ate consisted of canned beef, hardtack, canned beans and
tomatoes with coffee twice a day.
Well, now to tell you something about this place. It is without
exception the prettiest place I ever saw. We have about five
hundred Spanish prisoners here in this camp and leave to-night by
train to cross the mountains and clear the road for the main body
of troops, which will advance on San Juan. You will probably know
the outcome long before this letter reaches you. We are camped on
the roadside. The thoroughfare is macadamized from one end of the
island to the other, and as fine a road as one ever saw. It would
be a grand place to have a bicycle. Our camp is always crowded
with hungry, starving Cuban men, women and children, some of them
naked and the rest only partially clothed. They will do almost
anything for our hardtack, for some of them never had any flour,
and when we purchase we have to pay two cents for a small roll,
but while we are in camp we make our own bread and they go crazy
for some of it.
There is plenty of tobacco here and the way we get it is to give
one hardtack for a cigar. The men and women are all cigarmakers,
and, as our commissary is not yet open, we have to make native
cigars. All the people here seem glad to have the Americans take
the island.
Wine and rum costs two cents a drink and an American dollar is
worth $1.80 in Spanish money. Our regiment and the Nineteenth are
the only regiments of regular infantry on the island. All others
are volunteers excepting one or two regiments of cavalry and
artillery, so we are likely to get the brunt of all the battles.
We had a little scrimmage yesterday, but it did not amount to
much. Now I will try to tell you a little about the island before
I run out of paper. Cocoanuts grow in abundance here, with all
other kinds of tropical fruit. As yet we have not been near the
banana or pineapple district. The roads are all shaded with trees,
and if I could get at a desk for a short time I would write a
better letter. This one is only to let you know I am alive and
well and as soon as the affair is over I think I'll buy a farm
here,--etc.
LETTERS FROM JOE BOHON.
Ponce, Porto Rico, Aug. 4, 1898.
I suppose you know by this time where we are. I have written
several times to the folks and different ones, but have received
no mail for twenty days.
We landed at Guanica July 25 and were the first troops on the
island. We had considerable music from our gunboat escorts there.
You could see them going over the hills in droves. We stayed there
three days, then Company H and one company from Massachusetts
Regiment marched to Yauco. We looked for trouble there but were
disappointed. We stayed there three days, then started to march
for Ponce. It took us two days to come a distance of thirty-five
miles. We were in heavy marching order with an extra 100 rounds of
ammunition. Its weight was between 80 and 100 pounds.
This is a town of 35,000; they have banks, electric lights,
telephones and an ice plant. There are some English-speaking
people here. I was down town yesterday. The hotels and restaurants
are all run by French people. It's a wonderful sight how the
natives respect us. They take off their hats and say Viva
Americana (long live America). If one of them can get hold of a
blue shirt or pants or a small flag they are the envy of every one
of their people. Our company have four with us since we landed.
They wash our dishes, carry water and make themselves useful.
There are all kinds of reptiles and varmints. Hamilton and I have
killed three centipedes in our tent. The natives say their bite
will kill, but our doctors say not; several of our boys have been
bitten; none died so far. A soldier of the Third Wisconsin shot
and killed one of the regulars. The wealthy class of people here
dress like us; have fine carriages, but their horses are all small
and pace. They raise hogs and their cattle are Jerseys. They do
all their work with oxen and large two-wheeled carts. The oxen
pull with their horns and you would wonder at the load they pull.
The poorer class of people are nothing better than slaves. From
ten to thirty will live in one small house. I have not seen a
window glass or chimney on a house since being on the island. They
build their fires in small stoves and cook their grub in kettles.
They raise bananas, oranges, limes, the same as lemons, cocoanuts,
pomegranates, mangoes, etc. They also raise melons, tomatoes,
cucumbers and such vegetables. Think of getting those things fresh
the year round.
