The times., 1898-09-10
HEROES OF THE WAR.
The Grit and Patience of the Ameri-
can Soldier.
(From the New York Sum-

(From the New York Sun
Darkness had covered the first great battle
field OF the Spanish American war. The dead
lay all about, snminded in the press TO allevi-
ate the wants OF the wounded.
And it was terrible, pitiful sight that night
Wounded were everywhere, silently suffering. The
shrieks and groans of which writers of other
battlefelds have been wont TO make so much
missing.
Men, pierced through and through with Mauser
bullets Law in the long grass OF the fields where
thev had fallen. under the knife of the surgeon
in the improvised hospitals without a murmur
or a moan. They bore it like heroes, but the
agony all there.
And those who saw it knew 1t. The pallid
faces contorted with suffering, told the story
az plainly as though the pain were shrieked from
q thouss nd throats, al made 1t all the ooir-
The field hospitls were overrun. The ambu-
lances were crammed with men who could not
walk Supply and ammunition wagons had been
called into service. but still they were not suffi
cient and so poor luckless devils with broken
arms. with bullets through their chests, their
thighs their legs. crept slowly IN with a pa
thence that marvellous.
From San Juan hill to Siboney. the circuitous
road made necessary by the mud and the noun
tains a distance OF about eight miles
The road is level here and mainly in the open.
so YOU push along quite rapidly. Before and
behind and around you are the wound d plcdding
onward. Some of them speak to you
Glow far is it to siboney?" asks one young
fellow with his left arm in a sling.
Eight miles, you tell him.
s'Thank God l have two good legs he an
swers, and keeps on
But he has lost his blood and is weak You
pass him. Others around One big soldier
Is doubled over. making his way painfully.
''How far is it TO SiboneyT' he asks, and you
answer.
.'I,ll never get there tonight, but I'll try"
he says, and on he limps
Still YOU are in the open The trees along the
roadside are short. The sun has had chance
at tie roadbed and it is fairly dry The walking
is easy. BY and by you reach ford over a little
stream Here is the ''boody angle" The dead
are all about The wounded are clustered by the
water They are feverish. They lap it up CRATE
fully, talking meanwhile of the day.
1--WE gave them hell, didn't we?' said a
''That's what did. but they can fight some,
too" was the reply.
Past the first ford tie read darkens and grow.
muddy The trees are higher They stretch
back in the forest grandeur half a mile and they
are death traps.
unciyilized fighters in all Christendem- Span
ish guerrillas They up in the treetops sharp
shooting. Soldier or civilian, well wounded,
IL matters not to them.
rifle cracks and bullet whizzes by your
head. You seek the cover by the roadside and
make your way along as silently as possible.
The wounded plod wearily on, some OF them
too weak to hide. Every now and then You hear
that one of them has been hit.
Occasionally soldier watch fires back at
the distant flashes, and for moment you have
peace. Past another ford you keep on your way,
leaving behind you the hll Of Ell Ponzo, where
Capt Grimes field guns opened the action in
the morning.
As you go on the road grows worse and more
weird Up hill and down again it runs, with
mud foot deep in some places. The feet OF
the wounded wayfarers sink into the mire until