XI. THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR
When the news reached Richard that the Spanish-American
War seemed inevitable he returned at once to New York. Here
he spent a few days in arranging to act as correspondent for
the New York Herald, the London Times, and
Scribner's
Magazine, and then started for Key West.
Off Key West — April 24th, 1898.
On Board Smith, Herald Yacht.
[DEAR MOTHER:]
I wrote you such a cross gloomy letter that I must drop
you another to make up for it. Since I wrote that an hour ago
we have received word that war is declared and I am now on
board the Smith. She is a really fine vessel as big as
Benedict's yacht with plenty of deck room and big bunks. I
have everything I want on board and The Herald men are two
old Press men so we are good friends. If I had had another
hour I believe I could have got a berth on the flag ship for
Roosevelt telegraphed me the longest and strongest letter on
the subject a man could write instructing the Admiral to take
me on as I was writing history. Chadwick seemed willing but
then the signal to set sail came and we had to stampede. All
the ships have their sailing pennants up. It is as calm as a
mirror thank goodness but as hot as hell. We expect to be off
Havana tomorrow at sunset. Then what we do
no one knows. The crew is on strike above and the mate is
wrestling with them but as it seems to be only a question of a
few dollars it will come out all right. We expect to be back
here on Sunday but may stay out later. Don't worry if you
don't hear. It is grand to see the line of battleships five
miles out like dogs in a leash puffing and straining. Thank
God they'll let them slip any minute now. I don't know where
"Stenie" is. I am now going to take a nap while the smooth
water lasts.
DICK.
— Flagship New York —
Off Havana,
April 26, 1898.
[DEAR FAMILY: ]
I left Key West on the morning of the 24th in the
Dolphin with the idea of trying to get on board the
flagship
on the strength of Roosevelt's letter. Stenie Bonsal got on
just before she sailed, not as a correspondent, but as a
magazine-writer for McClure's, who have given him a
commission, and because he could act as interpreter. I left
the flagship the morning of the day I arrived. The captain of
the Dolphin apologized to his officers while we were at
anchor in the harbor of Key West, because his was a "cabin"
and not a "gun" ship, and because he had to deliver the mails
at once on board the flagship and not turn out of his course
for anything, no matter how tempting a prize it might appear
to be. He then proceeded to chase every sail and column of
smoke on the horizon, so that the course was like a cat's
cradle. We first headed for a big steamer and sounded
"general quarters." It was fine to see the faces of the
apprentices as they ran to get their cutlasses and revolvers,
their eyes open and their hair on end, with the hope that they
were to board a Spanish battleship. But at the first gun she
ran up an American flag, and on getting nearer we saw she was
a Mallory steamer. An hour later we chased another steamer,
but she was already a prize, with a prize crew on board. Then
we had a chase for three hours at night; after what we
believed was the
Panama, but she ran away from us. We
fired
three shells after her, and she still ran and got away. The
next morning I went on board the
New York with Zogbaum,
the
artist. Admiral Sampson is a fine man; he impressed me very
much. He was very much bothered at the order forbidding
correspondents on the ship, but I talked like a father to him,
and he finally gave in, and was very nice about the way he did
it. Since then I have had the most interesting time and the
most novel experience of my life. We have been lying from
three to ten miles off shore. We can see Morro Castle and
houses and palms plainly without a glass, and with one we can
distinguish men and women in the villages. It is, or was,
frightfully hot, and you had to keep moving all the time to
get out of the sun. I mess with the officers, but the other
correspondents, the Associated Press and Ralph Paine of
The
World and
Press of Philadelphia, with the middies.
Paine
got on because Scovel of
The World has done so much secret
service work for the admiral, running in at night and taking
soundings, and by day making photographs of the coast, also
carrying messages to the insurgents.
It is a wonderful ship, like a village, and as big as the
Paris. We drift around in the sun or the moonlight, and
when we see a light, chase after it. There is a band on board
that plays twice a day. It is like
a luxurious yacht, with none of the ennui of a yacht. The
other night, when we were heading off a steamer and firing
six-pounders across her bows, the band was playing the "star"
song from the Meistersinger. Wagner and War struck me as the
most fin de siecle idea of war that I had ever heard of. The
nights have been perfectly beautiful, full of moonlight, when
we sit on deck and smoke. It is like looking down from the
roof of a high building. Yesterday they brought a Spanish
officer on board, he had been picked up in a schooner with his
orderly. I was in Captain Chadwick's cabin when he was
brought in, and Scovel interpreted for the captain, who was
more courteous than any Spanish Don that breathes. The
officer said he had been on his way to see his wife and newly
born baby at Matanzas, and had no knowledge that war had been
declared. I must say it did me good to see him. I remembered
the way the Spanish officers used to insult me in a language
which I, fortunately for me, could not understand, and how I
hated the sight of them, and I enjoyed seeing his red and
yellow cockade on the table before me, while I sat in a big
armchair and smoked and was in hearing of the marines drilling
on the upper deck. He was invited to go to breakfast with the
officers, and I sat next to him, and as it happened to be my
turn to treat, I had the satisfaction of pouring drinks down
his throat. I told stories about Spanish officers all the
time to the rest of the mess, pretending I was telling them
something else by making drawings on the tablecloth, so that
the unhappy officer on his other side, who was talking Spanish
to him, had a hard time not to laugh. I told Zogbaum he ought
to draw a picture of him at the mess to show how we treated
prisoners, and a companion
one of the captain of the
Compeliton, who came over
with us on the
Dolphin, and who showed us the marks of the
ropes on his wrists and arms the Spaniards had bound him with
when he was in Cabanas for nine months. The orderly messed
with the bluejackets, who treated him in the most hospitable
manner. He was a poor little peasant boy, half starved and
hollow-eyed, and so scared that he could hardly stand, but
they took great pride in the fact that they had made him eat
three times of everything. They are, without prejudice, the
finest body of men and boys you would care to see, and as
humorous and polite and keen as any class of men I ever met.
