Great activity was at once begun on board the vessel, when it was learned that the army
and navy were to co-operate in suppressing hostilities among the ferocious tribes of this jungle island, whose leader, the squinty-almond-eyed insurgent General Lukban, had defiantly sneered at foreign authority. Provisions and ammunition were stored in the hold, numerous three-inch rifles, Colt automatics, and one-pounders secured on deck, while four Kentucky mules to be used in dragging the guns occupied stalls amidships. After the munitions of war had been carefully stored and the minor details of the expedition completed, Major (now Colonel) L. W. T. Waller, with his battalion of three hundred marines, boarded the cruiser. This gallant battalion had recently returned from China, where their valiant bravery before the gates of Pekin had been attested by the troops of all nations.
What a scene this was on board a man-of-war!—seven hundred sailors in the fashion of the sea, and three hundred marines in the garb of the field, all ready, as mad Anthony Wayne said, to storm hell if necessary.
One of the most magnificent military
scenes and inspired feeling I have ever experienced was on that balmy October morning in the year 1901, as I reported to Admiral Rodgers, six bells and underway. The band had struck up, “Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching,” as the entire sortie joined in the singing:
“Damn, damn, damn the Filipinos,
Pock-marked, almond-eyed ladrones,
And beneath the starry flag
We’ll civilize them with the ‘Krag,’
Then we’ll journey to our old beloved homes.”