( AN AUDIENCE WITH AGUINALDO. 115 AN AUDIENCE WITH AGUINALDO. BY J. R. D. HALLOWELL, (Of the Minnesota Volunteers.) HAVE had the distinction and the satisfaction of presenting a communication to Aguinaldo, the renowned Filipino leader and president, and of inspecting his palatial-if not palace-headquarters at Malalos, which I visited in an official capacity early in January, 1899. The special duty which took me to Malalos I am not at liberty to divulge, but I violate none of the proprieties by describing what I saw and heard while there. My purpose being of a peaceful character, so far as I may judge by the information disclosed to me, I was unaccompanied by guard or attendant, my uniform being regarded as a sufficient passport among a people whose gratitude we at least deserved for our effective intercession in their behalf. A Hall of Dazzling Splendor. As I approached the president's (Aguinaldo's) headquarters I observed at either side of the door and up the broad stone stairway men holding huge spears, the heads of which shone like silver. At the top of the stairs a great surprise awaited me. I was conducted down a large hall furnished with oriental magnificence, and the men here were dressed in superb uniforms. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I was not dreaming-it was all so beautiful. Seated about a door were some fifteen or twenty people awaiting an audience with Aguinaldo. I simply sent in word: "An American with a communication." Instantly a man came out, his dress beyond description, and, addressing me in good English, said, "Walk in, sir." Again I rubbed my eyes, for I was in a room of enormous size; crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling; at one end was a piano, and all about were signs of great wealth and even royalty. My escort was most gracious; he was sorry to detain me, but the president had just returned from a three days' trip back in the mountains; he was sleeping, and I must wait until he should awake. He continued: "We are showing you great honor, as you represent the American nation. All others we keep waiting outside in the hallway." I thanked him in the name of Uncle Sam, and settled down for one of the most interesting talks of my life. The man was Aguinaldo's secretary. He said among other things: “We are 116 AN AUDIENCE WITH AGUINALDO. grateful to your country for freeing us from Spanish rule. We do not want to fight you. We love and respect you. All we want are freedom and pro.. tection. The man sleeping in there is our Washington. Called the Washing-Yours made a great nation of you. Ours will do the same ton of His People. for us; but should you hand the islands back to Spain, we will fight to the death." The time passed all too quickly. Another door opened and another gorgeous creature said: "President Aguinaldo will give audience to the American," and I entered what to these poor people is the Holy of Holies. Seated on a sort of throne behind a desk most beautifully carved was Aguinaldo. He arose as I approached, and when within a few feet of him I saluted as to an American officer. He returned the salute and I handed him the communication, withdrawing again a few feet, while he, evidently much excited and still standing, had his secretary read and translate into his own language the contents. All this gave me time to use my eyes, which I did to good effect. First, the man himself. He is very short in stature, with a heavy face, and wearing his jet black hair pompadour. He is only twenty-eight years old and has, like all the natives, copper-colored skin, with smooth face and tiny hands and feet; unlike his attendants, he was simply dressed in a white linen suit. The magnificent desk was covered with a mass of silver articles, all of superb workmanship. The inkstand particularly was massive. The room was hung in dark silks, over which on the walls were superb shields, daggers and spears, all highly polished. A huge globe stood by the desk and many books were about the room. After he had perused the message, I withdrew to the former apartment while he dictated his reply. This consumed another half hour, every minute of which I enjoyed, this time being entertained by his nephew, a boy of fourteen years, who was precocious and diverting, though my ignorance of his language prevented other communication than we were able to conduct by signs and facial expressions. With the answer finally in my pocket, I was escorted out of the old convent which was used as Aguinaldo's official residence, and my departure was made the occasion of many perfunctory assurances of regard, etc., which, however, we have since learned is the Filipinos' diplomatic disguise for evil designs. 1 NARROW ESCAPE FROM AN AWFUL FATE. 117 T NARROW ESCAPE FROM AN AWFUL FATE. HEY talk about these things in whispers as yet. Still, members of the hospital corps of the Seventy-first regiment tell some strange, gruesome stories of hospital life between El Caney and Siboney. Members of the command, in close touch with the hospital, tell of one instance where an unconscious yellow fever patient was being buried alive by careless attendants, when the unfortunate man was opportunely rescued. It was on July 14, 1898, in the yellow fever hospital, under the care of Dr. Hamilton Jones. One patient died in a tent in which there were six soldiers laid low by the saffron scourge. The two worst cases rested upon litters, covered with the regulation blankets. One of the assistant stewards, while walking through this particular tent, noticed that one of the stricken soldiers was in the throes of death. He saw that in a few moments the brave boy, who had escaped the deadly Mauser missiles, would breath his last with the yellow death. These facts were reported to the doctor, who promptly had the matter referred to the steward, Sergeant Meyer, with instructions to get the Cuban "burial detail" and bury the man in the trench as soon as he breathed his last. It was only a few minutes later that the assistant steward saw the Cubans march off with a litter, bearing a silent form, covered by a blanket. "Well, his folks will go in mourning at home," muttered the