Chapter XXII: Part 22

The morning that saw our first welcome party of American visitors, Senator Proctor and friends, leave us, brought another party still larger, among whom were Senator and dear Mrs. Thurston, Senator Money and nieces, Senator Gallinger, Mr. Cummings, Mr. Smith, and others. It was not only comforting, but hopeful, to see such interest manifested in these dreadful conditions by the highest prestige in our country and those who had it in their power to make these conditions better. We welcomed them with an earnestness they could scarcely comprehend.

There was in all these surroundings a feeling akin to horror, an isolation from the world it seemed, and it is not difficult to understand the welcome we gave in our hearts to those who came to us. Our new guests visited Havana, its institutions, the little orphanage, and the Los Fosos of that day--a terror to them, but a comfort to us, as we saw it daily growing better and better.

Matanzas must of course be visited, and another early morning train found our large party en route for that city and the sights that had so distressed us ten days before. Although realizing how terrible the state of things must seem to our party of American visitors, we still rejoiced during the entire journey that they were not to see those hospitals in the condition in which we had first found them. Our supplies, so promptly and generously sent, we were sure had dulled the keen edge of hunger, and could not fail to show an improvement there. Our guests, then, would not see all the terrors of unfed famine that had so shocked us, and we knew that by that time the ships from the North must have arrived. The breakfast at the hotel and a second visit to our hospitable governor brought with them no apprehension of what was to meet us a little later. We drove to the hospitals, to learn that no food had been distributed or received. Those whom we had seen dying there on our first visit were gone; others had taken their places, and it was only a repetition of the first visit, with the addition of ten days more of hunger. Astonished and shocked beyond description, we drove at once to the railway station, to find in its freight house our four tons of provisions sent from Havana ten days before. Although every notice had been given by us that the goods would be sent--again that they were sent--and the authorities asked to look out for them, our consul appeared to have no intimation that they were there. The hospital authorities, of course, had none, and it only remained for us to order out the provisions and get something to the patients as quickly as possible, leaving Dr. Hubbell to see that at last they had a supper.

It is not strange that from this event went out the cry of "starving Matanzas," although at that moment, in addition to our four tons of goods previously sent, the "Fern" lay in the harbor under the American flag, with fifty tons of American supplies, and fifty rods away lay the "Bergen," under the same colors, bearing a cargo of fifty-two tons from the Philadelphia Red Cross, faithfully sent through the New York Committee, by request. So uncontrollable a thing is human excitement that these facts could not be taken in, and the charities of our whole country were called afresh to arms over "starving Matanzas," which was at that moment by far the best provided city in Cuba. The result of this was an entire train of supplies from Kansas, which, remaining there after the blockade, not being consigned to the Red Cross, was, we were informed, distributed among the Spanish soldiery by the Spanish officials. Goods bearing the mark of the Red Cross were everywhere respected, and we have no record of any of _our_ goods having been appropriated by the Spanish authorities.

The third member of the Cuban Relief Committee of New York, Mr. Louis Klopsch, having arrived, it was perhaps natural and proper that the work of relief and distribution under the consul-general should pass to his direction. Accordingly, by request of Mr. Klopsch, no more visits were made to other cities, and by his direction Mr. Elwell gave his entire attention to the warehouse, and I continued the very hopeful negotiations I had commenced with the Spanish authorities for the privilege of unmolested cultivation by the reconcentrados of the broad glades of land lying within the trochas. In some instances, as around Sagua, hundreds of acres lay thus unoccupied by either Cubans or Spanish, and only the fear of the Spanish soldiery from their own side of the trochas prevented the cultivation of this land by the reconcentrados gathered in the towns. In some long and earnest interviews with General Blanco I laid this matter before him, and begged his interference and commands on behalf of the safety of the poor people who might desire to cultivate this land. The captain-general said they had the matter already under consideration, and desired me to meet his board of education, who would be glad to co-operate. I met this body of gentlemen--middle-aged, thoughtful, intelligent men. They had already taken some important steps, but were perplexed on both sides; first by the Spanish soldiery, liable to attack the workers, likewise the Cuban guerillas, who were equally as dangerous. And yet, despite all this, some important steps had really been taken and some little commencement made. I need not say that the exciting news which followed in less than a month put to an end all thoughts of steps in that direction. A new enemy would appear and the ground was likely to be plowed by shells from the monster ships that would line the bay.

