The Boys of '98

The enemy was making his presence known once more, and this time it became evident he was in larger force.

Another 3-inch gun was brought into play; a launch from the Marblehead, with a Colt machine gun in her bow, steamed swiftly shoreward and opened fire; skirmish lines were thrown out through the tangle of foliage, and only when a dark form was seen, which might have been that of a Spaniard, or only the swaying branches of the trees, did the boys in blue have a target.

It was guerrilla warfare, and well-calculated to test the nerves of the young soldiers who were receiving their “baptism of blood.”

Until midnight this random firing continued, and then a large body of Spanish troops charged up the hill until they were face to face with the defenders of the camp, when they retreated, being lost to view almost immediately in the blackness of the night.

June 12. Again and again the firing was renewed from this quarter or that, but the enemy did not show himself until the morning came like a flash of light, as it does in the tropics, disclosing scurrying bands of Spanish soldiers as they sought shelter in the thicket.

Now more guns were brought into play at the camp; the war-ships began shelling the shore, and the action was speedily brought to an end. Four Americans had been killed, and among them one of the surgeons.

At intervals during the day the crack of a rifle would tell that Spanish sharpshooters were hovering around the camp; but not until eight o’clock in the evening did the enemy approach in any great numbers.

Then the battle was on once more; again did the little band of bluejackets stand to their posts, fighting against an unseen foe. Again the war-ships flashed their search-lights and sent shell after shell into the thicket, and all the while the Spanish fire was continued with deadly effect.

Lieutenants Neville and Shaw, each with a squad of ten men, were sent out to dislodge the advance line of the enemy, and as the boys in blue swung around into the thicket with a steady, swinging stride, the Spaniards gave way, firing rapidly while so doing.

The Americans, heeding not the danger, pursued, following the foe nearly to a small stone house near the coast, which had been used as a fort. They were well up to this structure when the bullets rained upon them in every direction from out the darkness. Sergeant Goode fell fatally wounded, and the Spaniards charged, forcing the Americans to the very edge of a cliff, over which one man fell and was killed; another fell, but with no further injury than a broken leg. A third was shot through the arm, after which he and the man with the broken limb joined forces, fighting on their own account. One more was wounded, and then the Americans made a desperate charge, forcing the enemy back into the stone house, and then out again, after fifteen had been killed.

Meanwhile severe fighting was going on in the vicinity of the camp; but six field-pieces were brought up, and the second battle was ended after two Americans had been killed and seven wounded.

June 13. The camp was moved to a less exposed position, while the war-ships poured shell and shrapnel into the woods, and then the marines filed solemnly out to a portion of the hill overlooking the bay where were six newly made graves.

All the marines could not attend the funeral, many having to continue the work of moving camp, or to rest on their guns, keeping a constant watch for the lurking Spaniards; but all who could do so followed the stumbling bearers of the dead over the loose gravel, and grouped themselves about the graves.

The stretcher bearing the bodies had just been lifted to its place, and Chaplain Jones of the Texas was about to begin the reading of the burial service, when the Spaniards began shooting at the party from the western chaparral.

“Fall in, Company A, Company B, Company C, fall in!”

“Fall in!” was the word from one end of the camp to the other. The graves were deserted by all save the chaplain and escort, who still stood unmoved.

The men sprang to arms, and then placed themselves behind the rolled tents, their knapsacks, the bushes in the hollows, boxes and piles of stones, their rifles ready, their eyes strained into the brush.

Howitzers roared, blue smoke arose where the shells struck and burst in the chaparral, and rifles sounded angrily.

The Texas fired seven shots at the place from which the shooting came, and the Spaniards, as usual, fled out of sight.

The funeral services had hardly been resumed when there was another attack; but this time the pits near the old blockhouse got the range of the malignant marksmen and shattered them with a few shots. The Texas and Panther shelled the brush to the eastward, but the chaplain kept right on with the service, and from that time until night there was little shooting from the cover.

On this day the dynamite cruiser Vesuvius joined Admiral Sampson’s fleet, and the weary marines, holding their posts on shore against overwhelming odds, hoped that her arrival betokened the speedy coming of the soldiers who were so sadly needed.

