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A Recent Campaign in Puerto Rico/Chapter 1

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From Yauco to Las Marias


CHAPTER I

The Independent Regular Brigade


Place of meeting — Forces comprised by the command — Why we were not like the Volunteers — Characteristics of the professional soldier — Sketches of the more important officers — What we were ordered to do.


YAUCO, the place selected by General Miles as a rendezvous for the troops of the Independent Regular Brigade, is a town of about 15,000 inhabitants, and some six miles distant from Guanica. It is connected both by rail and wagon-road with Ponce, the largest city on the island, and is noted for its Spanish proclivities, fine climate, excellent running water, and setting of mountains — luxuriantly green throughout the year.

Here were assembled on the evening of Aug. 8, 1898 all the forces assigned to General Schwan, with the exception of Troop "A," Fifth Cavalry, which did not appear until some thirty hours later. The command was composed of the Eleventh Infantry, Light Battery "D" of the Fifth Artillery, Light Battery "C" of the Third Artillery, and the troop of cavalry already mentioned, — all regulars, and as resolute and picturesque a set of men as ever wore the uniform of war.

· · · · ·

Because we had no Volunteers with us, we were not granted even one little word-spattering newspaper scribe, and so relinquished at the outset any fugitive hopes of glory that otherwise might have been entertained. We were out for business, — hard marching, hard living, hard fighting, — and the opening vista was fringed with gore. We were none of us the darlings of any particular State, nor the precious offspring of a peripatetic statesman with a practised pull. We were at no time decimated by disease through ignorant or
Statue of Columbus, Mayaguez.

insubordinate disregard of the primary principles of hygiene. We didn't write long wailing letters home because we were obliged to sleep on the damp ground, and had neither hot rolls, chocolate, nor marmalade for breakfast. We were ragged, hungry, tough, and faithful. In other words, we were regular army men, and, most distinctly, not Volunteers.

There is a personality peculiar to the professional soldier, even though he be but a half-fledged recruit, that defies analysis and baffles description. He is of course built from the same clay as his brother of the Volunteers; but the latter is a tin god, and the former is a devil. Yet the difference does not spring from anything more fundamental than environment, and therein lies the solace of the other fellow. Putting aside all odious comparisons and limiting myself to a view of the regular army man as I know him, I can simply say that in the eight months during which I underwent in his company hard knocks and privations without number I could not have found a more truly satisfactory comrade and friend. He doesn't, on the average, know much about books; nor did he ever hear of the Etruscan Inscriptions or the Pyramidal Policy of the Ancient Egyptians. He takes a grim delight in smashing the English language into microscopic atoms at a single blow. He is more fond of women, horses, and prize-fighting than is good for him. He will steal when he is hungry, lie to save his skin, curse most terribly on trifling provocation, and spend, to his last sou markee, his hard-won wage on adulterated drink.

"He's a devil an' a ostrich
an' a orphan-child in one."

But he will stand his ground in action while there is ground to stand on; he will throw his life away at a moment's notice for the flag, or a chosen comrade, or a worthless girl; he will march and starve and thirst world without end if he has a leader who holds his confidence; and he is, on the whole, a rather fine specimen of the true American — being usually Irish or German.
American Cavalry entering Mayaguez on the 11th of August.
Our brigade commander, General Theodore Schwan — silent, upright, tall, and spare — was regarded with affection and respect by every one who came into personal contact with him, officer and man alike. He was shrewd, clever, and distinguished, but never too busy or elevated to listen to the humblest soldier from the ranks, and from first to last a gentleman. Of his staff it is the highest praise to say that they were in every way worthy of their chief. Bluff Captain Davison, gruff Captain Hutcheson, studious Major Root, saturnine Major Egan, wounded Lieutenant Byron, patient Lieutenant Poore, dashing Captain Elkins, and courteous Lieutenant Summerlin, I salute you all in the most military manner of the soldier dismounted! You were my friends in need, you lent me money, you gave me fatherly counsel and passes of freedom to the shimmering tropic dawn — and I shall not forget.

At the head of the Eleventh Infantry was Colonel I. D. DeRussy, who, with his ministerial drawl and dry wit, was a sharp contrast to his blunt, impetuous, and fiery second in command, Lieutenant-Colonel Burke. But, so far as I am aware, perpetual harmony reigned between them and both were beloved by their men. The battalion of artillery was commanded by Captain Frank Thorp of Light Battery "D," my own outfit. He was best known in the ranks as "Side-wheeler," from a peculiarity of gait, and, though well on in years, was at all times gallant, courageous, and capable. A stiff disciplinarian, he kept his guard-house well filled from week to week; but he was as quick to reward as punish, when warranted by circumstances. It is worthy of note that although he took each day enough medicine to lay an ordinary man on his back, or in an early grave, yet he was well and fit from start to finish.

Captain Macomb of the Fifth Cavalry is not an easy man to describe in cold ink. Handsome, stalwart, and grave; black-haired, black-eyed, a scarf of yellow knotted at his throat, — he was Custer without the vanity or Lancelot devoid a Guinevere.
The Public Fountain in Aguadilla, a Favorite Rendezvous for Runaway Lovers.
When he clattered through the many quaint little towns abutting on our line of march, he was followed by a billow of sighs from behind the half-closed lattices, though I dare say he knew nothing about it; for indeed he was no heart-breaker, but a true soldier. I recommend him to either Rudyard Kipling or Richard Harding Davis.

· · · · ·

Said General Miles, in a letter of instruction to General Schwan under date of August 6, 1898: —

"You will drive out or capture all Spanish troops in the western portion of Puerto Rico. You will take all necessary precautions and exercise great care against being surprised or ambushed by the enemy, and will make the movement as rapidly as possible, at the same time exercising your best judgment in the care of your command, to accomplish the object of your expedition."

And this programme we were now ready to carry out.