The Emmett index. [volume] (Emmett, Idaho) 1893-1925, 1898-12-16
THOUGHT He WAS SHOT DEAD.
Rough Rider Tells How 1t Feels to Be
Killed

Killed.
How It feels to be shot dead Is the
subject OF some rather curious obser-
yations on the part Of a trooper Of
Roosevelt's regiment, which was IN
tended tc be made up Of rough riders,
but from force Of circumstances was
transformed into an organization Of
rough walkers in Cuba. This particu-
lar trooper has been in the thick Of the
fighting all the time, and he relates his
most peculiar experience in letter to
a friend:
"Tolstoi doesn't know anything about
being shot dead" he writes. I'm that
description he gives he's away off.
There's altogether too much of It. He
never went through It, so how should
he know? The real thing IS very short
and simple; anybody could do it This
Is how came to know all about It It
was the second day at San Juan, and
my troop was stretched out at full
length on its very much attenuated
stomach shooting over the top Of the
hill The Spanish were also doing all
the shooting that seemed to US neces-
sary, and my own notion was that any
of us who got out whole would be
mighty lucky, for the Spanish aim may
be bad, but there is a whole lot OF peo-
pie in this vicinity who wish 1t were a
darn sight worse, the undersigned
among the number.
"The chap on my left was close up
/ to me and firing fast, getting up on
one knee each time he let of and then
dropping back for a few seconds. Bull
let's were dropping all around and so
were men, and had spotted one Span
lard who seemed to be responsible for
a lot Of It. Well, was just getting
a good bead on him when it happened
There was a sudden shock that didn't
seem to strike any place in particular
on my head, but all over it My teeth
ground together and my eyes tried to
get out Of their sockets and escape, and
no wonder for my head was full Of
flames. Then everything went black
and 1 felt myself falling.
THAT'S the end of me- 1 thought
to myself before lapsed into total
darkness, and as I remembered 1t 1
didn't care a snap.
after that I rolled down the hill.
1t might have been any length of time
for all I knew when consciousness be-
gan to return. l wondered what world
was In and reckOned that l ought to
have a pair of wings of one kind or
another on my shoulders. 1t was some
thing Of a surprise to me to find that
there were none there, but my dismal
suspicion that maybe had gone wrong
was followed by n surmise that 1 was
still in the land of the living. But
had felt that bullet go through my
head and [ couldn't figure what right
had to be alive at all. Besides, it was
no fun, for I had headache that you
couldn't have crowded into a beer bar
rel. As soon as I found could move
felt around for the bullet hole, but
couldn't find It. While I was still
searching and getting pretty mad over
1t mot being able to find an escaped
collar button IS nothing to not being
able to find a mortal wound in your
own head n couple of fellows came
along. picked me up and poured some
water over me.
"'Look out said, it'll get into my
BRAIN and 1 explained about the
wound.
"They explored and they couldn't find
any hole, either, and that made me
madden than ever. for q bullet tha-
goes clean through a man without leav
ing any opening to show for it is rob
bling him Of the glory of dying for his
country. All the time my head wa.
feeling like the inside Of a mince pie
but 1 finally crawled back to the firing
line and there they told me what hap
pened. The chap on my left, in RISING
to fire, had got Z Mauser bullet through
his heart and in falling had swung hi
gun with great force over IN my direc
ton The butt caught me just behind
the ear, knocking me completely out
I've got a lump there now like the enc
Of a squash.
, "But it's a great thing to have hai
the experience of being shot dead with
, out compelling your family to go int
mourning. New York Sun.