Buch lesen: «Springfield in the Spanish American War», Seite 7

The affair lasted about an hour and when the attacking force of Spaniards had been pretty well cut to pieces the enemy retired within his lines once more and the Second returned to its slumbers. At 3 A. M. there was some more firing but this was merely an affair of outposts and lasted but a few moments, just long enough to break up sleep for the second time that night.

Next day was Sunday, but it could hardly be called a peaceful one. From daybreak to early in the afternoon the sharpshooters of the enemy were active and a man had to walk humbly and keep well under cover unless he cared to make a target of himself. Many of these sharpshooters were inside our lines, not having had an opportunity to get to their own when their companions were driven back and hidden in thick foliaged trees and supplied with rations and water and plenty of ammunition they managed to make matters rather lively for us. Early in the day many squads were sent out to locate and capture these fellows but though many were located few were brought in as prisoners.

Time wore on slowly that Sunday. About noon orders were promulgated that an armistice had been declared and that firing on both sides was to cease at 12 o'clock. This was not bad news but evidently all our Spanish friends did not hear of it until later, for up to 2 o'clock there was an occasional bullet sent toward us from the outlying trenches. After that hour it was possible to walk about without having to dodge.

Early that morning we heard the distance-dulled boom of heavy guns from the direction of the mouth of the harbor. We knew that Sampson and Schley were outside waiting for Cervera and his ships but we had heard the guns of our fleet so often that we supposed it was simply another case of throwing a few shot at the Morro or the other Spanish batteries. Gradually the roar of the guns grew fainter and fainter until they died away altogether and it was supposed the attack of the fleet had again been fruitless. But soon after noon the "JoJo" department got at work again and rumors began to circulate that this time the fleet had been successful and had forced its way past the batteries and into the harbor.

It was not until soon after 4 o'clock that afternoon, however, that we learned what had happened. Then we saw Major Webb of Shafter's staff riding up to our brigade headquarters, which were only a few yards away from Col. Clark's "shack." The major reined up, said a few words to Gen. Ludlow and the latter hastily summoned the regimental commanders and announced that the Spanish fleet had tried to cut its way out of the harbor and had been met by Schley's ships and destroyed. It did not take long for the good news to spread and then such cheering as went up. Hats went up into the air and there was general jubilation. For once the "JoJo" department had been outdone. All along our line we could hear the cheering and then what few regimental bands we had broke loose and gave a jubilee concert which was highly appreciated. We had no religious services that day but the bands played, "There'll be a hot time in Old Town to-night."

Discipline was relaxed after the armistice had been declared and the men wandered along the lines, visiting other regiments and going over the battlegrounds of the two days previous. Many visited the outposts and took a look at the city and the forts. We could see the Spaniards taking life easy in their trenches and we wondered if they had heard what had happened to their fleet. Some of our boys, disgusted with their Springfields, went "grafting" Krags and picked up a good number, together with plenty of ammunition. Had the entire regiment been turned loose there is no question but what every man would have replaced his Springfield with a Krag-Jorgensen and as it was nearly 150 were obtained and a corresponding number of Springfields thrown away.

Our sleep was unbroken that night and we were ready to celebrate July 4th the next morning. Our celebration took the form of a little excursion, for soon after our frugal breakfast we were on the march again and began our celebrated swing to the right with the object of encircling the city. Our brigade led the advance as it had from the start and after four hours of slow progress we swung to the left and took our position on the now famous "Misery hill," an elevation in rear of the city and overlooking it. From the crest we could plainly see the Spanish batteries and barracks, while almost directly in front of us were the hospital buildings with half a dozen Red Cross flags flying over them. We passed our Fourth of July quietly enough. Not a fire cracker was fired, principally because we did not have any and there was not even a rifle crack to mark the day. Late in the afternoon we heard the guns of the fleet again as they hammered away at the harbor batteries for awhile. We pitched our "day tents" and took notice of the fact that our rations were getting low again. Next day we were put at work for the first time digging trenches and we enjoyed the job. For tools there were in the entire regiment only a few shovels and picks but the trenches had to be dug and the boys went at it with their mess knives, spoons and tin plates. It was fierce work under the blazing sun and the soil was hard to dig, but the work was done by reliefs and by night of the next day the trenches of our battalion were completed and good ones they were, too. They were dug on the crest of the hill and were deep enough with the earth parapet to give us protection from anything the enemy might send over at us. They were wide enough to enable the men to move about and the earth was cut away at the rear so as to make a sort of seat. More trouble was anticipated at any moment and ammunition in plenty was placed along the trenches. In fact, there was more ammunition than rations about all the time during the campaign.