They wear as few clothes as possible. You see children as old as
four years without a stitch of clothes on. I mean the poor, and
none of the older wear shoes; their endurance is wonderful, and
they don't perspire like us. They all smoke either cigars or
cigarettes. We see children four years old smoking cigars. You can
buy as good a cigar here for 1 cent in their money as we can buy
at home for 5 cents. One dollar in our money is equal to two
dollars in theirs. So we get our smoking pretty cheap. Fruits are
sold accordingly. We are to turn our Springfield guns in this
morning and get the Krag-Jorgensen; they are much lighter and
their bullets are not near so heavy. Hope this will be of interest
to you. Don't forget to send the Times as we have not seen a paper
since leaving Charleston. Regards to all.
In the course of an interesting letter written by James Burns of
the Twenty-seventh battery, Indiana volunteers, to his mother, and
dated August 15, at Guayama, Puerto Rico, he said that the news
of the cessation of hostilities was received by courier only a
short time before the battery expected to get actively into
battle. Most of the boys, he said, were anxious to return home.
For himself, he expressed a desire to remain for the reason that
the country there is very rich, the climate healthful and the
possibilities to make money in the future, through American push
and energy, the best in the world. Speaking of the daily routine
of the battery boys he said:
Every man cooks his own meals and we get plenty of good food, such
as bacon, potatoes, beans, onions, hard-tack, canned corn beef,
canned roast beef, canned tomatoes and the like. The climate is
the finest I ever experienced. While the temperature is very high,
still the strong trade winds render it always agreeable, the
hottest day being far more pleasant than at home. Water is pure
and plentiful. The country is cut up every quarter mile or so by
limpid mountain streams and the beach on this, the south side of
the island, is as fine as any in the world. Palms abound in
profusion and the most beautiful flowers and ferns cluster and
grow delightfully everywhere. The cocoanut, mango, bread-fruit,
banana, lemon, lime, sago, prickly pear, mangrove and bay trees
grow luxuriantly about our camp.
The natives here are of small stature. They are black-haired and
have bright, sparkling eyes. They are all of a mixture of either
the French or Spanish with the negro. There is a large population
of French and Portuguese, the pure Spanish being but little more
than one-sixth of the entire population. The natives are a bright,
intelligent class. There are few public schools, education being
given to children at their homes by traveling teachers and
governesses. There are but few Protestants or Protestant churches,
the Catholic being the prevailing religion, and their churches
being much more magnificent than any you have at home. The priests
constitute the ruling force among the people. Children run naked
until they are six years old. Every one wears white linen clothing
and most, of the people go bare-footed. The men wear straw hats
and the women go with their heads uncovered. There are not a few
English and Americans here, and they scrupulously maintain the
Anglo-American costumes. News does not reach us for ten days or
more after you read it in the newspapers in the States. We are
just reading the Indianapolis papers of July 31 and August 1, and
the news is perfectly fresh to us. The marriage rite here is a
very loose affair. A man may have one or two families, as he may
elect. One of these may include the progeny of a wife of his own
class and the other by a negro woman or half-breed. All he has to
do is to pay the prescribed duty.
There are no bad fevers here, but small-pox sometimes is prevalent in
certain localities, although they have not had the scourge for three
years. Leprosy, elephantiasis and diseases arising from a bad condition
of the blood prevail to some extent. Ruins of sugar mills and
plantations abound on every side, once great money-producing
establishments, but destroyed by Spanish avarice and the American
tariff. Cattle-raising, fruit-growing, coffee, and rice culture furnish
the principal money-making vocations in Porto Rico. There are no
railroads that amount to anything. The wagon roads are all military
roads and the freighting is carried on with pack mules and bull-carts.
The latter are of the clumsiest character, the yoke resting on the horns
of the animals instead of upon their necks, as in the old farm districts
in the United States. They carry from two to three tons or more at a
load. The horses and mules are small, but willing and patient animals.
