Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1899-02-15
STORY OF THE WAR.
TRAMP OF THE WOUNDED FROM
THE FRONT TO THE REAR.
A PEN PICTURE OF THE ROAD FROM
SAN JUAN HILL TO SIBONEY
AFTER THE BATTLE.
From the New York Sun |

|
press to alleviate the wants OF the
wounded. Sorrow WAS everywhere, not
because of defeat or disaster, for Ameri-
Can vator had driven the enemy from
heir inirenchments in the face OF fire
hat might well have shattered the ranks
! OF veteran soldiers, but because to these
farmer boys, these mechanics, clerks,
lawyers, dudes and millionaires, bred to
the ways OF peace, the shf ding OF SO
much blood seemed a terrible thing, in
paiIiation OF which a righteous war for
righteous cause was all l. unjust. They
were not used to war, with its bloody
trail of shattered flesh aud broken bones
| 1t was all too horrible when robbed of its
glamour by stern reality; and so, despite
he victory of the day and the glory they
had won, our soldiers were crushed and
broken hearted by the loss that had been
entailed.
And it wes terrible, ptifuI sight that
! night. Wounded were everywhere, ST.
lentIy suffering. The shrieks and groans
! of which writer's OF other battlefieIds
! have been wont to make SO much were
missing. Men pierced throu h and
through with mauser bullets lay in the
long grass OF the fields where they had
| fallen or under the knife OF the surgeon
in the improvised hospitals without
murmur or moan. They bore it like
heroes, but the agony was all there.
And those who saw it knew it. The
palid faces, contorted with suffering,
told the story as plainly as though the
pain were shrieked from thousand
! threats, and made it all the nobler.
What a journey it was that night from
the firing line along the hill OF San Juan,
where our soldiers lay on their rifles,
down the long, winding, muddy road to
the hospital at Siboney. Toward it, from
the crack of the first rife on this morn
ing Of the opening struggle until the
night merged into another day, those
not too badly crippled dragged their
manned and shattered selves in hope of
aid The field hospitals were overrun.
t The amtuiances were crammed with men
who could not walk. Supply and am
/ munitiou wagons had been called into
service, but stlll they were not sufficient,
i and so poor luck less devils with broken
arms, With bullets through their chests,
( weir thighs, their legs, crept slowly in
VIA. patience that was marvellous.
From Fan Juan hill to Stboney the
I circuitou7 oed made necessary by the
mud and tin Ia nnntains covers distance
/ Of about eight a.. es Formerly it was
/ scarcely more THAI a mountain trail,
sound enough under !, OF, but the traffic
/ OF the ereat army Wagon had cut it ali to
! pieces, AID made it in he IT, yer places sll
! but impossible.
1t was not q pleasant course to travel at
best, but suppose circumstances had
brought you to take it this battle might.
Tne moon is up, and III the open is
si'yery light clearly marks out your way
I You start just at the bsse Of that hill up
winch the troops charged so CALAMITY.
Never mind the dead. Sibouey must be
reached before midnight and tine way l.
long. The road is level be and mainly
in the open, so you push along quite
rapidly. Before and behind and around
you are the wounded poddiug onward.
some of them speak to you.
"liuw far is it to Slhoney?" asks one
young fellow with his left arm in sling.
Eight miles," you tell him.
Thank God | have two good legs he
answ ers and keeps on
But he has lost blood and is weak. You
pass him. Others are around. One big
soldier Is doubled over, making his way
painfully.
How far is it to Siboney?" he asks,
and you answer.
"l'Il never get there tonight, but II
try" he says, and on he limps.
Stiii you are III the open. The trees
along the roadside are short. The sun has
had Il chance at the roadbed and it l.
fairy dry. The walking is easy. BY ano
, by you reach fl rd over Mite stream.
Here is the "bloody angle. The deau
are all about. The wounded are clustered
! by the water. They are feverish. They
| lap 1t up gratefully, talking meanwh bile CT
/ the day.
"W e gave them he'll, didn't we?' said =
wounded volunteer to passing regular
"fhst's what we did, but they can IL ht
some, too" was the reply.
Past the first ford the road darkeus and
!
They stretcn back in forest grandeur
a half mite and they are death traps
They hide the bitterest, he crueIest, the
most unciyilized fighters in all Christen-
dom, the Spanish guerril!as, They are
( up IN the treetops sharpshooting. Sol
der or civilian, we'll or wounded, it mat
! tiers not to them. A rife cracks and Il
/ bullet whizzes 10y your head. You seek
| the cover by the roadside ard make your
way along as silently as possible.
| The wounded plod YEARLY on, some Of
| them too weak to hide. Every now ana
then you hear that one of them has been
hit. Occasionally a soldier on watch fires
back at The distant flash, and for mo-
/ ment you have peace. Past another ford
/ you keep on your way, leaving behind you
l,tl ,