June 14. Substantial recognition was given by the Navy Department to the members of the gallant crew who took the Merrimac into the entrance of Santiago Harbour and sunk her across the channel under the very muzzles of the Spanish guns.

The orders sent to Admiral Sampson directed the promotion of the men as follows:

Daniel Montague, master-at-arms, to be a boatswain, from fifty dollars a month to thirteen hundred dollars a year.

George Charette, gunner’s mate, to be a gunner, from fifty dollars a month to thirteen hundred dollars a year.

Rudolph Clausen, Osborne Deignan, and – Murphy, coxswains, to be chief boatswain’s mates, an increase of twenty dollars a month.

George F. Phillips, machinist, from forty dollars a month to seventy dollars a month.

Francis Kelly, water tender, to be chief machinist, from thirty-seven dollars a month to seventy dollars a month.

Lieutenant Hobson’s reward would come through Congress.

While a grateful people were discussing the manner in which their heroes should be crowned, that little band of marines on the shore of Guantanamo Bay, worn almost to exhaustion by the harassing fire of the enemy during seventy-two hours, was once more battling against a vastly superior force in point of numbers.

From the afternoon of the eleventh of June until this morning of the fourteenth, the Americans had remained on the defensive, – seven hundred against two thousand or more. Now, however, different tactics were to be used. Colonel Huntington had decided that it was time to turn the tables, and before the night was come the occupants of the graves on the crest of the hill had been avenged.

A scouting party, made up of nine officers, two hundred and eighty marines, and forty-one Cubans, was divided into four divisions, the first of which had orders to destroy a water-tank from which the enemy drew supplies. The second was to attack the Spanish camp beyond the first range of hills. The third had for its objective point a signal-station from which information as to the movements of the American fleet had been flashed into Santiago. The fourth division was to act as the reserve.

In half an hour from the time of leaving camp the signal-station was in the hands of the Americans, and the heliograph outfit lost to the enemy. The boys of ’98 had suffered no loss, while eight Spaniards lay with faces upturned to the rays of the burning sun.

At noon the Spanish camp had been taken, with a loss of two Cubans killed, one American and four Cubans wounded. Twenty-three Spaniards were dead.

The water-tank was destroyed, and the enemy, panic-stricken, was fleeing here and there, yet further harassed by a heavy fire from the Dolphin, who sent her shells among the fugitives whenever they came in view.

When the day drew near its close, and the weary but triumphant marines returned to camp, a hundred of the enemy lay out on the hills dead; more than twice that number must have been wounded, and eighteen were being brought in as prisoners.

On this night of June 14th, at the entrance to Santiago Harbour, the dynamite cruiser Vesuvius– that experimental engine of destruction – was given a test in actual warfare, and the result is thus graphically pictured by a correspondent of the New York Herald:

“Three shells, each containing two hundred pounds of guncotton, were fired last night from the dynamite guns of the Vesuvius at the hill at the western entrance to Santiago Harbour, on which there is a fort.

“The frightful execution done by those three shots will be historic.

“Guns in that fort had not been silenced when the fleet drew off after the attack that followed the discovery of the presence of the Spanish fleet in the harbour.

“In the intense darkness of last night the Vesuvius steamed into close range and let go one of her mysterious missiles.

“There was no flash, no smoke. There was no noise at first. The pneumatic guns on the little cruiser did their work silently. It was only when they felt the shock that the men on the other war-ships knew the Vesuvius was in action.

“A few seconds after the gun was fired there was a frightful convulsion on the land. On the hill, where the Spanish guns had withstood the missiles of the ordinary ships of war, tons of rock and soil leaped in air. The land was smitten as by an earthquake.

“Terrible echoes rolled around through the shaken hills and mountains. Sampson’s ships, far out at sea, trembled with the awful shock. Dust rose to the clouds and hid the scene of destruction.

“Then came a long silence; next another frightful upheaval, and following it a third, so quickly that the results of the work of the two mingled in mid-air.

