The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1902-08-21

A GREAT many things happened
~ in the year 1898. But what
ever did or did not happen, it
is all history now. cit has," to
quote Carlyle, sheen swallowed up in
the Time-Flood."
The greatest event of the year was,
of course, the destruction of the battle
ship Maine. We can all remember
that momentous event. Swift, ah! too
swift, the network of wires fickered
the news to every corner of America.
And afterward! How the yellow
journals barked themselves black in
the face! How the great crowds bel
lowed with rage as they watched the
bulletin boards! The Eighty Million
Americans jumped up and down and
howled for aDar. The Sovereign People
would protect its own. And so behold
us in the spring of 1898 preparing to
smite the greasy unwashed to the
southwark.
Vast columns of blue go Star-Spang-
led-Bannering across the southern hori-
zon in quest of gore and glory. The
militant Latins roll their eyes hither-
ward and load their antiquated cannon,
preparatory to defending their ''honor''
to the last sardine can. 1t is hard
task we have set for ourselves, messieurs,
for we must penetrate and take these
Cuban coasts where the tropical wind
beats down through the palm trees and
out to the open sea, and where the
skinny insurrecto four erstwhiIe ally
plieth his swampy way, and the whang-
doodle mourneth her frstborn in the
twilight.
1t was a. m. when the War Core
.spondent was awakened by strenuous
shaking. "Now then" grunted Voice
in the semi-darkness, "if you want to
get some good material for a dispatch
come along with me. We are going to
attack the hill.'
When the War Correspondent reached
the open space at the foot Of the hill
the regiments were quietly forming for
the attack. 1t was all very common
place and unromantic, disagreeable in
fact, for noxious moisture from the
Jungles penetrated his clothing and the
chill darkness of the Cuban night still
rested on the landscape. A faint flush
in the eastern sky betokened the march
of day.
One negro regiment and two white,
and we advance up the hillside, slowly,
with many stumble and whispered
curse. The east grows brighter and
brighter. The enemy is still unaware
ofour presence, altho we can distinguish
their foul yellow banner over the block
houses, Tapping to and fro in the
morning breeze. Suddenly it comes,
sharp, pre-emptory, menacing as hell
itself. "Halte! Quien Vive?" No
answer. We hear the detonation and
the whistle of the bullet as it passes
over our heads. The War Correspond
ent starts nervously. Somewhere in
the distance machine gun yelps, once,
twice, thrice. The east is turning
yellow now.
A scattering volley greets us from
above, followed Immediately by the
heavy pounding of artillery. Several
OF the men fall groaning. We are
quite nervous when we come to the
barb wire fence and we slash and stab
at 1t savagely. The negro regiment is
grooming and humming like hive of
bees. The negro sings when the
emotional side of his nature is aroused.
Through the wire fence we go, while
the War Correspondent babbles deliri-
ously to the junior officers.
"Chargew Atlast! Off we 20 on a
trot up the hill surging to and fro like
line of cattle. The heavy crashing
OF musketry from above becomes
terrific. Great holes are torn in our
lines, but we close up and advance.
We sing and shrek as we advance.
We sing coon songs, "Rock Of Ages"