I met the Spanish authorities, not merely as a bearer of relief, but as the president of the American National Red Cross, with all the principles of neutrality which that implied, and received in return the unfailing courtesy which the conditions demanded. From our first interview to the last sad day when we decided that it was better to withdraw, giving up all efforts at relief, and leave those thousands of poor, dying wretches to their fate, there was never any change in the attitude of the Spanish authorities, General Blanco or his staff, toward myself or any member of my staff. One of my last visits before the blockade was to the palace. The same kindly spirit prevailed; I was begged not to leave the island through fear of them; every protection in their power would be given, but there was no guarantee for what might occur in the exigencies of war. I recall an incident of that day: General Blanco led me to the large salon, the walls of which are covered with the portraits of the Spanish officials for generations past, and pointing to the Spanish authorities under date of 1776, said, with a look of sadness, "When your country was in trouble, Spain was the friend of America. Now Spain is in trouble, America is her enemy." I knew no answer for this but silence, and we passed out through the corridor of guards, he handing me to my carriage with a farewell and a blessing. I could but recall my experience with the Turkish officials and government, where I entered with such apprehension and left with such marks of cordiality.

During this interval of time important business had called me to Washington, and I only returned to Cuba some time during the second week of April, when the diary commences with, "strong talk of war."

LEAVING HAVANA.

It is needless to say that the strong talk went on--well or ill, wise or unwise, welcome or unwelcome--it went on. Evidently the blockade was near at hand and a declaration of war liable to follow. What should one do but to ask counsel of all within reach? I have given the result of my interview with the Spanish authorities; cabling to American authorities brings the answer, "The consul should know best. Take no chances." Reference to the consul brings the kindly reply, "I am going myself." The order was for all American citizens to leave Havana, and the order was obeyed, but not without having laid the matter formally in counsel before my staff of assistants and taking their opinion and advice, which was to the effect that while personally they would prefer to remain for the chance of the little good that might be accomplished, in view of the distress which we should give our friends at home, and, in fact, the whole country, when it should be known that we were inside that wall of fire that would confront us, with no way of extricating or reaching us, it seemed both wiser and more humane to leave. And the ninth of April saw us again on shipboard, a party of twenty, bound for Tampa. We would not, however, go beyond, but made headquarters there, remaining within easy call of any need there might be for us. Here follow the few weeks of impending war. Do we need to live them over? Do we even want to recall them? Days when the elder men of thought and memory pondered deeply and questioned much! When the mother, patriot though she were, uttered her sentiments through choking voice and tender, trembling words, and the young men, caring nothing, fearing nothing, rushed gallantly on to doom and to death! To how many households, alas, these days recall themselves in tones never to be forgotten!

Notwithstanding all this excitement and confusion and all the pressure that weighed upon him, our good President still remembered the suffering, dying reconcentrados, and requested that a ship be provided as quickly as possible loaded from the warerooms of the indefatigable Cuban Relief Committee in New York, and be sent for the relief of the sufferers in Cuba whenever they could be reached. One need not say with what promptness this committee acted, and I was informed that the "State of Texas" laden with fourteen hundred tons of food would shortly leave New York en route for Key West, and it was the desire of that committee and the Government that I take command of the ship, and with my staff and such assistants as I would select, undertake the getting of that food to its destination.

Some members of the staff were in New York, and with Dr. Hubbell in charge sailed from that port on Saturday, the twenty-third of April. A hasty trip from Washington, gathering up the waiting staff at Tampa, and pushing on by the earliest train brought us to Key West in time to meet the "State of Texas" as she arrived, board her and take charge of the snug little ship that was henceforth to take its place in American history. She was well built, but by no means new, nor handsome. Her dull black hull could in no way compare with the snow white, green and red striped hospital ships, those heralds of relief that afterwards graced the waters of that bay. Still she was firm, sound, heavy-laden, and gave promise of some good to someone at some future day, that day being only when the great war monsters should have pealed out to the world that an entrance was made on the coast of Cuba, and we would be invited to follow.

By the authorities at Washington, the "State of Texas" had been consigned to the protection of the navy, and accordingly we must report our arrival. This was done to the senior officer, representing Admiral Sampson, in the port, Captain Harrington, of the monitor "Puritan." This brought at once a personal call from the captain with an invitation to our entire staff to visit his beautiful ship the following day. The launch of the "Puritan" was sent to take us, and not only was the ship inspected, but the dainties of his elegant tea table as well.

When all was over the graceful launch returned us safely to our ship, with grateful memories on the part of the younger members of our company, who had never chanced to form an intimate acquaintance with a piece of shipping at once so beautiful and so terrible, as that death-dealing engine of destruction. I record this visit and courtesy on the part of Captain Harrington as the first of an unfailing series of kindnesses extended by the navy to the Red Cross from first to last. There was no favor too great, no courtesy too high to be cheerfully rendered on every occasion.

The memories of pitiful Cuba would not leave us, and, knowing that under our decks were fourteen hundred tons of food, for the want of which its people were dying, the impulse to reach them grew very strong, and a letter was addressed to Admiral Sampson.

