Theodore Roosevelt: An Autobiography
I was; he could not make up his mind to return until he had spent an
hour or two with us under fire. The Spaniards attempted a counter-attack
in the middle of the afternoon, but were driven back without effort, our
men laughing and cheering as they rose to fire; because hitherto they
had been assaulting breastworks, or lying still under artillery fire,
and they were glad to get a chance to shoot at the Spaniards in the
open. We lay on our arms that night and as we were drenched with sweat,
and had no blankets save a few we took from the dead Spaniards, we found
even the tropic night chilly before morning came.
During the afternoon's fighting, while I was the highest officer at our
immediate part of the front, Captains Boughton and Morton of the regular
cavalry, two as fine officers as any man could wish to have beside him
in battle, came along the firing line to tell me that they had heard
a rumor that we might fall back, and that they wished to record their
emphatic protest against any such course. I did not believe there was
any truth in the rumor, for the Spaniards were utterly incapable of any
effective counter-attack. However, late in the evening, after the fight,
General Wheeler visited us at the front, and he told me to keep myself
in readiness, as at any moment it might be decided to fall back. Jack
Greenway was beside me when General Wheeler was speaking. I answered,
"Well, General, I really don't know whether we would obey an order to
fall back. We can take that city by a rush, and if we have to move
out of here at all I should be inclined to make the rush in the right
direction." Greenway nodded an eager assent. The old General, after a
moment's pause, expressed his hearty agreement, and said that he would
see that there was no falling back. He had been very sick for a couple
of days, but, sick as he was, he managed to get into the fight. He was a
gamecock if ever there was one, but he was in very bad physical shape
on the day of the fight. If there had been any one in high command to
supervise and press the attack that afternoon, we would have gone
right into Santiago. In my part of the line the advance was halted only
because we received orders not to move forward, but to stay on the crest
of the captured hill and hold it.
We are always told that three-o'clock-in-the-morning courage is the most
desirable kind. Well, my men and the regulars of the cavalry had just
that brand of courage. At about three o'clock on the morning after the
first fight, shooting began in our front and there was an alarm of a
Spanish advance. I was never more pleased than to see the way in which
the hungry, tired, shabby men all jumped up and ran forward to the
hill-crest, so as to be ready for the attack; which, however, did not
come. As soon as the sun rose the Spaniards again opened upon us with
artillery. A shell burst between Dave Goodrich and myself, blacking us
with powder, and killing and wounding several of the men immediately
behind us.
Next day the fight turned into a siege; there were some stirring
incidents; but for the most part it was trench work. A fortnight later
Santiago surrendered. Wood won his brigadier-generalship by the capital
way in which he handled his brigade in the fight, and in the following
siege. He was put in command of the captured city; and in a few days I
succeeded to the command of the brigade.
The health of the troops was not good, and speedily became very bad.
There was some dysentery, and a little yellow fever; but most of
the trouble was from a severe form of malarial fever. The Washington
authorities had behaved better than those in actual command of the
expedition at one crisis. Immediately after the first day's fighting
around Santiago the latter had hinted by cable to Washington that they
might like to withdraw, and Washington had emphatically vetoed the
proposal. I record this all the more gladly because there were not
too many gleams of good sense shown in the home management of the war;
although I wish to repeat that the real blame for this rested primarily
with us ourselves, the people of the United States, who had for years
pursued in military matters a policy that rendered it certain that there
would be ineptitude and failure in high places if ever a crisis came.
After the siege the people in Washington showed no knowledge whatever
of the conditions around Santiago, and proposed to keep the army there.
This would have meant that at least three-fourths of the men would
either have died or have been permanently invalided, as a virulent form
of malaria was widespread, and there was a steady growth of dysentery
and other complaints. No object of any kind was to be gained by keeping
the army in or near the captured city. General Shafter tried his best to
get the Washington authorities to order the army home. As he failed to
accomplish anything, he called a council of the division and brigade
commanders and the chief medical officers to consult over the situation.
Although I had command of a brigade, I was only a colonel, and so I
did not intend to attend, but the General informed me that I was
particularly wanted, and accordingly I went. At the council General
Shafter asked the medical authorities as to conditions, and they united
in informing him that they were very bad, and were certain to grow
much worse; and that in order to avoid frightful ravages from disease,
chiefly due to malaria, the army should be sent back at once to some
part of the northern United States. The General then explained that he
could not get the War Department to understand the situation; that he
could not get the attention of the public; and that he felt that there
should be some authoritative publication which would make the War
Department take action before it was too late to avert the ruin of the
army. All who were in the room expressed their agreement.
