Springfield in the Spanish American War

by Walter W. Ward

But orders are orders and grumbling does not count against them. The details sent to dig graves were recalled, the equipments were donned again and in a short time we were once more "piking the pike." It was a gloomy march that evening, for the men were not very much inclined to conversation. On we went, now in columns of fours on a fairly decent road for Cuba, again in column of files through the bush and finally emerged onto another road. It was now dark, but we kept on until about 10 o'clock we came to a stone bridge over the San Juan river and the order to halt was given as the head of our regiment reached the bridge. Whether it was to be a mere halt or a bivouac no one seemed to know and no one cared. Hardly had the order to halt been given before the men had dropped by the roadside and, worn out by the toilsome march of the night before and the day's work, followed by the march to the bridge, were asleep, many of them without even taking off their heavy rolls. It was not an ideal place for slumber, either. Troops were continually passing by and every now and then a mule team would pass with a clatter but the sleepers slumbered on. Until after midnight we lay there, waiting for further orders. About one o'clock up came mule wagons and a pack train and soon after the men were awakened and told to "hurry up" and get rations. In a few moments the scene was changed. Huge fires were lighted and by their light the rations were given out, the delights of slumber proving to be less strong than the desire to eat and every man awakening to the knowledge that we would soon be on the move again. So it was. Hardly had we drawn rations and began to cook them before a battery of artillery moved hurriedly by us to the rear, many of us just having time to draw our legs out of the way of the wheels. Next came the 8th and 22d of our brigade and by 2 o'clock we too were on the march. Following the road over which we had come for a short distance, we soon left it and changing direction to the right, swung into a trail across country. Along this we marched for hours amid the darkness, through woods and chaparral and fields, once cultivated. We climbed hills and forded streams, all in the darkness, we brushed the morning mist from the trees and grass as we passed, and when the dawn came found ourselves still on the march, wet and tired and sleepy and bedraggled. Daylight made no difference. On we pressed, climbing a long hill, crowned with plantation buildings and from which we could look down upon a scene of beauty, the green-clad hills and mountains, their tops still wreathed in the morning mist and with no sign that aught but peace and happiness lay in the valleys between them. No time, however, this to enjoy scenery, no matter how picturesque. On we went, now down the hill and into a thick piece of woods, where we halted for a little time, then on again until we once more struck a road and reached El Pozo, where there had been considerable trouble the day before. Without waiting for us the quadrille had already opened. During our halt in the woods we could hear the artillery and the rifles and soon after we reached the El Pozo road and once more swinging to the right started for San Juan we realized that it might be a case of El Caney over again, for we encountered a steady stream of wounded men going or being carried to the rear. Down the road screeched the Mausers, but still high over our heads and in the distance we could hear the boom of the guns of the Spanish forts as they answered our light artillery. Still onward, with no band or field music to give us the cadenced step, a minute's halt now and then until we were compelled to leave the road to make way for a battery banging recklessly along to take another position. Then across a stream and over an open field in full view of the enemy's trenches on the right, passing the battleground of the day before and, under fire by this time, we swung once more to the right and took position on a hill on nearly the extreme right of the American line.

Private R. G. Kelly. G. Co.
Private Arthur Packard. G. Co.
Private Geo. A. Richmond. G. Co.
Private Andrew Little. G. Co.
Private Francis A. Burk. G. Co.
Corpl P. J. Noone. G. Co.

Rolls had been again stripped off and it was expected we would go into action, but the Spaniards had been given pretty nearly all the fight they wanted that day and there was little for the Second to do but to take its position and stay there. For hours the men lay on the hill crest under the blazing sun, without a chance at cooking a meal and hard pressed for water until details were sent back to the stream with canteens. Sharpshooters made this mission dangerous but no one refused to go.

It was not until early in the evening that the firing died down and it was safe to stand erect and walk about. The rolls and haversacks had been brought up and having been better guarded from prowling Cubans this time the contents of the haversacks were intact. By the time darkness came on the hillside on which we were camped for the day, tents had by this time been put up, was illuminated by the cooking fires and once more we enjoyed something that would pass for a meal. This over, sleep was the next necessity and we were not long in seeking our downy couches.

But we did not slumber long. Just about 10 o'clock there was a disturbance of the peace by the Spaniards, who apparently wished to spoil the good time we were having. Three or four big guns boomed out and then came the, by this time familiar sound of the Mausers. It needed no bell boy to awake us. In a jiffy we were up and scrambling for rifles and cartridge belts. Then came quickly spoken orders to "fall in" from the company commanders and the voices of the hurrying non-coms as they rounded up the men. All was black darkness and men stumbled over the grass and roots or slipped on the steep hillside. It was a scene of the utmost din and confusion, orders coming fast and loud, the men, still sleep-blinded, hustling about in confusion, the night's stillness broken by the crash of the Spanish rifles and the noise of exploding shells over our heads while on our right we heard the whip-like crack of the Krags answering the Mausers. "Hell's broken loose," avowed a B man as he groped about for his cartridge belt and indeed it seemed so.

Our battalion had its "shacks" on the top of the hill just below the crest while the other companies were scattered all along the hill but further below, so that the men of the Springfield companies were not long in falling in and making their way to the crest. But even then they were not quick enough to satisfy Major Van Horn, the choleric commander of the 22d, who appeared to have as bad a case of what was known to the boys as the "rattles" as any man ever had. Brandishing his sword, he ran about the hill, cursing the Second and ordering every man to the front, although it would have seemed he had enough to do to look after his own outfit. Col. Clark and his officers and the regiment were already on the top of the hill and awaiting events, but for some time Major Van Horn pranced and reared and vented his spleen upon the few men who happened to be a bit slow about getting up until finally his senses returned and he went where he belonged.

All in all our officers and men acted with coolness, considering the circumstances. It is not pleasant or conducive to coolness of thought or action to be suddenly pulled out of bed after a day of great exertion and hustle around in black darkness to the accompaniment of rifle bullets and bombshells and especially when it is uncertain whether the enemy is in one's front, flank or rear and go stumbling up a steep hill so that it is small wonder if at the outset a few were "rattled." But in a very short time the lines were formed on the top of the hill and the Second waited.

It was fortunate that none of our officers lost their heads and ordered their men to fire for the results could not fail to have been unfortunate all around. Just below us were three of our own regiments and had the Second fired the bullets would have hit our own men. It was a wonder that in the darkness and confusion nothing of the kind was done but officers and men kept their heads well and after the first confused rush up the hill all acted with commendable coolness.

But if we did not use our rifles the enemy did theirs and before the affair was over two men of the Second had been hit, one of them, Private Robert G. Kelly of G, mortally. A Mauser struck him in the left cheek, passing through and severing the lingual artery, lodged in the muscles of the right jaw. The other man hit was Private Peter N. White of A company, whose wound was not serious.