The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1899-09-30

Private E. b. Willard, a member of
the I'd Oregon volunteers, owes his life
to his grit In the face of death he
played 'possum, and while half dozen
bloodthirsty Filipinos jabbed him VITA
bayonets. tried to burn his hair and
otherwise tortured him he feisned
death SO completely that his tormen-
tors, believing he was corpse, left
him on the field.
Three of his comrades had been am
pushed and cut to pieces at his side.
Willard, himself shot in the back, lay
10 feet from them, hearing their dying
groans Not single moan came from
his lips. He knew better.
Willard, with II other soldiers, had
been sent out about 500 yards from
camp at Mariola to do guard duty. 1t
was about midnight when they reached
the outposts across the river All this
was 'fought-over territory" and a man
had to keep his eyes open. Thick bam-
boo and high grass covered the ground.
1.-The night wore on until about 8
o'clock in the morning." said Millard,
speaking of his experience, when we
saw danger signals going up from our
camp. Almost simultaneously Nauser
rifles began to crack around US. The
rebels had crept along tho river be-
tween us and camp and We had been
surrounded. We began to retreat
southwark along the railroad track to
+ company's camp, two miles away.
We could hear hundred men around
us in the brush
1--WE had gone perhaps 100 yards
down the track when a score of Filipi
nos jumped up out of the tall grass
and fired a volley into our faces. Pri-
Yates Paine, Berry and Hoffman were
shot and hacked to death before nay
eyes. ! received a charge in my side
and fell over the roadbed into muddy
III - al, No., IL
and kept as still as l could, unable to
rise to my knees.
pretty soon somebody approached
me and gave me a kick on the side of
the head. Then another man threw
a big clod of dirt at me. After that
two or three more came and held burn
ing matches under my nose to see If
I was still breathing. | tried to keep
from inhaling the sulphur. My hair
was wet with mud and water and
blood, or they would have set fire to 1t
sure. Then a Filipino ripped out an
oath, rolled me over and began to jab
his bayonet into my abdomen and legs.
Once 1 felt that l must cry out, but
certain death staring me in the face
kept me from it. I must have fiinched,
but they did not see me in the dark,
All this time the Filipinos were quar-
reling and scuffling over my gun,
which I had dragged across the ditch
through the mud.
Somebody began taking off my belt,
and that was the beginning of another
scrimmage. They pulled and hauled
me about like a dead man, searching
my pockets and taking everything they
could lay their hands on. After that
ordeal was over they untouched my
suspenders. took off my shoes and
would have stripped the shirt from my
back had 1t not been for the blood and
mud that We're smeared all over me.
was barely conscious of what was go
ing on, but there is one thought that
stayed with me until l collapsed COM
pletely: One groan, even sigh, and
/ am a goner'
Il was weak from loss of blood and
the side and back of my shirt was as
wet as If dipped in water. A few feet
from me three or four rebels were strip
ping poor Hoffman's body of every
stitch of clothing. That is an old trick
of the insurgent fighters, and they
would have left nothing on me had my
clothes been worth taking.
Il cannot remember when they left
me. About that time I became uncon-
scious, exhausted by the loss of blood.
The next thing knew I was on a
cot in the hospital, where / stayed for
several weeks"