The detachment left Siboney about 10 o’clock in the morning and tramped steadily along the road up hill and down until 12; then, upon finding a convenient place, it halted for dinner. The mules were unharnessed, coffee prepared, and, just as the detachment was about to begin this noonday meal, two of the peripatetic newspaper fraternity joined, en route to the rear. The ubiquitous correspondent had for the first time discovered the Gatling Gun Detachment, and they thought it was Artillery.
One of these gentlemen was a long, slim, frayed-out specimen of humanity, with a wearied and expressive droop of the shoulders; the other was a short, stout, florid, rotund individual, and his “too, too solid flesh” was in the very visible act of melting. The newspaper gentlemen were invited to participate in the noonday meal, and, with some gentle urging, consented. It was only after the meal was over that it was learned that this was the first square meal these men had had in over forty-eight hours. They had been with Gen. Wheeler at La Guasimas, had rejoined Wheeler after reporting that fight, in hopes of making another “scoop,” and were now on their way to Siboney, hoping to buy some provisions. Poor devils! They had worked for a “scoop” at La Guasimas; they had gone up on the firing-line and had sent back authentic accounts of that little skirmish; but they did not make the “scoop.” The “scoop” was made by newspaper men who had remained on board the transports, and who took the excited account of a member of the command who had come back delirious with excitement, crazed with fear, trembling as though he had a congestive chill—who, in fact, had come back faster than he had gone to the front, and in his excited condition had told the story of an ambuscade; that Wheeler, Wood, and Roosevelt were all dead; that the enemy was as thick as the barbs on the Spanish bayonet; and that he, only he, had escaped to tell the tale. This was the account of the battle that got back to the newspapers in the form of a “scoop,” and it was nothing more nor less than the excited imagination of the only coward who at that time or ever afterwards was a member of the famous Rough Riders. He was consequently returned to civil life prematurely.
The newspaper correspondent in Cuba was of a distinguished type. You recognized him immediately. He was utterly fearless; he delighted in getting up on the firing-line—that is, a few of him did. Among these few might be mentioned Marshall, and Davis, and Remington, and Marcotte, and King, and some half-dozen others; but there was another type of newspaper correspondent in Cuba, who hung around from two miles and a half to three miles in rear of the firing-line, and never by any possibility got closer to the enemy than that. The members of this guild of the newspaper fraternity were necessarily nearer the cable office than their more daring comrades; in fact, there were a few who were known to have been eight or nine miles nearer to the cable office during battles, and those correspondents were the ones who made the great “scoop” in the New York papers, by which a regiment that laid down and skulked in the woods, or ran wildly to the rear, was made to do all the fighting on the first day of July. This latter class of journalists were a menace to the army, a disgrace to their profession, and a blot upon humanity. Even the Cubans were ashamed of them.
The detachment resumed the march at half past 1, and encountered some very difficult road, difficult because it needed repairs. The most difficult places were the ascents and descents of the hills, and in nearly every case fifteen or twenty minutes’ careful investigation was able to discover a means of getting around the worst places in the road. When it was not practicable to go around, J. Shiffer and his three fellow-teamsters would take a twist of their hands in the manes of their long-eared chargers, and apparently lift them down, or up, as the case might be, always landing on their feet and always safely. It was merely a question of good driving and will to go through. The worst places were repaired by the detachment before these reckless attempts at precipice-scaling were made. At one place there was a detachment of the 24th Infantry engaged in an alleged effort to repair the road. They did not seem to work with much vim. Chaplain Springer, having in the morning exhorted them to repentance and a better life and to doing good works unto their brethren, the enemy, was engaged at this point in the afternoon, it being Sunday, in a practical demonstration of what he considered good works. In other words, the chaplain, whose religious enthusiasm no one doubts, was engaged in heaving rocks with his own hands to show these colored soldiers how they ought to make good road, and he was doing “good works.”
It is but a just tribute to Chaplains Springer and Swift, of the Regulars, to say that they were conspicuous in the hour of danger at the point of greatest peril. In the fearless discharge of their holy office, they faced all the dangers of battle; nor did they neglect the care of the body while ministering to the spiritual needs of the soldiers. Springer, for example, collected wood and made coffee for all on the firing-line, within 400 yards of the block-house at El Caney; and Swift was equally conspicuous in relieving suffering, binding up wounds, and caring for the sick. There were probably others equally as daring; but the author knows of the deeds of these men, and desires to pay a tribute of respect to them. Chaplains of this stamp are always listened to with respectful attention when they express their views of the true course of life to obtain a blessed hereafter. They were in very sharp contrast to the long-visaged clerical gentlemen who were so much in evidence at Tampa, and who never got within 500 miles of danger.
The detachment safely passed all the bad places and obstacles in the road, arriving at Gen. Wheeler’s headquarters about half past 4 o’clock, and reported. It was assigned a position between the advance outposts and directed to dispose of its guns in such a manner as to sweep the hills on which these outposts were placed. High hills to the right at a distance of about 2000 yards were supposed to be infested by the enemy, and a blockhouse which stood out against the sky-line was thought to contain a Spanish detachment. A high hill to the left at a distance of about 1000 yards had not yet been explored, and it was thought probable that some of the enemy was concealed on this hill also. The detachment commander was directed to report, after posting his battery, in which duty he was assisted by Col. Dorst, to Gen. Chaffee, who had charge of the outposts. The General inquired what the battery consisted of, and upon being informed that “It consists of four Gatling guns, posted so as to command the neighboring hills,” remarked in a very contemptuous manner, “You can’t command anything.” Gen. Chaffee subsequently had reason to revise his opinion, if not to regret the expression of it.
CHAPTER VI.
THE BATTERY IN CAMP WHEELER.
At this point in the history of the detachment, it would be well to give some account of the reasoning which led to its formation and the personnel of the detachment.
Since the days of ’65 the armies of the civilized world have adopted a rifle whose effective range is more than twice as great as that used in the Civil War. Very able discussions have been made upon the theoretical changes of the battle-field thus brought about, but no proper conclusion had been reached. It was acknowledged by all text-book writers that the artillery arm of the service would find much greater difficulty in operating at short ranges, and that assaults upon fortified positions would be much more difficult in the future. But only Gen. Williston, of the United States Artillery, had ever taken the advanced ground that in a machine gun arm would be found a valuable auxiliary as a result of these changed conditions. This theory of Gen. Williston’s was published in the Journal of the Military Service Institute in the spring of ’86, but never went, so far as Gen. Williston was concerned, beyond a mere theory; nor had the detachment commander ever heard of Gen. Williston’s article until after the battle of Santiago.