Capron's battery, which was with us at El Caney, came up the 6th and took a position on the left of our line of trenches. The digging of intrenchments for this battery afforded us our first opportunity of seeing Cubans work and certainly they did work under Capt. Capron. Other regiments kept coming up and taking positions on our left and the circle about Santiago began to tighten.

Meanwhile we had leisure to lie about and figure up our losses. Malone of B, shot at El Caney, had died in the field hospital the evening of July 2d and his death came as a shock to his friends in that company. Richmond of G died in the same hospital early the preceding evening and that made five good men in the three Springfield companies slain by Spanish bullets. There were many missing faces from the ranks, too, and we kept hearing rumors that this or that man wounded at Caney had died in the hospital. Besides we knew some exaggerated stories about the losses of the Second had gone home and we knew the anxiety which our friends and relatives in Springfield must be feeling.

There were other losses aside from the bullets of the enemy. On July 6th Major Southmayd and Capt. McDonald left camp, the former going home on sick leave and the latter having injured himself badly in the spine. He was accompanied to the hospital by First Sergeant Burke, who remained with him until he sailed for the United States. In Capt. McDonald's absence First Lieut. W. L. Young took command of B company. Capt. John J. Leonard of G was made acting major of Major Southmayd's battalion and retained the command to the close of the campaign. The command of K company devolved upon First Lieut. Phillip C. Powers and First Lieut. W. C. Hayes took command of G company.

About this time many of our boys got "next" to a species of poison vine somewhat resembling the poison ivy of New England and with about the same results. The surgeons could find nothing to counteract the effects of the vine until a Cuban told them of another plant which being steeped was an effective antidote for the poison and a free use of this soon restored the swollen faces and hands of the sufferers to their normal condition.

"Misery hill" was a delightful place especially when the rations began to get shy as they did soon after our arrival. The visits of the pack train were few and far between and it was just as likely as not to bring ammunition instead of rations. Issues of one or two hardtack and a thin slice of bacon for a twenty-four hours ration were common, and some of the boys supplemented their menu with mangoes and "monkey plumes." Sergeant Lovely of G enjoyed the distinction of eating twenty-four mangoes in one day, much to the horror of the surgeons when they heard of it, but with no bad results to him.

It was while we were on "Misery hill" that "Dido" Hunt achieved added fame by his abilities as a butcher. Gen. Ludlow had a desire for beefsteak and had purchased a hungry looking cow from some Cubans, Private Hunt as regimental butcher, being detailed to kill the animal. It was just before dusk, one evening, when the cow was led forth to the slaughter and "Dido," armed with a revolver, got ready to act as executioner. He fired again and again at the cow, the animal after each shot, looking about in a surprised manner as if wondering what the racket was all about. Finally one of the bullets hit the cow somewhere, and with a bellow of pain and fright, she ran off and disappeared in the darkness, leaving Private Hunt and the man who had been holding the rope gazing at each other. Gen. Ludlow had no steak that evening and the fate of the cow was never learned although there were rumors that the animal had ended her career in the camp of one of the regular regiments, the men of which had a fresh meat supper that night.

A "commissary" had been established near Siboney by some enterprising sutlers, and the company officers were enabled to purchase some tea, oatmeal, etc., for their men. These were especially valuable, as several had succumbed to the climate and the toil and exposure of the campaign, and the hardtack and bacon were not the best kind of food for them. About this time, too, we were threatened with an outbreak of measles, but the cases were promptly isolated and the disease did not spread.

CHAPTER XIV
WE CONTINUE OUR EDUCATION IN THE ART OF WAR AND LEARN A FEW THINGS

OUR stay on "Misery hill" lasted just seven days and in that time we learned a few things, the art of trench digging without intrenching tools, standing out in our memory as one most important lesson. We learned how to sleep on a side hill without our bodies slipping entirely out from the shelter tents during our slumbers, this being accomplished by the simple means of driving a couple of pegs into the ground at the opening of the tent and placing a stick against them, our feet resting against the stick and preventing us going any further. We acquired the art of making cigarettes and of using anything at all in the paper line to roll them in. The inner pith of the royal palm came in handily for this purpose when our supply of cigarette paper gave out. We learned how to make one match light several pipes or cigarettes, for matches were scarce and therefore not to be wasted. We learned how to make the brook water passably cool in our canteens, by thoroughly soaking the canvass covering of the canteen and then suspending it from a tree or tent pole, the evaporation of the moisture of the cover slowly cooling the contents. At night the canteens were hung from the tent poles and in the morning the water was usually quite cool. Later on long branches of bamboo were used as water vessels and one trip to the brook usually sufficed for the day. In the building of "shacks" by which the regulars who had served in the west designated about everything in the way of a shelter from the sun or rain, we obtained lessons from our friends of the 8th and 22d. A couple of crotched sticks across which was laid a center pole formed the usual frame work of the structure and the roof and sides were composed of bushes or palm leaves. These were more airy than our tents and more comfortable except when it rained heavily.

Also, we learned to do without stockings, the fact being that the bulk of our hosiery was either worn out or thrown away, and we took a card from the regulars and discarded such things in the line thereof, greasing our feet with the luscious "sow belly." In laundry work we became expert. "Jim" Ryan's steam laundry had long since gone into voluntary bankruptcy, and every man was his own laundryman. Insect enemies began to appear, and obtained a lodgment in spite of strenuous efforts. Soap was scarce and there were times when water was not the easiest thing in the world to get. Our sleeping arrangements were primitive, the usual method of arranging them being to place the rubber blanket on the ground with the coated side down, on this place the woolen blanket and wrapping this about us, go to sleep. Our coats, or shoes, or anything else suitable, being utilized for pillows. While on "Misery hill" many of the boys cut grass and utilized it as mattresses, but we could not do this on our short bivouacs.

As to cooking, we were "stars." That is when there was anything to cook. On these occasions our culinary preparations were delightfully simple and even chafing-dish outfits would have to bow to our superior ingenuity. Our cooking apparatus required a small fire of wood, and the utensils were all carried in our haversacks. They were a combined frying pan and plate of tin, the former having a handle, a sharp pointed knife, fork and spoon. The basis of our menu was especially noticeable for its simplicity, the staples being bacon, hardtack, canned tomatoes and coffee. Sometimes we had sugar and more times we didn't. Occasionally we had a bit of salt or pepper and on these rare occasions there was joy, for then we were enabled to make the stuff labelled "canned roast beef" palatable enough so that it could be forced down our throats. At other times, Ugh! If the devil hasn't a special corner in the hot room of his Turkish bath reserved for those responsible for that "canned roast beef," he isn't "onto his job."

Even with such simple means we managed to vary the menus a bit at times. Our usual breakfast was bacon and hardtack and coffee. The bacon was usually without a bit of lean and after frying for a moment or two the pan was about half-filled with fat, leaving a shrivelled up and brittle piece of so-called bacon. But it was eaten just the same, our stomachs having been educated up to anything. Sometimes we fried our hardtack in the bacon grease and these with black coffee, sometimes without sugar, made up our breakfast. Thanks to a beneficent government we had coffee about all the time, if we had nothing else. It came to us in the berry, in paper packages, and our chief concern as to coffee was how to grind or pulverize it. Usually this was done by the simple but slow process of putting a few berries in our tin cups and pounding them with a stick or tent pole until they were broken enough to steep. Then the cup was filled with water and placed in the fire until the coffee boiled when the cup was taken out by means of a cleft stick or a bayonet and laid aside to cool sufficiently to drink. There was plenty of barbed wire everywhere and by means of the wire cutters rude grates were made on which the tin cup was placed. For dinner the bill of fare and the method of preparing it was about the same, likewise for supper. Sometimes, when we had canned tomatoes we made "sludge," a simple confection of tomatoes and broken hardtack, with at times a few "strings" of the corned beef thrown in to give it, not taste, but more body. This "beef" was also used to form the groundwork for an imitation stew, the only resemblance to stew being the name, for it was without onions or potatoes. Then we made "Santiago sludge cakes," composed of pulverized hardtack and water, the mixture being patted into cakes and fried in bacon grease. Sometimes a bit of sugar was sprinkled over them, and we deluded ourselves into the belief that we were eating something very fine. Another method of preparing this delicacy was to mix in some canned tomato. Mango stew we had at times, but not often, as sugar was scarce.

