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with his knapsack, or try and get food or medicine for the poor fellows who fell out from the heat of the sun. Between Santa Cruz and Pagsanjan, while we were on the roadside waiting for the artillery to come up, a great fellow over six feet tall broke in from the cocoanut groves, saying he was prostrated by the heat. It was evident that he was thoroughly demoralized, and perhaps his brain touched by the sun. It was a telling sight to see Father McKinnon encourage the poor fellow, and hy a few restoratives bringing him around so that by afternoon I saw this same man fighting away on the firing lines as if he had never been injured. I shall never forget a night that the reporters, chaplains and military attachés encamped at Longos church on Laguna ile Bay. That day a part of the North Dakota Regiment had been ambushed and five of its men killed and several wounded. The killed and wounded were brought back as the evening shades grew to gray around the old church walls. One poor fellow was shot through the lungs, another was shot through the neck. They were both alive when brought to the church. Still a third had been shot through the spine. He also was alive. From five in the afternoon until midnight, Father McKinnon was engaged with these men. From some he took their confessions, to some he brought tea and such other restoratives as we could get ready.

“There was also with us that night a very noble man, the Rev. Mr. Stephenson of Idaho. These two Chaplains exercised a wonderful influence in the tragic scene. Here in the dim church aisle were stretched in pathetic windrows, the living and the dead, and up under the altar, where the dim light of the candles throws a shadow, lay the man who was wounded in the lungs, and in the little sacristy lay two of the mortally wounded. When the Chaplain told these men they had but an hour to live, one of them, a young bugler, sipped a cup of tea and turning to his friend, who was also mortally wounded, said: 'Well, Jack, let us die bravely.' Chaplain McKinnon sat up most of the night with the man who was shot through the lungs. I remember looking along the floor of the church that night, and the shadow of the sentinel pacing to and fro, mingled strangely with the shadow of the preacher as die bent above the agonized and dying. It was a scene to live in a man's memory forever. As I went outside the stilling church-for in that tropic country decomposition sets in as soon as death, and the odor of choloroform and decomposition was stifling- I looked up at the sky and saw the Southern Cross.' It seemed to me almost a sign from Heaven. Out in the dew where the stars are always peaceful, the 'Cross' seemed like an emblem of Hope. It seemed as if God knew that our hearts were hurt and weary. In the early gray of dawn, I walked down to the church again and found the Chaplain there. Still those pathetic windrows of the dead, and those pathetic faces of the living. The stars were shining still. The 'Sign' was hung out in the branding sky, and in the dim aisles where the altar candles burned the face of Our Lady' was suffused as with tears.

“In Lawton's expedition north, there campaigned with us Father Hart of the 3d Art., and Father Fitzgarald. In the expedition to San Isidro, we traversed a country that was almost impassable. Few armies would have been able to cross it except under such a brilliant and determined a man as Major-General Lawton. To watch the battle was interesting, and to march with and talk to the men was an education for a lifetime, but as a change I sometimes fell back to talk and interchange views with the Chaplains. In places, these men were under severe fire because the insurgents fire high and the spent bullets usually take effect with the Hospital Corps, and the Signal Service men, who are in the rear. At San Rafael we had various skirmishes, but you could see these Chaplains moving to and fro along the road, which was a very exposed and dangerous place, helping the men and cheerfully doing any task or duty that came their way. One day we were led off into ambush by a spy, who was our guide. After the ariny had wandered two or three miles across the country, we discovered a native priest who offered to show us the way to San Jose, our next town. It was impossible, however, to get very much out of him, as he did not understand Spanish very well, but Father Fitzgarald, was in the expedition, and I suggested to Gen. Lawton, that perhaps Father Fitzgarald could understand the priest's way of expressing himself. I went back about two miles and found Father Fitzgerald at dinner, which consisted of one slice of bacon and one and a half hardtack. He immediately left his luxurious meal, and accompanied me across the hot stilling landscape in the middle of the day. Reaching the tent where Gen. Lawton and the Filipinio priest were, Father Fitzgerald engaged the priest in conversation in Latin, and in a few moments was

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able to find out from him the various trails and roads leading to the town we were looking for. Gen. Lawton spoke to me in terms of highest commendation of Father Fitzgerald.

“It was upon a dark night in front of San Rafael. I reached the camp at midnight, worn out with the journey of thirty-five miles, and lay down upon the road beside a carabao wagon. A bull was tied to one side of the wagon and in between the shafts was a heap of hay. As I lay down with a groan I was surprised to see this heap of hay move, and Father Fitzgerald extricate himself from the shafts of the wagon, saying to me in a kindly voice, 'I know you have come all the way from Manila. You get in this hay. I can sleep on a board which the Chinaman, our cook, offered me this evening.' It rained that night and, as I was a sick man, I felt how good a turn the priest had done me. I should have been very comfortable under my coverlet of hay, only the old bull, in the middle of the night, became hungry and ate up this unusual counterpane.

