The natives, having known that our object was to cross through this
skirt of woodland, had awaited our arrival on the opposite side. And as
soon as the first file of the "advance guard" passed from the woods into
the open plain beyond, they met with a storm of bullets from the enemy.
They then moved forward into the open beyond as quickly as possible,
after which they unanimously returned the enemy's fire. The firing was
fast, and not without effect, for ere the gloom of night began to
descend upon us, many a native of Mindanao had sacrificed his
semi-barbarous life for his freedom.
It now began to grow dark, and fearing lest we should be overtaken by
the shadows of night in the dense woods, Captain Pershing gave orders to
the column to return to Bayubao for the night.
The trail, our most important obstruction, was now cleared and it was
with impatience and sleepless expectancy we awaited the first glimmer of
dawn. At last came the day when the true, fearless soldiers were to
march against Maciu's tribe. We shared together a hurried breakfast and
about 7 a.m. we advanced under the cool shadows of the interwoven
foliage, over many a rough boulder, until after two hours of rough
marching we arrived in the open space beyond the woods.
We had not marched over three-hundred yards of this new territory when
the natives began firing at the head of the column, but without effect,
for as soon as the smoke from their rifles could be seen, a volley was
fired at them by the soldiers. In a few moments we had gained the summit
of the hill, and here we halted to await the arrival of the Battery,
which was some distance in the rear, for not more than 400 yards in
front of the skirmish line was a fort from which shots were fired at
regular and frequent intervals. We did not return the fire this time,
knowing as we did that rifle fire was of no avail against a
fortification such as this proved itself to be.
The Battery soon arrived, and, in less time than it takes to relate it,
they were ready for action, being about 400 yards from the fort. As soon
as the first shot from the Artillery was fired the Moros began to
abandon the fort and were going in the direction of Maciu. The Infantry
had formed a semi-circular skirmish line around the stronghold and now,
the Battery having ceased firing, they began to move forward, closing
around the fort. At last they reached it and after scaling its high
walls, they found that the greater part of its inmates had fled, taking
their arms with them. The soldiers soon began to destroy the fort, and
in a very few moments it was reduced to ashes.
The column again took up the trail leading towards the lake front
destroying, as they went, everything in the shape of forts or
strongholds which they encountered, and from which they had been fired
upon.
Perhaps the reader may think or imagine our dealings with the Moros of
the Lake region to be of a cruel nature. To this I can only state that
having been amongst them since the origin of hostilities in the island
of Mindanao, up to the present date, and having become rather familiar
with their treachery and cruelties to American soldiers, wherever they
could get a chance, I think as far as my judgment is concerned that they
have been given a lesson which, to say the least, they richly deserve.
We captured some five or six minor fortifications during this day, and
towards evening we proceeded towards the lake front, to encamp for the
ensuing night, for it was an absolute necessity to procure water for the
men and horses, as quickly as possible.
That night was spent in thought, and in anticipation of the doings of
the approaching day, for it was the day designated for the capture of
the Maciu stronghold. We broke camp at an early hour and at 7 a.m. we
were again on the march, this time in a new direction. We had not been
marching over two hours when the word was quietly passed along the line
that the Maciu stronghold was in sight.
We now began to think more seriously as we were nearing our long looked
for destination, for well we knew that the Moros, having consolidated
here were determined to fight to the last.
We were, however, perfectly willing and ready to face Maciu and his
tribesmen in open combat, and meet whatever fate awaited us, without a
murmur.
The column was ordered to deploy right and left in skirmish line, and
advance towards the fort, in order that they could more easily and
readily command a view of the outer surroundings of the enclosure, and
prevent, if possible, the escape of any of the blood-thirsty Moros whose
wild cries we could now hear within.
The Battery, having halted in front of the fort, was immediately brought
into action. Then suddenly a deafening noise was heard by all, the noise
which, though too familiar to many of us, was nevertheless to make even
a brave soldier tremble. The Artillery had opened up on the left. "Boom!
Boom!!" went the cannons, and a rain of solid shot and shrapnel was
hurled at the fort, and for a space of a moment nothing could be seen
but the flying fragments, and splinters of bamboo and debris hurled high
in the air.
The clouds of smoke soon cleared away and then something happened
unexpectedly, and which surprised every American soldier in that
vicinity. A thick, black volume of smoke arose in the direction of the
fortress, then a flash, and a deafening noise, as if the merciless waves
of the Pacific were beating against the granite ribbed cliffs.
They had replied to our firing. Boom! went the lantacas, followed by a
volley from the rifles, and then it behoved every true American to "lay
low" for a few moments.
It now looked as if our expectations were going to be fulfilled to the
last. There was a moment of silence and again the Battery opened up in
real earnest, and a more exciting scene could not be witnessed than to
see the havoc wrought on that fort by the guns. Bang! Bang!! went the
shots in rapid succession, and bamboo, rocks, and flying fragments were
hurled hundreds of feet in every direction, but still the Moros kept
firing and crying in wild religious ecstasy to their Mohammedan God.
Captain Pershing, who had been coolly riding about the fort to
Artillery, Infantry, and Cavalry, now decided to order two of the guns
brought to the right of the fort. This was done immediately and from
right and left they cut loose, determined to accomplish their aim.