This brought immediately the launch of the "New York" to the side of our ship, and Captain Chadwick, the gallant officer whom no one forgets, stepped lightly on board to deliver the written message from the admiral, or rather to take me to the "New York." Nothing could have exceeded the courtesy of the admiral, but we were acting from entirely opposite standpoints. I had been requested to take a ship, and by every means in my power get food into Cuba. He, on the other hand, had been commanded to take a fleet, and by every means in his power keep food out of Cuba. When one compared the two ships lying side by side and thought of a contest of effort between them, the situation was ludicrous, and yet the admiral did not absolutely refuse to give me a flag of truce and attempt an entrance into Havana; but he disapproved it, feared the results for me and acting in accordance with _his_ highest wisdom and best judgment, I felt it to be my place to wait. By the concurrence of the admiral our letters were both given to the public, and appear elsewhere in these pages, and we remained, as we had been, neighbors and friends.

These days of waiting were by no means lost time. The accidents constantly occurring in a harbor filled with transports, kept the surgeons of the Red Cross constantly in active duty, while the twenty or thirty Spanish ships which had been and were being captured as prizes, lay a few miles out, unprovided either by themselves or their captors. They had been picked up whilst out at sea, some of them having no knowledge of the existence of a war and supposing themselves as safe as in the balmiest days of peace. Most of them were provided with a little open well in the bottom of the ship where live fish were kept. But for this provision, it is by no means certain that deaths from starvation would not have occurred. The ships were mainly little Spanish vessels--their crews honest working men, who knew their ships and the hills and harbors of Spain and Cuba, and little else--could speak no word of any language but their own--our people, unused to privateering or to the treatment of captives, forgot to provide them, and thus they waited, living on the few fish in their holds, with neither meat, lard, butter, nor oil for their cooking, nor vegetables, nor bread as accompaniments. Our men learned this state of things, and naturally attended to it. It is enough for me to say that recently the thanks of all Spain, through its Red Cross, has come back to us for the kindnesses rendered her captive seamen.

The days waxed and waned; the summer sun poured its burning rays down on the glistening waters of the bay; the reveille and tattoo warned us that we were in camp, with the little difference between land and sea--waiting for some onward movement.

TAMPA.

Tampa became the gathering point of the army. Its camps filled like magic, first with regulars, then volunteers, as if the fiery torch of Duncraigen had spread over the hills and prairies of America; the great ships gathered in the waters; the monitors, grim and terrible, seemed striving to hide their heads among the surging waves; the transports, with decks dark with human life, passed in and out, and the great monarchs of the sea held ever their commanding sway. It seemed a strange thing, this gathering for war. Thirty years of peace had made it strange to all save the veterans, with their gray beards, and the silver-haired matrons of the days of the old war, long passed into history. Could it be possible that we were to learn this anew? Were men again to fall, and women weep? Were the youth of this generation to gain that experience their fathers had gained, to live the war lives they had lived, and die the deaths they had died? Here was abundant food for reflection, while one waited through the days and watched the passing events.

At length the fleet moved on, and we prepared to move with, or rather after, it. The quest on which it had gone and the route it had taken bordered something on the mystery shrouding the days when Sherman marched to the sea. Where were the Spanish fleets? and what would be the result when found and met? and where were we to break that Cuban wall and let us in? Always present in our minds were the food we carried, the willing hands that waited, and the perishing thousands that needed. We knew the great hospital ships were fitting for the care of the men of both army and navy. Surely they could have no need of us, and the knowledge that our cargo was not adapted to army hospital use brought no regret to us.

These days of quiet waiting were like the lull that precedes the storm. The time seemed long regarded only from that standpoint, but when it is remembered that these few days were all that had been allowed for a great nation with thirty years of peace to rouse up and plunge itself into a war, the time seems comparatively short. We had taken possession of our ship at Key West on the twenty-ninth of April; it was now the twentieth of June, and the great national records of two countries at least will always give the history of those days. It is our part to keep as clearly, truthfully and kindly as possible the record of the little that fell to us to perform in this great drama. Our arrangements for putting out to sea were quickly made. Such supplies and such persons as were not to go with us must be landed and left. Among the latter, to our deep and lasting regret, was our charming friend, Mrs. J. Addison Porter, who had kindly passed the last weeks with us, leaving us as she did, however, with the comforting promise to return if she should find it possible.

All preliminaries arranged, at ten o'clock, the twentieth of June we weighed anchor at Key West and steamed for the open sea, having first taken the official advice of Commodore Remie, commanding the navy at that point, to find Admiral Sampson and report to him.

The twenty-fifth gave us our first view of the water of Santiago. Our transports and battleships were gathered there, and the advice of Admiral Sampson was that we proceed to Guantanamo, where the marines had made a landing and were camped on the shore. There had been some fighting at Guantanamo. The "Solace" was there. Its harbor was fine, and the run of forty miles was made by noon of that day. Whoever has enjoyed the quiet, sheltered harbor of Guantanamo will not require to be reminded of it--protected on three sides by beautifully wooded hills. At six o'clock our anchors sunk in the deep still waters, and we had time to look about us and see for the first time the beginning of the war. The marines were camped diagonally along the brow of a beautiful hill. On our right a camp of Cubans, and all about us the great monsters with their protruding guns which told of forthcoming trouble. Captain McCalla, who was in command of Guantanamo, had sent compliments and a launch pointing out our place of anchorage.

The courtesies of the navy, so early commenced at Key West, were promptly continued. At eight o'clock we received a visit from Commander Dunlap of the "Solace" which, after a long and cordial interview, closed by his proposing to send his launch at ten o'clock the following day to take our entire company for a visit to the "Solace" and its fifty wounded men. If that beautiful ship or its management had left room on the records of our country's mead of gratitude for more words of appreciative praise, I should be glad to speak them. Only those familiar with the earliest history of the Red Cross in our country and the methods by which our navy alone of all the Red Cross nations had gained even an approximately legal place, can judge what the sight of that first naval relief ship on our American waters was to me. It brought back so vividly the memory of the day when President Arthur called me to him to carefully explain the conditions of the treaty which he had just signed in 1881, and that Congress, having generously included the navy in its treaty for war, he would provide to hold it carefully until the probable widening of the original treaty would include the _navies_ of the world as well as the armies. I was thankful for the _modus vivendi_, which I knew was as welcome to Spain as to ourselves, that had made it possible to pick up these poor wounded sailors and given them kindly care among their own, that there were not to be left uncared for, or thrown into land hospitals where everything would be strange to them. My twenty or thirty assistants glided about the polished decks of the magnificent ship, with a kindly greeting for every poor, wounded fellow, and delighted with everything they saw. For me, I had few words, prayerful gratitude, and many memories of the long years of patient waiting that had brought the American Red Cross even up to the point it had attained.

Before the day closed news came to us of a more serious character than we had before learned. The daring Rough Riders had been hardly dealt by; Hamilton Fish and Capron had been killed, and the wounded needed help. Wherever they might be, it must be possible to reach them, and it was decided that no time be lost. Our men commenced work in the hold of the ship to get at medical supplies and dressings, and the captain took his orders. I find in my diary at the close of that day the following paragraph:

"It is the Rough Riders we go to, and the relief may be also rough; but it will be _ready_. A better body of helpers could scarcely be gotten together."

Nine o'clock of the same night, June 26, found us in Siboney and anchored in its waters, which can scarcely be called a harbor. It seems to be rather an indenture in the coast. Shall I be pardoned if I again revert to the diary which, by some means, I found time to hastily pencil:

SIBONEY, CUBA, _June 27, 1898_.

We were wakened at daybreak to see the soldiers filing up over the
hill in heavy marching order, forming in lines by ones and twos,
winding up, in and out among the hills, higher and higher, like a
great anaconda. As we watched them through a glass, they were a
moving line trailing on toward the clouds, till lost in the mist,
and we can only think as we look at them, on how many or on which is
set the mark of death, He knows no more than we, poor fellow, and
unthinkingly, perhaps, with his swinging, careless gait, toils up
and up and waits for--he knows not what.

The hospitals, both American and Cuban, are located on the shore just to the right of us, and have been visited by our men during the night. Some of their surgeons called on us; all seemed interested in the Red Cross, but none thought that a woman nurse would be in place in a soldier's hospital; indeed, very much out of place. I suggested that that decision was hard for me, for I had spent a great deal of time there myself. They appeared to understand that perfectly, or were so polite as not to criticise it, but there seemed to be a _later_ line which could not be crossed. The Cubans, who had just come into camp, were less conventional and expressed a great desire for any assistance we could give them. "Sister Bettina" and her four trained "Sisters," Drs. Egan and Hubbell went ashore to the hospitals. This had been proposed the evening before at General Garcia's headquarters; but they were begged to wait just one day until their hospital could be in a little better order. These "Sisters" were not the persons to grant that day of preparation. On the contrary, we were told that as soon as they were fairly in the wards they commenced putting things into order and cleanliness, and worked through the day without interruption, coming home only after dark, tired it must be, but fresh and happy, full of the conviction of a work well done. Long before that day's work was ended our own American hospitals alongside commenced to be jealous of the Cubans, and believed that they had spoken first. Be that as it might, we were equally forgetful, and from that time no distinction between the hospitals was known.

Dr. Lesser, Mr. Kennan and Mr. Elwell tramped, for there was no other mode of conveyance, to our advance line within three miles of Santiago. They found the artillery up and things nearly ready for attack, which it was thought would be on the following Wednesday.

The sea grew wild and rough; the water was too deep for firm anchorage, and we rocked at such a fearful rate that in pity for the pale faces about me, I begged the captain to draw as near the shore as possible and let, at least, a portion of them onto the land. Let them have, if only a few minutes, the solid ground under their feet. He drew up to within two or three hundred feet of the cliff which runs around like a firm sea wall, and succeeded in anchoring; took a boat and tried to land some of our people, but there were no wharves; the poor little seven by nine bench, designated as a wharf, running out into the sea, against which the boats swung and crashed as they tried to land supplies, was all there was, except the narrow beach with a heavy surf. Our people declined the landing, and headsick, heartsick and seasick returned to the ship.