The natives are sharp traders and boys of from six to ten years of age
can drive close bargains. One of our American dollars will purchase
exactly twice as much as a Spanish dollar. The one particularly cheap
product is the cigars. "Smokes" of a good quality sell for one cent
each. Bananas and lemons are cheap, and of the latter fruit we partake
plentifully. Cocoanuts sell for five cents each; milk, five cents;
bread, twenty cents, and sugar, four cents. These prices are on a basis
of the Spanish money.
This letter was written by one of the soldiers of the Sixteenth
infantry, five captains of which led the particular charge in
which this regiment participated:
July 24, 1898.
We are in bivouac near our trenches, within half a mile of
Santiago. The fighting is all over and we are just waiting for
something to happen. The latest newspaper we have seen was that of
July 3, so you see I write like a person of the past generation.
We have had a hot time. The Spanish got drunk and put up a pretty
good fight. At least I have heard they were all drunk in the
battle of the 1st. I don't know whether it is true or not, but I
do know that they did not run as quickly as we wished them to do.
FIRING BEGUN.
We left camp on the 1st about daybreak, but we did not know we
were going into battle. We got into the jungle, after marching for
a while, and then heard firing, apparently all around us. Then our
men began to fall, and we realized we were in it. We kept
struggling through the dense underbrush, first to the right, then
to the left, and then to the front, as fast as we could find
openings. Everything was confusion. Orders could not be given or
obeyed. Companies, battalions, regiments and brigades were all
jumbled up.
We did not fire, for we could not see ten feet in any direction on
account of the dense thickets in the jungle. Finally I found
myself with my company and part of the regiment in a trail or road
by a broad, open field, across which, about 700 yards on a steep
bluff, were the Spaniards, strongly entrenched.
We opened fire and kept it up for a while, but the road rapidly
filled up with our soldiers, and it became too crowded to do
anything. There was a six-strand barbed-wire fence along the hedge
between the road and the open. All at once we began to try to tear
it down and get at the enemy. Captain Leven C. Alien, Captain W.
C. McFarland, Captain Charles Noble, Captain George Palmer and
Captain William Lassiter were close together with their companies
(all of the Sixteenth infantry). I was in the front, just behind
my captain. Officers and men dashed savagely at the fence, tore it
down and leaped into the open field, the captains calling to their
companies to "come on!" "Now we have a chance at them! Come on!"
A HAIL OF BULLETS.
The companies, or so much of them as heard the call, sprang into
the field, the men following the five brave captains, and away we
went in a terrible and most desperate charge. The bullets hailed
upon us, but when the old Sixteenth gets its "mad up" there is no
use trying to stop it. We had about two hundred men with us, five
captains in the front line. But soon others began to follow us,
and the field was full of soldiers, all moving to the front,
firing as they went. We saw the enemy jump and run just before we
reached the foot of the steep slope leading up to the crest. Then
one of our batteries began firing over our heads, and when we got
near the top the shells began striking the ground between us and
the crest, but we did not stop. On we went, climbing on our hands
and knees, when suddenly there arose a great shout down on the
plain behind us, "Come back! Come back!" The trumpets sounded
"recall," and our men, who had followed their captains so bravely,
hesitated, stopped and began drifting back down the slope.
In vain our brave leaders swore at the loud-mouthed skulkers
below. They had suddenly become fearful for our safety--they were
afraid we would be hit by our own shells. We settled reluctantly
back near the foot of the slope.
ALLEN LEADS HIS MEN ON.
Captain Allen told his men to lie down and get their breath. Then
he called our attention to Captain McFarland, who was with some
men about thirty yards to our right and up on the slope. He was
waving his hat and the shells were bursting around him.
Captain Allen called out to us: "Look at Captain McFarland and E
company! Who of C company will go with me to the top of the hill
in spite of danger?" We who were near him sprang to our feet and
up we went.
MCFARLAND WOUNDED.
But Captain McFarland had been wounded and his men were going
down. Our little group became too small for a further attack.
"Come back! Come back!" was shouted from below. Captain Allen
stood alone for a minute and then we went back to the foot of the
slope and waited until our battery stopped firing. Then we all
went forward again, and the Sixteenth infantry colors passed up to
the works and were planted there.
COLOR-BEARER SHOT.
The color-bearer was shot, but Corporal Van Horn took the flag and
carried it forward. Hundreds of officers and soldiers of other
regiments came across the field while we were waiting, and they
went up with us. And now they all claim that they were in that
charge. We men and those five captains I have named know who were
in it, and that our captains began it without orders, and we are
entitled to all the credit.
The fight was led by captains, and no one else of higher rank had
anything to do with it. Our colonel and major now say that they
did not see the charge, and therefore can make no recommendations
for distinguished gallantry. Well, it is proposed to fight it out
and to have our claims heard.
A TERRIBLE FIGHT.
The position we took was San Juan and was the key to the Spanish
position. We have heard that there were 3,000 Spaniards in the
works. I do not know what the loss was. I know that as I jumped
over their trench I noticed that it was level full of dead and
dying Spanish soldiers. It was a terrible sight. We had more
fighting that afternoon, and that night we moved forward, and the
Sixteenth entrenched 475 yards from the main works. We held this
under heavy infantry fire and a terrible enfilade artillery fire
all day of the 2d and 3d, while our right wing was swinging around
to envelop the city.
MOVED TO THE RIGHT.
On the 10th we were moved to the right wing and I think it was
intended for us to make an assault on the city and wind up the
business. We could have done it in fine shape, and all were
anxious for a chance.
Our artillery got into place on the 11th at 4 pm, and we opened up
along the whole line and soon silenced every gun and rifle they
had.
THE SPANISH WEAKENED.
Next morning at daylight we resumed our work and the Spanish
weakened. They did not wait for the assault--the jig was up.
Nearly half the command is sick. We have only short rations of
hard bread, bacon and coffee. We have no shelter except dog tents,
and they are no good in such a climate as this. We have no
vegetables, and of course we will all be sick. We are living
miserably. There are thousands of supplies of all sorts in the
harbor and on the landing, but they are not sent to us. The army
is in a disabled condition for want of food and shelter. A box of
hardtack and a piece of fat bacon thrown on the ground has been
considered enough for the soldiers and officers who are in the
trenches. Somebody will hear from this. Our government intends its
soldiers to be well treated, but our supply department here in the
field lack experience. Day before yesterday Clara Barton sent each
company twenty-five pounds of corn meal and seventeen pounds of
rice. It was a blessing, I tell you. We all got a spoonful of
mush, and it was the best thing I ever tasted in my life.
If we could only get our rations, just the regular ration and our
tents, we would be willing to take our chances with the climate.
There will be enough go by the board, even if we get our supplies.
The soldiers have fought bravely and won the victory.
Keep out of the war. Whole armies will be lost by disease and
mismanagement. If we stay here under the present layout not one in
four will ever see the United States again. We could not go into
another campaign now, and unless matters improve very much we may
as well be counted out for the summer.
HOW A WAR BALLOON CAME DOWN AFTER BEING PIERCED MORE THAN TWO
HUNDRED TIMES.
Sergeant Thomas C. Boone of company K, Second regiment, wrote a
thrilling letter. Mr. Boone's letter in part says:
I have not told you of my accidents before while in Cuba, because
I did not care to arouse the anxiety of my friends at home, and,
although I have been unable to walk for some time, still I did not
consider my condition as serious as the surgeons here claim it to
be. I will tell you how I got hurt. It was a streak of continuous
bad luck. On the 1st of July I went up in the balloon on the
battlefield at 7 am, and the balloon was being moved all over the
field when shot to pieces eighty yards from the Spanish line at 1
p.m. We thought our height, together with their bad marksmanship,
afforded us protection. We were badly mistaken.