The war could be ended in a month so far as the island of
Cuba is concerned, if the troops were ready and brought over
here. The coast to Havana for ten miles is broad enough for
them to march along it, and the heights above could be covered
the entire time by the fleet, so that it would be absolutely
impossible for any force to withstand the awful hailstorm they
would play on it. Transports carrying the provisions would be
protected by the ships on the gulf side, and the guns at Morro
could be shut up in twenty-four hours. This is not a dream,
but the most obvious and feasible plan, and it is a disgrace
if the Washington politicians delay. As to health, this is
the healthiest part of the coast. The trade winds blow every
day of the year, and the fever talk is all nonsense. The army
certainly has delayed most scandalously in mobilizing. This
talk of waiting a month is suicide. It is a terrible expense.
It keeps the people on a strain, destroys business, and the
health of the troops at Tampa is, to my mind, in much greater
danger than it would be on the hills around Havana, where, as
Scovel says, there is as much yellow fever as there is snow.
Tell Dad to urge them to act promptly. In the meanwhile I am
having a magnificent time. I am burned and hungry and losing
about a ton of fat a day, and I sleep finely. The other night
the
Porter held us up, but it was a story that never got
into the papers. I haven't missed a trick so far except not
getting on the flagship from the first, but that does not
count now since I am on board.
I haven't written anything yet, but I am going to begin
soon. I expect to make myself rich on this campaign. I get
ten cents a word from Scribner's for everything I send
them,
if it is only a thousand words, and I get four hundred dollars
a week salary from The Times, and all my expenses. I
haven't had any yet, but when I go back and join the army, I
am going to travel en suite with an assistant and the best and
gentlest ponies; a courier and a servant, a tent and a
secretary and a typewriter, so that Miles will look like a
second lieutenant.
When I came out here on the Dolphin I said I was
going to Tampa, lying just on the principle that it is no other
newspaper-man's business where you are going. So, The
Herald man at Key West, hearing this, and not knowing I
was
going to the flagship, called Long, making a strong kick
about the correspondents, Bonsal, Remington and Paine, who
are, or were, with the squadron. Stenie left two days ago,
hoping to get a commission on the staff of General Lee. So
yesterday Scovel told me Long had cabled in answer to The
Herald's protests to the admiral as follows: "Complaints
have been received that correspondents Paine, Remington and
Bonsal are with the squadron. Send them ashore at once.
There must be no favoritism."
Scovel got the admiral at once to cable Long on his behalf
because of his services as a spy, but as Roosevelt had done so
much for me, I would not appeal over him, and this morning I
sent in word to the admiral that I was leaving the ship and
would like to pay my respects. Sampson is a thin man with a
gray beard. He looks like a college professor and has very
fine, gentle eyes. He asked me why I meant to leave the ship,
and I said I had heard one of the torpedo boats was going to
Key West, and I thought I would go with her if he would allow
it. He asked if I had seen the cable from Long, and I said I
had heard of it, and that I was really going so as not to
embarrass him with my presence. He said, "I have received
three different orders from the Secretary, one of them telling
me I could have such correspondents on board as were agreeable
to me. He now tells me that they must all go. You can do as
you wish. You are perfectly welcome to remain until the
conflict of orders is cleared up." I saw he was mad and that
he wanted me to stay, or at least not to go of my own wish, so
that he could have a grievance out of it — if he had to send me
away after having been told he could have those with him who
were agreeable to him. Captain Chadwick was in the cabin, and
said, "Perhaps Mr. Davis had better remain another twenty-four
hours." The admiral added, "Ships are going to Key West
daily." Then Chadwick repeated that he thought I had better
stay another day, and made a motion to me to do so. So I said
I would, and now I am waiting to see what is going to happen.
Outside, Chadwick told me that something in the way of an
experience would probably come off, so I have hopes. By this
time, of course, you know all about it. I shall finish this
later.
We began bombarding Matanzas twenty minutes after I wrote
the above. It was great. I guess I got a beat, as The
Herald tug is the only one in sight.
DICK.
Flagship-Off Havana
April 30th, 1898.
[DEAR FAMILY:]
You must not mind if I don't write often, but I feel that
you see The Herald every day and that tells you of what I
am
seeing and doing, and I am writing so much, and what with
keeping notes and all, I haven't much time — What you probably
want to know is that I am well and that my sciatica is not
troubling me at all — Mother always wants to know that. On the
other hand I am on the best ship from which to see things and
on the safest, as she can move quicker and is more heavily
armored than any save the battleships — The fact that the
admiral is on board and that she is the flagship is also a
guarantee that she will not be allowed to expose herself. I
was very badly scared when I first came to Key West for fear I
should be left especially when I didn't make the flagship —
But I have not missed a single trick so far — Bonsal missed
the bombardment and so did Stephen Crane — All the press boats
were away except The Herald's. I had to write the story
in
fifteen minutes, so it was no good except that we had it
exclusively —
I am sending a short story of the first shot fired to the
Scribner's and am arranging with them to bring out a book on
the Campaign. I have asked them to announce it as it will
help me immensely here for it is as an historian and not as a
correspondent that I get on over those men who are
correspondents for papers
only. I have made I think my position here very strong and
the admiral is very much my friend as are also his staff.