Gout might fairly have been expected as the result of this high living, (we were camped on a hill,) but, strange to say, no cases were reported, and even dyspepsia was unknown. Our regular hours doubtless aided us in keeping off these two diseases. We were aroused by reveille very early in the morning, usually about dawn and retired early in the evening. It grew dark about 8 o'clock and by that time everyone but the sentries was in quarters and usually asleep.

The personal appearance of our officers and men was not as prepossessing as it might have been. Coats and collars were not de rigeur and the only headgear was very "bum" looking campaign hats. Usually our blue shirts were open at the neck and a blue handkerchief carelessly knotted a la cow boy was our only ornament. Suspenders were viewed with suspicion and the cartridge belts, with their thimbles filled with ammunition, served also the purpose of keeping our trousers up. These trousers were showing the wear and tear of the campaign, and needed pressing badly, being also used for pajamas. Our leggings were mostly torn and frayed, and went well with the trousers so far as looks were concerned, as for shoes, they too had seen better days. Barbers were at a discount and full beards were popular, the most noticeable ones in the three Springfield companies being those of Lieuts. Powers and Parkhurst of K, and Sergeants Scully and Murphy of G, although Gardella's was not far behind.

In K "Bert" Nichols and "Ad" Potter had trained down so fine that their bodies failed to cast a shadow, and "Billy" Fish had got down to less than 200 pounds. The beard possessed by Morris Grenowitz of B was nearly all that remained of him and Jack Fulton was travelling in the same road. Alberts of B was having a good time with the horses and the Chaplain, and in K the Turner brothers were having hourly arguments with each other on the relative nutritious qualities of canned roast and corned beef. "Wap" Packard of G was busy figuring how many men were by his brother's side when he was shot, and had already counted up 35 with several more districts to hear from, and "Jim" Shene of the same company was planning foraging expeditions with Private Mahoney of Mittineague. "Batty" Hayes had secured a divorce from "Marguerite" Gelinas and was busy trying to keep the case out of the papers.

So the days passed on "Misery hill" until noon of the 10th, when we were ordered to move on, once more to the right, and we left our fine trenches only to have them occupied by the 71st New York, the "heroes" of San Juan. We halted after a couple of hours, there being some trenches dug by Garcia's Cubans, and occupied them at 4 o'clock when our batteries opened upon Santiago. The affair lasted until 6, but the enemy's reply was not very loud and we did not get a chance to use our Springfields.

Next morning we were on the march again, and this time it lasted about all day, up hill and down hill, until just before dusk we halted for the night with the right of our brigade resting on the Cobre road, thus cutting off the last avenue of escape from the city for the Spaniards, and the only way by which reinforcements from Holguin or the rest of the province could be put into the city. Rumors that a large Spanish force was on the way, made us vigilant and our guards were instructed to keep the sharpest kind of a watch, but as events proved, it was not necessary. Hardly had the boys got their tents up and their supper cooked, before the mail came up, and such a rush as there was for it. We had received one mail from home while on "Misery hill," and every man who failed to receive a letter then, was certain there was one or more for him now and could hardly wait to have the contents of the sacks distributed.

That night we had to take off our hats to the Cuban rain storm. Hardly had the mail been distributed when it began to rain. Up to this what rain there was had usually fallen in the afternoon and was not of long duration, but the rain of July 11th and 12th will be remembered by every one in the Fifth Army Corps. It came down all night in solid sheets and our shelter tents and rubber blankets were of little use against it. When morning came everybody and everything was drenched, and a more forlorn looking outfit can hardly be imagined. About 6 A. M., the rain ceased for an hour or two and as soon as possible huge fires of bamboo were blazing and the men essayed to dry themselves and their clothing and to cook breakfast. Fortunately there was plenty of bamboo near our camp, and the wood burned as well wet as dry. But it was not long before down came the rain again just as bad as during the night, and to add to our discomfort, came orders to pack up and move on again.

