The Red-Headed Recruit and the Cuban Dog.
One of the most notable alarms that occurred during the campaign about Santiago was within two miles of the “Stone Block-House,” at El Caney, on the night before the attack on that place. The brigade that did the hardest fighting there, and that had been in advance the greater part of the time from the landing at Baiquiri, received orders late in the afternoon of June 30th to move forward and take a position within easy striking distance of El Caney, and to there rest on arms for the night. The march began at dusk, and, by a long, circuitous route, ended at 12 o’clock midnight at an open field, which the guides said was within two miles of the nearest Spanish position in the town. The march, in single file, up and down hills, over slippery ground, by men as silent as mice, was a tiresome one. All were glad to hear the word passed along in low whispers to quietly lie down, retaining arms and equipment, and bivouac for the night. The silence of death prevailed. The long line of dark figures on the open field, silhouetted against the star-lit sky, and the stillness that reigned, reminded one more of stereopticon views thrown upon canvas, than of the presence of eighteen hundred fighting men, stealing upon their prey.
It was not a minute after the whispered command to lie down was given till all except a few selected for duty on outposts had stretched their weary limbs on the dewy grass.
The outposts were placed around the main body, some few hundred yards distant, most of them in the direction of the Spanish lines. The command was soon asleep. There was the usual number of disturbed dreamers, and occasionally the snorer would burst out in loud and long-drawn tones, only to be promptly kicked in the ribs by his light-sleeping comrade. The nocturnal cigarette-smoker was prohibited from indulging in his nightly practice, and soon there was a long mass of sleeping humanity, not a sign of wakeful eyes to be seen.
As sudden as the flash of lightning the woods in the direction of the Spanish lines was filled with yells, screams, and the heavy falling of feet in rapid retreat.
The brigade sprang to its feet as if each man had been lying on a stiff spring and the whole touched off simultaneously by the pressing of a button—every man with loaded and cocked rifle in hand. Then began the low, mumbling sound of a suddenly aroused camp. The efforts of the officers who had kept their heads to keep it down were fruitless. It was a long line of buzzing sounds like the swarming of bees. But the screaming and yelling continued and grew nearer.
Shouting at the top of his voice at every jump, “They’re coming! they’re coming!” tall, lean, red-headed, and hatless, the recruit sentry came by leaps and strides, and close at his heels a half-starved Cuban dog, playfully pursuing him, soliciting some of the hardtack in the recruit’s haversack.
It was near dawn before complete order was restored. Many eyes were opened by that alarm raised by the panic-stricken recruit that never again closed till closed in death.
The Charge of the Hospital Corps.
The campaign in the Philippines against the wily Tagalo has been replete with false alarms, owing to the prowling and sneaking nature of the enemy, and the unearthly noises made by the animals of that sun-scorched and water-splashed country.