This is the unanimous opinion, at least, of
the men of the Tenth Cavalry. I was in the fight of July 1, and it was
in that fight that I received my wound. We were under fire in that
fight about forty-eight hours, and were without food and with but
little water. We had been cut off from our pack train, as the Spanish
sharpshooters shot our mules as soon as they came anywhere near the
lines, and it was impossible to move supplies. Very soon after the
firing began our Colonel was killed, and the most of our other
officers were killed or wounded, so that the greater part of that
desperate battle was fought by some of the Ninth and Tenth Cavalry
without officers; or, at least, if there were any officers around, we
neither saw them nor heard their commands. The last command I heard
our Captain give was:"
"'Boys, when you hear my whistle, lie flat down on the ground.'"
"Whether he ever whistled or not I do not know. The next move we made
was when, with a terrific yell, we charged up to the Spanish trenches
and bayoneted and clubbed them out of their places in a jiffy. Some of
the men of our regiment say that the last command they heard was: 'To
the rear!' But this command they utterly disregarded and charged to
the front until the day was won, and the Spaniards, those not dead in
the trenches, fled back to the city."
[Illustration: CUBANS FIGHTING FROM TREE TOPS.]
But a colored man, Wm.
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