Rolling up our saturated tents and blankets, and wet to the skin, we took up the march and after wading through the deep mud of the Cobre road for a short distance, plunged into a trail which would take us to our new position and our last camp in Cuba. But it was not long before we found that the trail led through a piece of swampy ground, and before they had gone far the boys found themselves up to their legging tops in mud and the ooze of the swamp. It took a long time to flounder along through this, but it was finally done and the regiment emerged upon firm ground, and was soon on the spot selected for its occupancy.

All this time the rain kept on, and it was not until nearly 4 P. M., that it ceased and the sun came out. Meanwhile, the well soaked shelter tents had been put up and the men were either huddled under them and saying things about the wet season and Cuba, or were standing about with their rubber blankets thrown over their heads. But with the coming of the sun there was a great change. Its rays were so fierce that within half an hour there was scarcely any indication that it had been raining all night and all day, the ground dried up rapidly and so did the shelter tents. Off came the rubber blankets from the men, and clothing and equipments were spread out to dry in the afternoon sun. Wood was hustled for and with the blaze of the cooking fires and the smell of bacon and coffee cheerfulness returned.

That evening the boys were put at work again digging trenches. Up to this Gen. Toral had hesitated to respond to Shafter's invitation to come out and surrender and the arrival of Gen. Miles having stiffened up the latter gentleman's backbone, some more trouble was looked for. Our brigade was, as usual, on the extreme right of the American line and the 8th regiment lay directly opposite the head of the harbor, the 22d next and then "ours." Right in front of our center and less than 500 yards away was the bull ring of Santiago, a circular wooden building filled with Spanish soldiers, while in front of that we could see the trenches with the soldiers lounging about, and with a glass could discern the barbed wire fencing and entanglements in front of the trenches. Our position was an exposed one, for from their position the enemy could have raked us front and flank, so at the trenches we went under the direction of Major Whipple.

By this time our regiment had been supplied with a fairly decent number of intrenching tools and the boys, appreciating the necessity for trenches, went at the work with but little grumbling. The trenches were dug on three sides of a square, one in front of each battalion, the work being done by each company in relays. Major Whipple's battalion now had the right, Major Fairbanks' the center and ours the left, so that it was in the rear of the other two. The work was continued to a late hour that night, and all the next day, and finished on the morning of the 14th. The trenches were even better than those dug on "Misery hill" and were complimented by Gen. Ludlow, who was a colonel of engineers before he became a general of volunteers. Not to be behind hand the non-commissioned staff of the regiment and the headquarters attaches dug a trench for themselves and the regiment was ready for the next move.

Twelve o'clock at noon of the 24th was the hour set for the ending of the truce, and at 11.30 A. M. we were ordered into the trenches. Everyone felt there was going to be a hard fight this time, for it was considered certain that the enemy would make a determined resistance and our estimate of Spanish valor had gone up many degrees since El Caney. It was known that an assault by the Americans was to follow the bombardment and those who had noted the enemy's preparations for defense knew that we were in for a warm reception and that if we charged up to the barbed wire entanglements and the trenches many would not return. But that made little difference and we took our position in the trenches and waited for the opening gun from Capron's battery, posted on a hill in our rear. The horses and the Chaplain had gone to the rear and the surgeons and hospital corps were posted in readiness for what might happen. Hardly had we got into the trenches when the buzzards began to gather, and this to us was a certain indication of a battle.

Noon came and the white flag of truce still waved from the governor's palace and the signal gun was not fired. Half after 12 and no change. We wondered what was up. Nothing much could be seen from the trenches and nearly all of the boys climbed to the top and sat down with eager eyes fastened upon the city we were going to capture. One o'clock and the white flag still floated. Now came the "Jo Jo" department to the front once again, and the news ran from trench to trench, that Shafter had postponed the assault and given the Spaniards a few days more in which to make up their mind. Following this came the information that Gen. Toral was merely trying to gain time in order that 10,000 Spanish troops which were coming up, might attack us in the rear while Toral's men sallied out in our front. And then down came the rain in large and continuous sheets, soon flooding the trenches and making us forget the impending battle, "Jo Jo's," and everything else but the necessity of keeping as dry as possible. The rain lasted for an hour and a half, filling our lovely trenches with water and putting them in nice shape for a battle. But hardly had the sun reappeared before we saw a horseman clad in the Khaki uniform of Shafter's staff galloping along the lines toward us and in his wake we saw the hats of the men in the trenches being thrown into the air, and the wearers dancing as if some extra good news had come. Reining up in front of the center trench where Col. Clark was, the horseman gave him the welcome news that the city had surrendered, and as the constantly increasing knot of officers and men who had got within earshot, began to get ready for a vocal demonstration, the aide added, "Orders are not to cheer, boys, for the deal isn't quite fixed up, but you can throw your hats into the air all you wish." Well, the boys, followed instructions and the hats went up, while the aide dashed over to the 8th and 22d with the news.