At least 200 bullets and four shrapnel shots went through the
inflated bag, allowing the gas to escape, and we came down with a
rush, striking the top of a tree alongside of a creek, throwing us
out. In falling I was caught in the abdomen by a point of the
anchor of the balloon, was suspended for a moment--it seemed a
lifetime--then dropped into the creek, with the water up to my
shoulders. I was badly bruised and shaken up, but, owing to the
excitement of the time, I did not notice the pain.
Three of our detachment were killed and four wounded out of
twenty-one men, which shows that we were in a pretty warm place.
Well, I did not go to the hospital about my injury until July 14,
and I was then so weak I could scarcely walk. The surgeons at the
field hospital placed me in an old army wagon without springs at 9
o'clock one night to be taken to another hospital seven miles
away, over the worst road in the world, without doubt. We had gone
about half a mile when the wagon turned completely over, the wagon
body catching my neck under its side and the corner of a box
striking me in the abdomen.
I was unconscious for two hours. My neck is still very sore. When
I regained consciousness I was placed in the wagon, but the
bumping over ruts and rocks fairly drove me mad, and I said I
could not stand it. I was told that I could walk, which I did. The
wagon went on. I reached the hospital at 7 o'clock the next
morning after a night of agony. At this hospital I was told that I
was injured internally and that they could do nothing for me, that
I would have to go to the United States for an operation, and here
I am.
I hope to be in Springfield soon, but I am as weak as a child and
cannot walk fifty yards. On top of my accidents I had a case of
bilious fever and was shoved into the yellow fever hospital for
several days. Bilious fever is a nasty thing, although not
dangerous. There are thousands of cases of it in our Cuban army.
It arises, I believe, from sleeping on the rain-soaked ground and
in wet clothing night after night. There was not a day while I was
in Cuba, with the exception of time spent in the hospital, that I
was not soaked through from rain. Mosquitoes at night and flies
during day make life unbearable here. They are a thousand times
worse than any I ever saw. I am bitten from head to foot. They
bite clear through the clothing.
When Captain Capron was killed at the battle of La Quasima
Lieutenant Thomas became the commander of the troop. He was on the
point of leading the fierce charge against the Spaniards when shot
down by a Mauser bullet passing through his right leg below the
knee. He gives the following interesting account of his personal
experience and observations:
Our trip from the point of landing to Siboney, a distance of about
eleven miles, took about three hours, and was over a trail that
was very muddy in parts and crossed a number of streams.
Lieutenant Colonel Roosevelt on this trip had his mount, but as we
were not mounted he walked over the trail with us, leading his
horse along. That was a simple act, but it indicated a feeling of
comradeship he had for the members of the regiment and it touched
a tender place in the men's hearts.
NO GLIMPSE OF SPANIARDS.
Lawton's command had gone over this trail before us and the
Spaniards had retreated so that we did not get a glimpse of the
Spaniards on that march. A few men who had been ill on shipboard
with measles, and had recovered only a short time before, were
still weak and had to drop out of the line, but they reached
Siboney a little while after the main body of our regiment got
there. We got to Siboney on the evening of June 23, and with our
shelter tents were very comfortable until the next morning,
although it rained.
We were up at 4 o'clock, had breakfast at 6, and then, on the
morning of June 24th started from Siboney across a high hill
leading to La Quasina, where the regiment had its first fight. The
battle lasted two hours and forty minutes, though to those who
took part in it it appeared a very much shorter time. As we were
advancing we were constantly expecting a fire from the Spaniards.
We were not ambushed at all.
After we had gone about two miles on that trail we came across the
body of a Cuban, and after that we kept an especially sharp
lookout. Troop L formed the advance guard, and we had skirmishers
out ahead of us and to both the right and left. The skirmishers
ahead of us were about 250 yards from the main body of our men,
and it was one of these advanced skirmishers who discovered the
Spaniards. Thomas E. Isbell, a Cherokee from Vinita, I. T., was
the one to make the discovery of the Spanish force. He fired the
first shot in that battle and dropped a Spaniard. Isbell was
wounded seven times and then managed to walk back to the field
hospital, two and a half or three miles away, to get his wounds
dressed.
