For perhaps two minutes there was a lull in the firing; then our shouts of triumph were drowned by a crash as of thunder, as every fort and house on the outskirts of Santiago, and the main lines of defence extended in three rows before the city, opened up on the outworks it had cost us so much to storm.
Wounded and dead Spaniards were strewn along the ridge. The hard clay of the hill had made revetments unnecessary, but the perpendicular trenches, backed by a second rampart before the fort, had impeded their retreat and caused the only serious loss from our fire. On the berm of the trench Captain Venancia Raga lay shot through the hips. As our first line passed over the ridge, Lieutenant Ord, pointing at the Spaniard with his revolver, shouted, “Carry that officer to the rear.” Mistaking the action, Raga threw up his pistol and shot Ord through the head. Thus died the most conspicuously brave officer of the war. The soldiers, enraged at the unintentional treachery, poured a volley into the Spaniard as they passed on. The Spanish flag was torn down from the fort by Agnew of the 13th, and the pennants of the 6th and 64th Infanteria were captured by the 6th Cavalry. The 16th, 6th, 9th, 13th, and 24th Infantry formed along the captured ridge, while Pearson's Brigade, 10th, 21st, and 2nd Infantry, which had extended on the extreme left, swept over a succeeding ridge, driving in a second outpost of the enemy.
Despite the terrible fire raging from Santiago, the eager soldiers passed beyond San Juan, clinging to available coyer, and shooting with little fire discipline, at the trenches dug in the hillside leading up to the city. In reserve behind the trees Colonel Sierra had two squadrons of Light Cavalry. Noticing the weakness of the American line, now greatly depleted by wounded and their helpers, and the scattered formation of the various companies that had advanced wildly beyond the ridge, General Linares ordered the cavalry to charge down the road and flank the lines in the valley. Such an onslaught would have proved disastrous to our advance. But their uniforms showed through the trees as they mounted, a volley was fired into them, and despite the efforts of Major Irles and others, they wheeled and galloped into the city, losing very heavily as their rear became even more dangerous than the firing line. So thick was the cover that the American officers knew nothing of the foiled charge, though I followed the line of retreat later by the carcasses of accoutred horses, torn clothing and discarded equipment.
At this juncture General Linares fell wounded, and Toral assumed command of the Spanish army. The San Juan fort was now the objective of the enemy's fire, and their accurate shells drove out the occupants. The volleys along the whole front grew more steady and regular, and General Hawkins, realizing the uselessness of irregularly facing the entire Spanish army, ordered the “rally” sounded. The eager soldiers then fell back to the ridge they had captured, and entrenched themselves along the crest. The cavalry had also advanced impetuously beyond the hill, and retired reluctantly to its shelter. As they hurriedly entrenched, the enemy poured from the woods, and finding cover behind rocks and along hedges, fired steady volleys that would have proved terribly effectual when the troopers were beyond the hill, and probably have driven the American lines back demoralised.
With Nicholls and MacDowell, I had lain behind the disused sugar-kettles at Marianje, against which bullets rang incessantly. The engine house there was turned into a temporary hospital, and a terrible fire was soon raging against it. Crawling along the advanced ridge, I could see the Spaniards creeping forward, and the recapture of the position from our thin lines seemed imminent. General Sumner and Colonel Wood both sent to General Kent for infantry reinforcements, and the gallant 13th was moved to the right to support the cavalry. At this time an advance was also made against San Juan, the enemy having the advantage of a gentle slope and excellent cover. But as we watched the straw hats bobbing, and an occasional swarthy face, the whole cavalry division reverted from individual firing to rapid volleys, a machine gun turned loose, the infantry on our left were responding strongly, and the enemy withdrew to their first line of entrenchments with loss.
Opposing us on the hillside forming Santiago's outskirts, the chain of forts, blockhouses, and fortified houses, and succeeding rows of trenches were held by the 1st Battalion Asia Regiment, 1st Puerto Rico Provisionals, 1st San Fernando, historic with Serrano's charge at San Pedro; 1st Constitucion and 2nd Talavera Regiments, two companies of Heavy Artillery, one battery of light artillery, and two companies of engineers. Two companies of Guardia civil, a battalion of Irregulars (Guerillas), nineteen hundred volunteers and three hundred enrolled firemen formed the reserves, and with the Caballeria del Key brought the force up to eight thousand men. The centre was augmented by twelve hundred marines from the Spanish fleet and four machine guns.