We had been long without news from the United States; but the next day brought the following dispatch from the New York Cuban Relief Committee:

Cobb sails Wednesday with Red Cross supply boat. All articles
requested by her will be shipped. The launch will be towed from
Jacksonville. Do you want additional nurses? Five hundred tons
provisions and clothing, also three ambulances complete, shipped to
Key West warehouse this week from New York. Send "State of Texas" to
New York as soon as can be spared. Cobb with Red Cross boat expects
to reach Guantanamo July 5 to 10. Massachusetts relief ship cannot
sail before middle of July. Will dispatch schooner with ice within a
fortnight. Make your requisitions specific in kind and quantity.

This was only one of the scores of dispatches reaching us within the few following weeks, and I repeat it here, not as having any special significance, excepting to show the uncertainty and utter instability of all human calculations. Analyzing this kind-hearted and well-meant dispatch in the light of the future, we find that neither the Red Cross supply boat, the steam launch, the Massachusetts relief ship, nor the additional nurses ever reached us. The ice schooner proved to be the "Mary E. Morse," of which mention is made elsewhere. The five hundred tons of provisions shipped to the Key West warehouse were distributed there. I name this, not in any spirit of complaint--far from it, indeed--but simply to show still further and make more apparent, if possible, the difficulties attendant upon all work at a field of war. Those who have seen only this one war will find these uncertainties and shortcomings very strange, and unaccountable; to me, who had seen other wars, they seemed natural, probably largely inevitable, and quite the thing to be expected, the fatal results of which misfortunes I had spent half my lifetime in instituting measures to prevent or lessen.

We were honored next day by a call from an officer of the "Olivette," with his assistant. It is not singular, in the light of the great, elegant, newly-fitted ship at his command, that it was difficult for him to realize the use or the necessity of an unpretending little black boat like the "State of Texas," or of what service it could be expected to be to an army. We labored to impress upon him the fact that this ship did not come for the war, but was loaded and dispatched weeks before there was any war, and simply waited an opportunity to deliver its cargo to the hungry and naked reconcentrados for whom they were designed. This explanation we hoped would make it apparent to the gentleman, how it was, that our supplies of clothing would not be likely to contain the articles of which he said his ship was in want; it probably never having entered into the minds of our sympathetic generous lady donors of America to provide _pajamas_ for Cuban women. Anything we _had_ was freely at his service. If we made any attempt at _conversion_ (which I do not now recall), it was simply on the line of a better understanding of Red Cross methods and principles as connected with his profession, and _not_ a change of heart.

With the constant reminders of the sufferings of the people on shore and our inability to reach them, it was a welcome errand brought by a dispatch boat that afternoon from Captain McCalla, that if we could get five thousand rations to him before the next Thursday morning, he could find a way to deliver them to the refugee families of insurgents and others lying out in the hills and woods beyond his camp at Guantanamo, where they had fled for safety. We steamed at once to Guantanamo and landed the rations next morning, returning to Siboney the same afternoon. The next day our working force was busy all day getting off material to refugees coming in from the mountains. General Garcia detailed a detachment to repair pontoons for the purpose of landing the supplies. Captain McCalla cabled for twenty thousand rations for refugees, to be delivered at Guantanamo by Sunday.

Our Red Cross sisters and surgeons were all busy at the Cuban Hospital, when the following letter from Major Le Garde was received:

TO MISS CLARA BARTON, _President American National Red Cross_:

I have the honor to request your assistance in caring for the
patients in a so-called hospital near the landing at this point. The
orders are to the effect that all patients now under treatment on
the shore shall be transferred to the "Iroquois" and "Olivette," but
the facilities for carrying out this order are apparently
inadequate. In order that the Divisional Hospital may remain
unhampered for the care of the wounded in the engagement about to
take place, it is necessary for me to request this favor of you, and
I trust that you may find it possible to comply with said request.

Your obedient servant,
LOUIS A. LE GARDE,
_Major and Surgeon, U.S.A., Commanding Hospital_.

To this the following reply was immediately returned:

STEAMSHIP "STATE OF TEXAS,"
SIBONEY, SANTIAGO DE CUBA, _June 30, 1898_.

DR. LOUIS A. LE GARDE,
_Major and Surgeon, U.S.A., Commanding Hospital_:

MAJOR:--Permit me, I pray you, to express the great pleasure given
me by your cordial letter inviting the assistance of the persons
here under my direction in the care of the sick and wounded of the
engagement about to take place.

Although not here as a hospital ship by any means, nor legitimately
fitted for the work, still we have some hospital supplies, a few
intelligent workers, skill, intrepidity, experience, the willingness
to serve, the readiness to obey, and I believe, the true spirit of
the Red Cross, that seeks to help humanity wherever its needs exist.