“After the fall of Malabon, Father Hart was stationed in that town for some time. The natives were a little shy of him when he came in an American uniform, but when he brought his Catholic vestment and conducted their services for them, they opened their hearts and homes to him, and he told me that never in his life had'he been received with such courtesy and loving kindness as by the inhabitants of Malabon. I think it would be of immense value to these Philippine Islands to import into the Catholic Church there a large number of our American priests. Here in America the Catholic priests have become so thoroughly imbued with the ideas of universal liberty that they could not but impart to the Filipinos a great deal of the results of American training. A man like Archbishop Ireland, in my opinion, could do more for the Islands, with an able staff of Catholic priests, than all the armies that we can send against these benighted folk.

“Chaplain Stephenson of the Idaho Regiment was a man for whom the whole army had the highest respect; a man who lived with the troops, who partook of their scanty fare, journeyed in their hard marches, shared their dangers, and did all these things with a inodesty of forgetfulness for self, which creates the true gentleman hero.

“Chaplain Pierce of the First Reserve Hospital, has been of great help to the sick soldiers, and of great use to the country by reason of his carefulness in burying the dead and marking their graves against the time that their friends at home may wish to remove their heroic aslies. Since Chaplain Pierce came to this work no single American soldier has been buried without military honors. We have lost by disease and battles a good many men in the Philippines. The cemetery at Battery Knoll is filled, and a new cemetery was opened on the level şround, near old Malate Fort. As we passed one day, we saw a long trench like a deep gash in the face of nature. A few graves were already there. A week later I visited the same place and found the significant line of graves had lengthened, and the gash in nature was being filied. After a few weeks this long trench was nearly filled in, and one quiet afternoon, as we neared the place, we saw four hearses there. There were no mourners, only Chaplain Pierce standing bareheaded, while four coffins were lowered into the graves. The wild waves beat on the shore of Manila Bay, as if to sing a requiem for the brave dead who would never see their native land again. A strong wind was blowing across the level lands, and in the woods the cooing of the ring-dove sounded strange and weird. The Chaplain read, as he stood alone, the glorious words of the burial service of the Episcopal Church. The weed-grown grave, already, nearby, was the scene of the burial of a child, and the service of the Chaplain, as it rose free to the sky in that desolate and lonely place seemed a fitting prayer for the child who had died on its mother's knee, and the man who had hobbled across the hospital of life to the grave on the other side. There was a prayer for the 'Martyr,' a prayer for the 'Suffering,' a prayer for all in 'Trouble' and a Benediction.

“As I went away from that sad place the grand words seemed to mingle still upon the air and make it sweet, tho' lonely. Some of the words kept coming back like the words of an unforgotten song.

"'Lord, have mercy upon all who are wounded or suffering. Let thy grace be their comfort, tho' kindred and friends be far away ..Almighty God, with whom do live the spirits of just men, made perfect after their delivery from their earthly presence, we humbly command the souls of these thy servants, our brothers, into thy hands. ...

“Lord, support us all day long of this troublous life, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over and its battles done. Then, in thy mercy, grant us a safe lodging and holy rest and peace at last.'

“These words seemed so gracious on the horrid edge of war. They seem to grow into our memory like a little root of daisies blooming undefiled amid the riot of the battlefield. It seemed to send the throes of grace and poetry into the hard and sordid world. The dead had not died in vain, their friends remembered them: “Tho'kindred and friends were far away.' They were sustained by the prayers of those across the sea: 'Support us all day long of this troublous life, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed and the fever of life is over and its battles done.'

SKETCHES OF SOME CHAPLAINS. “Rey. Charles C. Pierce of the Episcopal Church in Philadelphia, a graduate of Shurtleff College, Illinois, was the Chaplain of the Regulars at Camp Merritt. He has been in the army for thirteen years. When active operations began in the Philippines, he was in the Second Division, Chaplain with the Regulars on Gen. MacArthur's staff, and was ordered to the First Reserve Hospital, his duty being to take charge of and identify the dead, prepare them for burial, make arrangements for the sounding of the taps over their graves, and for the sending of the clergyman to conduct the services. He has charge of the coffins and the supplying of clothes, carriage escorts and buglers. When there is no other Chaplain at hand he goes to the grave himself. He told me of a case of five men who were killed at Paete and brought down in the middle of the night. They had been dead several days, ard in the tropical climate decomposition had strongly set in. These bodies were placed in the aisle of a hospital among the sick people and were a danger and menace to health. Dr. Pierce came in at midnight and found this condition of things. He made a protest but could find no one to help him in the difficulty. Finally he engaged a dozen natives and with them set out himself to Battery Knoll, placed the soldiers in graves and located each body, so that they could be found when their friends at home sent for them. He had buried, when I saw him on the 16th of June, since March 29th, 217 American soldiers. Not one man had been buried without the honors of war and the Chaplain. That is, the sounding of the taps and the wreathing of the grave with the American flag. The work of this one man shows the value, courage and constancy of the work done by the Chaplains in the army.