Crane on the other hand took the place of Paine who was
exceedingly popular with every one and it has made it hard for
Crane to get into things — I am having a really royal time, it
is so beautiful by both night and day and there is always
color and movement and the most rigid discipline with the most
hearty good feeling — I get on very well with the crew too,
one of them got shot by a revolver's going off and I asked the
surgeon if I might not help at the operation so that I might
learn to be useful, and to get accustomed to the sight of
wounds and surgery — It was a wonderful thing to see, and I
was confused as to whether I admired the human body more or
the way the surgeon's understood and mastered it — The sailor
would not give way to the ether and I had to hold him for an
hour while they took out his whole insides and laid them on
the table and felt around inside of him as though he were a
hollow watermelon. Then they put his stomach back and sewed
it in and then sewed up his skin and he was just as good as
new. We carried him over to a cot and he came to, and looked
up at us. We were all bare-armed and covered with his blood,
and then over at the operating table, which was also covered
with his blood. He was gray under his tan and his lips were
purple and his eyes were still drunk with the ether — But he
looked at our sanguinary hands and shook his head sideways on
the pillow and smiled — "You'se can't kill me," he said, "I'm
a
New Yorker, by God — you'se can't kill me."
The
Herald
cabled for a story as to how the crew of the
New York
behaved in action. I think I shall send them that although
there are a few things the people
had better take for granted — Of course, we haven't been "in
action" yet but the first bombardment made me nervous until it
got well started. I think every one was rather nervous and it
was chiefly to show them there was nothing to worry about that
we fired off the U. S. guns. They talk like veterans now — It
was much less of a strain than I had expected, there was no
standing on your toes nor keeping your mouth open or putting
wadding in your ears. I took photographs most of the time,
and they ought to be excellent — what happened was that you
were thrown up off the deck just as you are when an elevator
starts with a sharp jerk and there was an awful noise like the
worst clap of thunder you ever heard close to your ears, then
the smoke covered everything and you could hear the shot going
through the air like a giant rocket — The shots they fired at
us did not cut any ice except a shrapnel that broke just over
the main mast and which reminded me of Greece — The other
shots fell short — The best thing was to see the Captains of
the
Puritan and
Cincinnati frantically signalling
to be
allowed to fire too — A little fort had opened on us from the
left so they plugged at that, it was a wonderful sight, the
Monitor was swept with waves and the guns seemed to come
out
of the water. The
Cincinnati did the best of all. Her
guns
were as fast as the reports of a revolver, a self-cocking
revolver, when one holds the trigger for the whole six. We
got some copies of
The Lucha on the
Panama and
their
accounts of what was going on in Havana were the best reading
I ever saw — They probably reported the Matanzas bombardment
as a Spanish victory — The firing yesterday was very tame. We
all sat about on deck and the band played all the time — We
didn't
even send the men to quarters — I do not believe the army
intends to move for two weeks yet, so I shall stay here. They
seem to want me to do so, and I certainly want to — But that
army is too slow for words, and we love the "Notes from the
Front" in
The Tribune, telling about the troops at
Chickamauga — I believe what will happen is that a chance shot
will kill some of our men, and the Admiral won't do a thing
but knock hell out of whatever fort does it and land a party
of marines and bluejackets — Even if they only occupy the
place for 24 hours, it will beat that army out and that's what
I want. They'll get second money in the Campaign if they get
any, unless they brace up and come over — I have the very luck
of the British Army, I walked into an open hatch today and
didn't stop until I caught by my arms and the back of my neck.
It was very dark and they had opened it while I was in a
cabin. The Jackie whose business it was to watch it was worse
scared than I was, and I looked up at him while still hanging
to the edges with my neck and arms and said "why didn't you
tell me?" He shook his head and said, "that's so, Sir, I
certainly should have told you, I certainly should" — They're
exactly like children and the reason is, I think, because they
are so shut off from the contamination of the world. One of
these ships is like living in a monastery, and they are as
disciplined and gentle as monks, and as reckless as cowboys.
When I go forward and speak to one of them they all gather
round and sit on the deck in circles and we talk and they
listen and make the most interesting comments — The middy who
fired the first gun at Matanzas is a modest alert boy about 18
years old and crazy about his work — So, the Captain selected
him for the honor
and also because there is such jealousy between the bow and
stern guns that he decided not to risk feelings being hurt by
giving it to either — So, Boone who was at Annapolis a month
ago was told to fire the shot — We all took his name and he
has grown about three inches. We told him all of the United
States and England would be ringing with his name — When I was
alone he came and sat down on a gull beside me and told me he
was very glad they had let him fire that first gun because his
mother was an invalid and he had gone into the navy against
her wish and he hoped now that she would be satisfied when she
saw his name in the papers. He was too sweet and boyish about
it for words and I am going to take a snapshot at him and put
his picture in
Scribner's — "he only stands about so high — "
DICK.
I enclose a souvenir of the bombardment. Please keep it
carefully for me — It was the first shot "in anger" in thirty
years.
TAMPA, May 3rd, 1898.
[DEAR NORA:]
We are still here and probably will be. It is a merry
war, if there were only some girls here the place would be
perfect. I don't know what's the matter with the American
girl — here am I — and Stenie and Willie Chanler and Frederick
Remington and all the boy officers of the army and not one
solitary, ugly, plain, pretty, or beautiful girl. I bought a
fine pony to-day, her name was Ellaline but I thought that was
too much glory for Ellaline so I diffused it over the whole
company by re-christening her Gaiety Girl, because she is so
quiet, all the Gaiety Girls I know are quiet.
