Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1903-03-30
DAILY SHORT STORY
IOriginaI.l
The Morning Gun


company; that 1 should be in Santiago
de Cuba. L have no remembrance of
having been graduated. Yesterday we
We're marching to and from the mess
hall. Yesterday got befogged in that
problem of analytical geometry. Be
sides, how did 1 get here? 1 don't re-
member cOnKng-nO railway ride, no
troopship, notdebarkation.
Il say, you'll there, Bob Truman, how
did we of theGsecond class get into this
WARP"
Graduated a year ahead"
''But what did we come on?"
lightning express to Tampa, then
over the waterIin q balloon
singular"
There was Il rafting ahead with
drawing my attention from what had
happened to what was happening. One
captain faced about and gave an order
to march from column into line. We
struggled through tangled bushes, Il
Mauser bullet splitting here and there
like raindrops pelting the leaves. But
twilight was coming, and then it was
dark The firing ahead ceased.
1t seemed was worn out; that had
been with the army from the first and
had been over every inch of the road
from the coast to our present position
before Santiago.
'Will they yield tomorrow, do you
Think" asked d pale faced boy, stag
gering up to me, land let us get out of
this dreadful country"
Don't know. I'm Suffocating with
the heat"
- G,,II
was in the sky far to the west, large
and round and pale. When first looked
at ii. 1 thought it a great white bird. 1
wondered if it were not bird. No,
that's the moon, sure enough. No it
isn't, it's a big bombshell. 1t is sailing
right for me. AS it comes it is turning
black. That shows it's shell surely.
1t comes on and on, passing directly
over our heads and goes down slowly
to the rear without bursting.
There is that Calling gun again.
Th-r-r-r-r-r-r-r from left to right, then
th-r-r-r-r-r-r-r from right to left. Now
stiffness, now distant grown, an oath,
an order, anything. everything-every-
thing that is horrible.
Hear that frightful shrek! Some wo-
man leaving the starving city. She
must be Spanish, and some brutal
Cuban
That's fainter, more plaintive. o
heavens, it's = baby's cry. What an
awful thing is war that even Il babe
must go down under it! A moan-the
mothers doubtless-then stillness-a
stiffness more awful than the sounds.
We are marching through these in
fernal tangles again. but suddenly
emerge on an eminence. There is San
tiago below and there are the Spanish
flag and the outlying works. There is
death in those redOubts on those long
lines of low earth. There are driving
storms of bullets and bursting rockets
of shells, and the muzzles of the Cat
ling guns pour a destroying flood
from the nozzle of n hose. We've got
to go down there and take them. Yes,
take them if we are torn into slivers.
Why don't they shoot? I'd rather hear
an occasional shot. see puff of smoke
than see that silence. Yes. see it. 1 can
almost hear it.
All is lively enough now. There are
volleys near, volleys far; cannon boom
ing. men shouting, horses neighing.
Calling guns th-r-r-r-r-ing, all mingled
in one gigantic roar.
"Wire fence nippers here"'
Bring up those gunsw
'Turn about, there, my man, or I'll
run you through The enemy is in the
other direction!"
"Water! Waterr'
"Oh, God! I'm hitr'
1 put my canteen to the lips Of the
man who called for water and cast
glance at the man who was hit, when
the captain ordered me to stop those
who were trying to go back.
Next 1 was lying on my back, clutch
ing a wound in my left side. The
blood was pouring out like water. A
Cuban girl was bending over me hold
ing my canteen to my lips. What a
peaceful face! What n contrast with
the frightful thing called warI oh,
that those eyes could look into mine
forever! Oh, that that tress of hair
that has come down and is blown by
a breath of air across my cheek might
thus lightly touch it during a lifetime!
Again 1 am pushing on toward those
earthworks. They are pouring forth
fire enough now. Singular that in
such n storm of missiles l am not hit.
''Look outr'
"What is it?''
"a mine! A mine! Run for your
livesr'
"BoomY'
There is a terrible explosion. am
in my bed in barracks at West Point.
The morning gun has just been fired.
1 am lying on my left side, and my
heart is throbbing like a drum. Bob
Truman, my roommate, is rubbing his
eyes with his fists trying to wake him.
self up.
81 say, Bob, what a queer dream I've
had"
"H'mw
Dreamed we were graduated year
ahead and in the Santiago campaign"
"That campaigns an old story now.
I should want something freshern