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.
[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.]