She never does what I tell her anyway, so it doesn't matter
what I call her. But when this cruel war is over ($6 a day
with bath room adjoining) I am going to have an oil painting
of her labelled "Gaiety Girl the Kentucky Mare that carried
the news of the fall of Havana to Matanzas, fifty miles under
fire and Richard Harding Davis." To-morrow I am going to buy
a saddle and a servant. War is a cruel thing especially to
army officers. They have to wear uniforms and are not allowed
to take off their trousers to keep cool — They take off
everything else except their hats and sit in the dining room
without their coats or collars — That's because it is war
time. They are terrible brave — you can see it by the way they
wear bouquets on their tunics and cigarette badges and Cuban
flags and by not saluting their officers. One General counted
today and forty enlisted men passed him without saluting. The
army will have to do a lot of fighting to make itself solid
with me. They are mounted police. We have a sentry here, he
sits in a rocking chair. Imagine one of Sampson's or Dewey's
bluejackets sitting down even on a gun carriage. Wait till I
write my book. I wouldn't say a word now but when I write
that book I'll give them large space rates. I am writing it
now, the first batch comes out in Scribner's in July.
Love to you all.
DICK.
During the early days of the war, Richard received the
appointment of a captaincy, but on the advice of his friends
that his services were more valuable as a correspondent, he
refused the commission. The following letter shows that at
least at the time my
brother regretted the decision, but as events turned out he
succeeded in rendering splendid service not only as a
correspondent but in the field.
TAMPA — May 14, 1898.
[DEAR CHAS.]
On reflection I am greatly troubled that I declined the
captaincy. It is unfortunate that I had not time to consider
it. We shall not have another war and I can always be a war
correspondent in other countries but never again have a chance
to serve in my own. The people here think it was the right
thing to do but the outside people won't. Not that I care
about that, but I think I was weak not to chance it. I don't
know exactly what I ought to do. When I see all these kid
militia men enlisted it makes me feel like the devil. I've no
doubt many of them look upon it as a sort of a holiday and an
outing and like it for the excitement, but it would bore me to
death. The whole thing would bore me if I thought I had to
keep at it for a year or more. That is the fault of my having
had too much excitement and freedom. It spoils me to make
sacrifices that other men can make. Whichever way it comes
out I shall be sorry and feel I did not do the right thing.
Lying around this hotel is enough to demoralize anybody. We
are much more out of it than you are, and one gets cynical and
loses interest. On the other hand I would be miserable to go
back and have done nothing. It is a question of character
entirely and I don't feel I've played the part at all. It's
all very well to say you are doing more by writing, but are
you? It's an easy game to look on and pat the other chaps on
the back with a few paragraphs, that is cheap patriotism.
They're
taking chances and you're not and when the war's over they'll
be happy and I won't. The man that enlists or volunteers even
if he doesn't get further than Chickamauga or Gretna Green and
the man who doesn't enlist at all but minds his own business
is much better off than I will be writing about what other men
do and not doing it myself, especially as I had a chance of a
life time, and declined it. I'll always feel I lost in
character by not sticking to it whether I had to go to Arizona
or Governor's Island. I was unfortunate in having Lee and
Remington to advise me. We talked for two hours in Fred's
bedroom and they were both dead against it and Lee composed my
telegram to the president. Now, I feel sure I did wrong.
Shafter did not care and the other officers were delighted and
said it was very honorable and manly giving me credit for
motives I didn't have. I just didn't think it was good enough
although I wanted it too and I missed something I can never
get again. I am very sad about it. I know all the arguments
for not taking it but as a matter of fact I should have done
so. I would have made a good aide, and had I got a chance I
certainly would have won out and been promoted. That there
are fools appointed with me is no answer. I wouldn't have
stayed in their class long.
DICK.
TAMPA, May 29, 1898.
[DEAR CHAS.:]
The cigars came; they are O. K. and a great treat after
Tampa products. Captain Lee and I went out to the volunteer
camps today: Florida, Alabama, Ohio and Michigan, General
Lee's push, and it has depressed me very much. I have been so
right about
so many things these last five years, and was laughed at for
making much of them. Now all I urged is proved to be correct;
nothing our men wear is right. The shoes, the hats, the
coats, all are dangerous to health and comfort; one-third of
the men cannot wear the regulation shoe because it cuts the
instep, and buy their own, and the volunteers are like the
Cuban army in appearance. The Greek army, at which I made
such sport, is a fine organization in comparison as far as
outfit goes; of course, there is no comparison in the spirit
of the men. One colonel of the Florida regiment told us that
one-third of his men had never fired a gun. They live on the
ground; there are no rain trenches around the tents, or
gutters along the company streets; the latrines are dug to
windward of the camp, and all the refuse is burned to
windward.
Half of the men have no uniforms nor shoes. I pointed
out some of the unnecessary discomforts the men were
undergoing through ignorance, and one colonel, a Michigan
politician, said, "Oh, well, they'll learn. It will be a good
lesson for them." Instead of telling them, or telling their
captains, he thinks it best that they should find things out
by suffering. I cannot decide whether to write anything about
it or not. I cannot see where it could do any good, for it is
the system that is wrong — the whole volunteer system, I mean.
Captain Lee happened to be in Washington when the first Manila
outfit was starting from San Francisco, and it was on his
representations that they gave the men hammocks, and took a
store of Mexican dollars. They did not know that Mexican
dollars are the only currency of the East, and were expecting
to pay the men in drafts on New York.