Then the reason for my being present came out. It was explained to me
by General Shafter, and by others, that as I was a volunteer officer
and intended immediately to return to civil life, I could afford to take
risks which the regular army men could not afford to take and ought
not to be expected to take, and that therefore I ought to make the
publication in question; because to incur the hostility of the War
Department would not make any difference to me, whereas it would be
destructive to the men in the regular army, or to those who hoped to
get into the regular army. I thought this true, and said I would write
a letter or make a statement which could then be published.
Brigadier-General Ames, who was in the same position that I was, also
announced that he would make a statement.
When I left the meeting it was understood that I was to make my
statement as an interview in the press; but Wood, who was by that time
Brigadier-General commanding the city of Santiago, gave me a quiet hint
to put my statement in the form of a letter to General Shafter, and this
I accordingly did. When I had written my letter, the correspondent
of the Associated Press, who had been informed by others of what had
occurred, accompanied me to General Shafter. I presented the letter to
General Shafter, who waved it away and said: "I don't want to take it;
do whatever you wish with it." I, however, insisted on handing it to
him, whereupon he shoved it toward the correspondent of the Associated
Press, who took hold of it, and I released my hold. General Ames made
a statement direct to the correspondent, and also sent a cable to the
Assistant Secretary of the Navy at Washington, a copy of which he
gave to the correspondent. By this time the other division and brigade
commanders who were present felt that they had better take action
themselves. They united in a round robin to General Shafter, which
General Wood dictated, and which was signed by Generals Kent, Gates,
Chaffee, Sumner, Ludlow, Ames, and Wood, and by myself. General Wood
handed this to General Shafter, and it was made public by General
Shafter precisely as mine was made public.[*] Later I was much amused
when General Shafter stated that he could not imagine how my letter and
the round robin got out! When I saw this statement, I appreciated how
wise Wood had been in hinting to me not to act on the suggestion of the
General that I should make a statement to the newspapers, but to put
my statement in the form of a letter to him as my superior officer, a
letter which I delivered to him. Both the letter and the round robin
were written at General Shafter's wish, and at the unanimous suggestion
of all the commanding and medical officers of the Fifth Army Corps, and
both were published by General Shafter.
[*] General Wood writes me: "The representative of the
Associated Press was very anxious to get a copy of this
despatch or see it, and I told him it was impossible for him
to have it or see it. I then went in to General Shafter and
stated the case to him, handing him the despatch, saying,
'The matter is now in your hands.' He, General Shafter, then
said, 'I don't care whether this gentleman has it or not,'
and I left then. When I went back the General told me he had
given the Press representative a copy of the despatch, and
that he had gone to the office with it."
In a regiment the prime need is to have fighting men; the prime virtue
is to be able and eager to fight with the utmost effectiveness. I have
never believed that this was incompatible with other virtues. On the
contrary, while there are of course exceptions, I believe that on the
average the best fighting men are also the best citizens. I do not
believe that a finer set of natural soldiers than the men of my regiment
could have been found anywhere, and they were first-class citizens in
civil life also. One fact may perhaps be worthy of note. Whenever we
were in camp and so fixed that we could have regular meals, we used to
have a general officers' mess, over which I of course presided. During
our entire service there was never a foul or indecent word uttered at
the officers' mess--I mean this literally; and there was very little
swearing--although now and then in the fighting, if there was a moment
when swearing seemed to be the best method of reaching the heart of the
matter, it was resorted to.
The men I cared for most in the regiment were the men who did the best
work; and therefore my liking for them was obliged to take the shape of
exposing them to the most fatigue and hardship, of demanding from them
the greatest service, and of making them incur the greatest risk. Once
I kept Greenway and Goodrich at work for forty-eight hours, without
sleeping, and with very little food, fighting and digging trenches. I
freely sent the men for whom I cared most, to where death might smite
them; and death often smote them--as it did the two best officers in my
regiment, Allyn Capron and Bucky O'Neil. My men would not have respected
me had I acted otherwise. Their creed was my creed. The life even of the
most useful man, of the best citizen, is not to be hoarded if there be
need to spend it. I felt, and feel, this about others; and of course
also about myself. This is one reason why I have always felt impatient
contempt for the effort to abolish the death penalty on account of
sympathy with criminals. I am willing to listen to arguments in favor of
abolishing the death penalty so far as they are based purely on grounds
of public expediency, although these arguments have never convinced me.
But inasmuch as, without hesitation, in the performance of duty, I have
again and again sent good and gallant and upright men to die, it seems
to me the height of a folly both mischievous and mawkish to contend
that criminals who have deserved death should nevertheless be allowed