The entrenchments extended from Dos Caminos on the north to Punta Blanca on the coast. These lines were strengthened by thirteen forts surrounding the city. Fort San Antonio boasted three bronze guns, and Santa Inez one. Two of the three guns at San Ursula were doing effective shelling under Colonel Ordonez, wounded during the afternoon. Four bronze guns at El Sueno were poorly worked through lack of gunners, and the three guns at Fort Nuevo, which almost enfiladed Pearson's brigade on the left, fired few shots effectively. During the afternoon one Hontoria also was mounted under fire before the city. Toral had little ammunition for his guns, and at Canadas rusty chain shot, piled as relics on the Plaza, were utilised.
As I crawled along the ridges, I was surprised to find so few of the enemy's dead at San Juan, which had cost us so terribly to capture. I saw but sixteen and the highest estimate was thirty. Some wounded begged pitifully to be spared when one approached, but the dead were comparatively few. Having gauged direction from the balloon, the enemy had poured down their merciless fire without exposure from volleys returned from two hundred feet below. Had the impetuous Latins waited in their position, they could have swept off the exhausted Americans as they gained the summit, and the victory evolved from the egregious blunder of July 1st might have had a different sequel.
The capture of San Juan cannot form a demonstrative precedent in modern tactics. Ordered into an untenable position, the striking individuality of the American soldier, criticised by some as indiscipline, rose superior to the occasion. A technical defeat was turned to victory when the tactics of Shafter had failed. It was eminently a soldiers' battle. Invidious praise has been heaped on certain regiments; but equal credit is deserved by every officer and man participating in the assault. The army at San Juan knew the enemy was before them; but owing to the lack of orders, no officer knew what to anticipate. The first intimation of battle was a shower of bullets crashing through the tree-tops from an unseen foe. The commanding general, when he ordered the advance through the valley to Bloody Angle, overlooked the basis of elementary tactics, namely: “Marches in the vicinity of the enemy cannot be made with too much precaution and prudence.”
It was pitiful to see the American troops extracting, with difficulty, single cartridges from their sodden belts, while the Spaniards pressed home the pentacapsular clip in their Mausers and had five shots ready. A clip adjustment and a cartouche box should certainly be adopted by the United States. The enemy also had smokeless powder, and neither battery nor trench could be located; while the United States Artillery and the Springfields of the National Guard made a continual smoke target, and obscured the view. In the confusion of the battle fire discipline was not maintained, and I heard no ranges given during the day.
The fighting, by four o'clock, had resolved itself into an offensive defence by both armies, neither of which were in a position to advance. In taking the ridges our aggregate losses had been 1140 officers and men in a battle that artillery alone could have made untenable.
The firing on the extreme flanks at Caney and Aguadores continued, though news soon reached the centre that Duffield had retired to Siboney, the fleet continuing the attack from the sea. The 9th Massachusetts and 34th Michigan, and a force of Cubans, had moved along the coast, their advance protected by the fleet. At the ford of the Aguadores River they found the enemy in ambush, and drove the Spaniards back to the town, despite the heavy fire of a battery, which caused great loss to the 34th and the Cubans. The “Newark,” however, silenced the battery, and Admiral Sampson, from the “New York,” after signalling to Duffield on shore, led the attack with the Flagship, assisted by the “Suwanee” and “Gloucester.” The old fort was speedily demolished, and the enemy were driven from their trenches. Unfortunately, the Aguadores River was so swollen by the rains that it was impossible to ford it; there were no pontoons or engineers, and the troops returned by rail to Siboney. As a diversion the demonstration was a success; but the attack was a failure as a flank movement against Santiago.
Seeing that the San Juan ridges were now completely invested, I caught a stampeded troop horse in the valley below, and strove to ride through the bush to the extreme right. The rude path across country, however, was infested with sharpshooters, a number of fugitive soldiers from Caney were lurking in the trees', and the trail was so difficult that I soon abandoned the attempt. From a wooded hill beyond Marianje I could see that Lawton's Division was still hotly engaged, and he was apparently suffering from the want of artillery that cost so many lives.