Isn't that a pitiable situation when a captain of an English
company happens to stray into the war office, and happens to
have a good heart and busies himself to see that our own men
are supplied with hammocks and spending money. None of our
officers had ever seen khaki until they saw Lee's, nor a cork
helmet until they saw mine and his; now, naturally, they won't
have anything else, and there is not another one in the
country. The helmets our troops wear would be smashed in one
tropical storm, and they are so light that the sun beats
through them. They are also a glaring white, and are cheap
and nasty and made of pasteboard. The felt hats are just as
bad; the brim is not broad enough to protect them from the sun
or to keep the rain off their necks, and they are made of such
cheap cotton stuff that they grow hard when they are wet and
heavy, instead of shedding the rain as good felt would do.
They have always urged that our uniforms, though not smart nor
"for show," were for use. The truth is, as they all admit,
that for the tropics they are worse than useless, and that in
any climate they are cheap and poor.
I could go on for pages, but it has to be written later;
now they would only think it was an attack on the army. But
it is sickening to see men being sacrificed as these men will
be. This is the worst season of all in the Philippines. The
season of typhoons and rainstorms and hurricanes, and they
would have sent the men off without anything to sleep on but
the wet ground and a wet blanket. It has been a great lesson
for me, and I have rubber tents, rubber blankets, rubber coats
and hammocks enough for an army corps. I have written nothing
for the paper,
because, if I started to tell the truth at all, it would do no
good, and it would open up a hell of an outcry from all the
families of the boys who have volunteered. Of course, the
only answer is a standing army of a hundred thousand, and no
more calling on the patriotism of men unfitted and untrained.
It is the sacrifice of the innocents. The incompetence and,
unreadiness of the French in 1870 was no worse than our own is
now. It is a terrible and pathetic spectacle, and the
readiness of the volunteers to be sacrificed is all the more
pathetic. It seems almost providential that we had this
false-alarm call with Spain to show the people how utterly
helpless they are.
With love,
DICK.
TAMPA, June 9th, 1898.
Well, here we are again. Talk of the "Retreat from
Ottawa" I've retreated more in this war than the Greeks did.
If they don't brace up soon, I'll go North and refuse to
"recognize" the war. I feel I deserve a pension and a medal
as it is. We had everything on board and our cabins assigned
us and our "war kits" in which we set forth taken off, and
were in yachting flannels ready for the five days cruise. I
had the devil of a time getting out to the flagship, as they
call the headquarters boat. I went out early in the morning
of the night when I last wrote you. I stayed up all that
night watching troops arrive and lending a helping hand and a
word of cheer to dispirited mules and men, also segars and
cool drinks, none of them had had food for twenty-four hours
and the yellow Florida people having robbed them all day had
shut up and wouldn't open their miserable shops. They even
put sentries over the drinking water of the
express company which is only making about a million a day
out of the soldiers. So their soldiers slept along the
platform and trucks rolled by them all night, shaking the
boards on which they lay by an inch or two. About four we
heard that Shafter was coming and an officer arrived to have
his luggage placed on the Seguranca. I left them all on the
pier carrying their own baggage and sweating and dripping and
no one having slept. Their special train had been three hours
in coming nine miles. I hired a small boat and went off to
the flagship alone but the small boat began to leak and I
bailed and the colored boy pulled and the men on the
transports cheered us on. Just at the sinking point I hailed
a catboat and we transferred the Admiral's flag to her and
also my luggage. The rest of the day we spent on the
transport. We left it this morning. Some are still on it but
as they are unloading all the horses and mules from the other
transports fifteen having died from the heat below deck and as
they cannot put them on again under a day, I am up here to get
cool and to stretch my legs. The transport is all right if it
were not so awfully crowded. I am glad I held out to go with
the Headquarter staff. I would have died on the regular press
boat, as it is the men are interesting on our boat. We have
all the military attaches and Lee, Remington, Whitney and
Bonsal. The reason we did not go was because last night the
Eagle and
Resolute saw two Spanish cruisers and two
torpedo boats laying for us outside, only five miles away.
What they need with fourteen ships of war to guard a bottled
up fleet and by leaving twenty-six transports some of them
with 1,400 men on them without any protection but a small
cruiser and one gun boat is beyond me. The whole thing is
beyond me. It is the most awful picnic that
ever happened, you wouldn't credit the mistakes that are made.
It is worse than the French at Sedan a million times. We are
just amateurs at war and about like the Indians Columbus
discovered. I am exceedingly pleased with myself at taking it
so good naturedly. I would have thought I would have gone mad
or gone home long ago. Bonsal and Remington threaten to go
every minute. Miles tells me we shall have to wait until
those cruisers are located or bottled up. I'm tired of
bottling up fleets. I like the way Dewey bottles them. What
a story that would have made. Twenty-six transports with as
many thousand men sunk five miles out and two-thirds of them
drowned. Remember the
Maine indeed! they'd better
remember
the
Maine and brace up. If we wait until they catch those
boats I may be here for another month as we cannot dare go
away for long or far. If we decide to go with a convoy which
is what we ought to do, we may start in a day or two. Nothing
you read in the papers is correct. Did I tell you that Miles
sent Dorst after me the other night and made me a long speech,
saying he thought I had done so well in refusing the
commission. I was glad he felt that way about it. Well, lots
of love. I'm now going to take a bath. God bless you, this
is a "merry war."
RICHARD.
In sight of Santiago —
June 26th, 1898.
