Three big flags flung their folds to the ocean breeze as the regiment marched up the street. One of them was a dazzle of blue and gold and one bright and new, but one was the real Old Glory, torn by shot and shell, raveled and frayed by the Philippine winds. It was the battle stained, tattered emblem of our country’s honor that received the heartiest cheers and warmest welcome. This was the flag that brought the mist before the eyes and brought to the mind Decatur’s noble toast. “Our country. In her intercourse with foreign countries may she always be right; but right or wrong, our country.”
On stretchers borne by the ambulance corps came the sick and wounded. A great contrast, these war-worn soldiers, to the spick and span Sixth Cavalry which escorted them.
Right royally did the Queen of the Golden Gate welcome home Oregon’s noble sons.
Passing the Examiner building nearly a million firecrackers which decorated the building, hanging in great loops and festoons, were set off. In the midst of this noise some one threw out a big bouquet of American Beauty roses. A soldier caught them and sniffed their fragrance. “They’re American Beauties, boys,” he said and passed them on. Up and down the line went those roses, each man burying his face in them for a moment, then passing them on to his brother. When they had passed the rear line they were handed to the next platoon, and so they went on down that battle-scarred line.
The little Filipino boy, Manuel Robels, who accompanied the boys home, caught nearly every eye as he trudged along, a sawed-off Mauser rifle over one shoulder and an American flag over the other. Flowers were showered on him too.
Out at Van Ness street General Shafter sat on horseback with his staff, to review the troops.
Just beyond the place of review a company of wee tots with military hats and lath guns stood at the edge of the side-walk and presented arms. All that gallant regiment, from the colonel to the little Filipino boy, returned the salute of those patriotic tots.
Thus the noble Second regiment of the Oregon Volunteers marched out to the Presidio and to Fame’s eternal camping ground.
The Presidio, now the United States barracks, was established by the Spaniards in 1776. Little dreamed they that out of this camp would come one hundred years later a conquering host.
The camp is delightfully located on the bay north of the city. The grounds include a thousand acres. The officers’ quarters are neat, cosy cottages. The long porches and verandas of the barracks are covered with vines and roses. Rows upon rows of flowers such as only grow in this moist climate decorate the walks on either side.