“Sometimes men are inclined to slight the Chaplains. This happened to be the case in the Kansas Regiment, where the Chaplain, Dr. J. S. Schliemann, was supposed to be too much of a recluse and religious man to suit the fighting blood of Funston's soldiers. Time went on and open war began, and the temper of the Chaplain had never been known to his regiment until the night of the fight at Caloocan, when the Kansans discerned the tall and rail-like figure of their Chaplain stalking through the woods with a gun, bringing down the wily sharpshooter from his perch in the trees, even as the hunter brings down his game. From that moment Dr. Schliemann was one of the chief heroes in the Kansas Regiment, 'that bodyof heroes and hero. worshipers.

“We read of the Tennessee Chaplain dying at his post from the plague of smallpox; of the Washington Chaplain also falling martyr to duty, and it would be invidious to mention one without naming all for heroism and duty well performed. The only reason why I cannot give a sketch of the work of each Chaplain, is that I am speaking now only of those with whom I came in contact. I have heard of the work of all of the Chaplains, and I have heard them all highly praised.

“Rev. W. S. Gilbert, Presbyterian, of the Oregon Regiment, was a man who impressed me with his great common sense, and his deep interest in the welfare of his men. He prepared a tablet for me, showing how the army influences the character of young men. He prepared several questions which he gave to each one of the Captains and Sergeants of the Oregon Regiment, in relation to the moral influence of the army life, and received in reply an almost unanimous answer, that in every respect, with the exception of profanity, the men had improved in character since coming to the Philippines.

“There is every reason for une to believe that the Chaplain was an instrument of good among the men. This is true, not only in regard to those I have mentioned, but in regard to all the Chaplains in the field.

“Chaplains Stull and Cressy were especially prominent in their efforts to give the soldiers and civilians religious exercises on Sunday. There seemed to be no distinction of sect, all difference of belief seemed to sink in the face of heroism and duty. I have seen a Catholic priest and a Methodist minister bending over the same, wounded, dying man, and giving him whatever human help they could.

"The Y. M. C. A., under Messrs. Glunz and Jackson, did splendid and effective work in helping the men along the lines. They used to go along the firing lines with note paper, pens and pencils so that the soldier did not feel himself utterly abandoned if he happened to fall in the fight, but was able thus to send messages, oftentimes his last word to his kin beyond the sea. The Y. M. C. A. also had a tent near the Bridge of Spain, near Manila. Their books, papers, periodicals, and all kinds of writing material were given to the soldiers free of charge. As one crossed the Bridge of Spain, nights, the kindly lights of the Y. M. C. A. tent gleamed out amid the tents of war and the streets of turmoil, like a silver beaconi along the wavetormented coast.

“Rev. James B. Rodgers and the Rev. E. S. Hubbard of the Presbyterian Board of Foreign Missions, conducted the missionary work in the city of Manila, in a quiet, moclest and substantial way. Just at present, owing to the unsettled condition of Luzon, and, in fact, of all the Philippines, the work of the missionary will necessarily be very slow. Only the very wise and level-headed preachers should attempt any of that work to-day in the Philippines, because the people are very strongly opposed to Protestantism, and feel that if we thrust Protestantism into the islands, we will take away their religious, as well as their political liberty. This was the case with the Rev. Dr. Hermann in Cebu. He had distributed some tracts among the Bisayans. The tracts were harmless in themselves, but the town priest and local paper immediately became enraged, and Col. Hamer, the American Military Commander, was forced to send Mr. Hermann to Manila."

A DESERVED ACKNOWLEDGMENT.

An interesting chapter might be written, describing the circumstances under which many of the views which appear in this book were taken. The writer's own personal experience with a kodak could be made, with a little embellishment, into a very exciting tale. Many of the pictures were taken in the open battlefield, under the fire of the enemy, and several men were wounded while thus engaged. It requires as much nerve to take a photograph of a company of soldiers charging the enemy's trenches, as for one of those engaged in the movementpossibly more, when the enemy is firing wild, or when they happen to select the camera for a target.

Special mention is due to the following soldiers of the different regiments, who have furnished us with photographs, taken on the field or elsewhere. Their addresses, as far as we have them, are given for the benefit of those who may be collecting war views:

W. H. Lillie, official photographer, 8th Army Corps, box 614, Leadville, Col.

Harry Coombs (1st Washington), North Yakima, Wash; C. C. Jackson (1st Washington), Dayton, Wash.; Howard Page (13th Minnesota), Minneapolis, Mini; Wm. Darcey (remained in Manila); J. E. Northrup (20th Kansas), Lawrence, Kas.; C. C. Cole, (20th Kansas); Arthur C. Johnson (1st Colorado), Denver, Col.; Lieut. G. E. Thomas (1st Colorado), Pueblo, Col.; Geo. R. Boomer (1st Nebraska), Beatrice, Neb.; Wm. H. Reedy (1st Nebraska), Beatrice, Neb.; Lieut. Van Valin (1st Nebraska), Nelson, Neb.; John W. Jones (2d Oregon), Portland, Or.; C. C. Stoakley (6th U. S. Art.), remained at Manila; C. B. Bishop (6th Art.), remained at Manila; Steward Wells (Hospital Corps), Corregidor Island, P. I.

Sam C. Partridge, 121 Post street, San Francisco; B. F. Rahmeyer, Greenwich street, San Francisco; Hodson, 416 Geary street, San Francisco, have photos of companies and officers in volunteer regiments.

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