[DEAR CHAS.:]
We have come to a halt here in a camp along the trail to
Santiago. You can see it by climbing a hill. Instead of
which I am now sitting by a fine stream on a cool rock. I
have discovered that you really enjoy things more when you are
not getting many comforts than you do when you have all you
want. That sounds
dull but it is most consoling. I had a bath this morning in
these rocks that I would not have given up for all the good
dinners I ever had at the Waldorf, or the Savoy. It just went
up and down my spine and sent thrills all over me. It is most
interesting now and all the troubles of the dull days of
waiting at Tampa and that awful time on the troopship are
over. The army is stretched out along the trail from the
coast for six miles. Santiago lies about five miles ahead of
us. I am very happy and content and the book for Scribners
ought to be an interesting one. It is really very hard that
my despatches are limited to 100 words for there are lots of
chances. The fault lies with the army people at Washington,
who give credentials to any one who asks. To
The
Independent and other periodicals — in no sense newspapers,
and they give seven to one paper, consequently we as a class
are a pest to the officers and to each other. Fortunately,
the survival of the fittest is the test and only the best men
in every sense get to the front. There are fifty others at
the base who keep the wire loaded with rumors, so when after
great difficulty we get the correct news back to Daiquire a
Siboney there is no room for it. Some of the "war
correspondents" have absolutely nothing but the clothes they
stand in, and the others had to take up subscriptions for
them. They gambled all the time on the transports and are
ensconced now at the base with cards and counters and nothing
else. Whitney has turned out great at the work and I am glad
he is not on a daily paper or he would share everything with
me. John Fox, Whitney and I are living on Wood's rough
riders. We are very welcome and Roosevelt has us at Headquarters
but, of course, we see the men we know all the time. You get more
news with the other regiments
but the officers, even the Generals, are such narrow minded
slipshod men that we only visit them to pick up information.
Whitney and I were the only correspondents that saw the fight
at Guasimas. He was with the regulars but I had the luck to
be with Roosevelt. He is sore but still he saw more than any
one else and is proportionally happy. Still he naturally
would have liked to have been with our push. We were within
thirty yards of the Spaniards and his crowd were not nearer
than a quarter of a mile which was near enough as they had
nearly as many killed. Gen. Chaffee told me to-day that it
was Wood's charge that won the day, without it the tenth could
not have driven the Spaniards back — Wood is a great young
man, he has only one idea or rather all his ideas run in one
direction, his regiment, he eats and talks nothing else. He
never sleeps more than four hours and all the rest of the time
he is moving about among the tents — Between you and me and
the policeman, it was a very hot time — Maybe if I drew you a
map you would understand why.
Wood and Gen. Young, by agreement the night before and
without orders from anybody decided to advance at daybreak and
dislodge the Spaniards from Las Guasimas. They went by two
narrow trails single file, the two trails were along the
crests of a line of hills with a valley between. The dotted
line is the trail we should have taken had the Cubans told us
it existed, if we had done so we would have had the Spaniards
in the frontband rear as General Young would have caught them
where they expected him to come, and we would have caught them
where they were not looking for us. Of course, the Cubans who
are worthless in every way never told us of this trail until
we had had the meeting. No one knew we were near Spaniards
until both columns were on the place where the two trails
meet. Then our scouts came back and reported them and the
companies were scattered out as you see them in the little
dots. The Spaniards were absolutely hidden not over 25 per
cent of the men saw one of them for two hours — I ran out with
the company on the right of the dotted line, marked "our
position." I thought it was a false alarm and none of us
believed there were any Spaniards this side of Santiago. The
ground was covered with high grass and cactus and vines so
that you could not see twenty feet ahead, the men had to beat
the vines with their carbines to get through them. We had not
run fifty yards through the jungle before they opened on us
with a quick firing gun at a hundred yards. I saw the enemy
on the hill across the valley and got six sharp shooters and
began on them, then the fire got so hot that we had to lie on
our faces and crawl back to the rear. I had a wounded man to
carry and was in a very bad way because I had sciatica,
Two of his men took him off while I stopped to help a worse
wounded trooper, but I found he was dead. When I had come
back for him in an hour, the vultures had eaten out his eyes
and lips. In the meanwhile a trooper stood up on the crest
with a guidon and waved it at the opposite trail to find out
if the firing there was from Spaniards or Len Young's negroes.
He was hit in three places but established the fact that Young
was up on the trail on our right across the valley for they
cheered. He was a man who had run on the Gold Ticket for
Congress in Arizona, and consequently, as some one said,
naturally should have led a forlorn hope. A blackguard had
just run past telling them that Wood was killed and that he
had been ordered to Siboney for reinforcements. That was how
the report spread that we were cut to pieces — A reporter who
ran away from Young's column was responsible for the story
that I was killed. He meant Marshall who was on the left of
the line and who was shot through the spine — There was a lot
of wounded at the base and the fighting in front was fearful
to hear. It was as fast as a hard football match and you must
remember it lasted two full hours; during that time the men
were on their feet all the time or crawling on their hands —
Not one of them, with the exception of — — , and a Sergeant
who threw away his gun and ran, went a step back. It was like
playing blindman's buff and you were it. I got separated once
and was scared until I saw the line again, as my leg was very
bad and I could not get about over the rough ground. I went
down the trail and I found Capron dying and the whole place
littered with discarded blankets and haversacks. I also found
Fish and pulled him under cover — he was quite dead — Then I
borrowed a carbine and joined Capron's troop, a second
lieutenant and his Sergeant were in command. The man next me
in line got a bullet through his sleeve and one through his
shirt and you could see where it went in and came out without
touching the skin. The firing was very high and we were in no
danger so I told the lieutenant to let us charge across an
open place and take a tin shack which was held by the
Spaniards' rear guard, for they were open in retreat.
