After Gen. Lawton captured El Caney, Gen. Wheeler's troops charged along their front and captured San Juan heights, meeting stiff resistance all along the line. Gen. Wheeler's army consisted of a division of dismounted U.S. Cavalry, three regiments of U.S. Infantry, a regiment of Rough Riders, and a few regiments of U.S.V. Infantry.

Too Much Black Smoke

It so happened that one regiment of volunteers was ordered off the battlefield, their officers, no doubt, being good lawyers and politicians, but so ignorant of the art of war that their reserve battalion fired on their own advancing battalion. Another regiment of volunteers appeared on the battlefield, using old Springfield rifles and black powder, an example of the unpreparedness in the Spanish-American war. The black smoke drew the fire of the enemy's artillery, and the regiment had to be called off the field.

Gen. Wheeler's troops, after heavy sacrifices, finally succeeded in driving the Spaniards out of the first line of entrenchments. This left a wide gap in their left flank, which have been to the advantage of the Spaniards had they thought to execute a flank movement and get to the rear of our army.

Bates Closes Gap

After giving Gen. Lawton a "lift" in the capture of El Caney, Gen. Bates brigade was moved 26 miles to take up a position on the left of Gen. Wheeler's division in order to close up the gap. The order was given so urgent that no time was given us to halt long enough to eat, although we had been without food for 24 hours. We marched through the beautiful valley, halting later at a cross road.

Capt. Capron's light battery came down from the hills to our left. The artillery men looked weary, their horses thin and worn out. We halted here long enough to replenish our ammunition supply.

The German military attache who came from the battlefield with our brigade, inspected our artillery. Then, accompanied by an officer and two orderlies, he rode to Gen. Shafter's headquarters.

Double Time

We marched down the San Juan river, halting only long enough to fill our empty canteens. We managed to soak some of our dry hardtack and sandwiched this with slices of raw bacon. We ate on the march.

Orders were now given to march rapidly.

While Gen. Bates' brigade was on the move again, crossing and re-crossing the San Juan river, the two division commanders and all the brigade generals of the American expeditionary forces in Cuba were galloping to Gen. Shafter's headquarters for a conference.

Our losses had been appalling. We had no reserves, and very little artillery. Our ammunition was low, the food supply lower. Our only water source was the San Juan river. Had the Spaniards succeeded in executing a flank movement to our badly exposed left and got between us and Siboney, our position would have been precarious.

Critical Movements

Gen. Shafter and his staff knew this well. His plan was to retreat under cover of darkness to the hills surrounding Siboney and to entrench there and await the arrival of Gen. Miles, the commander-in-chief of the United States Army, with his thousands of volunteers, before again attacking Santiago.

It was well known that when the council of war had been called to order, Gen. Shafter laid down to his subordinate generals the needs of the situation. At his mention of the word "retreat," Gen. Lawton, a giant in stature, who had spent his life on the western plains, sprang to his feet like a wounded lion. He roared curses as he told Gen. Shafter that he and his army of regulars "would never retreat." He would stand his ground till "hell freezes over!"

Col. Theodore Roosevelt, who represented his Rough Riders, at the word leaped from his chair like a wild animal. Beating the camp table with his huge fist, he roared that he and the Rough Riders "will never live to see the American flag in retreat!"

Meantime, the small and mild Gen. Wheeler was pleading with Gen. Shafter not to order a retreat, " to trust in the pluck, bravery and the luck of the American Army."

While our chiefs were deliberating in the dim light of candles, Gen. Bates' brigade was marching rapidly toward San Juan Heights.

In order to avoid the high hills we traveled the San Juan river in the rear of the battlefield, crossing and re-crossing it that night thirty-four hundred strong. We waded at times knee deep and at other times waist deep. It was a march never to be forgotten.

The river was filled with dead horses, mules, ammunition wagons, trees torn down by artillery shells, limbs stripped clean by bullets.

At one spot we came upon a pile covered up by army blankets. A few shivering sentries of a volunteer regiment (171st New York) challenged us.

"What are you guarding over there, boys?" our officer asked.

With tears in his eyes, the corporal said, "The bodies of our fallen comrades."

Death, destruction and gloom we met all along the line of march.

The Victors Sleep

While we were on the move, worn out from heat, exertion, lack of water and food, our victorious army was sound asleep in the enemy trenches.

It was long after midnight when the San Juan hills loomed before us. Crouching and creeping in the tall, wet grass we rounded the slopes. Orders were given to form quietly in a skirmish line and be prepared to attack.

Throwing out a line of sentries ahead of us, with our hands on our guns, we fell into deep sleep.

The day was breaking - the memorable day of July 2, when Gen. Bates brigade found itself at the extreme left of our fighting lines, ready to check and hold at bay the enemy should they make a move to reach the rear of our army and cut off our supplies.

To dislodge us from our important position was the aim of the Spaniards.

Americans Lucky

We pulled up to the slope of the hill, using the crest for protection. It was our luck that only about one- third of the shells fired at us exploded. The others sank into the ground too deep, or their fuses were set wrong. Capt. Moon of "B" company was severely wounded and there were many casualties from bursting shrapnel.

The surrounding country was barren and rocky, a contrast to El Caney heights. Below these hills stretched broad fields of tall grass, intermingled with a few palm trees. At the edge of these fields, twisting like a silver string, flowed the San Juan river.

Flocks of screeching vultures, the size of large turkeys, were twisting in the air, or diving rapidly for their fallen prey. Some of them got so bold that they dived close to us, throwing cold chills into us.

Storming the Trenches

Immediately after Cevera's guns turned loose on us, the artillery placed back of us, opened fire on the second line of the Spanish trenches. The infantry fire was heavy to our right.

We breakfasted on hardtack and raw bacon, and, with our canteens empty, we found ourselves cut off from our water supply.

On their retreat the Spaniards left behind their sharpshooters, who were hiding in the tall grass, or sniping at us from the palm trees. In order to get water we had to send a strong detail of men, escorted by our sharpshooters, to fight their way to the San Juan river.

After our canteens were returned, we received orders to take up a position to our left. There was an open mountain pass between the San Juan hills overlooking Santiago and the Moro castle, our final objective.

The Pass

We had to cross that mountain pass in full view of the Spanish trenches. We started in single file, crawling on our stomachs and did not dare to raise our heads. The bullets were cutting through the tall grass. We suffered much loss.

All that time we were facing a boiling sun. It took us a long time to cross the pass, but we finally reached the hills overlooking Santiago, which we had to cross. While the tall grass protected us in the valley, there was no protection whatever in crossing the hills.

An officer was stationed at the foot of the hill to take command of the movement. We were ordered to scatter 15 feet apart in squads. At the command each squad went double time over the hills, one at a time. It took the brigade more than four hours to cross the pass and more than three hours to go over the hills.

From the Hilltop

When I reached the top of the hill I took a glance at the surrounding valley beneath. Before us lay the city of Santiago, to the right stretched for miles the well-built Spanish trenches, filled with troops.

We were ordered to march rapidly through a thick grass covered valley, in order to reach the slope of another line of hills, and then to entrench.

With the climax passed, the men began to faint away as the result of fatigue and deprivation. "I am dying from thirst," could be heard from men, as they lay exposed to the heat of the sun. There was not a tree or shade of any kind.

Digging In

With our bayonets we started to "dig ourselves in." We shared our last drop of water from our canteens with those suffering most. The vultures were following us, and we had to be careful to let no bodies lie for any length of time. To the right of us the firing of both armies was continuing unabated.

It was getting near dusk when our brigade finally entrenched, taking up a position to the extreme left of our army, facing the city of Santiago.

Orders came from headquarters to send a strong armed force to bring in a supply of water from the river.

Only men who have crossed desert lands or served in campaigns in tropical countries, know the agony of thirst.

The shadows of night began to spread over our worn-out brigade before detachments returned with our water canteens.

Sleep of Death

Some of us, after quenching our thirsts, fell in a sleep of the dead, while others began to form for the night patrol.

Like shadows we were moving around quietly in the darkness of the night. With ponchos thrown over our shoulders, campaign hats pulled over eyes, and guns tightly grasped, we formed in squads.

We moved up 150 feet in front of our trenches prowling in the tall grass. One-third of our men were left right there. We moved up 150 feet more and another detachment was left behind us.

The rest of us had to take up positions on the hill overlooking Santiago. We were the most distant outpost.

A Tense Situation

I was stretched out on the grass, my fingers almost constantly on the trigger. Below lay a deep valley, in the middle of which was a wide pond. Close to the pond was a row of long white barracks flying the Red Cross flag. The Spaniards had made it so that neither the navy nor the army could fire on the city.

A large part of Santiago was hidden behind high hills. The exposed part of the city was used as barracks and during the war period these were transformed into hospitals.

Lights were burning in all of them. I could hear dogs barking. From the valley came the melancholy strains of Spanish music. I realized that the Spanish outposts were not far from us, and tried to catch every sound, keeping in touch with sentinels on each side of me. I was exhausted and trying to fight off sleep. In my ears was ringing the "articles of war," which reads: "Any man found asleep on his post in front of the enemy shall be court- martialed and shot."

First Alarm

It was after 9 o'clock, when I heard a noise, like someone crouching in the grass back of me. I jumped, grabbed my gun, and looked around. I saw back of me Lieut. Crawly, Sergt. Osborn, and three men of the guard.

Sergt. Osborn raised his hand to me, a signal not to challenge. They came close. Lieut. Crawly asked me if I had noticed anything unusual. I told him all I knew. He said everything looked like they were preparing for a night attack. He told me to fall in with his squad.

Then he pulled in all of our second line of sentries. We received the order to fall back on our first line.

The night was pitch black, a deathly silence prevailed. Stretched out in the grass still holding tightly to our guns, we lay expecting something to happen.

The Attack

It was 10 o'clock when a flash of small light and the noise of thousands of rifles to our right broke suddenly. Instantly rockets glared in the rear of us from Gen. Shafter's headquarters - the signal for our army to repel the attack.

In a few moments the surrounding hills and valleys were echoing with bugles sounding the call to arms.

The artillery on each side of us began to spit fire, while our infantry turned their guns loose on the advancing lines of the Spaniards.

We jumped to our feet, and moved in a semi-circle to avoid our own fire. "An attack, an attack!" was heard everywhere while the men roused from their sleep, began firing. Just then Col. McCasky came rushing to our trenches. "Capt. Morrison," he said, " your company must cease firing. You are facing the city of Santiago." We were rather disappointed.

Meantime, to our right the attack was progressing on a large scale. The Spaniards found our army wide-awake and ready. All gaps were closed and our army was well entrenched in captured positions.

They tried to break through our lines but never succeeded. The battle lasted till 2 o'clock. Attacks and counter attacks were going on all along the line, while Gen. Bates' brigade to the extreme left, held tightly to their trenches, which protected our army from a flanking movement by the enemy.

About 2 o'clock the Spaniards retreated to their second line of trenches, while an intermittent fire was kept up all night.

At daybreak a heavy and cold mist was hanging over our trenches. The firing never ceased all night and opened up again with more ferocity at dawn. The vultures screeched over us. Shells were dropping all about us - it was war and all that goes with it.

An Illustrious Day

It was the morning of July 3, 1898, one of the most illustrious days in American history. It was on this day that the Stars and Stripes were covered in glory. It was the day of the destruction of the Spanish fleet by the American navy, with the loss of only one man on our side. One of the most complete naval victories in history.

On that day 12,000 U.S. regulars, with 3,000 volunteers and two battalions of light artillery and a few Gatling guns, made a dash on the fortified city of Santiago, meeting an enemy of twice that number, well entrenched and armed with the most modern rifles then known, the Mausers. In addition the Spaniards had a greatly superior force of artillery, reinforced by the guns of Cervera's powerful fleet, and we were fighting under the hot sun with no water or food.

The U.S. naval vessels, all painted gray, a powerful fleet in those days, lay in the blue waters of the Carribean. The sturdy bronze-faced sailors were keeping a constant watch on Moro Castle.

Moro Castle

Back of these fortifications, hidden by high rocky hills, lay Spain's fleet, that once made her mistress of the seas. Had they escaped from behind those hills, any one of these fast vessels might have played havoc with the commerce of the United States on the high seas and threatened some of our thickly populated cities on the Atlantic coast.

Admiral Sampson was entrusted to see that they did not escape. He had under his command the powerful Indiana and Iowa, with its fighting rear admiral, Bob Evans; the Oregon which, after the declaration of war with Spain, made its famous cruise around Cape Horn; the Massachusetts, the New York, flying the flag of Admiral Sampson, the Brooklyn flying the flag of Rear Admiral Schley. Cruisers, dispatch boats, torpedo boats and torpedo boat destroyers - all these vessels kept the blockade on the harbor of Santiago de Cuba.

Admiral Sampson Bails

On the morning of July 3 Admiral Sampson sailed for Siboney to have a conference with Gen. Shafter, the commander-in-chief of the U.S. forces operating against Santiago. The conference was to have decided for a combined attack by the army and navy. The fleet was left in charge of Admiral Schley. We, laying in the trenches, were dozing on our rifles when suddenly a roar of guns came from Moro Castle. We jumped to our positions. "The navy is fighting," came the word along the line. Not, asking further information or orders, we made a mad dash for the cliff overlooking the sea.

Enveloped in clouds of smoke, Cevera's four first-class cruisers, the Infanta Maria Teresa, the Vizcaya, Cristobal Colon and the Almirante Oquendo, escorted by two torpedo boat destroyers, the Pluton and the Furor, and protected by a heavy mist, had made a dash for the open seas.

The battleship Iowa was the first vessel of the blockading fleet to sight the escaping Spanish fleet. She immediately signaled to the rest of the fleet. Admiral Sampson's vessel the New York, signaled back to Rear Admiral Schley: "Close in and attack the enemy," and immediately turned back.

It was 9:30 in the morning, the men of the fleet were in their Sunday "quarters for inspection," when the signal for the attack was given. Cheering and yelling they sprang to their guns.

Shrouded in columns of smoke, at full speed, the colors proudly waving and their batteries pouring out a terrific fire, the blockading fleet began to close up on the escaping Spanish fleet.

All heavy guns of the Moro Castle forts opened up on our attacking fleet while they were maneuvering to encircle the enemy. In a few movements it felt like the ground was rocking under our feet from the firing of the combined fleets and the guns of the castle.

Pride of Spain Falls

Fifteen minutes after it left the bay the pride of the Spanish navy, the Infanta Maria Teresa, the flagship, was a mass of fire.

The most exciting part of the naval battle came when the Glouster, an unprotected cruiser sighted the Spanish torpedo boat destroyers, the Pluton and the Furor, emerging from the harbor. Disregarding the heavy fire of the Socapa battery from Moro Castle, she made a dash for the destroyers and engaged them at close quarters.

Twenty minutes after they left the harbor the Pluton sank in deep water and the Furor was beached and sank in the surf, with the loss of fully two-thirds of the crew.

While Bob Evans of the Iowa was pounding away on the Infanta, the Indiana, the Brooklyn and the Texas were chasing and pouring shot into the Vizcaya and the Almirante Oquendo. Both of these met the fate of the Infanta.

Heroic Resistance

The Chirstobal Colon made a heroic attempt to escape the fate of her sister ships. The Oregon, the fastest vessel of the blockading fleet, gave chase, followed by the Brooklyn, the Texas and the torpedo boat destroyer Vixen and the New York, carrying Admiral Sampson.

The Colon was struggling in the dangerous reefs of the coast. The Oregon's guns, finally getting the range, forced her to haul down her colors and run ashore.

But after the surrender the sea valves were opened and the efforts of the New York and the Oregon failed to save her.

Four hours after leaving Santiago harbor the Spanish fleet was a mass of burning debris. Over 1,300 prisoners were taken by our fleet.

Admiral Cevera, upon seeing the end of his fleet, jumped overboard, but was rescued by his young son who had been with him aboard ship. Both of them were rescued by our sailors.

While the battle was in progress boats were lowered from our ships to rescue the wounded and drowning Spaniards.

Our sailors displayed great courage in the rescue work. They boarded the burning vessels, and removed the wounded, endangering their own lives constantly.

The prisoners and wounded were given the greatest care, officers and men giving up their own shelter and food for the fallen foe.

When the fog lifted and the tragedy of the sea was ended, and word of the victory of our fleet reached the trenches of Gen. Bates' brigade, we became a cheering mass of humanity.

Cevera, who was our prisoner of war, had been the worst foe of Gen. Bates' brigade. The long range rifles of his fleet had increasingly followed us from the time we started for the battlefield till the time of their destruction.

NOTE: Spanish General Jose Toral surrendered the city of Santiago to General William Shafter on July 13, 1898.

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Updated June 06, 2008
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