“Another still, and then two shots from a Spanish battery, that, after the noise of the dynamite, sounded like the crackle of firecrackers.

“The Vesuvius had tested herself. She was found perfect as a destroyer. She proved that no fortification can withstand her terrible missiles.

“Just what damage she did I could not tell from the sea. Whatever was within hundreds of feet of the point of impact must have gone to destruction.”

June 16. On the fifteenth of June the marines at Guantanamo Bay were given an opportunity to rest, for the lesson the Spaniards received on the fourteenth had been a severe one, and the fleet off Santiago remained inactive. It was but the lull before the storm of iron which was rained upon the Spanish on the sixteenth.

The prelude to this third bombardment of Santiago was a second trial of the Vesuvius at midnight on the fifteenth, when she sent three more 250-pound charges of guncotton into the fortifications. This done, the fleet remained like spectres, each vessel at its respective station, until half-past three o’clock on the morning of the sixteenth, when the bluejackets were aroused and served with coffee.

Immediately the first gray light of dawn appeared, the ships steamed in toward the fortifications of Santiago until within three thousand yards, and there, lying broadside on, three cables’-lengths apart, they waited for the day to break.

It was 5.25 when the New York opened with a broadside from her main battery, and the bombardment was begun.

All along the crescent-shaped line the big guns roared and the smaller ones crackled and snapped, each piece throughout the entire squadron being worked with such energy that it was like one mighty, continuous wave of crashing thunder, and from out this convulsion came projectiles of enormous weight, until it seemed as if all that line of shore must be rent and riven.

Not a gun was directed at El Morro, for there it was believed the brave Hobson and his gallant comrades were held prisoners.

When the signal was given for the fleet to retire, not a man had been wounded, nor a vessel struck by the fire from the shore.

The governor of Santiago sent the following message to Madrid relative to the bombardment:

“The Americans fired one thousand shots. Several Spanish shells hit the enemy’s vessels. Our losses are three killed and twenty wounded, including two officers. The Spanish squadron was not damaged.”

While the Americans were making their presence felt at Santiago, those who held Guantanamo Bay were not idle. The Texas, Marblehead, and the Suwanee bombarded the brick fort and earthworks at Caimanera, at the terminus of the railroad leading to the city of Guantanamo, demolishing them entirely after an hour and a half of firing. When the Spaniards fled from the fortifications, the St. Paul shelled them until they were hidden in the surrounding forest.

An hour or more after the bombardment ceased the Marblehead’s steam launch began dragging the harbour near the fort for mines. One was found and taken up, and while it was being towed to the war-ship a party of Spaniards on shore opened fire. The launch headed toward shore and began banging away, but the bow gun finally kicked overboard, carrying the gunner with it. At this moment the enemy beat a prompt retreat; the gunner was pulled inboard, and the bluejackets continued their interrupted work.

June 17. Next day the batteries on Hicacal Point and Hospital Cay were shelled, the Marblehead and the St. Paul attending to the first, and the Suwanee caring for the latter, while the Dolphin and even the collier Scindia fired a few shots for diversion. The task was concluded in less than half an hour, and had no more than come to an end when a small sloop was sighted off the entrance to the bay.

The Marblehead’s steam launch was sent in pursuit, and an hour later returned with the prize, which proved to be the Chato. Her crew of five were taken on board the Marblehead as prisoners.

June 18. The active little steam launch made another capture next day while cruising outside the bay; a nameless sloop, on which were four men who claimed to have been sent from the lighthouse at Cape Maysi to Guantanamo City for oil. There were strong reasons for believing this party had come to spy out the position of the American ships, and all were transferred to the Marblehead.

The crew of the Oregon had gun practice again on this day when they shelled and destroyed a blockhouse three miles up the bay, killing, so it was reported, no less than twenty of the enemy.

The first vessel of a long-expected fleet of transports, carrying the second detachment of General Shafter’s army, hove in sight of Admiral Sampson’s squadron on the evening of June 18th, and next morning at daylight the launches of the New York and Massachusetts reconnoitred the shore between Cabanas, two miles off the entrance to Santiago Harbour, and Guayaganaco, two miles farther west, in search of a landing-place.