At first the guns had accomplished little; but as the infantry closed in on the citadel, several well-planted shell burst within. Our infantry had little cover, and the enemy's machine guns, finally located in the church tower, played sad havoc. The American lines advanced slowly, the attacking force dashing across open spaces and seizing every bit of available cover. As at San Juan, they had moved into range before the artillery had paved the way, and they suffered severely in consequence. Colonel Haskell fell early in the day, wounded in three places, and Chaffee's Brigade, the 7th, 12th, and 17th, lost heavily as they advanced against the citadel under a heavy fire from the town, besides the direct resistance from the fort and surrounding trenches. Colonel Miles, with the 1st, 4th, and 25th Infantry, closed in on the west, coming up on the other side of the hill; and after Capron, with a few excellent shots, had crushed in a bastion and carried away the roof in a dozen places, a united charge took place, both brigades storming the hill. The soldiers in the trenches escaped into the town, however, and only eight privates and a corporal were captured.
The first man to reach the fort and tear down the colours was James Creelman, the war correspondent. Speaking in Spanish, he told the survivors of the garrison to surrender, reassuring the poor wretches, who begged for quarter. Seizing the flag, he waved it triumphantly to the oncoming troops. When they saw their colours had fallen, the enemy opened heavily on the fort from the town. Creelman sank with a bullet in his shoulder, which tore its way through the blade, making a gaping wound three inches in diameter. The 25th Infantry suffered severely, ascending the hill; and though the citadel was the key to Caney, its capture had by no means ended the fight. Chaffee and Miles now led their forces against the town. General Ludlow's Brigade, 8th and 22nd Infantry, and 2nd Massachusetts, moved against the defences on the northwest. The 1st Infantry extended, cutting off retreat to the hills, and a detachment of Cubans engaged the blockhouses on the north, but made a poor showing, having expended their ammunition recklessly before closing in. Being unable to obtain more, they could not drive out the enemy.
Ludlow's brigade, afterward supported by the 11th Infantry, captured the blockhouses holding the highroad; and flanked by Cubans under Sanchez, they drove the enemy from an entrenched trail within fifty yards of the town. The enemy, realizing retreat impossible, and expecting no quarter, still resisted desperately, fighting from trench to trench. Ludlow's horse was shot under him. Colonel Paterson was wounded. Lieutenant McCorkle, 25th Infantry, Lieutenant Wansboro, 7th Infantry, and Lieutenant Field, 2nd Massachusetts, were killed.
Lieutenant Dickeson, 17th Infantry, under a heavy fire, nobly went to aid Colonel Haskell when he fell, and received two mortal wounds. He was struck a third time in the leg, just before he died. Captain Jackson, Lieutenant Lefferty, of the 7th; Lieutenants Dore and Churchman, 12th Infantry; Lieutenant Neary and Hughes, 4th Infantry; Captains Jones and Mosher and Lieutenant Godfrey, 22nd Infantry; Captain Warrener and Lieutenants Meyneham and Hapgood, 2nd Massachusetts, and many other officers were wounded, encouraging their men under heavy fire.
Vara del Rey meantime was apprised of a way of escape, and, seeing the day was lost, he hurriedly mustered the garrison in the town and prepared to evacuate, leaving the depleted defenders in the outworks, to check the attacking force. Mounting his horse, he galloped across the plaza, but fell, pierced with two bullets. The garrison retreated, unseen, through a narrow path in the woods, dragging the general's body with them. Watchful Cuban scouts notified General Sanchez of the move, and he hurried De Coro over to head the Spaniards off. The veterans of the battalion “Constitucion” fought desperately, however; and though they relinquished Vara del Rey's body and lost many men, they cut their way through the Cubans, and reached Santiago at night. Vara del Rey's body was found next day.
As the main body of the enemy withdrew, the whole American force were led at the charge against the town. The barricades were torn down, the outworks stormed; and though a few desperate soldiers fought from house to house, Caney was soon in our hands.
