and almost impenetrable thicket to its position. The regiment was soon deployed as skirmishers in an opening across the river to the right of the road and, our line being partly visible from the enemy's position, their fire was 5 turned upon us and we had to lie down in the grass a few minutes for safety. Two officers of the regiment were wounded; here and there were frequent calls for the surgeon, but no order came to move forward. Whatever may have been the intention of the commanding general as to the 10 part to be played by the cavalry division on that day, the officers present were not long in deciding the part their command should play, and the advance began. White regiments, black regiments, regulars and rough riders, representing the young manhood of the North and 15 South, fought shoulder to shoulder unmindful of race or color, unmindful of whether commanded by an ex-Confederate or not, and mindful only of their common duty as Americans. Through streams, tall grass, tropical undergrowth, under 20 barbed-wire fences and over wire entanglements, regardless of casualties, up the hill to the right this gallant advance was made. As we appeared on the crest we found the Spaniards retreating only to take up a new position farther on, spitefully firing as they retired and only yielding their 25 ground inch by inch. Our troopers halted and lay down for a moment to get a breath and in the face of continued volleys soon formed for attack on the blockhouses and intrenchments on the second hill. This attack was supported by troops including 30 some of the Tenth who had originally moved to the left toward this second hill and had worked their way in groups, slipping through the tall grass and bushes, crawling when casualties came too often, courageously facing a sleet of bullets, and now hugging the steep southern declivity ready to spring forward the few remaining yards into the teeth of the enemy. The fire from the Spanish position had doubled in intensity until the popping of their rifles 5 made a continuous roar. There was a moment's lull and our line moved forward to the charge across the valley separating the two hills. Once begun it continued dauntless in its steady, dogged, persistent advance until like a mighty resistless torrent it dashed triumphant over the 10 crest of the hill, and firing a final volley at the vanishing foe, planted the regimental colors on the enemy's breastworks and the Stars and Stripes over the blockhouse on San Juan Hill to stay. This was a time for rejoicing. It was glorious. -From an address given in Chicago, November 27, 1898. 1. When was the Spanish-American War fought? Why? What were its greatest battles? Tell how each of the following figured in this war: Dewey, Sampson, Schley, Shafter, Wheeler, Roosevelt. 2. Imagine yourself in Lieutenant Pershing's place on the field of battle. Describe the engagement. 3. Report briefly from notes taken on outside reading on the battle of Manila Bay, or the cruise of the Oregon, or the destruction of the Spanish fleet off Santiago. 4. General John Joseph Pershing was born in Missouri, September 13, 1860. He was graduated from the West Point Military Academy; served in a number of Indian campaigns; was a military instructor; served with the Tenth Cavalry in the Cuban campaign, 1898, and in the Philippines, 1899-1903; commanded the U. S. troops in pursuit of the bandit Villa in Mexico in 1916; was in command of the American Expeditionary Forces in the World War. If possible, read an account of Pershing's early life and report on it in class, 15 ΙΟ BURIAL OF A SOLDIER IN FRANCE BY GERALD M. DWYER This is part of a letter home from Private Dwyer, Co. A, 121st Engineers, A. E. F. It is used here by permission of The Springfield (Mass.) Republican. EVEN far behind the lines of battle, in this beautiful France, little scenes take place which bring home to one the seriousness and sadness of life. Picture to yourself a dark-green hillside divided into sections by the hedge 5 fences which the French peasant makes so much use of. In one of these fields soldiers are at work making roads and little pathways. At one end are a number of flower-covered mounds, each one marked with a wooden cross, for this particular little field is one of the American Expeditionary Force's cemeteries. 15 20 On the day which I have in mind, a drizzling rain comes softly, though steadily, down. A number of soldiers, hardly distinguishable from the mud in which they are working, are busy leveling off the ground around a flagpole which stands in the center of the cemetery. Presently they stop work and stand listening to the drumbeats which can be heard faintly in the distance. The little group gathers about the flagpole, waiting. Slowly up the roadway comes a procession headed by the band playing the sweetly solemn funeral march. Behind it is carried a plain wooden box, draped with the Stars and Stripes, while a firing squad marches in the rear. They stop at a newly dug grave and gently lower the coffin. In clear, concise tones the chaplain reads the funeral service. A mist seems to creep up from the valley and wisps of it wind themselves through the air. In the neighboring field the sheep who have been grazing huddle together and gaze, as only sheep can, at the performance going on near them. Like the sheep, the soldiers in the cemetery gather closer to each 5 other, each one's eyes filled with tears, and each one conscious of a queer sensation going on within him. . Now the chaplain has finished, the members of the firing squad take their places. A dead silence ensues, broken by the shots of their rifles. Two more salvos are fired and the IC ceremony is finished. Finally, when the mist has become very dense, the clear notes of the bugle ring out, blowing taps for a soldier's last farewell sleep. You will never really appreciate the beauty and pathos of the notes of taps unless you have heard them while lying 15 on your hard bunk some night at the end of a hard day. The music seems to say that some day things will be peaceful again, all these hardships will be merely incidents to laugh over in the happy days to come. And so, singing its farewell to you, the notes die away, leaving you to slip into 20 the balm of sleep. The grave has now been covered and the procession and workers gone. The fields and valley seem forsaken and alone in the late afternoon. But no, there by the graves, flitting through the rain in their capes and hoods, and look- 25 ing like so many little sparrows, are some little French girls, daughters of the near-by peasants. Tenderly their little hands decorate the newest grave with flowers, their tribute to one who risked all for the safety of little maidens. Thus the grave is left, heaped with green branches and flowers, a 30 pretty resting place. - The Springfield Republican. OUR COUNTRY Of old sat Freedom on the heights, There in her place she did rejoice, Then stepped she down through town and field ALFRED TENNYSON. |