Springfield in the Spanish American War
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"What do they give us for stomach ache?"
"Salts."
"What do they give us for a broken leg?"
"Salts."
"What do they give us for rheumatism?"
"Salts."
And so on through a catalogue of all the various diseases incident to man or animals.
Finally the noise became so great that Capt. McDonald threatened to have the hatches closed, thus destroying the last faint chance of obtaining any air. This was met by the threat that if the hatches were closed bullets would be fired through them, but after a while the noise quieted down and the men dropped off to sleep. After that night the order to sleep below decks was pretty well obeyed as the reason for it begun to be understood by the men and they realized that it was prompted by a desire for their welfare and not to annoy them.
Not all the boys slept below, however. Emery, Morehouse and Kelly of K had managed to secrete themselves in one of the ships boats and made it their sleeping quarters all the time of the voyage. As it was covered by a tarpaulin they were well protected from the dews or rains, and in any case they managed to keep the secret so well that they were not molested.
G company suffered a terrible loss on the day we sailed. Private Mandeville, the company cook, had managed to cut himself so badly in the arm with a carving knife, during our stay at Lakeland, that he had been excused from that duty. On our last day at Port Tampa he had obtained shore leave and utilized it so well in looking at the wine when it was red, or something that had the same effect, that he was in a trance when the orders came to leave. So when the Knickerbocker sailed, G was one man short, and after the requisite ten days had elapsed Private Mandeville was put on the rolls as a deserter. Fortunately for him, it was established on our return that he was not technically a deserter, it appearing that when he woke up he had reported himself to an officer in Tampa, and had been assigned to remain with a party of the 71st New York which had likewise been left behind.
Of mascots there were many on board. First of all came one James Sargent of Washington, D. C, a young colored lad better known as "Snowball." He had come on from Washington with some District of Columbia troops and finding that they were not going immediately to Cuba or for some other reason he got on board the Knickerbocker and attached himself for better or worse to the Second Massachusetts. Any member of the regiment can answer the query as to whether it was for better or worse for the Second.
Then there were James and Willie Turner, two young white boys from Tampa who had an uncontrollable desire to hie themselves over the seas to Cuba and there end the lives of more or less Spaniards. They remained with us until the landing on the island and then divorced themselves from the Second and attached themselves to two regular regiments. Both stood the campaign in far better shape than the older men and returned to this country with enlarged views and a determination to enlist in the regulars as soon as they were of the requisite age.
G company had two mascots in "Rations" and "Hardtack," dogs of the cur variety. Rations did not last out the voyage, her career being cut short by some miscreant who threw her overboard one night, much to the indignation of the men of the company.
A predominating feature of the trip across was the excellent fare provided for the enlisted men by a thoughtful government. Life at sea on a steady diet of canned beef, canned beans and canned tomatoes, hardtack and ship's water is not conducive to embonpoint or a cheerful and contented disposition. In the hurry of fitting up the Knickerbocker as a transport no provision had been made to do any cooking for the men, even if there had been anything to cook, and there was not even a place where coffee, of which we had plenty, could be made. Finally after a couple of days out some vigorous "kicking" resulted in the company cooks being grudgingly allowed the use of the galley for coffee making purposes but with the poor water the coffee was hardly equal to that furnished at Delmonico's or other places where most of us had been in the habit of eating.
As to the water an entire chapter could not do justice to its qualities. There were two brands on board, one being Mississippi river fluid with an equal quantity of mud of a rich brown color in suspension. After obtaining a cupful of this mixture it was necessary to allow it to stand for some little time in order that the mud might settle to the bottom. With all its faults, however, this water when strained was sweet and drinking it did not cause remorse.
The other water had been obtained in Tampa and it was called water principally because it was contained in the water tanks. It did not look much like water and tasted still less like it. But that and the muddy fluid was all there was to drink and we had to make the best of it.