Lieutenant Harlow, in command of the expedition, made the following report:

“The expedition consisted of a steam launch from the Massachusetts, in charge of Cadet Hart, and a launch from the New York, in charge of Cadet Powell. I took passage on the Massachusetts’ launch, leading the way. Soundings were taken on entering the bay close under the old fort, and we were preparing to circumnavigate the bay at full speed when fire was opened from the fort and rocks on the shore. The Massachusetts’ launch was some distance ahead and about forty yards off the fort. There was no room to turn, and our 1-pounder could not be brought to bear. We backed and turned under a heavy fire.

“Cadet Hart operated the gun as soon as it could be brought to bear, sitting exposed in the bow, and working the gun as coolly and carefully as at target practice.

“Cadet Powell had been firing since the Spaniards opened. He was also perfectly cool. Both launches ran out under a heavy fire of from six to eight minutes. I estimate that there were twenty-five Spaniards on the parapet of the old fort. The number along shore was larger, but indefinite. The launches, as soon as it was practicable, sheered to give the Vixen the range of the fort. The Vixen and the Texas silenced the shore fire promptly.

“I strongly commend Cadet Hart and Cadet Powell for the cool management of the launches. One launch was struck seven times. Nobody in either was hurt. A bullet struck a shell at Cadet Hart’s feet between the projectile and the powder, but failed to explode the latter.

“Coxswain O’Donnell and Seaman Bloom are commended, as is also the coolness with which the marines and sailors worked under the Spanish fire.

“Nothing was learned at Cabanas Bay, but at Guayaganaco it is evident a landing is practicable for ships’ boats. The same is true of Rancho Cruz, a small bay to the eastward. Both would be valuable with Cabanas, but useless without it.

“I am informed that to the north and westward of Cabanas Bay there is a large clearing, with plenty of grass and water.

“I think a simultaneous landing at the three places named would be practicable if the ships shelled the adjacent wood. A junction would naturally follow at the clearing.”

Cuban scouts reported to Colonel Huntington on Guantanamo Bay that the streets of Caimanera have been covered with straw saturated in oil, in order that the city may be destroyed when the Americans evince any disposition to take possession. The Spanish gunboat Sandoval, lying at one of the piers, has been loaded with inflammables, and will be burned with the city, her commander declaring that she shall never become an American prize.

During this Sunday night the Vesuvius again discharged her dynamite guns, with the western battery as a target, and because of the frightful report which followed the second shot, it was believed a magazine had been exploded.

June 20. The fleet of transports arrived off Santiago at noon on the twentieth, and hove to outside the cordon of war-vessels. General Shafter immediately went on board the flag-ship, and returned to his own ship an hour later in company with Admiral Sampson, when the two officers sailed for Asserradero, seventeen miles from Santiago, where General Calixto Garcia was encamped with his army of four thousand Cubans. Here a long conference was held with the insurgent general, after which the two commanders returned to the fleet.

June 21. The despatch quoted below was sent by Admiral Sampson to the Navy Department, and gives in full the work of the day:

“Landing of the army is progressing favorably at Daiquiri. There is very little, if any, resistance. The New Orleans, Detroit, Castine, Wasp, and Suwanee shelled the vicinity before the landing. We made a demonstration at Cabanas to engage the attention of the enemy. The Texas engaged the west battery for some hours. She had one man killed. Ten submarine mines have been recovered from the channel of Guantanamo. Communication by telegraph has been established at Guantanamo.”

Daiquiri was chosen as the point of debarkation by General Shafter, and its only fortifications were a blockhouse on a high cliff to the right of an iron pier, together with a small fort and earthworks in the rear. From this town extends a good road to Santiago, and in the immediate vicinity of the port the water-supply is plentiful.