Roosevelt ordered his men to do the same thing and we ran
forward cheering across the open and then dropped in the grass
and fired. I guess I fired about twenty rounds and then
formed into a strategy board and went off down the trail to
scout. I got lonely and was coming back when I met another
trooper who sat down and said he was too hot to run in any
direction Spaniard or no Spaniard. So we sat down and panted.
At last he asked me if I was R. H. D. and I said I was and he
said "I'm Dean, I met you in Harvard in the racquet court."
Then we embraced — the tenth came up then and it was all over.
My leg, thank goodness, is all right again and has been so for
three days. It was only the running about that caused it. I
won't have to run again as I have a horse now and there will
be no more ambushes and moreover we have 12,000 men around
us — Being together that way in a tight place has made us all
friends and I guess I'll stick to the regiment. Send this to
dear Mother and tell her I was not born to be killed. I ought
to tell you more of the charming side of the life — we are all
dirty and hungry and sleep on the ground and have grand talks
on every subject around the headquarters tent. I was never
more happy and content and never so well. It is hot but at
night it
is quite cool and there has been no rain only a few showers.
No one is ill and there have been no cases of fever. I have
not heard from you or any one since the 14th, which is not
really long but so much goes on that it seems so. Lots of
love to you all.
DICK.
After reading this over I ought perhaps to say that the
position of the real correspondents is absolutely the very
best. No one confounds us with the men at the base, and
nothing they have they deny us. We are treated immeasurably
better than the poor attaches who are still on the ship and
who if they were spies could not be treated worse. But for
Whitney, Remington and myself nothing is too good. Generals
fight to have us on their staffs and all that sort of thing,
so I really cannot complain, except about the fact that our
real news is crowded out by the faker in the rear.
SANTIAGO.
Headquarters
Cavalry Division, U. S. Army.
Headqrs. Wood's Rough Riders.
June 29th, 1898.
[DEAR DAD:]
I suppose you are back from Marion now and I have missed
you. I can't tell you how sorry I am. I wanted to see you
coming up the street this summer in your knickerbockers and
with no fish, but still happy. Never mind, we shall do the
theatres this Fall, and have good walks downtown. I hope
Mother will come up and visit me this September, at Marion and
sit on Allen's and on the Clarks' porch and we can have Chas.
too. I suppose he will have had his
holiday but he can come up for a Sunday. We expect to move up
on Santiago the day after to-morrow, and it's about time, for
the trail will not be passable much longer. It rains every
day at three o'clock for an hour and such rain you never
guessed. It is three inches high for an hour. Then we all go
out naked and dig trenches to get it out of the way. It is
very rough living. I have to confess that I never knew how
well off I was until I got to smoking Durham tobacco and I've
only half a bag of that left. The enlisted men are smoking
dried horse droppings, grass, roots and tea. Some of them
can't sleep they are so nervous for the want of it, but to-day
a lot came up and all will be well for them. I've had a
steady ration of coffee, bacon and hard tack for a week and
one mango, to night we had beans. Of course, what they ought
to serve is rice and beans as fried bacon is impossible in
this heat. Still, every one is well. This is the best crowd
to be with — they are so well educated and so interesting. The
regular army men are very dull and narrow and would bore one
to death. We have Wood, Roosevelt, Lee, the British Attache,
Whitney and a Doctor Church, a friend of mine from Princeton,
who is quite the most cheerful soul and the funniest I ever
met. He carried four men from the firing line the other day
back half a mile to the hospital tent. He spends most of his
time coming around headquarters in an undershirt of mine and a
gold bracelet fighting tarantulas. I woke up the other
morning with one seven inches long and as hairy as your head
reposing on my pillow. My sciatica bothers me but has not
prevented me seeing everything and I can dig rain gutters and
cut wood with any of them. It is very funny to see Larned,
the tennis
champion, whose every movement at Newport was applauded by
hundreds of young women, marching up and down in the wet
grass. Whitney and I guy him. To-day a sentry on post was
reading "As You Like It" and whenever I go down the line half
the men want to know who won the boat race — To-day Wood sent
me out with a detail on a pretense of scouting but really to
give them a chance to see the country. They were all college
boys, with Willie Tiffany as sergeant and we had a fine time
and could see the Spanish sentries quite plainly without a
glass. I hope you will not worry over this long separation.
I don't know of any experience I have had which has done me so
much good, and being with such a fine lot of fellows is a
great pleasure. The scenery is very beautiful when it is not
raining. I have a cot raised off the ground in the Colonel's
tent and am very well off. If Chaffee or Lawton, who are the
finest type of officers I ever saw, were in command, we would
have been fighting every day and would probably have been in
by this time. This weather shows that Havana must be put off
after Porto Rico. They cannot campaign in this mud.
DICK.
SANTIAGO, July 1898.
[DEAR FAMILY:]
This is just to reassure you that I am all right. I and
Marshall were the only correspondents with Roosevelt. We were
caught in a clear case of ambush. Every precaution had been
taken, but the natives knew the ground and our men did not.
It was the hottest, nastiest fight I ever imagined. We never
saw the enemy except glimpses. Our men fell all over the
place, shouting to the others not to mind them, but
to go on. I got excited and took a carbine and charged the
sugar house, which was what is called the key to the position.
If the men had been regulars I would have sat in the rear as
B — — did, but I knew every other one of them, had played
football, and all that sort of thing, with them, so I thought
as an American I ought to help. The officers were falling all
over the shop, and after it was all over Roosevelt made me a
long speech before some of the men, and offered me a captaincy
in the regiment any time I wanted it. He told the Associated
Press man that there was no officer in his regiment who had
"been of more help or shown more courage" than your humble
servant, so that's all right. After this I keep quiet. I
promise I keep quiet. Love to you all.