One day when the canned beef was even worse than usual and the canned beans greasier than ever there came to the vision of certain members of the Springfield companies, who happened to be looking through the skylight into the steward's pantry, a delicious looking piece of cold roast beef hanging peacefully from a hook and destined for the officers' lunch. Constant looking at that well cooked piece of fresh beef begot longing, then covetousness and desire. By a silent but unanimous vote it was decided that such a nice piece of beef would be better appreciated by hungry enlisted men than by the officers who had been getting more or less of it, at their own expense, during the voyage and the next thing was the informal appointment of a committee on ways and means to procure the aforesaid beef. An examination revealed that the skylight could be opened from the deck and further that a boathook was handy. These facts ascertained, a watch was kept until the occupant of the pantry had gone out for a moment, the skylight was quickly opened, the boathook manipulated and the piece of beef lifted to the deck. The cook re-entered the pantry just as the beef was disappearing through the skylight and the expression on his face haunted the participants in the "Disappearing beef mystery" for many hours.
In one corner of the upper deck that afternoon were a number of men upon whose faces rested an expression of perfect contentment and whose hands could occasionally be seen to wander over their stomachs as if to assure themselves that cold roast beef was a suitable article of diet for a voyage in the tropics. As no ill effects were recorded the question was settled satisfactorily to them but it is also on record that no more tempting bits were hung within reach of open skylights or wandering boathooks. It is also a matter of history that the officers' lunch that day was rather a poor meal and there was no cold meat on the table. But Bates didn't care.
How the Knickerbocker ever escaped being run down or colliding with some other of the vessels of the fleet is one of the mysteries of the deep. Not less than half a dozen narrow escapes are on record in the memory of the men who were on her and on one or two occasions the escapes were so narrow that a few feet either way would have done the job for the Knickerbocker and her crew and passengers. On one occasion another boat came so near to running us down that half the men were ready to jump into the sea but the other boat finally sheered off by the closest margin. The "Thirteen" hoodoo came near to finding believers among those on the Knickerbocker before Cuba was reached.
Bathing hours were established on board after the first day out, each company being allowed an hour aft each day during which the men could "turn the hose" on each other to their heart's content. As, however, there was but little salt water soap on board and that little was in the hands of the steward to be retailed by him at robber baron prices these attempts at cleanliness proved rather abortive, for it was soon ascertained that ordinary soap does not lather in salt water and the effects of the bath under these circumstances was worse if anything than in Lakeland.
So the days went on until on the 20th we saw the low outline of the Cuban coast late in the afternoon and at the same time saw the flashes and heard the dull reports of big guns which told us that the navy was having a brush with the foe. It lasted only for a few moments, but this was the first time we had heard guns fired in actual conflict and although we could see but little the rigging was crowded until long after the guns were silent. We learned afterwards that it was only a little brush some of the blockading fleet were having with a fort near Santiago but it was mighty interesting to us while it lasted. All the next day the fleet cruised about apparently aimlessly and that night the Knickerbocker "got lost." How it ever happened no one knows excepting the captain of the ship and he never volunteered an explanation so far as we knew. It was expected that we would land that day but just before dusk a dispatch boat raced up alongside and without stopping speed an officer on board shouted through a megaphone an order to Captain Betts to continue "cruising to the northwest, keeping in touch with the fleet." So off we cruised to the northwest but the rest of the order as to keeping in touch with the fleet was not carried out. The next morning when we woke up we found the Knickerbocker all alone with not a sail or line of smoke on the horizon and with apparently no one knowing where we were or what we were doing there. Inquiries of Captain Betts met with gruff and non-committal response and it was not until just before noon that we came in sight of the rest of the fleet off Daiquiri and learned that the landing had begun and that had we got there when we should the Second would have been the first regiment to land on Cuban soil. Then things were said concerning Capt. Betts and his boat that would not look nice in print.
Over on our left the big guns of the warships were pounding away at the fortifications while the small caliber guns were sending in a storm of bullets into the woods and hills along the shore, clearing them out before the landing. From the warships to the transports danced an almost steady stream of launches and small boats to assist in the landing. The invasion of Cuba by the Fifth army corps was a fact at last.