After the flag waved over San Juan, and reaction from the excitement enabled us to realise the sad realities of victory, there seemed little glory for the silent forms that lay on the field where they had fallen; or the hundreds of wounded who were helpless in the thicket, or crawled to the rear, with blood spurting from their wounds, to the dressing-station improvised in the creek bed.
By Army Regulations, each soldier carries into action a first-aid dressing, the Esmarck bandage and two antiseptic pads. Through negligence, perhaps of the men themselves, many were not supplied with this simple but indispensable adjunct. Medical supplies at the front were absolutely lacking in the Shafteresque confusion, save for the hospital pouches the surgeons had carried on their own shoulders. Thus the single surgeon apportioned to each regiment not only found before him the work of six, but he had nothing save the first-aid packages intended for application on the firing-line, to stay the life-blood that gushed from the rows of men awaiting attention. It is not for me to impute the blame. General Sternberg had provided ambulances and an abundance of medical necessaries; but ambulances were left in Tampa by General Shafter, and the stores that were taken were loaded beneath the unlanded siege-guns, and could not be reached.
No field hospital was equipped within specified distance, and the wounded were placed under shelter of a sand-bank, in the San Juan creek lying for hours awaiting cursory attention. Distracted surgeons tore up shirts and requisitioned handkerchiefs, underclothing, anything, in lieu of bandages. The patients, if they could move, then crawled down to the divisional hospital four miles back, where Colonel Pope and Major Wood had hastily erected hospital tents and two operating-tables. I saw but one ambulance along the trail; there were some stretchers but many of the badly wounded were either dragged over the soggy road in a blanket or lay at the creek until the next day.
Diagnostic tabs, which facilitate the work of the surgeon, were wanting at the front, and to save time and confusion. Major Pope took in patients in the order of arrival, American, Cuban, or Spaniard in turn, greatly to the surprise of the wounded enemy awaiting treatment. Beyond the Rio Seco, near El Pozo, there was an admirable site for the field hospital, which was speedily utilised as a temporary station by Dr. Bell of the 71st. Its limited capacities were soon exhausted, however, and a long line of suffering men wended their way through the mud to Sevilla.
At the San Juan dressing-station, the bullets of the enemy, passing over the ridge, fell like hail in and around the stream. To make room behind the bank, we carried poor Mitchie and several other dead across the ford to await burial. When carrying one poor lad over, a bullet passed through the lifeless body, and a number of wounded were killed by sharpshooters in the trees, despite the Red Cross flag that was hoisted over the station. Quiet heroism abounded on all sides. Wounded officers lay at the front, refusing to be moved until privates had received attention. I offered an arm to one of the 13th, shot in the side. “There is a man there that wants help more than I,” he said, pointing into the trees. He plodded down toward the station, leaning upon his rifle, and hearing a moan, I turned to see him fall on his face, shot through the throat.
I joined Chaplain Swift a few minutes later. A spent ball had struck him in the knee, which had swollen considerably; but he continued aiding the wounded, under fire for two days and nights. He searched the dead also, taking charge of personal effects, and attempting to establish the identity of each, before the vultures commenced their work or the burial detail was sent out. This action of Chaplain Swift, and Dr. Vandewater of the 71st, led to an infamous charge, made by certain cowardly volunteers, that the two chaplains had robbed dead bodies as they lay on the field.
It was extremely difficult to establish the identity of the dead. Identification slips, which should contain in tabulated form the name, rank, regiment, and next of kin of the wearer, were not supplied to the troops. Singularly, also, the individual regimental kit number, which in European armies must be stamped on every article of the soldier, was not in general vogue in the American army. It is a simple regulation, invaluable in peace, essential in war. By its use, the misappropriation of kit, a common form of recruit hazing, would be impossible, and the possession of a full equipment by each soldier easily assured. In Cuba it was frequently impossible even to discover the regiment of a wounded or dead man, countless mistakes arose, and for weeks families at home endured a terrible suspense, when some loved one, whose body had probably been buried without identity by a fatigue party, was posted as missing.
