# Under MacArthur in Luzon/Chapter 24

CHAPTER XXIV
IN WHICH MAGALANG IS TAKEN
"What do you think of this, Ben?" asked Gilbert, as he and his company came up.
"Those rebels mean business," answered the young captain. "They are evidently the cream of the Filipino sharpshooters."
"Perhaps they are the fellows you met when you were out with poor Gilmore."
"If they are, I sincerely hope we'll bag them," was the quick reply.
No more could be said, and a moment later Ben found himself at the end of the stone wall and close to the shed previously mentioned. The Filipinos had now ceased firing, and for the time being hardly a sound of any sort was to be heard in the vicinity, although there was a steady cracking of firearms in the vicinity of Magalang proper, showing that General MacArthur was pushing the attack with vigor.
Facing the field which the soldiers of the first battalion occupied was a small ditch, and opposite was an iron door, communicating with the stone shed. ​This door stood partly open, and crawling up from the ditch Carl Stummer and Dan Casey peeped into the stone shed, to find it dark inside.
"Sure, an' it's all right," cried Casey to those left along the wall and in the ditch, and holdly entered the shed, followed by Stummer. Scarcely were they in the building than the iron door closed with a loud bang and each soldier was grabbed from the rear in the utter darkness.
"Trapped!" yelled the Irish volunteer, and struggled with might and main to release himself. Stummer also tried to cry out, but a pair of bony hands were at his throat, and, he could scarcely breathe. Both of our friends turned and twisted and wrestled with all the skill they possessed, but they were but two to five, and were at last overpowered by heavy blows on the head and shoulders.
In the meantime Ben had been close to the doorway, and he heard the iron barrier shut and caught the semi-muffled cry from Dan Casey. Without hesitation he ran up to the door and pushed upon it with all of his strength. It was bolted and refused to budge.
"Open up!" he commanded sharply. "Open up, or it will be the worse for you!" Nobody ​paid attention to his cry, and again he hurled himself at the door, but all in vain.
"What's up?" asked several, coming to the scene. "Who's in there, captain?"
"Stummer and Casey—the Filipinos have caught them. Who will follow me over the wall to rescue them?"
"I will!" "So will I!" "Count on me!" Such were some of the answers received from eight of the company members. Waiting for nothing more, Ben stepped back, made a leap and clutched the top of the wall with his hands. A soldier gave him a boost, and in return he gave the private a hand up. Soon the others were coming over the wall like so many monkeys.
But the sharpshooters had spotted the movement, quick as it was, and three shots rang out, and one man was hit in the leg and had to fall back on the outer side of the enclosure. Ben felt a bullet brush his cheek, and putting up his hand withdrew it covered with blood.
"You are hit, cap," came from one of the men.
"It's only a scratch, Leary. Come—the shed! Quick!"
The private understood, and followed Ben around ​the corner of the building, which stood at such an angle that one side was out of sight of the windows of the church. Only a few feet away was the inner door of the shed, and this stood open for the space of several inches.
"What's the next move, cap?" was the question put to Ben by the men, all in a bunch. "Shall we rush for the shed?"
"Yes, but— Down!"
As Ben finished, he shoved back the man next to him, and all dropped quickly, for they understood by the young captain's manner that something unusual was on the wing. Several sharpshooters had come up out of a trap-door upon the roof of the church. A rapid volley, which hit nobody, and the rebels started to withdraw.
Ben's blood was up, and like a flash he aimed his pistol and pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession. Two of the privates fired immediately after, and one of the sharpshooters was hit in the abdomen. His friends tried to drag him back to a place of safety, but they missed their grip upon him, and slowly he slid from the trap-door to the edge of the church roof, where he hung suspended for a full minute in mid-air, shrieking for help. But no one ​could assist him, and with a last cry he fell to the ground with a dull thud, to rise no more.
"Horrible!" gasped Ben, who could not help but see the fall, and he shivered with the awfulness of the scene. Then, without taking time for a second thought, he ran into the open and leaped for the shed door, with Leary the private on his heels.
A sight equally thrilling met his gaze inside of the dimly lit building. Stummer had been completely overcome, and a rebel was about to give Dan Casey a finishing blow with his gun butt. But the weapon never came down, for Ben seized it and hurled it aside, and its owner with it.
"Surrender, or we'll shoot you down like dogs!" cried the captain; and as the Filipinos turned to use their rifles, he emptied his revolver into the crowd, while Leary and the others used their guns. The shed was filled with smoke and with the yells and groans of the wounded and dying. A Filipino caught Ben by the legs and threw him to the floor, and the two rolled over and over in a hand-to-hand struggle for the mastery.