HARD FIGHTING AHEAD.
As soon as we learned that the Spanish were in advance of us we
deployed the men six feet apart, advancing into the firing line.
The Spaniards had some machine guns ahead of us, and our men
received the full force of this fire. There was also firing from
the right and the left. We were at this time upon the knoll of a
hill, the Spaniards being about us at lower elevations. Before
Isbell discovered the Spaniards a blockhouse had been seen, and we
knew what was ahead of us.
It was probably half or three-quarters of an hour after the firing
began that Captain Capron was killed, and perhaps twenty minutes
after that I was struck as we were about to make a charge. Our men
had been instructed to save their ammunition and not shoot unless
they saw something to shoot at. Our men and the Tenth infantry
afterwards buried about 100 Spaniards, and great numbers of their
killed and wounded among them were carried to the rear, so that
the fire on our side must have been pretty accurate.
When asked to relate some of the scenes taking place about him
before he was struck, he replied:
One of the worst things I saw was a man shot while loading his
gun. The Spanish Mauser bullet struck the magazine of his carbine,
and going through the magazine the bullet was split, a part of it
going through his scalp and a part through his neck. This was
Private Whitney, and from his neck down he was a mass of blood. He
was taken back of the firing line, and had recovered before we
left Siboney and was again back in the ranks.
Captain Capron showed great pluck on the field of battle, and
refused to leave even when he was mortally wounded. We were at
that moment deploying and lying down. He was struck in the left
shoulder, the ball coming out of his abdomen. He lived one hour
and fifteen minutes after being shot. He was taken back to the
field hospital by some of our men. About twenty minutes after that
a Mauser ball struck me in the leg.
SENSATION OF BEING WOUNDED.
When asked what the sensation was at the time of being wounded he
replied:
My leg felt as if it had been struck by some heavy body. It felt
paralyzed, and then I fell to the ground. There was no great pain
experienced at the time, but fifteen minutes later the pain was
very great.
A very touching incident happened during the fight. Captain
McClintock was struck in the left leg, two Mauser bullets entering
his leg just above the ankle. A private who had been sick for some
days, seeing Captain McClintock lying on the field, crawled up to
him, and lying beside the captain between the latter and the
firing line, said: "Never mind, Captain, I am between you and the
firing line. They can't hurt you now."
Ed Culver, a Cherokee Indian, showed himself particularly brave
during the fight. He was alongside of Hamilton Fish when the
latter was shot. When Fish was hit he said: "I am wounded." Culver
called back: "And I am killed."
Culver was shot through the left lung, the ball coming out of the
muscles of the back. He believed he was dying, but said if he was
to die he would do the Spaniards as much damage as possible before
leaving this world. He continued to fire, and sent forty-five
bullets at the enemy before being taken away. At first, after
receiving his wound, he was in a dazed condition, but after he
recovered somewhat he shot straight.
Hamilton Fish died a few minutes after receiving his wound. I
passed him just after he was shot, and directed some of the
skirmishers where to move. He thought I was speaking to him, and,
raising himself on his elbow, said: "I am wounded; I am wounded!"
and died a few minutes after that.
We thought at first that the Spaniards were using explosive
bullets, but we found they were merely brass-covered bullets.
A detailed description of the Santiago fight is told by the
Gloucester crew, which was first to sight Cervera's fleet as it
steamed out of the harbor on the morning of Sunday, July 3. Ensign
Sawyer's letter reads:
Last evening we went into Guantanamo and saw the camp where our
marines had so gallantly held their own. The Marblehead, with
McCalla, was there, also the New York, the Iowa and that hero of
the battle, the Oregon. The Gloucester also was there.
The greatest desire naturally possessed us to hear the details of
the wonderful battle in which the Cape Verde fleet was destroyed.