RICHARD.
From Cuba Richard sailed with our forces to Porto Rico,
where his experiences in the Spanish-American war came to an
end, and he returned to Marion. He spent the fall in New
York, and early in 1899 went to London.
One of the most interesting, certainly the most widely
talked of, "sporting events" for which Richard was responsible
was the sending of an English district-messenger boy from
London to Chicago. The idea was inspired by my brother's
general admiration of the London messenger service and his
particular belief in one William Thomas Jaggers, a
fourteen-year-old lad whom Richard had frequently employed to
carry notes and run errands. One day, during a casual
luncheon conversation at the Savoy with his friend Somers
Somerset, Richard said that he believed that if Jaggers were
asked to carry a message to New York
that he could not only do it but would express no surprise at
the commission. This conversation resulted in the bet
described in the following letters. The boy slipped quietly
away from London, but a few days later the bet became public
and the newspapers were filled with speculation as to whether
Jaggers could beat the mails. The messenger carried three
letters, one to my sister, one to Miss Cecil Clark of Chicago,
whom Richard married a few months later, and one to myself.
As a matter of fact, Jaggers delivered his notes several hours
before letters travelling by the same boat reached the same
destinations. The newspapers not only printed long accounts
of Jaggers's triumphal progress from New York to Chicago and
back again, but used the success of his undertaking as a text
for many editorials against the dilatory methods of our
foreign-mail service. Jaggers left London on March 11, 1899,
and was back again on the 29th, having travelled nearly
eighty-four hundred miles in eighteen days. On his return he
was received literally by a crowd of thousands, and his feat
was given official recognition by a gold medal pinned on his
youthful chest by the Duchess of Rutland. Also, later on, at
a garden fete he was presented to the Queen, and incidentally,
still later, returned to the United States as "buttons" to my
brother's household.
Bachelors' Club,
Piccadilly, W.
March 15th, 1899.
[DEAR CHAS.]
I hope you are not annoyed about Jaggers. When he
started no one knew of it but three people and I had no idea
anyone else would, but the company sent it to The Mail
without my name but describing me as
"an American gentleman" — Instantly the foreign correspondents
went to them to find out who I was and to whom I was sending
the letter — I told the company it was none of their damned
business — that I employed the boy by the week and that I could
send him where-ever I chose. Then the boy's father got proud
and wrote to
The Mail about his age and so they got the
boy's name. Mine, however, is still out of it, but in America
they are sure to know as the people on the steamer are crazy
about him and Kinsey the Purser knows he is sent by me. After
he gets back from Chicago and Philadelphia, you can do with
him as you like until the steamer sails. If the thing is
taken up as it is here and the fat is in the fire, then you
can do as you please — I mean you can tell the papers about it
or not — Somerset holds one end of the bets and I the other.
There are two bets: one that he will beat the mail to Chicago,
Somerset agreeing to consider the letter you give him to
Bruce, as equivalent to one coming from here. The other bet
is that he will deliver and get receipts from you, Nora and
Bruce, and return here by the 5th of April — You and Bobby
ought to be able to do well by him if it becomes, as I say, so
far public that there is no possibility of further
concealment — You have my permission to do what you please —
He is coming into my employ as soon as he gets back and as
soon as the company give him a medal.
Over here there is the greatest possible interest in the
matter — At the Clubs I go to, the waiters all wait on me in
order to have the latest developments and when it was cabled
over here that the Customs' people intended stopping him,
indignation raged at the Foreign office.
Lots of love, DICK,
89 Jermyn Street, S. W.
March — 1899
[DEAR NORA:]
This is to be handed to you by my special messenger, who
is to assure you that I am in the best of health and spirits —
Keep him for a few hours and then send him on to Chicago — As
he is doing this on a bet, do not give him any written
instructions only verbal ones. I am very well and happy and
send you all my love — Jaggers has been running errands for me
ever since I came here, and a most loyal servitor when I was
ill — On his return I want to keep him on as a buttons. See
that he gets plenty to eat — If he comes back alive he will
have broken the messenger boy service record by three thousand
miles. Personally, it does not cost me anything to speak of.
The dramatization of the Soldiers continues briskly, and Maude
is sending Grundy back the Jackal, to have a second go at it.
Maude insists on its being done — so I stand to win a lot.
RICHARD.
Beefsteak Club, 9, Green Street,
Leicester Square, W. C. Tuesday.
March — 1899.
[DEAR MOTHER: — ]
The faithful Jaggers should have arrived to-day, or will
do so this evening — I am sure you will make the poor little
chap comfortable — I do regret having sent him on such a
journey especially since the papers here made such an infernal
row over it — However, neither of us will lose by it in the
end —
I dined with Lady Clarke last night and met Lord
Castleton there and he invited me up to Dublin for the
Punchtown Races — I have a great mind to go
and write a story on them — Castleton is a great sport and
very popular at home and in England and it would be a pleasant
experience. Kuhne Beveridge is doing a bust of me in khaki
outfit for the Academy and also for a private exhibition of
her own works, which includes the Prince of Wales, and the
Little Queen of Holland.
Hays Hammond has invited me down to South Africa again,
with a promise of making my fortune, but I am not going as it
takes too long.
DICK.
[Description: Black and white line drawing of a map. A consultation
at General Wheeler's headquarters.
General Wheeler, General Wood, Colonel Dorst, Colonel Roosevelt,
R. H. D., and others.]