I send them to you in the hope that they may be of service. With
grateful appreciation, I am, doctor,

Most cordially yours,
CLARA BARTON,
_President American National Red Cross_.

In the afternoon of this day some members from our ship went ashore and visited the Cuban Hospital and General Garcia's headquarters, which that general, on leaving Siboney had graciously ordered to be placed "at Miss Barton's disposal as headquarters for herself and her staff." It was found, however, that the building would be required by the military, and the matter was given no further consideration.

On the first of July Dr. and Mrs. Lesser with their assistants went early ashore to work in the hospitals, both United States and Cuban. The transport "Harvard" arriving with troops, demanded our anchorage, and on coming out of the harbor to give place to her, we saw that a bombardment of Aguadores, five miles to the west, was taking place. A battleship, perhaps the "Oregon," the flagship "New York" and a little cruiser were standing in near the shore, the latter keeping up a rapid fire, which was responded to by the batteries on both sides of a ravine which the railroad crossed. We ran down as close as safety permitted and watched the engagement from the bridge of our own ship. The two large ships then drew in and shelled the ravine, apparently silencing the batteries. When we returned to Siboney we learned that our troops had been fighting all day, and that large numbers of wounded were walking or being brought in for treatment. The Red Cross had been requested to take entire charge of a fever hospital of United States troops, which it did. Dr. and Mrs. Lesser and two of the Sisters were assisting in the operating tent. All of us worked nearly through the night--the nurses and physicians as above stated; the others taking out supplies for wounded--one hundred cots, bedding, hospital utensils, medicine, food, etc. The reports were that we had taken and held all the commanding positions around Santiago, but that it had cost us four hundred men.

The diary of July 2 says: The day opened cool and fresh, and although having worked steadily until three o'clock the night previous, when they had been brought back to the ship for a little rest, the Sisters were ready for work at half-past six. Sisters Anna and Isabell had been on duty all night, and must now be relieved. Dr. Egan and Mr. Kennan made ready for the front, the former to have a field hospital.

With a portion of my assistants I go ashore to visit the hospitals in the early part of the day, to learn if anything further can be done for them. We find the wounded coming in rapidly, long rows of hospital tents being filled with them, and many waiting their turn on the operating tables. We learned that the officers had suffered very severely, having been picked off by Spanish sharpshooters. A note came by messenger from Mr. Kennan at the front, saying that by order from General Shafter's headquarters "Miss Barton was directed to seize any empty wagons coming in and send by them hospital supplies, medical stores, which were badly needed at the front." This direction would of course be filled as far as possible; the supplies would be gotten out and sent, and it was decided that myself and as many of our assistants as could be spared go with them the next day. These were anxious, trying days throughout the whole country. All America was astir, once more in the dreaded throes of war.

Another dispatch from our committee at New York reveals this state of feeling:

NEW YORK, _July 2, 1898_.
BARTON, _Santiago de Cuba_:

Government transport "Port Victor" sailing New York, Wednesday via
Tampa takes all our supplies to Santiago. Look out for arrival.
Twenty-five nurses go there Tuesday; more follow; order them forward
if needed. Report your actions. People anxious.

To which the following reply is returned:

Dispatch received. Lesser's force attending wounded here constantly
coming in. Elwell and force landing supplies in the surf at night,
without dock, under great difficulties and dangers. An urgent appeal
from the front for medicines and food. None there. Will try to get
two four-mule wagons full to them to-night and go ourselves. Have
reported all we could. No telegraph here till to-day. No dispatch
boats. No post-office. We also anxious.

July 3 opened clear and bright, the commencement of a hard and busy day, to be long remembered. Our shippers had been landing supplies all night and keeping such guard over them on the sandy beach as was possible.

The daily record of our movements kept always up and open, like the log of the ship, must now fall to the hands of our faithful stenographer, Miss Lucy Graves, and taking up her duties bravely that day, she commences with this paragraph:

"Miss Barton, with Dr. and Mrs. Gardner, Dr. Hubbell and Mr. McDowell, leave for the front to-day, taking two six-mule wagon loads of hospital supplies." To the young writer it was a simple note in the records of the day, having no special significance. As my eye glanced over it it seemed very strange--passing strange, that after all this more than a quarter of a century I should be again taking supplies to the front of an army in the United States of America; that after all these years of Red Cross instruction and endeavor, it was still necessary to promiscuously seize an army wagon to get food to wounded men.

I hope in some way it may be made apparent to any one who follows these notes how difficult a thing it was to get this food from our ship to the shore. In a surf which after ten o'clock in the morning allowed no small boat to touch even the bit of a pier that was run out without breaking either the one or the other, and nothing in the form of a lighter save two dilapidated flat boat scows which had been broken and cast away by the engineer corps, picked up by ourselves, mended by the Cubans, and gotten in condition to float alongside our ship and receive perhaps three or four tons of material. This must then be rowed or floated out to the shore, run on to the sands as far as possible, the men jumping into the water from knee to waist deep, pulling the scow up from the surf, and getting the material on land. This was what was meant by loading the "seized wagons from the front" and getting food to the wounded. After ten o'clock in the day even this was impossible, and we must wait until the calm of the next morning, three or four o'clock, to commence work again and go through the same struggle in order to get something to load the wagons for that day.