The charges for the dynamite gun had been left at the dressing-station. Several shells burst nearby, and an explosion of the dangerous ammunition was imminent, before Basil Ricketts of the Rough Riders and two troopers hurriedly dug a trench for the boxes. Bullets were falling around in all directions, and the enemy sharpshooters also opened upon the little party. We had lifted the cases into the pit, when Ricketts fell, shot in the groin. “Cover them up; never mind me,” he cried, as I stepped to aid him. I managed to drag him half-way over the river toward a place of shelter; but he turned in the water, with his wound bleeding and the bullets splashing around, and instructed the men to place logs and stones over the pit-top for further protection. When this was done by Glackens the artist and two troopers, Ricketts consented to be carried out of range.
The battle subsided into a desultory picket fire at sunset. For an hour after dark, details scoured the valley for wounded, and surgeons worked on all night in the moonlight, while guerillas took pot-shots at them from the trees. Several attempts were made to dislodge sharpshooters in the woods, but screened amid the pinnated foliage of royal palms, and using smokeless powder, they were difficult to locate. Near the angle, two troopers pointed out a suspicious something in a palm-tree, and creeping along the creek bank, we fired several shots, until first a rifle, then a body, fell crashing out into the bush. Two days later, two Cubans cut their way through the tangle to the place I indicated, and found the body of a Spanish sergeant. They brought out his coat with the red chevrons pinned on the sleeve and a Cross of San Fernando on the breast. Several Rough Riders also brought men down, and guerilla soon ceased to trouble. These guerilla had fired indiscriminately at wounded and litter-carriers far behind the firing line. One band even fired into headquarters and at the field hospital, four miles behind San Juan. The enraged soldiers soon ceased to discriminate, and several harmless pacificos were shot plucking mangoes, and many insurgents were killed at night by pickets, for not answering the foreign challenge promptly. Garcia's men grew wary of carrying despatches after dark, and gave our lines a wide berth, though starving Negro pacificos hung round the camps in hundreds, and pestered the soldiers, who berated Cubans in general in consequence.
Late at night, General Shafter cabled Washington that his aggregate losses were ''above four hundred; of these not many are killed.” Later he weakly admitted that he had underestimated the casualties, and asked for forty surgeons and a hospital ship. The anxiety caused by this despatch in the United States was aggravated by a silence at headquarters until July 3rd, when an urgent demand from the War Department elicited the fact that the city was well invested.
The army worked far into the night entrenching, and then sank supperless in their muddy trenches to wait for daylight. A tired and hungry group gathered in a disused drying yard; Crane, Harding, Davis, Burr, Mcintosh, Hare, Glackens, and myself. Then Nicholls rode up and generously disgorged his saddle-bag's. Sir Brian Leighton of the British African Service joined us, and we ate royally on hardtack and canned bacon. We slept where we could, Sir Brian securing two discarded blankets, under which we bivouacked in the sopping grass with some degree of comfort. At midnight the artillery moved to San Juan, and then the silence was broken only by groans of the wounded and hoarse challenges from the guards. At 4.30 am. the first glimmer of dawn was heralded by a volley from the enemy, that drove in our outposts and started the battle raging along the whole line.
Major Dillonback's batteries opened well, but every Spanish rifle was soon directed against the guns, which were barely entrenched, and in great confusion the pieces were dragged from the ridges, that were absolutely untenable at such a range. Thus again the worn-out cavalry and infantry were without artillery support, in a country topographically a gunner's paradise had reconnaissance been made for the selection and preparation of suitable sites. The artillery officers had awaited the formulation of a plan of campaign, and several told me that they received no definite orders until late on July 2nd, when the guns were moved laboriously through the woods, to a ridge on the left of El Pozo, too late to be of effective service.