hospital official as he walked careessly into the tent in which the soldier had tamely given up his life for his country. As he threw back the flap of canvas he started back in amazement. There in front of him lay the dead man on his litter-bier. "Whom the devil are they burying?" he yelled; and, rushing from the tent, he ran like a deer to the trench where the Cubans were just throwing the first spadefuls of Cuban soil upon the quiet form beneath the blanket. Brushing the swarthy military sextons aside, he jumped into the trench, pulled the blanket from the quiet figure, and there lay another scourgestricken soldier, unconscious, but still breathing. war. Casting the blanket over the unconscious man, the assistant ended the obsequies before they terminated in a horror, one of the terrible errors of the The plague-stricken soldier was lifted from his premature grave and borne back to the hospital tent and his dead comrade placed upon the litter and carried to the shallow grave which had so nearly encompassed a live man in a living tomb. 118 THE BATTLE OF LAS QUASIMAS. I THE BATTLE OF LAS QUASIMAS. BY ARTHUR T. COSBY, (Of the New York Volunteers.) WAS in the fight, June 24, at Las Quasimas, where we were ambushed by the enemy. After a few days' rest in camp we were pushed ahead by a forced march late in the afternoon of Thursday, June 30, and encamped late that night with a cavalry brigade at the top of a hill to support the Fourth battalion of artillery. I was on guard that night from one to three, so that I had little sleep when the reveille sounded at four, Friday morning. About daybreak the artillery opened fire at the village of Caney on the right. In the meantime our troops on the hill were waiting for orders to advance. Our battery opened fire at six o'clock at a distance of a mile and a half from Santiago. The fortifications of the city could be distinctly seen across the valley at the foot of the hill. Everybody was on the qui vive, and it was only about fifteen minutes before the Spanish replied with shells. They had the range accurately and the very first shell burst over the battery and fell among our men immediately around it. From that moment we had a most uncomfortable time. The shells would come hissing overhead and then burst among our men with an appalling frequency. The cries from the wounded on all sides showed that the Spanish fire was very effective. The feeling of lying on your rolls without seeing the enemy and without being able to shoot in return-simply waiting for the deadly shells to burst and then see what damage they did, was most uncomfortable and appalling. Officers and men alike felt its demoralizing effects, and the command was finally given to move further up the hill under the protection of a ravine. bursting This fire of shells is infinitely more awful than either fire from the enemy's ambush or a heavy direct volley. As the shells would hiss through the air, preparatory to bursting, everybody would instincTrying to Dodge tively duck to the ground. It was a great relief to get the command to throw rolls and haversacks aside, and being stripped to cartridge belts, guns and canteens, we advanced down the road direct toward the enemy's lines at Santiago. As we reached the valley near the enemy, the magazines of our guns were loaded, and we slowly advanced at skirmish intervals of two yards in double P THE BATTLE OF LAS QUASIMAS. 119 file. We passed a little creek called the San Juan River, and suddenly the popping of the Mauser rifles and rattle of rapid-fire guns was heard immediately ahead. We crouched down low and deployed skirmishers on the right along the river bottom. The woods were pretty thick, so that it was impossible to see the enemy, and the open ground was covered with grass shoulder high. The fire began to increase in rapidity, and men were falling on all sides. We then saw that the enemy occupied a beautiful position a mile away in a blockhouse at the head of a gently sloping hill. They had evidently calculated the range beforehand, as their shooting, contrary to our expectations, was accurate. The command was soon given for our troops to retire to the shelter of the banks of the creek, and there we stood waist deep in water, waiting for the artillery and reinforcements to come up. All of this consumed a couple of hours. About noon we took our place in the general charge that advanced all along the line up the hill toward the blockhouse. Here we got right into Targets for Sharpshooters. the thick of it, and while the boys had said at Las Quasimas that we should never have such a hot fire again, the present fire was simply annihilating as compared to the other. Shells screamed overhead, bullets whistled all around, and rapid-fire guns belched out in murderous volleys. To stand at a man's full height meant certain death. The officers, unfortunately, were compelled to stand in order to see the position of the battlefield and to direct their men. As this exposed them to the direct fire of the enemy, as well as made them targets for the sharpshooters who were hid in trees all around, they suffered relatively greater than the men in the ranks. All of the general officers on horseback had their horses shot under them or abandoned them early in the game. We went up the hill by short dashes, crouching low to the ground, and then would lie down for a few minutes before advancing again. The forced march of the night before, together with being on guard duty and the early marching of that morning had exhausted me so completely that at every stop I tried to take a short nap. It was while 200 yards from the crest of the hill, lying down on the ground, that I suddenly felt as if a rock had hit me on the hand and shoulder. I got up with a start and saw that my right hand was bloody and shot through in three places. As it was impossible to fire my carbine in that state, I yelled out to my squad leader, Sergeant Walter Scosh, the old Princeton tackle of '89, that I was wounded and going to the rear. I went back to the creek and there found several wounded men crouching behind the bank from the unceasing and pitiless fire overhead. Here the |