But instead of this, they were surprised, when the Moros poured a
withering fire at them and crude lead balls and fragments of iron were
dropping in the midst of the troops.
It was now 2 p.m. and it looked as if Maciu's stronghold was impregnable
indeed, for we had been firing steadily since 9 a.m. and nothing of
importance had, as yet, been accomplished.
The Battery now moved towards the fort from both sides, until they were
within fifty yards of them, and it may be well to mention that it never
has been known in the history of battles where Artillery has engaged an
enemy at so short a range. They had now taken up their new positions and
began to fire at the fort from both sides, this time with great effect.
But still the Moros remained obstinate to the last singing wildly their
religious songs to their God "Allah" in the very midst of the struggle.
The day was now drawing to a close and yet the firing kept on. However,
at 4 p.m. the command "cease firing" was given, and with that ended that
day's struggle for us, but not for the natives, for they, thinking that
the Americans were about to abandon the fort at the approach of night,
still kept up the firing. But in this they were mistaken, for instead of
returning to the camp, the Americans still held their position, closing
in gradually on the fort, in order to prevent the escape of any of the
Moros during the ensuing night.
The commanding officer, seeing that they were determined to hold out
until the bitter end, now issued orders for the construction of scaling
ladders with which to gain admittance to the fort. Work was immediately
begun on them but they were destined never to be used for that purpose
at least, for about midnight the Moros, finding that we were still
determined to hold our positions, decided to attempt an escape from the
enclosure.
The night was unusually dark, and the clouds were hanging low over the
lake, rendering it almost impossible to see or distinguish an object at
a greater distance than fifty feet. The Americans had anticipated their
escape, and consequently were in constant readiness at all times during
the night. Then suddenly a shot was heard which had been fired by some
vigilant sentinel on guard, then another, and another.
It now became evident that they had charged the lines and were making a
dash for liberty. In an instant every soldier was on the alert. They
kept on coming, however, seemingly regardless of death or the rain of
bullets. But few of them escaped or even lived to tell the tale, for as
fast as they left the fort they were being shot down by a constant
stream of fire from the Infantry, and when the morning dawned it was
found that the Sultan of Maciu, with many another leader and tribesman,
had fallen, never to breathe again.
During the struggle, the Sultan Cabugatan of Maciu, seeing that his
efforts to suppress the Americans were in vain, rushed into camp, bolo
in hand, in wild, frenzied excitement, determined to slay in cold blood
everybody wearing an American uniform. But his savage intentions were
brought to a speedy termination by the troops, who, on seeing him
approach them, rushed towards him and overpowered him. However, he
unfortunately succeeded in seriously wounding one of the best and
bravest soldiers in the command, Private Richard G. Macbeth, of Co. "F"
27th U. S. Infantry, whose bravery in time of danger had made him an
unanimous favorite among his comrades. Another victim of this savage
Sultan was Pvt. James Nolan, Jr., of Co. "G" 27th U. S. Infantry, who,
having been detailed as a scout, had fearlessly advanced upon one of the
forts in order to secure, if possible, some information regarding their
position and strength. He had reached the outer entrance when he met a
storm of bullets from within, one of them hitting him in the right eye,
inflicting a wound from which he suffered great pain.
But their sufferings were doubly avenged, for many a hitherto
unconquerable Moro has fallen upon the green and now deserted
territories of the Sultan of Maciu, with the bones of his mortal
composition bleaching on the green sward, under the tropical sun of his
native skies.
"Where once in triumph on his trackless plains
The haughty Moro Sultan loved to reign,
With shacks proportioned to his native sky,
Strength in his arm, and lightning in his eye,
He roamed with uncovered feet, his sun-illumined zone.
The dirk, the bolo, and the spear his own;
Or lead the combat wild without a plan
An artless savage, but a fearless man.
But his 'sun' of triumph, has set to rise no more
O'er the quiet waters of Lake Lanao's shores."
It is now January 1, 1903, and the Moro campaign is drawn to a
successful and favorable close, and "Old Glory" of fair "Columbia" is
now unfurled to the gentle touch of the oriental zephyrs on the
hill-tops of Mindanao, for all time to come.
The Trumpeter's "Last Call" at Fort Maciu.
(By John J. Reidy.)
Bleeding, sore, and wounded, and by my foes surrounded,
The Trumpet once I sounded, no longer can be heard,
For it lies dust-stained and gory, and by the dust corroding,
Where once I blew melodious that call that cowards dread.
No longer in the battles will I call the boys to rally
Through dark ravines or valleys, for freedom and for right,
For my life's blood fast is flowing, and I am left alone
To die and to bemoan my fate at Maciu's fight.
"Stay, Comrade, do not leave me alone upon the field
Where the savage Moros wield their bolos and their spears,
For I may yet survive to see Maciu's tribe--
Like savage cowards--beat a long retreat."
Again I see in fancy the scenes in dear old Boston,
Where in childhood days I wondered free from care and strife;
The unforgotten homestead, surrounded by the foliage.
Where oft my welcomed footsteps have echoed through the night.
My last hour is approaching: death's dismal cloud is o'er me;
But being a true-blue soldier, I murmur not to die.
To-morrow's sun shall find me far from the skirmish line--
So to comrades left behind, I bid a long Good-bye.