The failure of the artillery in Cuba may be chiefly attributed to the lack of mobilisation manoeuvres in the American army. Numbers of officers, absolutely proficient in every branch, had never had practical experience with combined branches, mobilised as an effective whole. An army is like a machine, and in the war with Spain the component parts were placed together for the first time, and the working lacked harmony. Constant practice in the field with every corps on a war footing, the commissariat working with the line, can give the desired result. The United States has now adopted an outside policy. Obviously the army must be adjusted to that policy, or the policy to the means of its defence. The blunders of the Santiago campaign proved the weakness of the system, and undoubtedly the object lesson will prove valuable, and should leave the army in the hands of trained soldiers rather than politicians. The staff of a modern army should be composed of officers who have been qualified by an exhaustive course in the staff college. In Cuba, men absolutely ignorant of military affairs held staff positions, and while they .proved their courage and patriotism, the youngest line subaltern was better fitted for the work, and the staff duties fell heavily on the few attached regular officers. The staff appointments of several Cuban gentlemen, notably Senores Maestre, Mendoza, Munoz, and Diaz, proved wise. They were all mentioned in despatches, and received commissions for their services. Senor Munoz was shot through the jaw, but continued on duty. Lieutenant (now Colonel) Miley, who represented headquarters at the front, made superhuman effort to sustain relations with the various brigades, fearlessly exposing himself in the performance of the work of a full staff.
General Bates Independent Brigade, after reinforcing Lawton at Caney, moved over to support at San Juan. Lawton also moved his division on the night of the 1st, but, through a mistake in the road, he was forced to march through by El Pozo, extending and strengthening the lines on the right early on July 2nd. They were soon heavily engaged, receiving shells also from Cervera's fleet. This division marched and fought continuously for sixty hours, with nothing but hardtack and one ration of coffee.
During the battle on the 2nd our losses were much lighter, but the creek bed and road were choked with wounded. In lieu of ambulances a few transport wagons were utilised to take them to the rear. General Shafter has stated that he left ambulances at Tampa, since army wagons bedded with straw make efficient transport for the wounded. At Santiago the straw failed to materialise. When wagons were sent to the front, the semi-naked wounded were laid in rows upon the rough bottoms and jolted back to the hospital. The springless wheels on the rough road made torture enough for the stricken men, but at the so-called rivers, mere streams that four hours' labour with the timber growing on the banks would have bridged, the teams first jolted down the steep banks, throwing the wounded in a bleeding, groaning heap at the head of the wagon. The rear wheels bumped into the water, throwing the human mass rudely apart; and as the wagon was dragged laboriously up the opposite bank, the inmates slid toward the tailboard, shrieking and groaning in their helpless agony. Bandages became loosened, haemorrhages re-started, and men who had gone forth to bravely fight for their country a few hours previously, begged piteously to be killed to end the agony entailed by official negligence.
Communication with the front was difficult and dangerous. Bullets and shells from Santiago fell behind San Juan in continuous hail. Several men wounded at the front were killed when going to the rear. When helping a wounded Rough Rider to the dressing-station, a shell buried itself in the ground at our side and exploded, killing my Cuban mule and blinding us with dirt and splinters. As we hurried to the creek bank, Captain Danforth, the surgeon of the 9th Cavalry, whom I had previously met as physician to the Cuban Government, turned to greet us, and fell shot through both temples. Two wounded men were again hit, and two horses fell writhing over on the Hotchkiss gun to which they were attached. It seemed that the Spaniards purposely directed their fire at this place, protected by the Red Cross, though I believe the configuration of the ground caused the bullets to drop there. Poor Danforth had been a great exponent for Cuba Libre; and as we gently lifted his quivering body to shelter, I remembered his former prognostication, “I shall die for Cuba.”
There was no lull in the firing all day, and one instinctively worked among the wounded, for “the harvest was plenteous, but the labourers were few.” During the afternoon the first attempts were made to bury the dead. Chaplain Brown conducted a service under fire over the grave of Captain O'Neil, and later assisted Chaplain Swift with a general burial in the valley. It may console the friends of many who fell during those terrible days, to know that their dear ones were not thrust into unhallowed graves when they fell on the battlefield, thanks only to these devoted chaplains, who stood bareheaded, motionless, the target for sharpshooters, in the path of spent fire, and emerged unscathed through divine protection. The dead were shrouded in blankets or tent fabric, and were laid in reverse rows in a large pit. There were but four mourners, two Negroes, a corporal of the 71st, and myself. Erelong bullets began to whistle around, but neither chaplain hesitated. “Ashes to ashes! Dust to dust!” Dr. Brown's voice broke; his colleague finished the service. Then each chaplain seized a spade and filled the grave.
At sunset General Shafter started to the front for the first time. Cowardice is certainly not one of his attributes, for