And it was good news. It meant no more trench digging, no more marching, no more fighting, and last but not least, as some of our long headed and practical ones figured it out, it meant more and varied rations, for now our ships could come into the harbor. The trenches were quickly emptied and we returned to our shacks in pretty good spirits.

It was not until three days after, on Sunday the 17th, that the formal surrender took place. The troops were assembled in front of their trenches, and as the gun announcing the hoisting of our flag over the governor's palace, boomed out, we cheered, and then marched back only to be formed in front of Col. Clark's quarters, where certain men were given a "wigging" which they remembered for a long time. Since the 14th our men had been allowed to go freely outside our lines, and although not permitted to go into the city proper, yet they found some interesting things in the suburbs. One of these was the cemetery and some regulars and a number of Second men had gone there and thoughtlessly taken some flowers and trinkets from some graves. This desecration had been reported by the Spaniards to Gen. Shafter and the latter "wigged" Gen. Lawton about it, Lawton repeating the operation to Gen. Ludlow and the latter giving Col. Clark and the commanding officer of the 22d a bad quarter of an hour. So when it came his turn, Col. Clark let himself out on the men, and his remarks were of the keen and cutting style which makes a man feel good when he hears some other fellow getting them. This concluded the exercises of the day and we were dismissed to think it over.

Next day the "Jo Jo" bureau resumed operations and we heard "on the best of authority," of course, that we were to be hustled on to Porto Rico with Gen. Miles. Next came the news that our brigade, having done so well was to be sent against Holguin in the interior of the province where there were some 8000 Spanish troops, who had been surrendered with those in Santiago but did not like it and proposed to fight. Within the next few days it was gravely announced by the "Jo Jo," that we were going to be sent to the Philippines, as experienced and acclimated troops were wanted there; that we were to be sent to help capture Havana, marching from Santiago for that purpose, and best of all, that unless Spain sued for peace within a week, we were to embark for that country and invade it. As to the "Jo Jos" about double pay, the receipt by each man of a lump sum of money in consideration of waiving our claims to a pension, etc., they were numerous and varied enough to fill a large book. In its "Jo Jo" bureau the Second had some distinguished artists.

But the most convincing sign of all that the city had surrendered, was the arrival of rations, and they were gladly received. For a day or two it was the familiar bacon and hardtack, but soon we were surprised and gladdened by the sound of mule wagons coming up the road from the city and laden with good looking loaves of soft bread. We then found that army ovens had been established in the city and that we would have bread in abundance. Next came some refrigerated beef, and it looked good and tasted better. Our first issue of the beef was quickly disposed of, each man's share being taken to the nearest fire and a "bluff" made at broiling it, the majority of the men being too "meat hungry" to do more than merely toast it. That first "beefsteak supper" of ours on the island is remembered yet. Next day came more beef, more bread and finally potatoes and onions, while with them were brought along rice and canned tomatoes and bacon and hardtack. The two latter we scorned. Eat hardtack and canned beef when we had fresh bread and meat and the materials for beef stew? Well, we guessed not. But it turned out we were too proud. There came days when the refrigerated beef became less relished, especially when our noses could learn of its being on the way long before it reached the camp, and we were glad to fall back on the despised, "sowbelly," and by this time in deference to our luxurious tastes, the conscience stricken commissary department was sending us something that resembled bacon far more than anything we had previously had, and that came in nice tin packages. Even the soft bread palled on us after a while, and we were glad to nibble a hardtack now and then, especially, when as sometimes happened the bread was sour.