Springfield in the Spanish American War. Ward Walter W.
the battle cry of "Wee Haw."
'Please pass the butter,'
Hurrah, boys, hurrah!
If the coffee was much thicker
We'd sell it off for tar;
For we'll never look like Billy Fish
Unless we get more grub—
Shouting the battle cry of "Wee Haw."
Ade Potter's growing thinner,
Healey's just the same
Brazzil, Breck and Nesbitt swear,
Their biscuit box is lame;
For George Potter ate his canteen
And Aiken ate the strap
And McCullough shouts the battle cry of "Wee Haw!"
About this time some brainless individual sent alarming news home in a letter, which was published in the Springfield newspapers, to the effect that sickness was prevalent in our camp and that a large proportion of the men of the three companies from that city were in the hospital seriously ill. As a result we soon began to get letters of anxious inquiry from the folks at home, and it was some time before we could fully reassure them that the reports had been extremely exaggerated and that there was but little illness and none of a serious nature in our ranks.
While in Ybor City we lost two men, Privates Luther of K and Monteverde of G. Both were ordered to be discharged from the service, because of having enlisted while under age and without the consent of their parents or guardians. Monteverde was reluctant to leave the regiment and pleaded hard to be allowed to go with us to Cuba even as a civilian employee, and when that was refused he offered to go without any pay. But this was found to be impossible and he and Luther were obliged to return home. The case of Private John K. DeLoach of B company was a hard one. He had enlisted in South Framingham and in some way his relatives, who resided in Atlanta, Ga., heard of it, and as he was under age and had not their consent, applied for his discharge. Orders to have him discharged were issued but they failed to arrive while we were in Tampa, and did not reach us until after the regiment had landed in Cuba and done its share in capturing Santiago. DeLoach had done his duty during the most arduous part of the campaign, and as a result was given a "bob tail" discharge and left to get back to the United States as best he could. Sometimes the rewards of patriotism are not great, and this was certainly one of the instances.
June 6th orders were received to break camp and proceed to Port Tampa, there to go on board the transports for Cuba. We broke camp all right, got our tents down and all baggage packed and saw them sent away and then proceeded to wait. We waited all that afternoon and night and until late in the afternoon of the next day before our belated transportation was arranged for. As a result of a blunder in the quartermaster's department, we were compelled to bivouac that night without any shelter. This was our first real acquaintance with the fact expressed in the statement attributed to Gen. Sherman, that "War is h—l."
Late in the afternoon of June 7th, we marched to the railroad and went on board a train which after a couple of hours brought us to Port Tampa, distance about eight miles. Here we found some practical illustrations of the beautiful manner in which the quartermaster's department was working. It had been stated to Col. Clark that on arriving at Port Tampa we were to immediately go on board the transports, but after disembarking from the train and waiting for some time it was found that no transports had been assigned to us. Nothing could be done in the matter that night, and we were to be left to shift for ourselves as best we could. There were no barracks in Port Tampa, and it was too late to go into camp even if we had our tentage with us, which we did not. After considerable scouting, Col. Clark discovered that quarters might be found in the freight sheds on a long pier, and we started for them only to have the entire regiment halted and held up for some minutes at the point of the bayonet of a sentinel of the First Illinois regiment, who was on guard at the entrance to the pier and had orders to let no one pass. This obstacle was finally surmounted and we marched onto the pier and made ourselves comfortable as best we could.
During that night on the pier the foraging instincts of Private "Dido" Hunt of G company became active, and as a result he and several members of that company passed the long hours of the night very comfortably. The freight sheds were divided into sections, and in that allowed to G was a lot of freight. Included were two innocent looking barrels, but guided solely by instinct "Dido" decided to investigate their contents. With this end in view he spread his roll and blanket by the side of the barrels, and, lying on his side began to cut a hole through the staves of one of them. This was rather difficult because of the sentries, but it was finally accomplished, and much to the forager's intense satisfaction, the insertion of his hand through the hole and into the barrel, revealed to him that it was filled with bottled beer. Satisfying himself in the only proper manner, that there was no mistake, he acquainted the members of his squad and a few others with his find and soon an impromptu picnic was in progress. Under the very noses of the sentries, the contents of that barrel of beer disappeared before morning, and to those in the secret the night passed very pleasantly.
The next morning four companies and headquarters of the Second were transferred to the transport Orizaba, the companies being G, B, K and D. The transport already had on board the Eighth and Twenty-second regular infantry, and as a result our boys were crowded about on the decks and compelled to sleep anywhere they could. The officers were crowded into the staterooms and their experiences on the Orizaba were not much more enjoyable than those of the men. Some of the regulars, with a fine contempt for volunteers, did their best to make things as unpleasant for us as possible, but the majority were of a different disposition and aided us all they could, which unfortunately was not much.
We expected to sail that day but did not. The same could be said about our expectations and disappointments every succeeding day until we did finally sail on the 14th. Before that happened we were again transferred, this time to the well remembered transport, Knickerbocker. This event happened on the 13th and when we found that the Knickerbocker's number was 13, that she had that number of letters in her name and that about everybody and everything connected with her was more or less mixed up with the alleged unlucky number some of us began to wonder what would happen. Fortunately nothing did, but that was because somebody, not connected with the war department, or with this world, was looking after us. The third battalion was added to our force on board the Knickerbocker, the second being on the Seneca and the Manteo.
On the evening of the 13th the 13 hoodoo began to work. A steam pipe burst and some of the boys, thinking a general explosion would follow, jumped from the deck to the dock, but although there was considerable fuss and excitement no one was hurt. That night sleep on the Knickerbocker was out of the question, for a gang of negro roustabouts was engaged all night in loading provisions onto our steamer and their cries, together with the noise of the steam winches prevented any sleep. On the afternoon of the next day, the 14th, the steamer finally cast off and started down the harbor in the wake of the other transports. After being tied up in Tampa harbor for six long days we were at last at sea and bound for Cuba.
WE HAVE A LOVELY SAIL ON THE PALATIAL KNICKERBOCKER AND REACH CUBA WITHOUT MISHAP
OUR voyage to Cuba on Transport No. 13, unofficially known as the Knickerbocker, will long linger in our memories. The Knickerbocker was a lovely ship but her loveliness was of such a nature that it was seldom referred to without a free and unlimited use of adjectives in the ratio of more than 16 to 1. After a while it got to be a case of "Don't speak of her past, boys," and we seldom did. The present was bad enough and as for her future, all of us had grave doubts concerning it. There was a story from apparently authentic sources, that before the government, in a moment of temporary aberation, engaged the services of the Knickerbocker as a transport, she had been engaged in conveying Italian emigrants from New York to New Orleans, and her interior condition when we boarded her gave conformation of the stories.
Many words could be written concerning the Knickerbocker and our opinion of her, but as a good share of them would form language not generally used in the best society, it will be perhaps as well to draw the veil of silence over a good part of it.
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