CHAPTER IX
WHEREIN IS NARRATED OUR LANDING AT DAIQUIRI AND SOME THINGS WHICH SUBSEQUENTLY HAPPENED
IT was not until well along in the afternoon that the Knickerbocker's passengers started for the shore and as it was not all of them landed that day, the third battalion being left on board until the 23d. For many long hours the steamer backed and filled together with the other vessels and the men, loaded down as they were with their field equipment and waiting for the word to disembark, found plenty of time to enjoy the stirring scenes about them. There were the grim painted war ships, all ready for business and their hustling "Jackies" working like beavers to aid in landing us "doughboys." Between the big ships danced the saucy torpedo boats and destroyers and quick puffing launches having in tow strings of small boats, these being our means of transportation from the ship to the land. In front were the frowning hills which guarded the coast line and from which an enemy of any determination could have easily prevented our landing. On a plateau directly in front of us was the village of Daiquiri, abandoned that morning by the Spaniards after a brief bombardment by our fleet, while a force of Cubans got along in time to worry the retreating enemy. A portion of the village and the works were still smoldering, having been fired by the Spaniards before they left the place.
Daiquiri was the seat of the Spanish-American Iron company and a narrow gauge railroad connects it with Juguaracito or Siboney where the company had quite an extensive establishment. Jutting out into the water was a high iron pier and it was supposed we were to land there, but this was found to be impossible after one or two trials.
Meanwhile after long waiting a dinky little steam launch from the battleship Massachusetts and followed by a string of small boats, came alongside the Knickerbocker and the youthful ensign in charge allowed that he was ordered to take headquarters and as many others of the regiment as possible on shore. This was agreeable and Col. Clark and his field and staff embarked in the launch without much trouble, although the job of climbing down a slippery rope ladder, then hanging on by both hands to the side ropes and waiting until the next high wave brought the launch up to within a couple of feet of you and then falling more or less, mostly less, gracefully into it, was not particularly pleasing. After headquarters, a platoon of G company embarked and this filled the boats.
How to get on shore from the boats appeared to grow into a serious problem as we neared the landing place. This was an old wooden pier, which jutted out some little distance from the land. There was a heavy surf on and the little basin in which the pier stood was jammed with boats and launches, all apparently very much snarled up but which in reality were being ably managed. After much maneuvering our launch was jammed alongside the pier and the next problem was how to get upon it. The supporting piles rose high up from the water and their slimy surface offered no inducement to attempt climbing. One moment we would be down in the trough of a wave and then the launch would be lifted up almost to the top of the pier and the sailors would be hard put to it to keep the boats from being dashed against the huge piling of the pier. The method of our landing could hardly be called dignified. As the boat would be raised almost to a level with the floor of the pier by a wave our rolls and equipment would be tossed up to some soldiers waiting to assist us. Then down the boat would go again and when the next wave raised it we would stand up on the thwarts of the boat, reach up our hands, two of the men on the pier would grasp them and we would scramble up the best we could. In this way the first lot was landed and the boats hustled back to the ship after another load of passengers. The pier was connected with the land by some loose planks and across these we walked gingerly, finally reaching terra firma. We were on Cuban soil at last.
On shore there was as much bustle and confusion as in the landing. Many of the regulars and a part of "Ours" had already landed but there appeared to be no system, and officers and men were scattered about everywhere. A short distance from the pier was a typical Cuban "shack" as the regulars called it, a roughly built shed with a roof of palm leaf thatch and around this was a lot of Cuban soldiers who were making themselves "good fellows" by giving away cocoanuts, of which they had a couple of large bags. They, the soldiers, were of varying shades of blackness and their "uniforms" consisted mostly of nothing. Some had more clothing than the others, but few had anything like a complete outfit. They were barefooted and bareheaded but all had the inevitable machete and some kind of a firearm, from the latest model Spanish Mauser and the navy Lee to an old shotgun. They could talk English about as well as we could Spanish and the sign language was used with more or less success.
