The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1898-07-10
BANKS OF THE WABASH"
SUNG BY WOUNDED CORRESPONDENT
BORNE FROM THE FIELD.
New York SUN Man Writes of the He
rOic Conduct of the First Newspaper
Man Shot I'm Skaters Army.
siboney Dispatch in New York Sun.


noon. Before o'clock word had come that
Edward Marshall, a correspondent of the
New York Journal had been shot in the
spine and could not live throughout the day
unless he was brought to the hospital at
once The messenger explained that the
only filters that the Rough Riders had were
all in use, and that there were so many
wounded soldiers to be attended to that not
more than half of them could be brought in
before nightfall. In Marshall's case par
ticularly every moment counted, so George
Coffin, the artist. Stephen Crane. H. G. Mac
nichol and two sailors from the dispatch
boat Kanapaha volunteered to go out and
bring him. A steward from the Red Cross
Society and the Sun correspondent went
with them. Mr.. Crane, who had been in the
battle earlier in the morning, led the way.
1t was scorching day, and the five-and-a-
half-mile climb over the rugged hills, which
roll away to within a couple of miles of
Santiago, made the two fat men in the COM
pany blow hard. A narrow road, scarcely
more than a bride path, led to the field
hospital, which had been extemporized
about one hundred yards in the rear of the
battlefield.
Marshall and dozen wounded soldiers lay
on the grass. While still some thirty feet
of the men in his party and called out quite
loudly:
Hello, old man! This is funny place
for us to meet Last time l saw you was
in London, at the Queens jubilee
AS he said this he raised himself slightly
on one arm, and we saw that he was pulling
away at cigarette. Seeing this, 1t was
hard to realize that Marshall was danger
ously wounded man.. A sight of his wound,
RoweDer ehanfged that 6 opnlo o. 1 PiS9rs
who was one of the detail attending the
wounded, said: by jove! that man is
wonder. / saw him in the action when he
later that he was calmly debating his will
to his friend, Mr.. Lame, and insisting that
order that he might get the. first story of
the fight TO the cable station"
For ten minutes after the arrival of his
Then he revived, asked for another cigar
cite, and, turning toward the crowd, said:
It's good of you o. boys to come al TINS MS
whenever you are, but first of all, tell me.
is it girl or a boy?'
No one understood his remark at first until
Mr. Coffin remembered that Marshall had
mentioned the day before that he was ex-
pecting a cablegram from New York an
nouncng an important domestic event in his
family. AS the men placed Marshall on the
litter a slight jolt was unavoidable The
wounded man at once went off into fit,
Two of the men held him down until the
agony was over. A touch of morphine re-
vived him quickly and the procession start
ed eastward, with Marshall apparently
quite himself again. putting away at still
another cigarette. At this point the GORE,
spondent left to go to the Rough Riders
camp, a mile further on. 1t was agreed that
he would be able to overtake the litter after
interviewing Colonel Roosevelt, as the
march back would ne, necessary have to pc
take at least three hours to make the jour-
ney.
One of the troopers led the way across
a
path which, in itself, appeared the very en-
bodiment of battle, murder and sudden
bags, and all manner of accoutrements were
strewn along the ground. AT one spot we
had to step into the underground in order
not to step on the bodies of two dead Spans
iards, which lay directly across the way. A
few steps further on lay body dressed in a
troopers uniform. The face was covered
with a piece of canvas, and, as we passed,
four troopers from the camp hurried up to
take charge of the body. Further along more
troopers were passed carrying another body
into camp, and no less than six dead Span
iards lay within fifty yards OF each other.
Two of the Spaniards were negroes, the
trimmed with red braid, and blue overalls,
such as sailors wear.
It was we'll enough to take this walk with
the trooper while he RECALLED me with de-
tails, but it was quite another story to come
back alone along that path an hour later,
just as dusk was falling. Then and not un-
til then you realized the horror of war The
vultures and buZZards had been busy in the
meantime. and two of the Spaniards were
already little more than skeletons. IL was
one of those times when you wanted to
shrek and yet were afraid to do SO for fear
of bringing some of those dead Spaniards
back to HE bedp + OF not be camn
prevented one from walking slowly, and
when you ran the dry underground made
such a. cracking noise that you stopped for
very fear of the noise you raised yourself.
But the worst of all were the land crabs.
There was no way of escaping from the ter
D1Ys1f on fEn Enn Of
nary crab, but multiplied in size by six, at
the first sound of your footsteps these
freaks would plunge into the brush twenty
feet in front of you with crash that made
you suppose that a whole Spanish regiment
at least was on your trail.
1t took thirty-five minutes 20 catch up
with the party, but it seemed like ten years.
Marshall was sleeping under the effect of
another opiate, but as we changed off at
the litter he woke and had another terrible
spasm. When he was quieted he began to
sing 1.-THE Banks Of the Wabash This
sounds, 1 know, like an extract from
Rhoda Brcughton novel. but it is true none
the less. For nearly half an hour, we
dragged the litter along, Marshall kept re-
peating the chorus of this song over and
over. When he finally stopped We could
see that either his pain or his morphine,
perhaps both, had made him delirious. He
clutched Mr.. Coffin by the hand.
Coffin" he cried, I'm on the city desk
tonight, and we've got to beat the town
on the story of this fight Between it and
the story of my falling down that coal hole
and breaking my back ought to make a
great paper tomorrow. Have a hanson
waiting for me on the beach, and we'll
drive down to Guantanamo and knock the
devil out of the other fellows.
At the end of the fourth mile the two col
ored sailors. who had tramped all the way
in their bare feet, collapsed. The Red Cross
man and the correspondent decided that the
best thing for them to do was to hurry on to
camp, secure more help and whisky, and get
back as soon as possible. Bronson Rea sup
piled the bottle of whisky, and Mr.. Dun
widdie and his soldiers volunteered to go
out with us and help carry Marshall down
the hillside, a steep slant of fully half
mile. In the meantime an officer of one of
met the party struggling along about
mile and half off, He Immediately ordered
six stalwart negroes to carry the litter.
About o'clock we reached the railroad
shed, which had been turned into tenn
porary hospital, and found it crowded to
the doors. but in almost total darkness.
Three candles were all the light that the
surgeons and Red Cross men had to work
by. There wasn't even a torch. AS we car
ried Marshall in and laid him on the cot
which we had sent over from the dispatch
boat, one of the carriers stumbled and half
fell. From the floor came a shrek.
For Gods sake, don't old mani" cried a
voice. That's my wounded leg you're step
ping on"
All the afternoon the wounded had been
hurried into camp, and the surgeons had
rot had time and boats enough to carry
them to the Olivette before a new crowd
ever. Attached to a buttonhole of each
patient was an ordinary express package
tag bearing his name, his regiment and
home While the three candles Were held
over him Marshall's wound was examined
by DR.. Winters. He said that his chances
were just about one in hundred. We laid
him back on the litter again and started for
carried n ia