They were
under fire from six in the morning until 1:30 in the afternoon, with
strict orders not to return the hail of lead, and not a man in those
dusky ranks flinched. Our brigade was instructed to move forward
soon after 1 o'clock to assault the series of blockhouses which was
regarded as impregnable by the foreign attaches. As the aide dashed
down our lines with orders from headquarters the boys realized the
prayed-for charge was about to take place and cheered lustily. Such a
charge! Will I ever forget that sublime spectacle? There was a river
called San Juan, from the hill hard by, but which historians will term
the pool of blood. Our brigade had to follow the course of that creek
fully half a mile to reach the point selected for the grand attack.
With what cheering did the boys go up that hill! Their naked bodies
seemed to present a perfect target to the fire of the dons, but they
never flinched. When the command reached the famous stone blockhouse
it was commanded by a second sergeant, who was promoted on the field
of battle for extraordinary bravery. San Juan fell many minutes before
El Caney, which was attacked first, and I think the Negro soldiers can
be thanked for the greater part of that glorious work. All honor to
the Negro soldiers! No white man, no matter what his ancestry may
be, should be ashamed to greet any of those Negro cavalrymen with
out-stretched hand.
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