Our supplies had been gotten out, all that could be sent that day for the heavy surf, and among the last, rocking and tossing in our little boat, went ourselves, landing on the pier, which by that time was breaking in two, escaping a surf which every other moment threatened to envelop one from feet to head, we reached the land. Our wagons were there already loaded with our best hospital material,--meal, flour, condensed milk, malted milk, tea, coffee, sugar, dried fruits, canned fruits, canned meats, and such other things as we had been able to get out in the haste of packing--entirely filling the two wagons.

An ambulance had been spoken of, but could not be had. We walked out a little way to wait for it. Dr. Hubbell left our party and went again in search of an ambulance, notwithstanding the assurance that an army wagon would answer our purpose quite as well. These were going line by line up to the front, mainly with ammunition. We waited a little by the roadside; the doctor did not return; our own wagons had gone on, and stopping another loaded with bales of hay, we begged a ride of the driver, and all took our seats among the hay and made our way once more to the front.

The road was simply terrific--clayey, muddy, wet and cut to the hub. A ride of about four hours brought us to the First Division Hospital of the Fifth Army Corps, General Shafter's headquarters. This was properly the second day after the fight. Two fearful nights had passed.

The sight that greeted us on going into the so-called hospital grounds was something indescribable. The land was perfectly level--no drainage whatever, covered with long, tangled grass, skirted by trees, brush and shrubbery--a few little dog tents, not much larger than would have been made of an ordinary tablecloth thrown over a short rail, and under these lay huddled together the men fresh from the field or from the operating tables, with no covering over them save such as had clung to them through their troubles, and in the majority of cases no blanket under them. Those who had come from the tables, having been compelled to leave all the clothing they had, as having been too wet, muddy and bloody to be retained by them, were entirely nude, lying on the stubble grass, the sun fitfully dealing with them, sometimes clouding over, and again streaming out in a blaze above them. As we passed, we drew our hats over our eyes, turning our faces away as much as possible for the delicacy of the poor fellows who lay there with no shelter either from the elements or the eyes of the passers-by.

Getting past them as quickly as possible, and seeing a smoke ahead of us, and relying upon the old adage that where there is smoke there must be fire, we went to it. A half-dozen bricks had been laid about a yard apart, a couple of pieces of wagon-tire laid across these, so low and so near the ground that no fire of any strength or benefit could be made, the bits of wet wood put under crosswise, with the smoke streaming a foot out on each side, and two kettles of coffee or soup and a small frying-pan with some meat in it, appeared to be the cook-house for these men. They told us there were about eight hundred men under the tents and lying in the grass, and more constantly coming in.

I looked at the men who had constructed and who had charge of that "fireplace," and saw how young and inexperienced the faces were, and how little they _could_ know of the making up of a camp, and how unsatisfactory it must all be to themselves, and was filled with a sense of pity for them as well as the poor sufferers they were trying to serve. I looked around for the faces of some old veterans of the wars before, who could bring a little knowledge gained from practice. There were none there, but here was our own McDowell, with a record of four years and twenty-six battles in the old Civil War, and after a few moments' consultation as to the best method to be pursued, we, too, gathered stones and bricks and constructed a longer, higher fireplace, got more wagon-tires, found the water, and soon our great agate kettles of seven and ten gallons were filled. But the wood! It was green, not resinous as the wood of some islands. In Corsica, for instance, one may take the green, wet wood and make a blazing fire. The wood of Cuba is beautiful in quality, but hard and slow to burn.

The rain, that had been drizzling more or less all day, increased. Our supplies were taken from the wagon, a piece of tarpaulin found to protect them, and as the fire began to blaze and the water to heat Mrs. Gardner and I found the way into the bags and boxes of flour, salt, milk and meal, and got material for the first gallons of gruel. I had not thought to ever make gruel again over a camp-fire; I cannot say how far it carried me back in the lapse of time, or really where or who I felt that I was. It did not seem to be me, and still I seemed to know how to do it, and when the bubbling contents of our kettles thickened and grew white with the condensed milk, and we began to give it out, putting it in the hands of the men detailed as nurses and of our own to take it around to the poor sufferers shivering and naked in the rain, I felt again that perhaps it was not in vain that history had reproduced itself. And when the nurses came back and told us of the surprise with which it was received and the tears that rolled down the sun-burned, often bloody, face into the cup as the poor fellow drank his hot gruel and asked where it came from, who sent it, and said it was the first food he had tasted in three, sometimes in four, days (for they had gone into the fight hungry), I felt it was again the same old story, and wondered what gain there had been in the last thirty years. Had anything been worse than this? But still, as we moralized, the fires burned and the gruel steamed and boiled and bucket after bucket went out, until those eight hundred men had each his cup of gruel and knew that he could have another and as many as he wanted. The day waned and the darkness came and still the men were unsheltered, uncovered, naked and wet--scarcely a groan, no word of complaint; no man said he was not well treated.