Having filled up on cocoanuts, which tasted good, we became thirsty. A water pipe ran along the ground and we soon found a faucet, but the first man to take a drink spat out the water and said some sharp and emphatic things concerning it at which we mildly wondered until he calmed down sufficiently to tell us that it was "hot enough to boil eggs in." Sure enough it was. The pipes ran along on the surface of the ground and the sun did the rest.
"Mucho caliente agua," commented a ragged "Cubana" as he noticed our disgusted looks and one or two who understood enough Spanish to know what he meant agreed with him. Then he grinned as only a Cuban can and pointing to the plateau where the main part of the village was located, said: "Agua fresca," which being interpreted meant "cold water." So off we started for the plateau and there found several barrels of fresh water which was fairly cool. Among the "shacks" which composed the town we found a "brigade" of the "brave" Cuban soldiers. They were having a good time recounting their exploits and staring at "los Americano soldados," whose rough and ready manners were not always to their liking. A few of their field officers were almost white in color and decently uniformed but the majority, like the men, were black and distinguished from their men by small silver stars worn on a strap across the breast, three being the insignia of a captain, two of a first lieutenant and one of a second lieutenant.
A point of much interest to our men were the burning shops, which the Spaniards had fired before retreating. On the railway track was a locomotive and some cars which had been disabled and burnt. Additional interest was caused by the pursuit, capture and summary execution of an unwise pig by a mob of our men and Cubans.
All our battalions having landed, we began our march into the interior just before 5 o'clock. The brigade commander, Col. Van Horn of the 22d was injured on the 22d and the command was temporarily assigned to our commander, Col. Clark. As Lieut. Col. Shumway was left on the boat, Major Southmayd took command of the two battalions on shore. We marched some five miles toward Santiago, across country, the march being along a narrow and rough trail and halted for the night by the side of the trail. On our way we had to ford a stream and began to experience some of the realities of war.
That night we had to face our first real experience at going hungry. It had been understood that we were not to go inland that day and that rations would be sent us from the ships so no orders to take any with us had been issued. A few of the men had the foresight to stuff whatever food they could into their haversacks but the majority had nothing and went supperless to bed. The regulars bivouacked near us were in the same fix and there was much grumbling. However, officers and men were in the same box and there was nothing to do but make the best of it.
At dawn the next morning we rolled up our outfits and started off again. Our method of packing up was expeditious. Each man carried one half of a shelter tent, better known to us as a "dog" tent and later "pup" tents because of their small size, they being just about large enough for two men to crawl into. The half shelter was laid on the ground and upon it was spread first the rubber blanket and then the woolen one. Our canvas blouses and whatever personal property we had were then placed on top, together with the tent sticks and pegs and the whole neatly rolled. The ends were secured with the tent rope and the roll thus formed was carried over the left shoulder, the ends hanging down on the right side of the body. Thus equipped, with our full canteens and empty haversacks, we took to the road again after our first night on Cuban soil. Details of men from each company were sent back to the ships after rations and we started for Siboney. An early morning march on an empty stomach is not conducive to an appreciation of scenery be it ever so grand, but some of us enjoyed it. All about us were hills and mountains, their peaks clear cut against the blue sky, while from the tops of two or three rose thin smoke columns which we supposed were from signal fires. Our trail led us through valleys and over hills until finally about 11 o'clock we struck upon something that looked like a road and on which we were enabled to march for a short time in columns of fours. Anyone who had ever seen the Second on a parade in Springfield or Worcester or at camp and seen us straggling along the Cuban trail in single file would have laughed outright at the contrast, as we were forced to ourselves. Later on we looked even worse.