The Gloucester's story, though we had but a few moments, was most
interesting so far as we have heard. She was lying closest to the
entrance, and had just finished Sunday morning inspection when the
lookout hailed: "They're coming out!"
ORDER OF THE EXIT.
Instantly all eyes were directed on the familiar harbor mouth, and
they could hardly believe their eyes to see those magnificent
ships standing out in broad daylight. The Maria Teresa, Vizcaya,
Oquendo and Colon swung to the windward, and not a shot was fired
at the Gloucester. Evidently she was too small to waste shell on,
or else all eyes were on the larger vessels. Following those grand
ships came the destroyers Pluton and Furor, which have been so
much dreaded. The Gloucester immediately stood for them full speed
and opened fire, the Pluton and Furor firing rapidly, but not
striking. The Gloucester finally got in between them and rained
shell upon them from her rapid-fire guns. The Iowa also let go her
battery, and one of her large shells literally tore the stern out
of the Furor. The Gloucester simply overwhelmed the Pluton with
her shells, and a white flag was shown, whereupon Lieutenant Wood
went over as quickly as possible to save the lives of the crew.
She was a perfect hell on board. On fire below, one engine was
still going, and there were only eight men not killed. He put
these in the boat, tried to go below to save the vessel if
possible, but could not on account of the fire. The boat shoved
off to transfer the men to his vessel, when the Pluton blew up
with a terrible explosion and sank. The boat was just a few feet
clear when the magazine or boilers exploded.
Meantime the armored cruisers of the enemy stood to the west and
were engaged by the Brooklyn, Oregon, Texas, Indiana and Iowa. The
Maria Teresa and Oquendo were run ashore, burning fiercely, five
and one-half or six miles west of the harbor. The Vizcaya and
Colon engaged in a running fight with the Oregon, Texas and
Brooklyn, but the first was practically destroyed and run ashore
thirty-four miles west, and the latter surrendered sixty miles
west of Santiago.
It was a terrible battle, and our escape from terrible loss is
nothing short of miraculous. The Spaniards were really fighting
four ships against five, and the superiority of the Americans was
due more to their skill than material. If the Americans had manned
Cervera's fleet the victory would have been ours just the same.
The Massachusetts and Newark were at Guantanamo coaling. The New
York had gone five miles farther to the east than her usual
station to allow the admiral to communicate with Shafter. The
Oregon distinguished herself by overhauling and passing the
Brooklyn and forced the Colon's surrender. We have not yet seen
any of the fellows on the vessels that took part in the pursuit.
Our heavy work now commences in landing troops. The First
Illinois, under Colonel Turner, is among our convoy, and if the
boys fight the way they cheer there will be no question of the
result.
THE PEACE COMMISSION
President McKinley appointed William K. Day, Secretary of State;
George Gray, United States Senator from Delaware; Cushman K.
Davis, United States Senator from Minnesota; William P. Frye,
United States Senator from Maine, and Whitelaw Reid, formerly
United States Minister to France, to represent the United States
at the Paris conference. The Spanish commissioners being Senor
Montero Rios, President; Leon Castillo, representing the political
side; Senor Villarrutia, diplomacy; Senor Montero the judicial,
and General Cerero the military.
The United States commissioners do not have to be confirmed by the
Senate, as is usually the case with presidential appointments.
PEACE REIGNS.
Nearly a quarter of a million soldiers again resume civil life--a
nation of fighters when called upon to protect the Stars and
Stripes, yet as kind and considerate as a brother when strife
ceases. Many of our brave soldiers left our shores never to
return--some were killed in battle; some were stricken down with
fever; others who were at the front and saw Old Glory proudly
afloat over the once helpless and downtrodden subjects of Spain
started homeward but failed to reach their loved ones through
disease contracted while performing their duties on the field of
battle. Such is War. The whole nation will cherish the memory of
the dead and ever extend gratitude to those who safely returned.