The operating tables were full of the wounded. Man after man was taken off and brought on his litter and laid beside other men and something given him to keep the little life in his body that seemed fast oozing out. All night it went on. It grew cold--for naked men, bitter cold before morning. We had no blankets, nothing to cover them, only as we tore off from a cut of cotton cloth, which by some means had gotten on with us, strips six or seven feet long, and giving them to our men, asked them to go and give to each uncovered man a piece that should shield his nakedness. This made it possible for him to permit us to pass by him if we needed to go in that direction.

Early in the morning ambulances started, and such as could be loaded in were taken to be carried back over that rough, pitiless road down to Siboney to the hospitals there, that we had done the best we could toward fitting up--where our hundred cots and our hundred and fifty blankets had gone, and our cups and spoons and the delicacies that would help to strengthen these poor fainting men if once they could get there, and where also were the Sisters under Dr. Lesser and Dr. Le Garde to attend them.

They brought out man after man, stretcher after stretcher, to the waiting ambulances, and they took out seventeen who had died in the night--unattended, save by the nurse--uncomplaining, no last word, no dying message, quiet and speechless life had ceased and the soul had fled.

By this time Dr. Hubbell had returned for he had missed our wagons the day before and gone at night for more supplies. This time came large tarpaulins, more utensils, more food, more things to make it a little comfortable--another contribution from the surf of Siboney. We removed our first kitchens across the road, up alongside the headquarter tent of Major Wood in charge of the camp. The major is a regular army officer, brusque, thickset, abrupt, but so full of kind-hearted generosity that words cannot do justice to him. He strove in every way to do all that could be done. He had given us the night before a little officer's tent into which we had huddled from the pouring rain for a few hours in the middle of the night. The next day, although no tent so spacious as that could be had, a little baby tent it seemed, of about seven feet, was found, pitched alongside of the other, the tarpaulins put over, a new fireplace made near us, magnificent in its dimensions, shelter given for the boxes, bags and barrels of supplies that by this time had accumulated about us. There was even something that looked like tables on which Mrs. Gardner prepared her delicacies.

The gruel still remained the staple, but malted milk, chocolate and rice had come in, and tea, and little by little various things were added by which our _ménage_ became something quite resembling a hotel. The wounded were still being taken away by ambulance and wagon, assorted and picked over like fruit in a barrel. Those which would bear transportation were taken away, the others left where they were. The numbers grew a little less that day.

I ought not neglect mentioning the favorite and notable drinks which were prepared, for it will seem to the poor, feverish men who partook of them that they ought to be mentioned--they will never forget them. They have not even yet ceased to tell through the hospitals that they fall into later of the drink that was prepared for them at the Fifth Corps Hospital. We had found a large box of dried apples, and remembering how refreshing it would be, we had washed a quantity, put it in a large kettle, filled it with water and let it soak. It happened to be a fine tart apple, and the juice was nearly as good as wine. Perhaps no wine had ever seemed so good to those men as a cup of that apple water, and when they tasted it tears again ran down their faces. To their poor, dry, feverish mouths it was something so refreshing that it seemed heaven-sent. The next day a box of prunes was discovered, and the same thing was done with that; a richer, darker juice was obtained, and this also took its place among the drinks prepared at the Fifth Corps Hospital. The apple and prune juice will remain, I suspect, a memorial for that poor neglected spot.

By the third day our patients seemed strong enough that we might risk food as solid as rice, and the great kettles were filled with that, cooked soft, mixed with condensed and malted milk, and their cups were filled with this. It was gratifying to hear the nurses come up and say: "I have sixteen men in my ward. So many of them would like rice; so many would like malted milk; so many would like gruel; so many would like chocolate, and a few would like a cup of tea; and another, who is feverish, would like only some apple or prune juice,"--and taking for each what he called for, go back to his patients as if he had given his order to the waiter at a hotel; and the food that he took was as well cooked, as delicate and as nice as he could have gotten there. The numbers were now getting considerably less--perhaps not over three hundred--and better care could be taken of them.

A dispatch on Thursday afternoon informed me that Mrs. J. Addison Porter would be on the hospital ship "Relief" coming into Siboney that day. I would of course go to meet her. It was a great joy to know that she would return to us. We at once decided that an army wagon should be asked for from headquarters and a party of us go to Siboney, both for Mrs. Porter and more supplies. The roads were getting even worse--so bad, in fact, that I dared not risk an ambulance, an army wagon being the only vehicle strong enough to travel over it.