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: