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Spanish-American War News Articles
(Letters are posted alphabetically)
LETTER FROM PERCY ABLE
9th Missouri Infantry
Source: Alton Telegraph, December 01, 1898
Mr. Percy Able of the 9th Missouri Infantry writes quite a letter
home, declaring that the bill of fare at Puerto Rico is making a man
of him. He says: “I weigh 160 pounds, and am getting fat. Two
Italians were arrested here today (October 29) for having dynamite
in their possession. They were suspected of attempt to blow up the
customs house here. There is more excitement here now than any time
since we came. The natives had a strike, and the soldiers made them
go back to work again.” From Percy’s statements, he is
evidently having a good time and in his element.
LETTER FROM PERCY ABLE
Puerto Rico
Source: Alton Evening Telegraph, February 02, 1899
From North Alton – Mr. Percy Able of Company B, 19th U.S. Infantry,
has written to a friend here stating that Puerto Rican life is most
agreeable to him. Percy states that Herman Horneyer has fared badly,
but is slowly recovering his health in a hospital.
**********************
LETTER FROM CHARLES L. BEALL
16th U.S. Infantry
Source: Alton Telegraph, June 16, 1898
Mr. Charles L. Beall of the 16th U.S. Infantry, writing from Tampa
under the date of June 07, gives the following account of army life:
“I read in various papers about the terrible heat here. I don’t know
just the temperature, but as far as the effect is concerned, it is
nothing as compared to the August days at home. There is always a
breeze here, and it is always cool in the shade. At night it is
cold; you need a double blanket over you. We sleep on the ground –
white sand – and put our half shelter tents under us, and a blanket
or improvised mattress – coffee sacks stuffed with moss, quilted. We
have sixteen men in our tent. It rained a few days ago. I say it
rained. It doesn’t rain in Alton – not like it does here. It just
drops here, for the whole dose at once.
Uncle Sam seems to think his sons are all very fond of bacon. In the
start we had beef more than bacon, and really fared very well. It
was reported we were to have beef seven days out of ten. Since that
report, I don’t believe we have had anything but bacon, and good and
fat too.
It is said there are 30,000 soldiers here, and the town is in
confusion. Saturday was payday, and today very few of the soldiers
have any money left. We are informed unofficially that we leave here
tonight. We received orders yesterday to turn in our knapsacks and
all extra clothing, and to keep only one blanket, one blouse, etc.
and that we would probably leave today, for where we don’t know. The
men who are to go are already picked. We are to carry blanket rolls
and haversack with mess kit and ten days rations, gun, and 100
rounds of ammunition. One coming in the field wants no clothing but
that on him, and not over two pounds of extra.”
LETTER FROM CHARLES L. BEALL
In the Thick of the Fight of the Battle of Santiago
Source: Alton Telegraph, July 21, 1898
Mrs. Charles Beall received two letters this morning from her son,
Charles L. Beall, of Company B, 16th Infantry. One letter was
written several days before the battles of July 01 and 02, and the
other was written July 04. The letter is as follows:
Tuesday, June 28 – “Before I could mail the letter here Sunday
evening, the detail to the town left. We moved out Monday morning at
5 o’clock, and marched until 10:30 a.m. It was a pretty hard tramp,
but we would rest every half mile or so, and got through in good
shape. We marched about eight miles, and are now encamped on the top
of a small mountain, extending in a ridge for some distance. The
balance of the corps is below us. We came up last night for picket
duty. I was on two hours from 6 to 8 last evening. Santiago is in
plain sight some four or five miles southwest of us. It will
probably be ten miles by the road. The town is in a broad valley,
surrounded by mountains, excepting on the south side, where the bay
comes in from the sea. With a glass, you can see the guns and
soldiers. In the fight Thursday (La Quasina), the Rough Riders lost
about 40 men. They were re-enforced by the 10th Cavalry, who saved
the day for them. The Spaniards lost 130 men, whom we buried. The
Cubans say they lost many more whom they carried into Santiago
themselves, beside the wounded.”
July 04 – “Well, I was unable to mail the letter after all, and so I
am writing more. I have got through my first battle, and did not get
a scratch. We left camp Friday at 5 a.m., and started for Santiago.
We rested about three miles from our present position and advanced.
When within a mile of here we passed through a murderous fire in the
woods. We could not locate the exact position of the enemy, as they
were just pouring a heavy artillery fire of shells and grape shot.
Our men were falling on every side, and at places we laid down and
crawled forward, dead and wounded all around. We maneuvered back and
forth in the woods and brush, sometimes exposed to a crossfire.
Finally, we got immediately in front of the enemy. We were in a
ditch behind a barbed wire fence, and the bullets were raining over
and among us. We, the 16th Infantry, were supposed to be the
support, but we would lay our guns on the fence and fire as we
could. The 6th Infantry was ordered to advance. They went to the
right, and found an opening in the fence, and lay down in the high
grass and started firing. The plain in front of them was about 600
yards wide, and there was the position of the enemy on a hill (San
Juan), as steep as State Street [in Alton, Illinois], covered with
grass and stony; on the top entrenchments, a block house and
artillery. The 6th Infantry could not hold the position in the
grass, and were routed and came in confusion toward us, trying to
come through the fence. Some got over, some only half way through
and stuck there. The 16th was ordered to charge the Spaniards and
take their fortifications. We, with fixed bayonets and some machetes
some of the men had picked up, hammered and pulled the fence down,
and stopped only when we reached the top of the hill, and the enemy
was in confused retreat toward the town. Our colors were the first
and only ones to fly from the summit of San Juan hill. Our company
was in front and center, and we feel very proud of ourselves. We
have lost 24 men; we had 84, and now have 60. You see what a great
loss we had. We are now in the position the Spaniards held, and have
them about surrounded with three lines of entrenchments. They tried
to surprise us Saturday night, July 02, on the left flank, but were
repulsed by the 21st Infantry with a loss of 500 men.
Both our Captain and Lieutenant are wounded, but seriously, we think
they are very brave, as they were in the front of the company all
the time. An English officer, who was on the field Friday, says the
charge was the finest he ever saw. We had no artillery until the
position was ours. We were halfway up the hill when the gatling gun
opened, but the Spaniards were all gone then. Of course, in charging
there were other regiments, the 6th Infantry in the rear, and the
10th Infantry on the right.
Sampson has allowed Cervera’s fleet to go out and has destroyed it.
Since 12 o’clock yesterday noon, we have been under an armistice to
last until tomorrow morning at 10. It seems strange – no firing of
rifles or cannon. It has been continuous. We slept Friday and
Saturday in the hot sun with rifle shots and shells falling among
us. We had no food but hard tack during Friday, Saturday, and
Sunday. My tent mate and I cooked supper last night, the first since
Friday morning. We slept Friday and Saturday nights on the ground,
soaking wet and no covering over us, nothing under us.” Signed,
Charles L. Beall.
Charles says nothing concerning the other Alton boys. Dr. E. C.
Lemen also received a letter from his son, and he is well, but says
nothing of the boys. It is, therefore, presumable that all the
Altonians escaped. Had any of them been injured, it would have been
mentioned.
LETTER FROM CHARLES L. BEALL
Source: Alton Telegraph, August 18, 1898
Mr. Charles Beall received a letter today from his son, Charles L.
Beall, at Santiago. All the Alton boys were well, although some of
them had suffered with malarial fever but recovered in a short time.
The soldiers are in a camp that is well located; they are being well
cared for, and are getting the finest rations ever served out to any
army. He says the boys were at first short on blankets and
waterproof coverings, but they fell heir to the property of the
killed and wounded, and manage to make themselves very comfortable.
He sees all the Alton boys every day, as he is a clerk in the
commissary department, where the boys must go for supplies. All of
them are heartily sick of soldier life, and will gladly welcome
discharge from service. The letter was written August 03, taking
only nine days to make the trip from Santiago.
LETTER FROM CHARLES LOUIS BEALL
16th Infantry in Long Island, New York
Source: Alton Telegraph, August 25, 1898
Mr. Charles B. Beall received a letter from his son, Charles Louis
Beall, a member of the 16th U.S. Infantry, now at Montauk Point,
Long Island, New York. The 16th left Santiago on last Sunday morning
onboard the Grand Duchess, an 18-knot ship. In an hour, they were
out at sea. They passed the Merrimac in Santiago Harbor. The masts
and smokestacks were still above water. They also saw the remains of
the wrecked Spanish warships Viscaya, Oquenda, Maria Theresa, and
Christobol Colon. There were two deaths on the voyage, and the
burial was at sea. All the soldiers enjoyed the trip to New York,
which did them a great deal of good. Mr. Beall, in company with
others, had a fine stateroom, plenty of good food, and altogether
the voyage was delightful. The Grand Duchess arrived at Montauk
Wednesday. She had to stand to out at sea for a few hours until her
machinery, which had been damaged slightly, could be repaired. There
were a number of sick soldiers onboard, but they were all from the
71st New York, which journeyed with the 16th. Mr. Beall reports
himself in perfect health.
***********************
LETTER FROM FRANK SNOWDEN BOALS
Source: Alton Telegraph, June 23, 1898
“I promised you that I would write to you, but until now I had time
to write postals only. The boys are getting on fine. You will find
enclosed a list of the Alton boys and their assignments. After we
leave Hampton Roads, Virginia, papers will not be sent to the ship,
so it will be of no use to send the papers. Only first-class mail,
such as letters, will be sent to the ship. The vessel we are on is
the old wooden ship “Franklin,” and was Admiral Farragut’s flagship
for a time, so of course has a history behind it. You have probably
seen the picture of Farragut in the rigging with an ironclad on the
port quarter. As near as I can learn, this scene took place aboard
this ship. This picture, I believe, was published in one of the
Saturday Evening Telegraph’s of about four or five weeks agi. The
vessel was armed with 70 Dahlgren guns, and must have been a terror
for a wooden ship. These guns shot a 9-inch solid ball. The officers
onboard are very nice, most of them being retired officers. I have
learned another thing from the Chief Master-at-Arms. He says
Farragut made his famous trip to England on the Franklin. It was on
this trip that he was taken sick. He was brought home, and died
shortly after. His seat back of his barge is onboard.
We had hoped to get ashore, but Mr. Webb, the executive officer, has
ordered that no Harvard man shall go ashore, as they are liable to
be called at any minute to the Harvard. Congratulate Messrs. Ash and
Paul on their promotions. We thought the “grub” onboard pretty hard
at first, but we are getting used to it now.” Signed, Frank S.
Boals.
The following is a list of the names of seamen and the ships to
which they are assigned:
U.S.S. Harvard
Frank S. Boals, Frank Brice, Charles Swain, Clay Butler, Charles
Herb, Gus Volz, Laurance Robidou, Ed Johnson, Phillip Leyser,
Charles Gildersleeve, Wyllis Neal, Si. Maxfield, Ed A. Haight, Edgar
Rice, William Brubach, Charles E. Smith, Alen Challacombe, John
Bruner, and Frank Still
U.S.S. Yale
Harris Smith, Ward Lane, Charles, Lyons, George Leach, John Lively,
H. D. Williams, H. E. Bradley, Perry Topping, Walter Cobeck, William
Montgomery, Lucien Baker, William Grenzeback, George McVey, Frank
Squires, Charles Head, John Lind, Ben Halsey, and Wilbur Streeper.
U.S.S. Newark
William Gradolph, J. Forman, A. Barth, and George Dickey.
U.S.S. Cincinnati
William Hagerman, D. D. Young, W. A. Morris, and William Jacoby.
The following seamen had not been assigned when the letter was
written, but were still on the receiving ship, the Franklin:
Lewis Utt, Charles Walters, Harry Rowan, Luke Chapman, John Duncan,
H. E. Craig, J. J. Donnelly, William Burris, Emmerson Owens, Fred
Buck, Hugh Logsdon, Walter Cook, Charles Atkins, Curtis Hays,
William Lyons, Ed Knapp, Bert Hulburt, and William Gray.
Lieutenant W. L. Sparks had not been assigned.
********************
LETTER FROM CLAY BUTLER
U.S.S. Harvard, at Sea
Source: Alton Telegraph, July 21, 1898
June 28, 1898 – “There is a rumor that a dispatch boat will meet us
today, so will write you a few lines. I have been seasick, and a
fellow feels rather tough I tell you. Some of the boys were a great
deal sicker than I was, but as I was sick to start with, it didn’t
make much difference to me anyway.
So far we have done nothing but roustabout work – no gun drill or
anything of that sort at all. They say that in a few days they are
going to put us on watch, but so far ‘tis nothing but labor. We are
not likely to see much service, and unless things change, we will
come home as green about naval tactics as when we started.
The journey out of the bay was very interesting. As we passed the
warship Minneapolis, the boys cheered and clapped their hands for a
long time. Newport News is a beautiful city from the river, and
viewed by night, the wharf presents a most beautiful scene.
I worked all day Sunday, and you would never know it was Sunday. We
left at 1 o’clock, and didn’t get our dinner until about 2, and the
boys were nearly starved. One thing, we get better food than the
boys on the battleships. Now, that doesn’t mean anywhere near what
we get at home, but still, it is much better than lots of men get.
One of the stewards told me this morning that the ship’s company
feed us on contract with the government, and in that way we get
different stuff. The troops have to eat beans, ham, sardines, a
little canned tomatoes, and hardtack and coffee. It is all canned
stuff, but good. They get very tired of it, three times a day,
though. The troops are a jolly lot, and you never hear any disputes
or anything like that. They sing in the evening, and last night
someone was singing, ‘The Palms,’ and he had an elegant voice. An
old fiddle was going too, so the effect was fine. There are plenty
of good voices among the boys, and in the evening they do enjoy
themselves.
Off coast of Cuba, June 30. We expect to reach Santiago sometime
tonight. I am feeling much better, and getting along first-rate. The
climate is very pleasant, and not so hot but that we can be
comfortable when on deck. We had our first gun drill today, and I am
No. 4 on the gun. My duty is to take the shells out of the gun. We
are provided with gloves for that purpose, and the boys are all
anxious for a fight. This afternoon as we were approaching the
island, a collier [coal ship] was coming creeping along the shore,
and the bugle blew ‘general quarters.’ That means ‘everyone to his
place as soon as he can possibly get there.’ All guns were loaded,
and we were ready for a fight, when we found out the vessel was a
U.S. ship.
Our first sight of land after leaving Newport News was Salvador. It
is a beautiful island with its white beach, and hill and mountains
in the background. A very tall monument stood on one end, which we
were told was the place where Columbus landed. The coast of Cuba is
very fine, as the mountains are covered with a heavy foliage, and in
all conceivable shapes. We are running not more than half a mile
from shore, and we have plenty chance to see it. I can very easily
see how a few determined men could hold the country against heavy
odds. I hope we get into a fight and capture a prize or two, so that
we can have some money when we get home. We have the nicest man to
serve under, and when we are in drill, it is all right, but when we
are under some of them, we are nothing.
The troops are so sick of beans, etc., that they hang about the
doors to get anything they can get their hands on, or beg. I always
take out more bread when I can, but lately they have been cutting us
down. This morning we had hardtack, and it is as hard as hard can
be. The only way to eat it is to grind away like a cow, and then try
it again.
Off Santiago, July 8 – Tonight is the first opportunity I have had
to write for the last week. We are all well and kicking like mules.
But I am not as unhappy as you might imagine, and make the best of
things. All the old men have been very kind to me, and when they see
a lad trying to do his best, they help him all they can.
Sunday and Monday were very interesting, and I shall try and tell
you all I saw. To begin with, Sunday we started to unload stuff at a
landing place about eight miles below the entrance to the bay. About
9 o’clock, we saw the warships firing away, and about 10 we were all
sent onboard in a great hurry. We went up above and by that time our
ships had sunk the Infanta Maria Teresa, Oquendo, and Viscaya, the
torpedo boats Terror Pluton and Mercedes. They came out of the
harbor, and our vessels went right at them, and none of them got
more than five miles away. All the Spanish vessels were beached but
one, and we saw them all. We steamed up as far as the Viscaya, and
when we were within a half mile of her, the magazine exploded. The
sides of the vessel hung together, but all the upper decks were
blown out. After running around the shore a half hour or so, we
received orders to go to the Oquendo and Maria Teresa, and take on
the prisoners. I was in a boat that took on some, and they were a
great looking lot. The two ships were lying close together, and both
afire, and the men were huddled on the shore, as the Cubans were
firing from the woods, and we had no trouble taking them aboard. We
would stand off the shore a little way, throw them a line, and they
would plunge in the water and into the boats. The Captain of the
Oquendo shot himself and locked some of his men down in the hold,
and of course they were all burned to death. Our boat was lying
within a hundred feet of the Oquendo, when a shell exploded, and
fire and smoke rolled up. It is a shame not to be able to save such
fine boats. They had good guns, and were fine-looking vessels.
The worst thing was the fight onboard. Monday night about 12
o’clock, we were aroused by the noise of guns, and the orders were
‘every man to his place.’ The prisoners had made a rush, I suppose
to escape. The guards fired into them, and about 50 soldiers left
here to guard the stores, rushed back and opened fire. Six men were
killed, and a dozen or so badly hurt. I was one of the boys detailed
to go back among them after the fight and carry the dead and wounded
down to the sick bay. I was barefooted, and just think of wading
into a deck all covered with blood, and men lying around shot in all
sorts of places. But a fellow get used to it, and we hustled them
down as if they were so many sacks of flour. Those Springfield
rufles tear awful holes in a man’s body, about the size of a half
dollar. They were a hard lot of fellows, and they looked at us as if
they would like to kill us.
Oh, I tell you war is an awful thing, and I can’t tell you all I
have seen and see every day. The boys got all the Spanish things
they could lay hands on, and I have quite a few. I have been pretty
bad, but am all over my seasickness now, and can be out all day in a
little boat, jumping around like a cork and not be the least bit
sick. Some of the boys can’t stand it all.
Camp McCalla, Cuba, July 10 – I am working in the sick bay, taking
care of the sick and wounded. We wear the red cross on our arms. The
way some of the Spaniard are hurt is a caution. They suffer mostly
from fever caused by the heat, lack of proper food, and water. They
cry ‘I, I, I, I’ all the time. In English it means a swear word. If
one sees water, they all want it and cry ‘aqua, aqua.’ We have about
40 in the bay.
The condition of the Spanish soldier in Cuba is beyond description.
They have no food, no water, and are forced to fight by their
officers. We have taken sixty more marines aboard here to guard the
prisoners. The rifles we use are awful weapons, and if they fire,
leave a trail of torn flesh behind. The Spaniards have no facilities
for taking care of the wounded. One of the prisoners we took on (we
took 300 Thursday) had wounds filled with maggots. Our doctor is
such a nice man, and does all he can to help them get well.
Now I am in here, I do not have to do anything else, and I get
better food than before. We are supposed to eat at regular mess, but
we eat the same as they serve out for the sick men. That, of course,
is much better than what the boys get. I had some oranges today, and
they tasted so good. There are four or five of us in here, and when
scrubbing time comes, we go and get a couple of well Spaniards and
make them do the work while we stand over them and see that it is
properly done.
We leave this place at 4 o’clock, and go to Portsmouth, New
Hampshire. I hope this is our last trip. Rumors are floating around
that Spain has sued for peace, and I hope it is true.” Signed, Clay
Butler.
LETTER FROM CLAY BUTLER
U.S.S. Harvard
Source: Alton Telegraph, August 04, 1898
Clay Butler writes home from the Harvard that the Alton boys had a
unexpected call last Wednesday from Mr. E. P. Wade, President of the
Alton National Bank. Clay had been downstairs spraying the steerage
quarters with disinfectant to kill Spanish microbes, and had just
stepped on deck to get some fresh air when he saw the familiar face
of Mr. Wade, as its owner climbed over the side of the Harvard. Clay
lost no time in making himself known to Mr. Wade, and then called
all the Alton boys up to shake hands. Mr. Wade held an impromptu
reception on the deck, and left the boys feeling much happier at
having seen a familiar face.
***********************
LETTER FROM WILL CHALK
Source: Alton Telegraph, September 01, 1898
Will Chalk has written home from Montauk Point some of his memories
of Cuban life and characteristics. He writes:
“The battles I have gone through seem like a dream to me, but when I
come to realize it, I wonder how I ever got through alive. I have a
very different idea of the Cubans from what I had when I started.
The Spaniards are the better people to deal with. After the fall of
Santiago, the Spaniards treated us finely. We could have anything we
wanted, but we had to watch the Cubans, or they would steal
everything we had. After the battle of San Juan, they robbed the
dead and wounded of even their clothes. But all the papers said of
their starving condition was true. In some of them you could have
counted every bone in their body.”
Will is anxious to come home, and says the boys are expecting a
furlough of one month. All of them are well.
**********************
LETTER FROM JOHN A. COUSLEY JR.
Source: Alton Telegraph, August 25, 1898
Puerto Rico, August 09 – “The U.S.S. Cherokee, with the 19th U.S. Infantry,
came into port Sunday, August 01. We landed Monday afternoon. The
trip was very tiresome, and we were all glad when we set foot on dry
land, even if it was the enemy’s country. After a march of three
miles, we camped on a plain on the outskirts of Ponce. The first
night in camp we experienced our first battle scare. A shot was
fired just after ‘taps,’ and the command was given to fall lin line.
It was thought that the Spanish had attacked, but it proved to be a
false alarm, one of the sentries accidentally discharging his gun.
Tuesday night about 10 o’clock, companies C (my company) and D broke
camp and left for Yauca, a small town twenty miles from Ponce, to
act as garrison for the place. We went on a narrow gauge railroad,
arriving there at 3 o’clock the next morning. We found the 6th
Massachusetts (colored) there. They are all fine fellows and make
excellent soldiers. The 6th Illinois also came on the same train
with us. We stayed there until last Monday night, returning to Ponce
over the route we came. When I got back to Ponce I found several
letters from home and four papers. I also found a box of candy
kisses. They were just in the nick of time, as we did not get any
supper that night. They were fine, and went like hot cakes. I passed
them around, and the boys all said they could nothave been made any
nicer. This paper (on which he writes) is very much soiled, but it
is the best I could do, as there is none for sale here. For the last
three or four days rumors have floated around that peace has been
declared. No one here knows whether it is true or not.
On the passage down, I did not get seasick, and am now in fine
health, and have developed an enormous appetite since coming here. I
sleep on a rubber poncho (raincoat) and a blanket. While at Yauca,
I, with three others, was placed on outpost guard. The outpost is on
the top of a high hill or low mountain, and is a mile away from
camp. We were on duty from 3 p.m. to 9 a.m. It rained during the
night, and we had no means of shelter.
When my home papers arrived, everybody wanted to see them. The Alton
Telegraph was the only paper in camp, and all were anxious to see
and hear the war news, which, however, was about two weeks old. All
mail addressed to Ponce, Puerto Rico, Company C, 19th U.S. Infantry,
will reach the regiment.
On the way to Puerto Rico, we were met by the U.S. cruiser Dixie.
Our ship, the Cherokee, was not in convoy of any other vessel, and
our Captain had orders to steer clear of all vessels. When he saw
the Dixie, not knowing what it was, he started to run away. The
Dixie fired a blank shot at us, but our Captain paid no attention to
the call of the Dixie. She then fired a solid shot, but still our
Captain heeded not. The Dixie then put a solid shot over our bow,
and the Captain soon hove too, and received a ‘calling down’ from
the Commander of the Dixie. I was on the bow of the Cherokee, and
the shot seemed dangerously close.” Signed, J. A. C. Jr.
LETTER FROM JOHN A. COUSLEY JR.
19th U.S. Infantry
Source: Alton Telegraph, September 01, 1898
From Ponce, Puerto Rico, August 19 – “The Telegraph comes regularly,
and when I get it everybody flocks to my tent and reads the war
news, or rather the peace news, to them. The Telegraph has quite a
“circulation” in camp, as I pass the papers around and they are
eagerly read. I received two copies of the Republican last night,
for which the sender will please accept my thanks.
I learned today the first definite news of peace, the Ponce paper
publishing the President’s proclamation in English, Spanish, and
French. I would like to send you one, but they cost five cents, and
that is beyond the extent of my finances. The paper is the size of a
Sunday school lesson paper (8x10 inches), printed on one side, and
is a one-sheet affair. However, I read the most welcome bit of news
in it that ever came to me – that of peace. I am in excellent
health, and have developed a tremendous appetite and eat more than
anybody else in the regiment. We get very good food here, and have
fresh meat three times a day. The army does its own slaughtering,
killing three cows every evening. We had fried liver for breakfast
this morning, and we have beefsteak regularly. There is no complaint
to be made on the food. The only kick coming are the restrictions
placed on us, but as peace is declared, these will be relaxed and we
will be more at liberty. I think we will soon be placed in a
barracks, and that will be pleasanter than camp life.
Puerto Rico is a very pretty place, and when the United States gets
possession, it is destined to become a great commercial center. The
land is very rich, and yields abundantly wherever cultivated. Sugar
cane is the leading product. The factories are nearly all sugar
refineries. The natives are of a shiftless class, the women doing
the work, and the men doing the “rest.”
Under the prevailing custom, a boy or girl’s furnishing house would
not prosper, as most of the children of both sexes from the time
they are able to walk until about ten or eleven years of age, run
around without clothing of any kind. The streets are the best I ever
saw, and surpass the paved streets in Alton.
The other night, 150 prisoners passed through Ponce. They were
captured by the Sixth Illinois Infantry. They were a hungry-looking
lot, and seemed pleased at the prospect of getting something to eat
once more.
We buried three soldiers yesterday. I was a pallbearer for one of
them. It was the first time that I have acted in that capacity. They
were buried in common pine boxes. The Chaplain of the 19th read the
burial service, and when he uttered the words ‘earth to earth,’
‘ashes to ashes,’ ‘dust to dust,’ it was my duty to cast a handful
of earth on the coffin. It was a solemn occasion to me, and to all
present.
The Spanish money is the genuine ‘rotten money,’ of which so much
was heard in the campaign of 1896. It would not be taken, hardly, as
a present in the United States. I had the laugh on my tentmate. He
is a Democrat and free silverite. Coming here on the transport, he
said that I was a knave or a fool because I claimed that our money
was good in Puerto Rico and the world over. When the boat anchored
out in the harbor of Ponce, a number of the natives came alongside
in small boats offering to sell bananas, mangoes, sugar cane, etc.
My tentmate was the first one I saw buy anything, and the natives
took American money more eagerly than they did their own. A United
States dollar here will buy two dollars of Spanish money.
The recruits in the 19th are all eager to get home, now that the
fighting is over and peace has been declared, and when I again set
foot in Alton at Union Station, I may be like Admiral Montejo at
Manila – uncle to restrain my emotions.” Signed, John A. Cousley Jr.
***********************
LETTER FROM HARRY E. CRAIG
Source: Alton Telegraph, June 16, 1898
H. E. Craig writes Lieutenant Crossman as follows: “What a glorious
good send-off the people of Alton gave us! It was most cheering to
every soldier-sailor boy, and such an enthusiastic goodbye will help
to make every one of the boys brave and more enthusiastic at the
front. There wasn’t any sleeping done by anyone on the trip from
Alton to Chicago, as all were more or less excited with thoughts of
coming events. Upon arrival at Chicago, we all had a good breakfast
at Union Depot Hotel, after which the company was divided into
squads of eight and dismissed until 12 p.m. when we met at Depot
Hotel again, and after dinner, marched to the armory, 20 Michigan
Avenue, joining the Chicago company of 135 recruits, together with
11 from St. Paul, and headed by a good band, we all marched to Union
Depot, cheered by crowds along the line. We took a special train of
seven Pullmans, and one baggage car, over the Pennsylvania Railroad
for Cape Charles, our destination by rail, arriving there about 6
a.m. Saturday. We touched Fort Wayne, Indiana, Pittsburg,
Pennsylvania, and saw the famous Horse Shoe Bend, thence to Altoona,
Harrisburg, Lancaster, Philadelphia, thence to Wilmington, and on to
Cape Charles, where we left train and boarded steamer Old Point
Comfort, where we breakfasted and then steamed across Chesapeake Bay
to Old Point Comfort, thence across the James River to Norfolk,
thence to training ship Franklin, which is our temporary home. All
the boys were joyful and enthusiastic, all the way through, and with
our frequent yell of ‘Ship a Hoy! Ship a Hoy! We’re the boys from
Illinois!’ we woke up the natives all along the line. It is a little
crowded onboard ship here, but we have assurances that we will all
be assigned by tomorrow to either the Harvard or Yale, and of course
that pleases all. We were assigned our hammocks and mattresses
yesterday, and slept in the air last night – about 300 altogether.
While here we have to go to our roost by 9 o’clock and arise by 5:30
a.m., when we roll up our hammocks, bed, etc., and get ready for
‘mess.’ While not what we have been used to, we’ll do without much
kicking, for we are good soldier-sailor boys, and too proud of our
country to complain. I wish you were with us, but though absent, you
will be kindly remembered by all of us, for we all appreciate your
efforts in our behalf, which were arduous and persistent, which
finally brought us our hearts wish to get to the point. All the boys
send love and best wishes along with mine. And I beg to remain yours
most sincerely, H. E. Craig, Norfolk, Virginia, U.S. Receiving Ship
Franklin.”
LETTER FROM HARRY E. CRAIG
U.S.S. Yale
Source: Alton Telegraph, September 15, 1898
The following letter is from Mr. Harry E. Craig, a member of the
Alton Naval Reserves onboard the U.S.S. Yale, to Captain Crossman in
Alton:
U.S. Receiving Ship, Vermont, Brooklyn Navy Yards, September 05,
1898
“When I wrote you last, all the Alton boys were eagerly awaiting
assignments, and for an opportunity to secure some Spanish scalps. I
believe that all (unless perhaps a few) were duly assigned as you
know, but not one of us will return with a Spanish scalp in the way
of a souvenir, much to our regret. We have been disappointed also in
not reaping a harvest in the way of prize money, but while
opportunity has not given us a change to become especially heroic,
we all feel that we have done our duty with what chance we had to
serve country and home. And now, while peace negotiations are
pending, with assurances of being settled amicably, Uncle Sam has
concluded that he can dispense with the services of the Illinois
sailor boys, and is now mobilizing them here preparatory to sending
us back in a body, as he brought us away.
The boys from the U.S.S. Harvard arrived here last Wednesday, and we
of the Yale came the next day, and some from other ships have been
coming in since, making the total thus far arrived at 48 out of the
64, and we hope that everyone may be able to report in due time and
go back with us with not one of us missing.
We were informed this morning that in all probability, the Illinois
boys would leave here on a special train for Chicago, either next
Thursday or Friday, and since it is not likely that we will be
detained long in Chicago, you may look for us to report in person
within a week or so, and when we come you will find that our yell
has not grown less vociferous. On the way to the front, our yell was
‘Ship Ahoy! Ship Ahoy! We’re the boys from Illinois,’ but on our
return, it will run something like this: ‘Ship Ahoy! Ship Ahoy!
Thank God we’re back in Illinois!’
While the papers are full of accounts of neglect, blunders, etc.,
resulting so disastrously to the army boys, very little, if
anything, has been chronicled by way of complaint from the sailor
boys, and yet we have a great big kick coming too, against harsh
treatment from officers – some of them at least – and the
unwholesomeness of our rations. We of the Yale, anyway, went hungry
most of the time because the food served out to us, day after day,
was rotten, and would have been refused by any ordinary tramp, but
with it all it is remarkable how well we have all been. Most of us
are much thinner in flesh, but not one of the 48 now here is unable
to eat his three meals a day, and I am happy to state that the food
here is all right and good. With it all, however, I do not think
there is one of the boys who regrets his experience in the recent
little brush with the Spaniards.
We have all learned a good deal we did not know before, and
knowledge we could never have learned from reading. It ought to make
each of us a better man in the future – more appreciative of life as
it comes to us with liberty. If a son, he ought to and surely will
be more appreciative, kind and devoted to his mother; if a husband,
he will be more patient, tender, sympathetic and loving toward his
wife. And what about some of us who have no wives to return to?
Well, those who ‘left a girl behind’ will make better husbands to
the girls who are lucky enough to have a sailor lover. This is a
suggestion I offer, a sort of hint, to those who haven’t to get one
as soon as possible before they are all gone; and I’ll further
suggest that I am one of the single ones.
Well, while we of the Yale have not realized fully our hopes and
ambitions, yet we are pleased with the part we took in the war. We
made three trips in all – two to Santiago, Cuba, and one to Puerto
Rico – and while we did no killing, yet we saw some of the shooting
and smelled powder all right. We had the honor of having General
Miles with us on the Puerto Rican expedition, and we had the
satisfaction of seeing Old Glory planted on Puerto Rican soil at
Guanica, there to remain forever.
We were at Santiago during a part of the bombardment of old Morro
Castle and surroundings, and helped to celebrate the surrender there
also.
And now that the war is over, and there is no further need for us to
serve our country and homes as warriors, we shall return to home and
loved ones, and as good citizens still continue to serve our grand
and glorious country of which each and all of us are so proud.
Expecting to be with you soon, when we will wear you out rehearsing
war stories to you, I beg to remain, Yours most respectfully, H. E.
Craig.”
*************************
LETTER FROM WILL GILDERSLEEVE
U.S.S. Harvard
Source: Alton Telegraph, July 28, 1898
Mr. William Gildersleeve Sr. received a letter this morning from his
son, Will Gildersleeve, who is one of the Alton Naval Reserves
onboard the U.S.S. Harvard. Will enclosed in the letter a chevron
taken from the uniform of a Spanish petty officer, after the riot on
the Harvard. Will says that he had a hand to hand fight with the
officer, and finally hit him on the head with a wrench. He says he
guesses he hit him too hard, as he had to help bury the fellow the
next day. He is well pleased with his lot aboard the Harvard, and is
anxious for another “scrap.”
***********************
LETTER FROM W. E. GRADOLPH
Navy, U.S.S. Newark
Source: Alton Telegraph, June 23, 1898
To Lieutenant Crossman:
Hampton Roads, June 18, 1898 – “I will drop you a few lines to let
you know where we are. Agu. Barth, James Foreman, Robert Dickey, and
myself are onboard the flagship U.S.S. Newark. All the rest of the
boys are on the Harvard and Yale. We have a fine ship. It carries
twenty-six guns – ten 10-inch rapid firing, eight 6-pounder
Hotchkiss, six Maxim, and several others – and she is loaded down
with ammunition to her fullest capacity. It is a wicked-looking
ship, and Admiral Sampson, it is rumored, will be in command of her.
We are very sorry that we could not be with the rest of the boys,
but I am satisfied that this ship will be the first to be in action,
and that is what we came for; not for to work hard, eat hard tack,
salt horse, and drink hot water. If I can only get into some good
battle, I will be satisfied to return and retire from Navy life. I
am Captain of a 6-inch gun, and I get to pull the trigger, which is
fired by electricity. We have about 400 men onboard of this ship,
and there are some old sea-horses among them. We are not in it in
seamanship, but in gun drills we are. I see by the papers that the
Alton reserves are recruiting again. Don’t let them die out, and if
we ever return we will help the boys out. I think you are just the
man to keep them together, and the boys can be thankful, as well as
the citizens of Alton, for the good aid that Uncle Sam’s Navy has
from Alton. Alton was better represented than any other place of its
size. A good many of the boys are homesick, but I am getting to be a
regular old tar. It is reported that we will cross the ocean.
Wherever we go, I will do my uttermost to win honors for the Alton
Naval Militia.” Signed, W. E. Gradolph, U.S.S.F.S. Newark.
***********************
LETTER FROM ED HAIGHT
Source: Alton Telegraph, June 16, 1898
Letters from the boys of the Naval Militia, who are on the U.S.S.
Franklin at the Norfolk Navy yard, are beginning to be received. The
first arrived yesterday, and more came today. Judging from the way
the letters read, the boys do not enjoy their fare. One disconsolate
letter came today from a young fellow who must have been homesick
and hungry at the same time. He had to write it lying on the floor
of the vessel in true sailor-boy style, for Uncle Sam doesn’t make
provision for the convenience of his nephews in writing home. They
are onboard the receiving ship Franklin, the writer says, and it’s a
sick crowd, in strong contrast with the happy company that left here
last Wednesday. They don’t know how long they are to stay there, and
can’t discover where they are to go – Uncle Sam doesn’t confide in
the boys as to his intentions. The sun is hot and the nights seem
hotter. Some of the young men wish they had never seen the navy.
Their food isn’t like what mother used to make, and is of a quality
that doesn’t appeal to their pampered appetites. They haven’t had a
taste of sea-sickness yet, but when they do have, their feelings
will be hard to describe, and they may have some real cause for
wishing “they were not in it.” However, in a short time they will
become used to seafaring life, and take to it as naturally as a duck
to water, singing “Oh, for a life on the ocean wave, and a home on
the rolling deep.”
Under date of June 12, Ed A. Haight, son of Superintendent Haight of
the Alton public schools, writes his mother as follows: “We are
still at the Navy yard, but I hope we won’t be here long. We had a
fine trip after leaving Chicago, and also a fine time, but that is
over now; at least until we get out of this place and onto a ship.
We are upon an old ship that has seen better days. It is chained to
the bottom, and also to the shore. Some of the boys are very badly
disappointed, and I frequently hear such expressions as these: ‘I
had a good home and I left it.’ ‘Home, sweet home.’ ‘Take me back to
Chicago’ and the like. As for myself, I know I would fare better at
home, but wouldn’t leave here if I had a chance. WE have received a
hammock and mattress, and are allowed fourteen inches of sleeping
room, and that in a room 8 feet high, 54 feet wide, and 150 feet
long. Some have their hammocks swung, and the rest of us sleep on
the floor under them. When it is time to eat, everybody flies
downstairs and helps himself. Our meals consist of: breakfast – dry
bread, rotten coffee, and weiners; dinner – same old bread, meat and
coffee; supper – big slice of dog (sausage), cheese, cookies (given
him by his mother before he left). Won’t last long if I don’t get
out of here soon. There are people here now who have been here two
or three weeks, and I think they would light out for home if they
had a chance. A half hour before each meal, an old woman and a
colored man come onboard, loaded down with pies, oranges, bananas,
cakes, and ice cream. I have invested in ice cream twice, in order
to get my throat wet, for the water tank is empty most of the time.”
A postal card from Ed Haight states that about thirty of the Alton
Naval Militia had been assigned to various vessels. Seamen Maxfield,
Brice, Bruner, Swain, and Haight had been assigned to the Harvard,
which will leave Norfolk this week. A letter from George McVey
states that all but ten of the Altonians have been assigned to the
Harvard and Yale. He says the following are on the Yale: George
Parker, Ward Lane, William Montgomery, W. Streeper, Harris Smith,
Charles Herb, Lucien Baker, and H. D. Williams.
LETTER FROM ED A. HAIGHT
U.S.S. Harvard
Source: Alton Telegraph, June 30, 1898
“I have been onboard the Harvard a little over two days, and this is
the first chance I’ve had to write. I like it here very much;
everything is so different from the U.S.S. Franklin. Our meals are
very good. We have a variety, and all we can eat. Butter just as
good as I get at home is plentiful, nice fresh rolls every meal,
oatmeal for breakfast, soup, and rice pudding with other good things
for dinner, and good tea or coffee twice a day.
At 1 p.m. Monday, the U.S. tug Alice drew up alongside the “prison”
Franklin, and took onboard over 130 men, hammocks and sacks. All the
boys seemed to be in excellent spirits, and one who had ever been on
the Franklin could tell the reason for those smiles and cheerful
looks. Any man that ever stepped out of prison after a long
confinement had the same joyous feeling that we had when we stepped
off the Franklin, and knew that we were at last going to leave it.
There were 65 Harvard [ship] men in the crowd, and about 70 Yale
[ship] men. We found the U.S.S. Yale anchored in the bay about 15
miles from Norfolk. We stayed alongside her for two hours, and saw
all the Alton boys who left the Franklin before us.They seemed to be
enjoying themselves, and reported good times and plenty to eat.
Leaving the U.S.S. Yale, we steamed on to Newport News, five miles
further on. We found the U.S.S. Harvard lying along the wharf, and
just outside of the dry docks. Marching onboard, we were assigned to
the second saloon or dining room. Here we have all our meals, and
stretch our hammocks on the floor at bedtime. It is a fine room, and
it seems a shame to use such a fine ship for a war vessel. The main
saloon is a beautiful room, and the inside work cost over $20,000.
The furniture (all mahogany) and the panels, carved, fine statuary
along the sides, and the glass ceiling, all make it a work of art. A
shell bursting in there would destroy everything.
I saw very little the first night, but went to bed early. We put in
all Tuesday morning cleaning up, and in the evening loaded on 24
tons of ammunition. We worked until 8:45 without a stop, had supper
at 9, and then turned in at once.
Wednesday morning we were called to muster, and divided up into gun
crews and assigned to the different guns, of which there are twelve.
I have been assigned to one of the large guns, and so has Cy
Maxfield. After muster came breakfast, and then work all day. The
work is hard, but helps to pass away the time, and we have plenty of
food here to keep us up on any kind of work. The ship is in about
the same condition as a new house is in when people get ready to
move; everything topsy turvy and plenty of dirt. It will be a long,
hard job to get straightened out and cleaned up, but that once done,
the work will be lighter. The U.S.S. Harvard is 640 feet long, and
so you can see it will be quite a job scrubbing decks. It is like a
small city onboard, over 400 people, and about six different
nationalties are represented: Greek, African, lots of Italians,
English in large numbers, Germans in plenty, Americans, and others.
It is a very easy matter to get lost here, and quite a job to find
your way around.
Tuesday night was very cloudy and windy, and as I stood upon the
forecastle the scene was a beautiful one. Vessels of every
description were lying all around us, and all showing their lights.
About a mile south of us are the U.S.S. Minnesota and the U.S.S.
Cincinnati – both fine cruisers. They were both flashing their huge
electric search lights around the bay. They were lying about a half
mile apart, and facing in the same direction. The search lights were
always on the move, now being flashed on the water and showing the
waves piled high by the fierce winds, and here and there a small
boat tossed high on some angry wave, and then lost to view behind
some gigantic swell. Now they seem pointed toward the sky, but
following with your eyes this bright streak (which looks very much
like a stream of water shot from some powerful hose) you will see
away out in the bay, miles from the boat, its bright beams dancing
over the waves, and having lost scarcely any of its brightness. But
now it flashes toward us; seems almost to reach us, but suddenly
stopping, it starts, and shoots upward, making a long bow across the
heavens, and giving one a faint idea of what the beauty of the
northern lights must be when seen in their glory. Again it flashes
away out at sea, and then slowly turning, it starts toward us,
appearing to come on more rapidly as the distance lessens, until it
darts forward swift as a meteor, wavers for an instant, and then
stops with the whole glow of the light upon our ship, blinding the
eyes, seeming to pierce you with its bright rays, and appearing from
the darkness like the great eye of God, reaching out to look after
and protect you. One cannot help but be awed by such a scene. But
now “taps” sound, and we hurry inside to stretch out our beds. Soon
all are asleep, some dreaming of victories on the sea, and others of
pleasant homes which they are just now beginning to appreciate.
Night wears away, and we are rudely awakened from pleasant dreams by
the shrill whistle of the coxswain and the sharp blast of the bugle.
The Master of Arms cries out: “Pipe out all hammocks!” We sit up,
stare around, rub our eyes with our fists, and long to have another
nap (for it is only 5 o’clock), but we know we cannot, so all hurry
on their clothes, and every man tries to be first to the washroom.
Here we have excellent proof that experience is a wise teacher. We
all have heard that the doorways on ocean steamers are not very
high, but we forget about it until rushing into some room in a
hurry, our heads get a tremendous bump, which almost brings us to
our knees and makes us see stars and search lights. We know now just
how high that doorway is. We have learned from experience, and we’ll
never forget. Catch us getting another blow like that. Well, I guess
not. All are learning fast, and we will soon be full-fledged
seamen.” Signed, Ed Haight.
LETTER FROM ED A. HAIGHT
U.S.S. Harvard
Source: Alton Telegraph, July 21, 1898
Off Santiago de Cuba, July 04, 1898 – “Folks at Home: I suppose you
all know how the Fourth was celebrated in Cuba. It came a day ahead
of time, but it don’t matter much. Although our guns on the U.S.S.
Harvard were not fired, we had them loaded and were on the scene,
and saw the whole business. Sampson’s boats went away, and Cervera’s
fleet came out. Our fleet immediately gave chase, and four of the
vessels were destroyed before going two miles. I tell you that it
was a grand sight; one that cannot be forgotten. It made us feel
that we were being paid for enlisting; made us forget our work,
although our part was not a fighting part. We carried messages from
one vessel to another, and helped by information and many other
ways.
The U.S.S. Iowa had some wounded prisoners onboard. Five of them
died before 3 p.m., and we attended the funeral. It was an imposing
scene. All the sailors were lined up, and the Captain of the Iowa
cried out, ‘All hands bury the dead.’ He said this twice, and then
taps was sounded on the bugle, and the five bodies sewed up in
canvass and weighted down were dropped overboard, one after another.
Just as the last one was being lowered, the magazine of the Viscaya
blew up, and a few minutes later one of the other burning vessels
blew up. We now went to where the prisoners were, lowered boats and
took them aboard. We were nearly a mile from shore, and to make a
landing we had to pass within 10 feet of and between the two burning
vessels. Shells were constantly exploding while we rowed between
them, and the heat from the vessels scorched and burned our men. The
iron armor of both vessels was red hot, and the flames were shooting
out in all directions.
The work of loading the wounded was awful. Many were mortally
wounded, and had to be handled with the greatest of care. All were
afraid that we were going to kill them, and we had to get most of
them onboard by main force. One poor fellow was shot above and below
the heart, and had a hole in his back, caused by a shell, big enough
to put both fists in, and his left arm was nothing but a mass of
pulp. Others had arms and legs torn away, and there were many who
died after reaching shore. It was an awful scene, one which I would
not have missed for anything (and one which I would not go through
again if there was any possible way of getting out of it). It was
the first time that I fully realized the horror and cruel desolation
of war. Until I saw that scene, I hated a Spaniard, but no one, no
matter how hard-hearted, could look on such a scene and help feeling
for those poor fellows. Half of them were without a stitch of
clothing, some had only rags around their waists, others had on an
undershirt, and others just drawers. Everything had been thrown
aside in their wild scramble to reach shore. I noticed one thing,
the well took no care of the wounded, but let them shift for
themselves. They did not help them in or out of the boats, but
simply looked out for number one. All the help given to the helpless
our men gave. We took about 350 onboard. Out of this number, 27 were
officers; nearly a hundred were wounded. All night the doctors
looked after them; arms and legs were taken off. The next morning
all the very bad cases were removed to the Red Cross ships. All men
needing clothes were given white suits. The prisoners are treated
well and fed the same as ourselves. The officers are treated like
lords, and live as well as our own officers.
We just struck it right when we reached Cuba in time for all these
important events. I have two relics from the prisoners – a button
from the coat of one of the captains, and a bullet. I don’t know
what they do with our mail. The boys put it in the box, but I do not
think any has been sent away. I expect that we will carry it back
with us, and mail it from the United States.
All our boys are well and in good spirits, although we are worked
very hard. I have begun to think that I never did a lick of work
before joining the navy. Our food is fair, but could be better. We
do not get meals regular, though. Sometimes we get breakfast at 6, 7
or 8, dinner any time from 12 to 4, and lots of times we do not see
supper until after 10 p.m. We only get time to wash once a day, and
no time at all to wash our clothes.
I expect and hope to be home by Christmas, and I may be home in a
few months, because the crews on the Yale and Harvard will be the
first discharged. We have boys onboard not 15 years old. We are
allowed no privileges, and can get to our sacks only three times a
day; restricted to very small places onboard; and not allowed inside
to write until 7 p.m. It is now time for taps, so must close.”
Signed, Ed A. Haight
LETTER FROM SEAMAN ED. HAIGHT
The U.S.S. Harvard at New York
Source: Alton Telegraph, August 04, 1898
New York Harbor, July 24, 1898 – “Dear Father: We are now at anchor
in New York harbor. We reached the entrance about 10 o’clock Friday
night, but as ships are not allowed to enter the harbor at night, we
had to drop anchor outside. It was a foggy night, and we could see
nothing but the lighthouses and other lights. I went on anchor watch
from 2 to 4:30 a.m., and was wet through by the mist. I tell you one
enjoys these watches. All hands were called at 4:30 to wash down the
deck, but the boatswain told me to go below and get some sleep. He
did this because he had forgotten to send my relief at 4:00. I slept
until mess call, and after mess worked on gun bright work until
quarters (10 a.m.). At quarters, we were told that after washing all
dirty clothes, we could have the rest of the day to ourselves. I
washed two white suits, and then enjoyed life all afternoon.
A bum boatman came alongside with a load of pies, etc., at noon, but
as we are in quarantine until tonight, he had to take them back to
shore. All the boys stood by the rail and watched his departure with
sorrowful eyes. We also viewed another scene much harder to bear
than this one. The St. Paul lies alongside us, and we had the
pleasure of seeing her crew go on shore in their blue uniforms early
in the morning, and not come back until night. I begin to doubt
about our crew getting shore leave.
Here as in the other harbors, the U.S.S. Harvard has received an
ovation on its arrival. Pleasure boats of every description come
past loaded with people. Everyone shouts and waves at us, and
sometimes we are treated to music, both vocal and instrumental.
Nearly all start with ‘Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean,’ and then by
special request they end with ‘Home, Sweet Home.’ We always cheer
after each song, and then get another. After supper, when we are not
working, we generally have a good time. All gather on the forecastle
head and sing sons. Some of the boys have mouth harps, and one a
mandolin. They are kept busy and when they tire, some old salt
favors us with a solo or story, and we generally have a cakewalk in
the last act. At 8, the first watch goes on and the others must go
below. At sea, we get two hours at a time, but only one in port. I
went to bed Saturday night with the expectation of enjoying a full
night’s rest, as my name had not been called. I put in my best
licks, and slept soundly until 1, when I was awakened and told to go
on anchor watch. Once on deck, I was soon wide awake, and forgot all
about the dreams from which I had been disturbed. It was a beautiful
sight, and just the right kind of a night to make things appear at
their best. The heavens were partly overcast with clouds, but here
and there bright stars could be seen shining down upon the water.
Few sounds could be heard but those on the vessel. The steady
throbbing of the engines, the regular tramping of the sentinel back
and forth, and the washing of waves against the ship’s sides; while
after the ringing of the bell which tolled off the half hours, the
watch in the lookout would cry out in a deep hoarse voice, ‘all is
well.’ This cry is taken up by all, and goes from all watches to the
bridge. Out near the harbor entrance is a bell buoy, and in the
still night its mournful cling, clang, cling reaches your ears and
starts the cold chills down your backbone. When facing the entrance
to the harbor, the lighthouse, with its huge rotary searchlight,
lies on our port bow. During the night this is constantly in motion,
and it can be seen for miles. Nearly opposite this is the Statue of
Liberty, and this too is crowned with a magnificent illuminating.
But this is stationary, and its bright rays look very much like the
silver beams of the moon as they sparkle on the tiny waves.
Hundreds of lights shine from the famous Brooklyn Bridge. They are
stationed at regular intervals, and form a continuous line from one
shore to the other. The effect is beautiful. On both sides are
thousands of bright lights, and now and then the headlight of some
electric car can be seen as she rounds the curve and comes on
swiftly toward the riverfront.
The red and green lights of the government tugs, steaming here and
there, lend their beauty to the scene, and tend to make a
combination of brightness that would be difficult to beat. But now
gray dawn begins to show itself above the horizon, and begins to
creep toward the zenith. One by one the lights disappear, and a new
day begins. There is a stir on shore, and the noise of bugles comes
over the waters from the forts and vessels calling the men from
their slumbers to their daily tasks, and the same old routine of
duty, if taken up again. Decks are scrubbed, doors and brass work
are shined. Then breakfast of spuds, bread, coffee, steak, and
onions at 7:20. On Sunday, breakfast is a treat, as it is the only
time we get steak. I eat cooked onions just as if I had been living
on them all my life. After breakfast, we are again surprised by the
declaration that we can have the day to ourselves. It is something
new, and sounds too good to be true. Some turn in to make up for
lost sleep, and others read or write letters. A newspaper man has
just come alongside, and besides papers he has fresh milk in quart
bottles. I stopped writing long enough to buy and drink a quart of
cool, rich milk, and consider my dime well invested. Before going
back to my letter writing, I found that mail was being distributed.
A letter and a postal for me, and also my sweater. It will come very
handy, and I am very glad that you sent it.
Brooklyn, or what I can see of it, reminds me very much of dear old
Alton. It has just such hills, and the buildings that can be seen
are similar to ours. So far, everything has been very pleasant here,
and we can enjoy ourselves. Night watch becomes a pleasure, and the
cool climate causes the boys to put some life and vigor into their
work. All we want now to make our happiness complete is 12 hours
shore leave. I think we will get mail regular now, and we can find
time to read all that is written. Letters from home meet with a warm
reception here, and clippings are passed around. We get plenty of
news here, and are once more up to date on war news. The Alton boys
seem to be favored in this war, and I hope it will continue so. I
have not seen the Vulcan since reaching Cuab, and hope I will not
see her any more, for she is too slow to keep company with the
Harvard. More troops and a trip to Puerto Rico is what awaits us,
and then a long period without news from home. I think that we will
be away from the States a month, and may be six months."
LETTER FROM ED A. HAIGHT
Alton Seamen in Quarantine
Source: Alton Telegraph, August 04, 1898
In a letter to his mother, Ed A. Haight, a seaman on the U.S.S.
Harvard tell how the Alton boys, as well as all the crew on the
Harvard, were fumigated on the arrival in New York:
New York Harbor, July 25
“Well, I have been through quarantine, and now I know all about it.
I always had an idea it was something to be dreaded, but it isn’t.
Yesterday afternoon we got orders to pack everything that belonged
to us, dress in blue, and be ready to leave the boat after supper.
About 7:30, men and baggage were loaded upon a quarantine tug and
taken to Hoffman Island, about four miles distant from the U.S.S.
Harvard. None of us had an idea what they were going to do with us,
and all were happy. I don’t believe a jollier crowd ever went into
quarantine. The trip to the island was delightful and thoroughly
enjoyed by all. We passed close to that famous summer resort, South
Beach, and I never saw a grander sight. The display of lights was
wonderful. I can’t describe it, so I won’t try. We could also see
Coney Island and the Ferris Wheel of World’s Fair fame. Upon our
arrival at the island, the work was begun. All bags and hammocks
(after all leather, glass, rubber, paper, etc. had been removed)
were placed in an airtight room, and then all kinds of steam, gases,
and fumigating matter was turned upon them. The heat they went
through amounted to 240 degrees Fahrenheit. They were in this room
30 minutes, and while they were steaming, we were all treated to the
finest bath agoing. Turkish bath, warm water to start with, this
kept getting warmer, then a vapor bath with fumigating stuff, and
then a shower bath of hot water, and then a shower bath of cold. It
was the first fresh water bath any of us had had since leaving home,
and the first of any kind for some. It made us all feel like new
men, and also made us look better. The clothes we had on all had to
be doctored, and so each man was given a suit of gray flannel. We
were a queer looking lot with those suits. The nearest that I can
come to describing our appearance is that we looked like Chinese
laundrymen. Then all were taken into a large room, each man was
given a bunk with wire springs and a place to dry clothes. All the
clothes were spread out, and then after a midnight meal, we turned
in. All we had between us and the wire springs was a red blanket,
but nevertheless, I had the best night’s sleep I have had for a long
time. In the morning, every man had a checkerboard marked out on his
back from the springs. We didn’t have time to stop to play a game,
but gathered all things into our bags and loaded them on the boat
and went back to the U.S.S. Harvard.
Quarantine makes lots of work, for all bedding has to be taken out
of the ship, but I feel repaid for any work I did, and for the sake
of the bath would be willing to go into quarantine again. Only half
of the crew went at a time. While we were gone, the other half
rumigated the ship. In the morning, dozens of dead rats were found
in all parts of the vessel.
Now that things are being cleaned up, we begin to hear about shore
leave, and I think we may get it. Very little work has been done
lately, and when the loading does begin, we boys will put it on in a
hurry and show the officers that a little rest once in a while does
us good. We scrub down decks now in less than half the time we used
to. I heard two officers speak of it. All they have to do is to let
the boys know they are trying to help them, and then we take hold of
things with a will. There was a time when officers and men didn’t
pull well together.
Yesterday was Sunday, and we had our plum duff as usual. I’m going
to write a story sometime upon this subject, ‘The mystery of the
Harvard, or who found the plum in the plum duff?’ Tomorrow work
starts in earnest. You ought to have seen me eat peas for dinner
today. Peas, beans, and canned tomatoes are a luxury with me now,
and if I can eat these cooked here, what will I do to those cooked
at home?” Signed Ed A. Haight.
[Ed’s reference to eating peas, beans, and canned tomatoes is
explained by saying that when at home, there was very little of the
vegetarian about him. However, seafaring life has taught him to like
vegetables.]
LETTER FROM ED HAIGHT
U.S.S. Harvard
Source: Alton Telegraph, September 01, 1898
A letter from Ed Haight, a member of the Harvard’s crew, states that
all the Alton boys on that vessel are in good health. We judge from
the tenor of Ed’s letter that now that the war is over, a homeward
voyage would be most acceptable to all the young sailors. And they
will get it very soon. The health of all Altonians in the service,
both army and navy, is remarkable. Not one has received serious
injury, and not one, so far as we can learn, is ill.
****************
LETTER FROM BART HELLRUNG
Puerto Rico
Source: Alton Telegraph, October 20, 1898
Ponce, Puerto Rico, September 27, 1898
“We got paid today for two months, July and August, which was
$30.95. They keep 25 cents out every two months for the Soldier’s
Home. We changed camp September 12. We are now camped in a large
valley about two miles from our old camp in the direction of San
Juan. We brought the Spanish prisoners with us, but they were sent
away the next Sunday. The Alton boys are all well and happy. I have
not been on the sick list since I have been in the army, and I never
felt better in my life. We are now in a nice place.
I expect to be home in two months. We have nothing to do now but to
practice guard duty every day from 8 to 9 o’clock. Since the
prisoners left, we do not have to be on guard, but once about every
twenty days. The last time I was on guard was Friday before last. We
are still at the same creek or river as they call it here. It comes
from the mountains. There was a good deal of sickness in our
battalion when we were beside the creek. There were 30 to 35 on the
sick list in our company every day for about two weeks. Yellow fever
was suspected, so we were quarantined for about four days, and then
we came here.
Fruit is very cheap down here. You can get ten bananas for a Spanish
5 cents, or twenty for an American nickel, as you can get your money
changed and get two dollars for one. You can get the finest of
oranges for a cent a piece, or two for an American cent. It is as
warm here now as it was the day we got here, but the nights are very
chilly. It rains here almost every day. It rained here Thursday,
Thursday night, Friday, and part of Friday night without stopping
more than five minutes at a time.
The ways of the natives here are very funny. The milkman drives his
cows through the streets and milks them in front of his customers’
houses in a small-necked bottle, and then brings it in. Milk costs a
little more here than it does in the States. The natives are mostly
small people, and are about the same color as the American negro.
Some are coal black, and others are yellow. The Spaniards are also
small people – most of them measuring about 5 feet 3 or 4 inches.
The girls, or senoritas as they are called here, powder very heavy.
The meals we get are very good. There are not very many horses on
this island outside of those the U.S. Government owns. The carts are
all drawn by oxen, and the horses that are here are very small. They
work them too young.
I am in the third battalion, and there are three Alton boys here. I
read the letter that August Eckhard wrote, but I cannot see any
signs of homesickness in any of the boys, although I do not think
there is any of us that will not be glad when we get away from here
and back to our friends.” Signed, Bart Hellrung.
********************
LETTER FROM ENSIGN HAROLD H. HEWITT
Source: Alton Telegraph, June 09, 1898
Ensign H. H. Hewitt writes his father on June 03 from Key West, that
he was to leave that day for Cardenas, on the U.S. steamship Leyden,
to which he had been assigned as executive officer. The Leyden
carried 3-inch and Maxim guns. The vessel is commanded by Lieutenant
W. S. Crosby, and Ensign Hewitt is the only other commissioned
officer on the steamship.
Mr. Hewitt writes that as three Spanish gunboats are reported to be
at Cardenas, there is likely to be some warm work for the Leyden. He
says he has been faring on hard tack, beans and pork, and relishes
the food very much. He is enjoying good health. The water on the
vessels is distilled, being the purest and best to be had. Onboard
the vessels the officers pay for their food, and can, therefore,
have whatever they want. Ensign Hewitt states that Lieutenants
Porter and Hunt, who took the Chicago militia to Tampa, have been
assigned to the Ferm, U.S. dispatch boat.
A LETTER FROM ENSIGN HAROLD HEWITT
Source: Alton Telegraph, June 23, 1898
Mr. Edward C. Paul has received a letter from Ensign Hewitt, dated
off Cardenas, which he consented to have published:
“Dear Ed: for my part, I wish you were down here with me, but for
your own good, I think it is better that you are in Illinois. It is
hot and stormy, and a continual strain down here on the blockade. We
had a very pleasant trip down as far as Tampa. Tried to see the
Alton boys there, but couldn’t find them. Have ended up here by
being assigned to the Leyden, a small boat, about 500 tons, battery
four guns, crew of 40 men, two officers and a mate. From all
appearances, as far as I can judge, the war will be prolonged. The
insurgents do not seem to be well fixed as regards to ammunition or
arms, yet there are a lot of them, and they are doing good work. We
frequently have some of their officers onboard. They show the effect
of hardships gone through, poorly fed and clothed, yet they are a
determined people, and seem to be a better class then I expected to
find. Two whom we had onboard yesterday were perfect gentlemen; had
been educated in the United States, and spoke English, Spanish, and
German. They told a hard tale of suffering, both as to themselves
and their families. They have been fighting and living around in the
brush for two years.
The Naval Militia seems to have created quite a favorable impression
down here. There are five of them onboard the Leyden, being Chicago
and Moline boys.
You ought to have your soda fountain here; you would have a good
thing. You might also bring a grocery store and an ice wagon. We
have run out of ice, and need some. We are due to stay out here for
ten days from the date June 14 before being relieved. You will
notice I am writing this letter part at a time, some one day, some
the next. I will mail it as soon as I get a chance. That box of
cigars you gave me came in very hands. They are appreciated, and I
want to again thank you for them. There is no danger from the
Spaniards. They fire at us occasionally, but they might as well fire
blanks for all the effect.
Have seen it raining over in Cuba every day since we have been out.
It is queer the way it rains on the island and not out here. We have
only been in a hard squall twice. Well, I have a chance to send this
to Key West, so will quit. Remember me to any of the boys who are in
Alton. Most Sincerely, H. H. Hewitt.”
LETTER FROM ENSIGN HAROLD HEWITT
Source: Alton Telegraph, July 21, 1898
A letter from Ensign Harold Hewitt, dated July 10, from Key West,
contains the following:
“I have just received letters from home dated July 05, and am glad
to know that you had such a pleasant Fourth, and that the boys
remembered me early in the morning. Life here isn’t just what one
might wish, on account of a yellow fever scare. We are quarantined
on the ship. The thermometer is away out of sight, and the ice
machine broken down. Still, I don’t complain. I am used to hot
weather, and got used to drinking warm water while on the blockade,
so don’t mind the absence of ice. I suppose it is pretty hot in
Alton. The trouble here is, if it is 110 degrees in the daytime, it
stays 110 all night. We have several fat officers onboard, and they
are in misery all the time.
The Leyden has been taken off the blockade, and I have been
transferred to the U.S.S. Lancaster, and placed in the pay
department.
Yellow fever has scared the newspaper correspondents, and everybody
who can get away out of Key West. The general opinion here is that
the war is over, and the navy having little to do, want it over soon
as possible. I expect to be dismissed at any time, and arrive home
by August 01. The feeling here is that the navy will have little or
no more fighting to do. Isn’t it remarkable how the navy got through
Manila and Santiago with such slight loss? My regards to all Alton
friends.” H. H. Hewitt.
***********************
LETTER FROM JOHN HUNTER
8th Illinois Infantry
Source: Alton Telegraph, September 01, 1898
Mr. Henry Hunter of Alton has received a letter from his son, John
Hunter, who enlisted in the 8th Illinois, and is now stationed at
Santiago de Cuba. The letter was written August 17, the day
following the arrival of the 8th in Cuba. The young soldier writes
that he is much pleased with Cuba. The regiment was transported on
the U.S.S. Yale, and he saw some of the Alton boys onboard. All the
Alton boys of the 8th are well and on duty guarding the city. He
says the climate is not unbearably hot, but he thinks Cuba is not
the place for him to stay permanently in.
LETTER FROM JOHN HUNTER
San Luis, Cuba
Source: Alton Telegraph, December 01, 1898
John Hunter, son of Mr. H. B. Hunter, writes from San Luis, Cuba,
near Santiago, to his father, a letter giving in detail interesting
features of everyday life in that town. John is a member of the 8th
Illinois band. The 8th is doing garrison duty at Santiago. Speaking
of the food and other matters, the writer says:
“At present we are faring very well. Once in a while we have
dessert, which consists of pie, cake, oranges, bananas, etc., but
they do not taste like those at home. The band boys are living a
very easy life just now; have plenty to eat, plenty of sleep, and
not much work. We exercise a great deal. Football has been played
here by the soldiers. We are looking for new instruments in two or
three days. We are going to wear white pants and blue coasts for
uniforms.”
************************
LETTER FROM WARD LANE
U.S.S. Yale; June 19, 1898
Source: Alton Telegraph, June 30, 1898
“We have been transferred to the U.S.S. Yale as you no doubt know by
this time, and we are having a very good time, having good sleeping
quarters and good food, and plenty of it. We have been taking on
coal and water for the past three days, which is done by steam
hoists, and the rest is done by the coal passers. The Yale is armed
with eight 5-inch rapid-fire guns, and six 3-pounders. Dode Parker
is Captain of the No. 4 gun (5-inch), and I am Second Captain.
The crew was filled out yesterday by taking on 150 more firemen and
coal passers, making a crew of about 450 men. We run 25 knots an
hour, faster than any cruiser in the Spanish Navy. She has fifty
air-tight compartments below the water line, and can be shot full of
holes without sinking, so we are not in much danger when you come to
think about it. I bunk with George Parker and Will Montgomery of
Jerseyville, having four berths in a room.
Clay Butler has been quite sick with chills and fever, but a letter
received this morning from him, written on Sunday morning just
before the U.S.S. Harvard sailed, said he was all right again.
Writing at 7 a.m., Clay says: ‘We are getting ready now, and will
leave about noon on our first voyage. The boys have worked very hard
and are pretty well tired out. All kinds of stores and ammunition
have been taken on the U.S.S. Harvard. We have all the troops
aboard, and they are a great lot of fellows. I have been on the sick
list, but am feeling all right now. The doctors are the finest
fellows you can imagine. They look after you in such a kind way, and
not as if they were doing it because they had to. I hear the mess
call, and must say goodbye.’
Frank Boals writes that he has been appointed gunner’s mate, third
class, on the U.S.S. Harvard, and will have supervision of a number
of guns. It is a non-commissioned office, and is above a gun
captain.”
LETTER FROM WARD LANE
Gun Captain on the U.S.S. Yale
Source: Alton Telegraph, July 14, 1898
The following letter was written by Gun Captain Ward Lane, son of
Mr. H. Lane, one of the crew of the scout ship U.S.S. Yale:
Key West, Florida, July 03, 1898
“We arrived here from Santiago at 8:30 a.m., and are lying off the
harbor waiting for mail. We had a fine trip with fine weather, and
all the boys are well and doing fine.
We carried 1500 infantry with us on the trip down, so the ship was
crowded to her fullest capacity with the freight, soldiers, and
crew. We have 42 marines on here who have charge of the three-pound
rapid-firing guns, while we have charge of the five-inch guns. We
had to shoot for place on the guns to see who was to command the
guns, and also to work on the different parts and to carry
ammunition - a shell weighing about 137 pounds. We shot first with
one of the small rifles like we had to home, and I made a score of
22 out of 25 at 1,000 yards. At sub-calibre practice with the big
guns, I made 23 out of 25 at 4,200 yards. There are 12 men on each
gun crew. I am Captain of gun No. 4, and may possibly become
coxswain, third class, in a few days.
We had practice with the 5-inch guns with the regular shells out at
sea, the first and second captains of each gun taking a shot apiece
with their own gun at a float that was dropped by the ship. I made a
fine shot at 5,000 yards, striking at the base of the float and
raising it out of water. The captain sent his compliments to the gun
crew, and said it was an excellent shot.
We arrived in Santiago on Monday morning, and landed the troops and
stores and put to sea again as soon as possible to chase a prize. We
had received word she had started from along the coast to run the
blockade at Santiago.
The battleships do not look the fine ships they do in the books and
papers, all being painted a dull gray color. We signaled a
man-of-war off the coast of Cuba on the way to Havana, and thought
she was a Spanish ship, and we were all called to quarter, the guns
loaded with solid shot, and there was a great deal of excitement
onboard until we found out it was an American man-of-war, so we were
disappointed in not getting a shot at it.
We are to start for Newport News and New York this evening, where we
will get more troops and go back to Santiago. This boat is to be
used as a troop and scout ship, so I don’t think we will be in much
danger, as we won’t see any Spanish ships.”
LETTER FROM WARD LANE
Source: Alton Telegraph, August 04, 1898
Under date of July 19, Ward Lane, son of Mr. G. H. Lane, writes to
his parents from which the following is a paragraph or two:
“We arrived here a week ago with troops, but have not had any mails
leaving the ship, so it did no good to write until we found out when
we could send off mail. We left Charleston on July 08, and headed
for Santiago the second time with the 6th Massachusetts aboard and
part of the 7th Illinois, and also General Miles and his staff on
the way to the field. There was not any excitement on the way down
until the Island of Cuba was sighted, and then the troops went
crazy. We ran in sight of Santiago on Monday at about 2 o’clock, in
time to see the last of the bombardment and the surrender of the
city. We were not here when the fleet came out of the harbor, having
left the day before for Charleston.
I have been vaccinated, and it has taken good and strong, but is
about well now. It will leave a lovely scar, so I will have my war
mark to remember my trips to Cuba when the war is over. I don’t
think we will be in the navy much longer, as there is talk of
discharging the naval reserves. We are laying off the harbor waiting
for orders to unload or take the troops someplace else. When we get
back to New York, we will all get shore leave.”
*****************
LETTER FROM DR. HARRY LEMEN
Source: Alton Telegraph, September 08, 1898
Dr. Harry Lemen, under date of August 29, writes his father, Dr. E.
C. Lemen, that the general conditions of the hospitals at Montauk
Point have materially improved the last week. The hospitals are
supplied with all comforts, including delicacies. Since the young
doctor was relieved from duty with the 71st New York volunteers, he
has returned to his old regiment, the 16th U.S. Infantry, as acting
surgeon of the regiment, with complete charge. On the day he wrote,
he had prescribed for 120 sick soldiers of his regiment, performing
many other duties such as making requisitions for supplies,
transferring patients to hospitals, making report of sanitary
condition of camp, etc. Dr. Lemen expects leave of absence October
01, for fifteen or twenty days.
LETTER FROM DR. HARRY LEMEN
Cuba
Source: Alton Evening Telegraph, February 20, 1899
Dr. E. C. Lemen has received a letter from his son, Dr. Harry Lemen,
stating that he accompanies five commissioned officers and 32
enlisted men, that left Mantanzas on Monday last. The party will go
into the interior of the island of Cuba for the purpose of
thoroughly exploring the country.
LETTER FROM DR. HARRY LEMEN
Source: Alton Evening Telegraph, April 18, 1899
Dr. E. C. Lemen is in receipt of a letter from his son, Dr. Harry
Lemen, written in Matanuas, Cuba. Dr. Harry had just returned from
Havana, where he had been detailed two weeks earlier to make certain
investigations concerning the sanitary condition of the city. His
battalion has been ordered home, and will sail about the first of
May, but Dr. Lemen will remain in Cuba a month or two longer.
*******************
LETTER FROM GEORGE PARKER
July 04, 1898
Source: Alton Telegraph, July 14, 1898
On our way to Charleston, South Carolina, from Santiago:
“Dear Sister and Parents: While I have a few leisure moments, I will
try and tell you a little of the Navy life. We are now on our way to
Charleston, South
Carolina, to get some troops to take to Santiago
de Cuba. We left Hampton Roads, Virginia on Thursday, arrived at
Santiago the following Monday morning, then unloaded provisions and
soldiers. We also carried 1,600 soldiers from Old Point Comfort to
Santiago, and I guess they weren’t a sick lot when we got out to
sea. Ward Lane, Streeper, and a few more of the boys got seasick,
but I stood it all right. The third of July we laid off Key West. We
were not allowed to go ashore because they have yellow fever there.
All the boys are getting vaccinated.
We thought we were going to have a battle off Havana, but come to
find out it was one of the American battleships, so it was all
right, but you ought to have seen the boys getting ready for action.
It is beginning to get like work on the Yale now, taking coal from
the afterdeck and wheeling it forward, working four hours on and
twelve off, so you see we get a little rest.
As for Cuba, I wouldn’t have it as a gift. You ought to see
Santiago. It is nothing but an old fort, but of course quite a sight
for an American to see. Sunday we received orders to go direct to
Charleston to get some more troops.
We saw Sampson’s fleet at Santiago. While we were unloading hard
tack, pork, beans, corned beef, and tomatoes for the soldiers, the
Cubans, on their transfer boat, exchanged coconuts and mangoes for
chewing tobacco. The coconuts are not like the ones we get at home,
but are fresh from the trees and are much nicer. I was on Cuban
shore about five minutes on day, having gone ashore to get the mail
for the soldiers. It looks very warlike down here, and the weather
is getting rather warm, but the Yale is always on the go, and that
makes it much cooler.
There is some talk of the Yale going to Manila, but of course you
can’t believe anything you hear onboard ship. When we were going to
Santiago, myself and another were in the crow’s nest from 10 o’clock
to 12, looking for Spanish vessels. The crow’s nest is a place built
on the foremast, about 40 feet above the deck, and they always keep
two men there on the lookout. Just imagine being about 70 feet above
the water in that nest. One good thing about the Yale, she never
stays where there is much fighting going on, so of course we are
pretty safe. We have not received any pay as yet, but expect to some
day.
Cuba is very mountainous, what I have seen of it, but I guess it is
better farther back from the coast.
Tell Galbally and all the boys that I would write, but you see we
can’t mail a letter. Some of the boys got very seasick the second
day out. Their appetites were poor. They would go into the mess
room, look at the grub, and then get up and run for the railing of
the ship and give up everything that could come up. I stuck it out,
but one day felt kind of shaky, but came out all right. The poor
soldiers on deck had nothing to eat but hard tack, pork, and beans.
They offered as much as 50 cents for a biscuit, but the boys on this
ship ain’t built that way, so every biscuit they could get after
eating, they would take out to the soldiers. They were a fine lot of
fellows. At present, we are now off the coast of South Carolina, and
expect to arrive at Charleston at daybreak. Hoping this letter will
find you all well, I am your sailor boy, George, instead of Jack. I
have been appointed Coxswain [person in charge of navigating the
boat].” Signed, George Parker.
LETTERS FROM GEORGE PARKER
Source: Alton Telegraph, August 11, 1898
Guantanamo, July 17, 1898 – “As this is our day off duty, I will
write some to you. We don’t receive any news here at all about the
war, and I guess you know more about it than we do. The New York
Herald boat came alongside Sunday, and gave us about 1,000 papers,
but they were five days old, so you see the news we get isn’t very
fresh. WE left Charleston last Thursday and arrived at Santiago
harbor Monday morning, with 1,600 Massachusetts soldiers. Santiago
harbor is about five miles from a little town called Siboney, where
we expected to land the troops as we did the Michigan boys, but
yellow fever was so bad there we laid at anchor until General Miles
could consult with General Shafter on shore. When General Miles
returned to the ship, he burned all his clothes to prevent
contagion. We left for Guantanamo, a place with a harbor full of
battleships – the place where the first battle took place. There is
a fort there which the soldiers have taken, and Old Glory floats
over it. Yesterday I went ashore in the whale boat as coxswain, to
take General Miles and his staff. It is quite a nice position,
coxswain, with nothing to do but steer the boat at the command of
the officer. We are sick of soldiers. They are always lying around
on the deck, and we can hardly get around at nighttime when we go on
duty.
I saw Sappington on the Leyden at Guantanamo. One of the boys was on
shore, and met “Sap” and had a long talk with him. He told me of it,
and when the Leyden came across our bow I sqw him on deck. I could
hardly believe it was him, but it was. I saw Admiral Sampson one day
when he came over to see General Miles. He looks like his pictures
exactly. The weather is not very hot, and the nights are cool.”
Signed, George Parker.
New York, August 01 – We are now anchored in the harbor off
Tompkinsville, and we can see the Brooklyn bridge and Liberty statue
from where we are lying near the U.S.S. Harvard. It is the first
time we have seen the Harvard since we left Newport News, and we
want to get over to see the boys. When I relieved coxswain at
supper, I went over in a naptha launch to get some fresh beef, and
there the first one I saw was Clay Butler. I had on oil skins, and
he didn’t know me, but I called and when he saw it was me, he called
all the boys to the rail to talk to me. They were asking about the
trip and were surprised when I told them we had nothing to eat but
hard tack and salt horse for three weeks. They said they had had
hard tack one day, but they made only one trip to Santiago, while we
had been on the sea all the time. The boys are all crazy to go
ashore and get some fruit. Just think of being onboard a vessel for
six weeks.” Signed, George Parker.
***********************
LETTER FROM HARRY ROWAN
Injured Twice
U.S. Naval Reserves
Source: Alton Telegraph, September 15, 1898
Mr. Charles Rowan received a letter from his son, Harry, this
morning, who is in a hospital at Taunton, Massachusetts, suffering
from injuries received in a railroad wreck a week ago. His injuries
consist of a broken bone below the knee, concussion of the knee, and
severe bruises. He will have a claim for heavy damages against the
railroad, whose attorneys are already trying to settle the case.
Harry was a member of the Naval Reserves, and was assigned to duty
on the U.S. repair ship, Vulcan. In an explosion on the Vulcan at
Santiago, he was severely scalded, and was taken to the hospital at
Chelsea, Massachusetts. He had almost recovered and was on his way
to join the rest of the reserves at New York, when the last accident
happened to him.
**************************
LETTER FROM WILL “SAP” SAPPINGTON
Source: Alton Telegraph, September 15, 1898
Mrs. S. Sappington received a letter yesterday from her son, Will
Sappington, who is now a seaman in the U.S. Navy. Sap found it hard
to enter the service, and now he finds it equally hard to get out.
He will have to remain in the navy for another year, so reports
coming with the Naval Militia boys say. In his letter, Sap says he
arrived at Newport, Rhode Island on August 20, after a long voyage
on the Leyden from Ponce of eleven days. The Leyden went out of
commission at Newport, and entered the torpedo service. Since Sap
left Key West two months before, he had not set foot ashore until he
arrived at Newport.
LETTER FROM WILL SAPPINGTON
Source: Alton Telegraph, September 22, 1898
Mr. George Colonius has received a letter from Will Sappington of
the U.S.S. Leyden, giving a personal account of the Nipe affair,
where the Leyden had its first fight. Sap says “the Leyden and Wasp
were ordered to go into the Bay of Nipe and learn what there was
there. We went in at 12 o’clock, the Leyden in the lead. We had not
gone far, when we saw a flag on a point about one mile ahead. It was
my watch, so I had a good chance to see. We soon discovered it was a
signal station, and they were signaling to someone. A little further
on, we sighted a ship about four miles in the bay. We steamed slow,
keeping a sharp lookout for mines, but saw none. We could see small
boats going to and from the ship we were heading for. We steamed
slowly until we were 3,000 yards from the vessel, and we saw it was
a Spanish gunboat. Our guns were all manned. In a few minutes, we
saw a cloud of smoke from the Spaniard, and then a shot struck the
water 100 feet from our port bow. We opened on them, and the
Spaniard fired about four shots and ceased. Then we saw a boatload
of men leaving the vessel, and then we saw the vessel was sinking.”
Sap thought there was not great glory in the fight, for his opinion
was that the Spaniards sunk the vessel themselves. Sap thinks he
will remain in the navy until next June.
*********************
LETTER FROM SEAMAN CHARLES SMITH
U.S.S. Harvard
Source: Alton Telegraph, July 28, 1898
Under date of July 15, Seaman Charles Smith of the U.S.S. Harvard
writes his parents, Mr. and Mrs. William Ellis Smith of Alton, as
follows:
“We have 1,047 Spaniards onboard the Harvard, and they are dying two
and three a day. We have had a funeral every day since we left for
the United States. It took us five days from Norfolk to go to
Santiago. We got there early Saturday morning. When we turned to and
went on deck, the fleet was lying about a mile away in a circular
form about Morro Castle, with the flagship New York close to the
batteries. You have read how strongly fortified Morro Castle is, but
you cannot imagine the half of its strength. Morro Castle is upon a
high bluff, and its white walls are very plainly seen, but from the
sea one would never think that a city was behind this wall. As we
steamed into the fleet our Captain hailed the New York, telling her
he had soldiers and ammunition for the fleet. The answer came back,
“Unload the troops first,” and the Harvard steamed ahead. We had
hardly gone a boat’s length, when the Captain of the New York sang
out, “Put your helm hard astarboard, and ketch clear of the
batteries.” So you can tell how close we were to the fort. We moved
down the coast and started to unload the troops. We lay there four
or five days unloading, as the sea was too rough to allow a tug to
get alongside, and we had to do it with the small boats. It was an
awful job. At times we would have to stop work, and everyone hold
onto the life line in order to keep the boat out from the Harvard’s
side. Every night we went to sea and joined the fleet, lying just
outside of them. One morning we went up on the fore castle deck, and
about 5:30 the fleet bombarded the fort. We were out of reach, but
could see the whole thing. We saw a puff of smoke and then as a shot
hit the fort a cloud of dirt would fly up 40 or 50 feet high. It was
a grand sight for about three hours, and then the fleet put to sea
again. The Spanish shot flew wild. They are poor gunners, as was
proven Sunday morning, July 03. On that morning, we had gone to work
unloading stores as usual, when a signal was sent us that the
Spanish fleet was coming out of the harbor. The boats with loads
going ashore turned back, and soon we were under way. We were too
late to get into the fight. In a small bay, just above the forts,
the smoke was so thick that for a time we could not make out what
was in there. But when we got there, I saw the Infanta Maria Theresa
and the Oquendo lying with their bows on shore and with flames and
smoke rising from all quarters. We did not stop. The Indiana, coming
down, hailed us, and the Captain sang out, ‘Tell the Admiral you
passed me; I go to engage the Colon. She has gone eastward.’ The
decks were crowded with men, and as we passed a cheer went up that
made our blood tingle. Shortly after, the magazines of the Theresa
exploded. Soon we saw the Viscaya half under water. As we passed
her, her magazine exploded. The Iowa hailed us and told us to
follow, as she had 500 prisoners onboard. About fifteen minutes
after, the Erricson hailed and said that there were 400 over on the
beach dying of starvation, we lowered all the boats and started for
there. I was the first man in our boat to get onshore. A heavy sea
was rolling. An officer of the Gloucester was there, and he told us
to return to the ship and bring a marine force, as there were about
500 Spaniards back in the valley, and the Cubans had threatened to
kill them. We went back, but were ordered to go and bring them all
onboard. When we got there, one of our boats was beached, and the
Spaniards were climbing into it and then into our boat. Some of the
Spaniards had only a shirt on; others nothing but a waist cloth on;
very few had hats. To get the Spaniards, we went within fifteen feet
of the Theresa. On her forecastle deck were four cows. The heat from
the fire below was making the hair drop from the cows. The heat was
so great that the iron sides of the ship were red hot in places, and
as the waves rolled against them, you could hear the sizzle on our
boat. We took over some hardtack and the Spaniards almost upset the
boat to get it. We were five hours transferring and wet to the skin.
About 12 o’clock ‘quarters’ sounded, and everyone jumped from their
bunks. When someone cried, ‘the Spaniards are out upon the decks,’
we went and were met on all sides by the marines and soldiers with
rifles. Firemen and engineers came from the stoke holes with iron
bars. Some of the prisoners jumped overboard, and they were heard
calling for the boats. Our Master-at-Arms killed one with an ax
handle. He met him coming around the corner of the cabin. The Master
told him to go back. The Spaniard kept saying, ‘No, no.’ the Master
picked up a club and hit him over the head. He never knew what hit
him. After it was all over, and we were picking up the dead and
wounded, four of us, with a Lieutenant, went back to the Spaniards,
and took out the wounded. The decks were covered with blood. Four of
us carried one man to the hospital, having to step over others on
our way. When we laid down the wounded, we picked up and carried out
the dead and put them with the other dead. Six were killed and
twelve wounded. The next morning we went back and unloaded stores,
but the sea was so rough we had to give it up. Our boat at one time
was carried away, and just at the same time the vessel started so as
to get near shore. We were drawn down on the propeller, the
propeller struck our boat, and knocked the bottom out of it. Just
then a wave lifted our boat clear, and before we came down were out
of danger. The next day we went to Guantanamo and took on coal and
more prisoners. After loading coal and passengers, we started for
Portsmouth."
*********************
LETTER FROM HARRY VANTREESE
Source: Alton Telegraph, July 14, 1898
Harry VanTreese, son of Dr. and Mrs. F. M. VanTreese of 930 Alby
Street, writes his parents from Santiago after the first battle, in
which the Roosevelt’s Rough Riders, of which he is one, were
ambushed by Spaniards on landing in Cuba. The young man came through
the fight safely, and writes as follows:
“June 26, 1898 – Dear papa and all the folks, Well, I have been
under fire and came out with bullet holes in my clothes, but no
wounds. First to organize, first to embark, first to land, and now
the first battle of this campaign. We landed without any difficulty,
and took up our march to Santiago, the Rough Riders about four miles
in advance of the army. We engaged the Spaniards in battle, about
4,000 of them to 800 of us, but we stood like rocks and fired volley
after volley into them. They had fortifications built of stones, but
we charged them and drove them like sheep. They had some artillery
with them and rapid-fire guns. We opened the battle, and after an
hour’s hard fighting, we had four troops of dismounted cavalry
reinforcements and one squadron of colored cavalry from the 7th
Regulars. But Colonel Wood’s regiment made four charges after
fighting two hours and a half, and the Spaniards fled carrying their
wounded and part of their dead. We killed as many as 200 of the
Spanish, and wounded as many more. Our regiment suffered nine dead
and 30 or 40 wounded. Our captain was shot down about 10 feet from
me, and many more wounded. The bullets sung and spit around me like
a swarm of bees, and God only knows how I got out alive. But do you
know I like the sound just to get a whack at the Spaniards. We have
become the pride of the army, and if I should fall at Santiago,
remember that your son fought in one of the most difficult and
historical battles ever fought, and camped right on the spot where
we sent them below, and not above. I have seen nine of our bravest
men fall, and have seen Colonel Wood ride to the front of the firing
line, dismount under the heaviest fire, and lead his horse up and
down the line in front of the enemy, his horse cropping grass as he
walked giving orders. Don’t you think if such men as that can face
the enemy, I can afford to fall? My opinion is we shall have a hard
time taking Santiago. What the papers said in regard to misery here
is all true, and the Spaniards are as cruel as said to be. We gave
no quarters to any of them. In three days from this date, I will be
either in Santiago or in some other place. The regulars and
volunteers are determined to take the city. Our fleet has razed the
fortifications at the front of the harbor, and it is said can go in
at any moment. Goodbye. Your son, Harry.”
********************
LETTER FROM CHARLES WALTERS
Source: Alton Telegraph, November 03, 1898
Mrs. Henry Walters is in receipt of a letter from her son, Charles,
one of the naval militia boys onboard the repair ship Vulcan. The
letter was dated October 11, at Guantanamo, and reached here on the
23rd. Charles says they have been working hard raising and repairing
the famous Maria Teresa, and that it is rumored onboard that as soon
as the work is finished, the Vulcan will sail for home and the boys
be mustered out. He says he does more work before breakfast every
morning than he did in a day at home, and that the weather is the
warmest they have seen since they struck southern waters.
Nevertheless, he is beginning to like sailor life, and will be sorry
when Uncle Sam has no more use for this part of the navy.
********************
MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS TO HOME
Luke Chapman; H. H. Hewitt; H. R. Stanford; James Robertson
Source: Alton Telegraph, July 14, 1898
Luke B. Chapman, one of the Alton Naval Militia boys, writes rather
discouragingly of the food doled out on the receiving ship U.S.S.
Franklin, at Norfolk. Mr. Chapman has now been assigned to another
vessel, and no doubt he is in better luck by this time.
Mr. George H. Hewitt received a letter from Ensign H. H. Hewitt this
morning, sent from Key West. He said the U.S.S. Leyden had been
ordered to Santiago, and it has probably reached that placed by this
time. Some direct news from the Alton boys may now be received
through Ensign Hewitt.
Mr. Homer Stanford received a letter from his son. H. R. Stanford,
Sunday. Reed is an engineer in the U.S. Army, and has been ordered
from Washington to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where he will
superintend the construction of a military prison for the 1,600 men
captured from
Cervera’s ships.
Mr. Charles Beall has received a letter from Secretary of War Alger,
relative to the inquiries made as to the safety of Charles L. Beall,
a member of Company G, 16th U.S. Infantry, at Santiago. The
Secretary of War’s letter informed the father of the young soldier
that his name had not appeared in any of the lists of the victims of
the battle, and that as soon as any data concerning him could be
secured, it would be forwarded.
James Robertson, who is in Co. E, 19th U.S. Infantry at Tampa,
writes home that all the Alton boys are well and enjoying camp life
as much as possible. The boys think the salt water bath a great
treat, and take advantage of every opportunity to bathe in the bay.
The Alton boys now in the 19th Infantry are James Robertson, John
Cousley, August Eckhard, Percy Abel, Herman Horneyer, William
Hebroke, Bartley Hellrung, Albert Golimer. They are not all in the
same company.