Our War with Spain for Cuba's Freedom

by Trumbull White

CHAPTER LIV.

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.