Seeing that all else had failed, the Americans began to construct rude
rafts with which to cross an arm of the lake which separated them from
the Maciu territories. They succeeded in building one in which a
detachment of Companies "C" and "M" attempted to cross under a continued
fire from the Moros, who were entrenched on the opposite side.
They kept on, however, seemingly regardless of the rain of bullets
until, after a sharp and lively encounter with the enemy, they found it
would be impossible to make a landing, so decided to return, but not
before they had succeeded in driving the Moros back.
This was the 22nd day of September, we were now five days on the trail
in pursuit of the Moros, but had not as yet begun to show any signs of
exhaustion from the march or exposure.
It was now evident that our supply of provisions could not last much
longer, and in consideration of the fact that the trail, now blocked by
the Moros, should be re-opened before we could reach Maciu, it was
deemed advisable by Captain Pershing to return to Camp Vicars, in order
to rest the troops and to procure more rations.
Consequently on the morning of the 23rd, the column began the long march
from the Maciu and Sauir territory to the Camp, arriving in good
military order at 7 p.m. same date, with no loss to the Americans.
Lines on the Death of Sergeant Foley and Private Carey, Company G, 27th
Infantry.
(By John J. Reidy.)
Here, cold in their graves, near the spot where they fell,
In the darkness of night's dismal gloom,
Rest two soldiers whose valor could not be excelled,
Slumbering in their desolate tombs.
Far away from their kindred they are sleeping to-day
In Mindanao's untrodden plains,
Where their comrades have laid them to moulder away
Into dust, in their cold silent graves.
By Camp Vicars they fought at the dead hour of night
Outnumbered by the savages wild;
Until they fell, overpowered, on the sward at the feet
Of their foemen, where like soldiers they died.
Perhaps far away in their own native land,
In the homes of their childhood so dear,
Are their mothers awaiting to grasp their kind hands--
But alas! they shall wait many years.
For their loved ones will never return again
To greet them through life's pleasant way,
For they are laying in the grass-covered graves where they fell,
And are sleeping long ages away.
But though death has overtaken those heroes so brave
Who fell for their Country's fame,
Yet their memory shall always live on the breasts
Of their comrades, whom they perished to save.