It was a trying time, and one Ben was not likely to forget for long months to come, for somebody in the semi-darkness stepped on his shoulder, bruising it ​not a little. His man had him by the arm and the hip, while the young captain held fast to the other's windpipe. Soon each was well-nigh exhausted, yet Ben felt by no means like giving in.
It was Leary who came to the rescue, with a blow from his rifle butt which all but killed the Filipino, coming as it did straight on the enemy's left temple. The grip relaxed, and Ben staggered up, panting heavily and with the blood from his wounded cheek in his eyes.
When the smoke cleared away, it was found that two of the enemy were dead and the others placed hors-de-combat. Stummer was senseless, with a nasty cut in his shoulder, and Dan Casey was grating his teeth to keep himself from screaming with pain over an arm that was out of joint. The Irish volunteer was cared for by two of his friends, who pulled the joint into place once more, and then honest Dan fainted from exhaustion.
The two battalions were now on every side of the church, having come in as closely as the protection of the walls and brushwood allowed. The outer door to the shed was opened, and into the narrow building poured the balance of Ben's command. From the inner door could be caught a view of ​two of the church windows, but these were now deserted.
Boom! It was the report of a distant gun, and a shot struck the church between two of the windows, making a jagged rent in the dilapidated masonry. Boom! came another shot, hitting the tower and scattering the stones in all directions.
"Hurrah! our battery has the range!" came the cry from the Americans. "Those sharpshooters won't stay in there much longer."
"Watch out for a rush!" said Ben. "Be ready, and make every shot tell!" And he reloaded his pistol with all speed.
Ten minutes passed, and during that time four other shots came hurling themselves at the church. Two did but little damage, but the others entered the building and tore down a mass of woodwork and plaster, filling the edifice with dust and flying splinters.
The sharpshooters now found the retreat too hot to hold them, and forming into a compact body, they made for a side door of the building, which was swung open suddenly and noiselessly. Then out they poured and ran with all speed for the nearest jungle, two hundred and fifty yards away. So far ​they had seen no Americans in that direction and hoped to find a clear passage.
But they were sadly mistaken, for in the jungle were the first and second companies of the third battalion, hidden behind a slight rise of ground. As the Filipinos came on, they were greeted with a galling fire which played fearful havoc with their front rank and caused them to halt.
"We have them now!" cried Major Morris, as he ran up and ordered the first battalion to close up around the church, thus cutting off the enemy's retreat. Following this, the fourth company was ordered to follow up the sharpshooters, and away they went out of the stone shed, cheering lustily and shooting as they ran.
Finding themselves hemmed in, front and rear, the Filipinos essayed to separate, one portion to the left and the other to the right. But again their movements were frustrated by other companies coming up, and then began a slaughter terrible to witness, but which the misguided Filipinos had brought on themselves. Man after man went down, killed outright, while scores were wounded.
"In the name of Providence, why don't you surrender?" demanded Major Morris, as he saw a ​Filipino officer stagger by, clutching his wounded arm. The officer stared at him and suddenly drew a dirty handkerchief from his pocket. Waving this handkerchief over his head, he turned back, and soon several other handkerchiefs appeared. The firing on the American side ceased, and the brief but bloody contest came to an end.
This was the fight at the old church, where twenty-six sharpshooters were taken prisoners, among them Carlos Vivachi, one of the most remarkable marksmen in the world, and who held the honor—as he termed it—of having brought down nine Spanish officers during the war with Spain. How many Americans he had killed or wounded Vivachi would never tell.
In the meantime the other commands under General MacArthur were not idle, and a brilliant attack upon Magalang itself soon put the enemy on the run. During this fight a small part of the town took fire and burned down. The Filipinos were chased for over a mile beyond the outskirts, and the battle resulted in a loss to them of over two hundred killed and wounded. The losses to the Americans were but trifling in comparison.
When the fighting was over, the regiment under ​Colonel Darcy was ordered to remain at the church until the next day. This suited the soldiers very well, for the place was clean, dry, and cool. It had not been in use for several years, and most of the movable church property had been taken away.
When the wounded and dead had been cared for, Ben and the major took a walk around the building to inspect it. Ben's shoulder still ached, and his face bore several long strips of court plaster, while Major Morris's left hand was bound up because of a wound to the knuckle of the thumb.
The church was divided into several parts, after the manner of such buildings in Luzon, with here and there a little stone closet or cell. One of these cells was found to be filled with old records, now musty with age.
"These may be of value," said the major. He looked a few of the books over. "Births and deaths, I think."
"The Filipinos have lost interest in such records just now, major. Fighting has— What's that?"
Ben stopped speaking and gazed at his companion in perplexity. A loud sneeze had startled him, coming from the top of the cell. Looking up, they saw a man huddled up on a shelf, glaring down at them.