History of the Gatling Gun Detachment, Fifth Army Corps, at Santiago / With a Few Unvarnished Truths Concerning that Expedition

by John H. Parker

Serg. Green, at the right gun, had run back for ammunition, and Corp. Doyle, when Sine fell, seized the pointing lever, and was coolly turning the crank while he sighted the gun at the same time. He was for the moment the only member of the detachment left at the piece, but was given assistance, and a moment later Green arrived and began to feed the gun.

Steigerwald was short-handed. Some of his men had been sun-struck during the run, and he, too, was compelled to work his gun with only one assistant. Then some of those who had been unable to keep up arrived at the battery and began to render assistance. Priv. Van Vaningham, who had gotten lost from his own command, began to pass ammunition. Priv. Merryman, who was holding his team back in the river, was impressed by a doctor to help carry wounded men, and Priv. Burkley, another man lost from his command, stepped into Merryman’s place. Priv. Chase left his team, seeing the piece short-handed, and began to pass ammunition. The mules merely wagged their ears backward and forward and stamped on account of the flies.

All these changes were accomplished, and the pieces had not even ceased fire. Doyle had fed about 100 rounds, alone. Capt. Landis, of the 1st Cavalry, arrived just at this time, and volunteered to assist in observing the effect of the fire. He stood fearlessly out in the middle of the road, just to the right of Green’s piece, in the very best position for observation, but, at the same time, a most conspicuous target for the enemy, and observed the effect of the Gatling fire, as though he were at target practice, reporting the same, continually, to the battery commander.

For the first two minutes the enemy seemed dazed, then suddenly a perfect hell of leaden hail swept through the foliage. The only thing that saved the battery from absolute destruction was that the enemy’s shots were a little high. As it was, many of them struck the ground between the guns, and several hit the pieces. Three members of the detachment were slightly hurt. One mule was shot through the ear. He sang the usual song of the mule, shook his head, and was suddenly hit again on the fore leg. He plunged a little, but Priv. Shiffer patted him on the head and he became quiet. A bullet passed by Shiffer’s head, so close that he felt the wind fan his whiskers, and buried itself in the saddle on the same mule. This sudden concentration of the enemy’s fire lasted about two minutes.

About the same time the detachment heard a wild cheer start on the left and gradually sweep around to the left and right, until in every direction, sounding high above the din of battle and the crackling of the Mausers, even above the rattle of the Gatling guns, was heard the yell of recognition from our own troops. There was, for an instant, a furious fusillade on our right and left, and in a few moments the whole line of our troops had risen and were moving forward to the San Juan ridge. While moving forward, they necessarily almost ceased to fire, but the fire of the Gatlings continued, deadly and accurate. A troop of the 10th Cavalry, from our right and rear, came up, part of the squadron commanded by Col. Baldwin. Some of this troop did not understand the Gatling gun drama, and were in the act of firing a volley into our backs, when Lieut. Smith, who was to so heroically lose his life within ten minutes afterward, sprang out in front of the excited troopers, and, with tears in his eyes, implored them not to fire, that these were “our own Gatlings.” They did not fire in our direction, but they did give a most thrilling and welcome cheer, as the squadron swept forward by our right. Col. Baldwin ran up, and shouted that he would place two troops in support of the battery as long as they were needed. It was the first time the battery had ever had a support of any kind.

After a couple of minutes, the enemy’s fire perceptibly slackened. It was evident they were seeking cover from our fire in the bottom of their ditches, and our fire at this time was being made chiefly from the Gatling battery. This cessation of fire on the part of the enemy lasted about two minutes, and then the Gatling gunners observed the Spaniards climbing from their trenches. Until that time the Gatling battery had been worked with dogged persistency and grim silence, but from that moment every member of the battery yelled at the top of his voice until the command “Cease firing” was given. Groups of the enemy, as they climbed from their trenches, were caught by the fire of the guns, and were seen to melt away like a lump of salt in a glass of water. Bodies the size of a company would practically disappear an instant after a gun had been turned upon them.

This flight of the enemy from their trenches had been caused by the fact that the charging line had cut through the barb-wire fences at the foot of the hill, and had started up the slope. The Spaniards were unable to stay with their heads above the trenches to fire at the charging-line, because of the missiles of death poured in by the machine guns; and to remain there awaiting the charge was certain death. They did not have the nerve to wait for the cold steel. They were demoralized because they had been compelled to seek the bottom of their trenches. American troops would have awaited the charge, knowing that the machine gun fire must cease before contact could occur, but the Spaniards forgot this in their excitement, and made the fatal mistake of running.

The Gatlings had the range to perfection. Capt. Boughton, who was one of the first officers upon the hill, stated, on the 1st of September at Montauk, that he visited a portion of the Spanish trenches immediately upon arriving at the crest, and that the trenches which he inspected were literally filled with writhing, squirming, tangled masses of dead and wounded Spaniards, and that the edge of the trenches was covered with wounded and dead Spaniards, who had been shot in the act of climbing out. This execution was done mainly by the machine guns, because the infantry and cavalry were not firing much when it was done; they were running up the hill to the charge.

Colonel Egbert, who commanded the 6th Infantry, states, in his official report, that when his regiment reached the sharp incline near the top of the hill they were brought to a standstill because the Gatling bullets were striking along the crest. The officers of the 13th Infantry state the same thing. It was Lieut. Ferguson, of the 13th, who when the troops had climbed as high as possible under the leaden canopy which the Gatlings made to cover their charge, waved his white handkerchief as a signal to cease firing. At the same moment Landis exclaimed, “Better stop; our men are climbing the hill now.” A shrill whistle gave the signal “Cease firing,” and the Gatling Gun Battery, to a man, rose to their feet and gazed with absorbing interest as the long, thin, blue line swept forward and crowned the crest of the hill. An instant later an American flag floated proudly from the San Juan block-house; then the roar of musketry and the volley of rifles indicated that the fleeing enemy was receiving warm messengers as he ran down the hill toward his second line of intrenchments.

The next immediate duty confronting the detachment was to take stock of losses and to occupy the captured position in case of necessity.