June 22. Bombarding the coast as a cover for the troops which were being disembarked, was the principal work of the war-ships on the twenty-second of June, except in Guantanamo Harbour, where volunteers were called for from the Marblehead and the Dolphin to grapple for and remove the contact mines in the harbour. It was an undertaking as perilous as anything that had yet been accomplished, but the bluejackets showed no fear. Four times the designated number came forward in response to the call, and before nightfall seven mines had been removed.

The battle-ship Texas was assigned to duty off Matamoras, the works of which were to be bombarded as a portion of the general programme for this day while the troops were being landed. The men of the Texas performed their part well; the Socapa battery was quickly silenced; but not quite soon enough to save the life of one brave bluejacket. The last shell fired by the retreating Spaniards struck the battle-ship twenty feet abaft the stem on the port side. It passed through the hull about three feet below the main-deck line, and failed to explode until striking an iron stanchion at the centre line of the berth-deck. Here were two guns’ crews, and among them the fragments of the shell flew in a deadly shower, killing one and wounding eight. Later in the day the Texas steamed out to sea to bury the dead, and, this sad duty performed, returned before nightfall to her station on the blockade.

June 23. General Shafter thus reported to the War Department:

“Daiquiri, June 23. – Had very fine voyage; lost less than fifty animals, six or eight to-day; lost more putting them through the surf to land, than on transports.

“Command as healthy as when we left; eighty men sick; only deaths, two men drowned in landing; landings difficult; coast quite similar to that in vicinity of San Francisco, and covered with dense growth of bushes. Landing at Daiquiri unopposed; all points occupied by Spanish troops heavily bombarded by navy to clear them out.

“Sent troops toward Santiago, and occupied Juragua, a naturally strong place, this morning. Spanish troops retreating as soon as our advance was known. Had no mounted troops, or could have captured them, about six hundred all told.

“Railroad from there in. Have cars and engine in possession.

“With assistance of navy disembarked six thousand men yesterday, and as many more to-day.

“Will get all troops off to-morrow, including light artillery and greater portion of pack-train, probably all of it, with some of the wagons; animals have to be jumped to the water and towed ashore.

“Had consultation with Generals Garcia, Rader and Castillo, on afternoon of twentieth, twenty miles west of Santiago. These officers were unanimously of the opinion that the landing should be made east of Santiago. I had come to the same conclusion.

“General Garcia promises to join me at Juragua to-morrow with between three thousand and four thousand men, who will be brought from west of Santiago by ships of the navy to Juragua, and there disembarked.

“This will give me between four thousand and five thousand Cubans, and leave one thousand under General Rabi to threaten Santiago from the west.

“General Kent’s division is being disembarked this afternoon at Juragua, and this will be continued during the night. The assistance of the navy has been of the greatest benefit and enthusiastically given; without them I could not have landed in ten days, and perhaps not at all, as I believe I should have lost so many boats in the surf.

“At present want nothing; weather has been good, no rain on land, and prospects of fair weather.

“Shafter,“Major-General U. S. Commanding.”

The boys of ’98 occupied the town of Aguadores before nightfall on the twenty-third of June, the Spaniards having applied the torch to many buildings before they fled. The enemy was driven back on to Santiago, General Linares commanding in person, and close to his heels hung General Lawton and the advance of the American forces.

June 24. It was evident that the Spanish intended to make a stand at Sevilla, six miles from Juragua, and five miles from Santiago. The Americans were pressing them hotly to prevent General Linares from gaining time to make preparations for an encounter, when the Rough Riders, as Colonel Wood’s regiment was termed, and the First and Tenth Cavalry fell into an ambuscade. Then what will probably be known as the battle of La Quasina was fought.

It is thus described by a correspondent of the Associated Press:

That the Spaniards were thoroughly posted as to the route to be taken by the Americans in their movement toward Sevilla was evident, as shown by the careful preparations they had made.

The main body of the Spaniards was posted on a hill, on the heavily wooded slopes of which had been erected two blockhouses flanked by irregular intrenchments of stone and fallen trees. At the bottom of these hills run two roads, along which Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt’s men, and eight troops of the First and Tenth Cavalry, with a battery of four howitzers, advanced. These roads are but little more than gullies, rough and narrow, and at places almost impassable.