That day the "stripping" process, familiar to all armies in a campaign, was begun. Two companies of the second battalion, E and M had "toted" their knapsacks with them from their transports and about the second day out they were sorry for so doing. Hardly had we been an hour on the march that morning before the knapsacks began to disappear and the troops which followed us soon knew that the Second Massachusetts had passed by, meeting scores of Cubans with E and M company knapsacks on their backs and sweltering but happy in the closely buttoned cape overcoats discarded with the knapsacks. Fortunately our knapsacks and all our heavy baggage had been left on board ship but it was not long before we found our rolls becoming heavy and burdensome. Pretty soon a man would quietly drop out of the line, off would come his roll which was quickly opened, and some article he fancied he could do without, thrown into the bush. Then the roll would be fastened together, thrown over the owner's shoulder and he would hasten to rejoin his company. A few moments afterward a ragged Cubano might be seen poking around about the bushes and next the discarded articles would be in his possession.
And it may as well be told here that it was not only the Second Massachusetts that strewed more or less valuable or necessary articles along the trails. The regulars were with us in that, and although, as a rule, they had brought less baggage ashore with them than we did, they soon found it convenient to get rid of much of it. They even discarded their blankets, some cutting them in half and retaining only one part, while we stuck to the blankets and sacrificed other things. We never were sorry either that we kept our blankets, for if the days were intensely warm, the nights were cool and coverings came in handy.
That afternoon, soon after we had struck the short piece of good road referred to above, we left it and following a narrow trail debouched into some woods and after passing through them, found ourselves in a cocoanut grove. There were hundreds of the trees all laden with the fruit, and a halt was ordered, arms stacked and we were allowed to rest. About this time we were decidedly hungry, our breakfast having consisted of nothing and our dinner menu being the same. The cocoanuts looked inviting but they were far away at the tops of the branchless trees. But hunger is a spur and it was not long before some daring ones were "shinning up" the trees and down came the fruit. Alas! It was a disappointment to hopes of a satisfactory meal. After the hard, green outer husks had been chopped away it was found that the cocoanuts were green, and a copious flow of soldier language greeted this discovery. But it was not long before it was discovered that the milk of the green cocoanut makes a very palatable drink, and in a few moments we all became milkmen.
The march resumed we struck into another piece of woods, forded a brook or two, (we had by this time gotten over minding our feet being wet,) and found ourselves once more on a narrow and rough trail. On our way through the woods we saw, stretched along a rough fence, the body of a huge snake of the constrictor variety, not long killed and looking decidedly fierce. The reptile was about eight feet long and as thick as a man's arm. A little further along we saw something which indicated that we were in a rough country. This was a human skull nailed on top of a post and grinning at us with empty eye sockets and toothless jaws, as we passed.
A little further along and we struck another narrow stream which, of course, had to be forded, and up a hill, just beyond that we came to a railroad station and the track. Here were some of our advance guard, men of the Eighth regulars who informed us that Siboney was "just 'round the corner," as one of them put it, and sure enough after a few moments more of the "Weary Willie" act, we came to a collection of "shacks," and realized that we were in Siboney. Now that word "Siboney" means much to us because it reminds us that there we ate, a fact sufficiently momentous on that day to linger long in our memories.
Now as to the methods of our eating. It was only a short time before our arrival that the Spaniards had evacuated Siboney after firing a few shots at our advance guard and the natives, who had "jumped the town" when the Spaniards told them there was going to be a big battle in which they were going to annihilate the "pigs of Yanquis," were just beginning to come back. We were ordered to camp on a low piece of ground on one side of the railroad embankment and after putting up our "pup" tents a few hungry ones went into the town to see what could be seen and incidentally to acquire what there was to acquire in the commissary line. They were successful in the latter. The natives were glad to see them and freely gave of what little they had. This wasn't much but there was some rice and some queer looking but good tasting messes of which our men were freely invited to partake. In one house in particular there were two aged women who busied themselves for hours cooking rice and other dishes for our men and who at first would not accept anything in payment. Finally it was forced upon them and before evening there was more silver money in that poor "shack" than had probably been the case for many a day. All through the village it was the same and the hospitality we received at Siboney did much to change for a time the unfavorable opinion we had formed of the Cubans.