The fun and fighting of the Rough riders

Preface

It is not the intention of the author to write a panegyric upon the brief but brilliant career of the 1st United States Volunteer Cavalry, better known as the Rough Riders. The regiment needs none. Hence the reader need not fear an infliction of military hysteria. He can find that in copious quantities elsewhere — miUions of words of it.

Some of the pathetic incidents in the regiment's history will be noted, but it will be the brighter side of the shield that the author will endeavour to present to his readers. The tragedy of the regiment's campaigning for a long time buried the comedy out of sight so far as the author was concerned. But time numbs all wounds if it does not heal them ; and, to-day, precisely one year from the date he was mustered in as ist Lieutenant and Quartermaster of the regiment, he commences a narrative that he projected simultaneously with that appointment, and for which he took many

notes.

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IV

PREFACE

There are, however, other reasons why the book should be written. The historian must make up his history from the evidence that seems strongest in the mass of material he collects. No two people see things exactly alike under even ordinary circumstances. In the excitement of battle, or of hurried work of less, though great importance, mental impressions become varied in a superlative degree. And sometimes it becomes necessary to correct errors arising in such circumstances. In one volume printed on the subject the author has counted mis-statements of fact that in the aggregate show one for nearly every other page in the book. The author was sincere but evidently misinformed.

There is a still more important reason why the history of the regiment should be written from various standpoints. The greatest achievement of the Rough Riders is hardly appreciated to-day. Representative of four of the territorial divisions of the United States, in bodies, and of nearly all of the rest — to say nothing of many foreign countries — in individuals, it has shown our own people, our government, and, what is perhaps better, foreign nations, what enormous fighting strength can be supplied by the people from the Mississippi to the Pacific. In this vast area practically every

PREFACE V

man can ride and shoot. They can be turned into an army as fast as they can be armed, equipped, and properly officered. Add them to the resources which the North and South produced during the civil war, now multiplied to a degree it is almost impossible to estimate, and the huge standing armies of the European powers sink into utter insignificance.

But such men must be properly armed, equipped, and fed. This will require legislation and a huge military reform. Therefore Europe need fear no interference from us in her interesting if not absolutely jolly little progressive military party. We shall not be ready for the game in — shall I say years or generations ?

But, when we are ready, the term " Rough Riders " will not be given to a single regiment but to hundreds of them. The knights of chivalry have passed into the misty perspective of the cor ridors of time, along with the Roman legions and the Vandal hordes. They have been followed by Frederick's six-footers and Napoleon's dense masses. The fraiic-tireurs and zouaves and Prussia's night riders have travelled the same route. Even the Cossack, who was so much of a mystery and marvel less than a generation ago, has had his nose put out of joint,

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PREFACE

Enter the Rough Rider — not one regiment of him, but an army of him. And when he '' antes " as he himself would say, " There will be a Hot Time in the Old Town That Night."

Throughout Europe the greatest interest was manifested in this regiment. It was something new in the way of a fighting machine, and incidentally something that no European power could duplicate. Throughout the continent as well as among the British Isles the papers were filled with descriptions of the Rough Riders and with photographs of them. Count Von Goetzen of the German Army, a personal friend of his Emperor, and a man of great experience in work of a similar description to that we were about to undertake, was particularly impressed with the regiment. He told Colonel (now General) Wood in my hearing that we were the only regiment of cavalry fit for mounted work in Cuba; at the same time criticising the regular cavalry in camp around us at Tampa for their heavy horses and their still heavier equipment. He afterwards lectured in Germany on the Rough Riders. All who were acquainted with Cuba seemed to take a similar view, many Cubans declaring that our horses were the only ones that would live. I must confess myself, however, to a great admiration for the

PREFACE vii

magnificent mounts of the regulars, and the splendid condition they were in. There is but one fault to find with them. They need their oats. Many of the Rough Riders' mounts would not eat oats. Such was the case with my own. In fact, while in Cuba he seemed to prefer nibbling at the trees to eating even of the grass that surrounded him. Perhaps the life was not rough enough for him. It was for his rider.

To recapitulate : the Rough Rider was a regiment. He is now a type. Should we have to go to war again he will be an army. Every type of war machine, whether human being, metal, bow and arrow, or rounded stone, has had a beginning. The originals of most of the types have been lost in antiquity. Will this be the case with the Rough Riders of the Santiago campaign ? When the Patagonian or Greenlander of some future age searches the ruins of Washington for information concerning the Universal War will he learn that Roosevelt's Regiment of Rough Riders was the germ of a great fighting power ? Perhaps — but it will not make much difference to the regiment then.

In the following pages I shall try to write from the standpoint of a chronicler and narrator, and not as an ofificer of the regiment. I therefore viii PREFACE

crave the indulgence of the reader if I happen to write of too many of my own experiences, and of events that came under my own observation. They are what I know best.

THE FUN AND FIGHTING OF THE ROUGH RIDERS

Chapter I

When war was declared against Spain I was commencing to write a novel which has been completed and published since the war. I dropped the task and began writing letters to various authorities with a view to volunteering. I had been graduated at West Point and had served in the army until the Lorelei allurements of literature led me to resign. I supposed I should have no difficulty in obtaining a commission. I wrote to the Secretary of War without success. I then wrote to General Corbin, the Adjutant General of the army — no hope. I followed this up with a letter to General Miles, whom I had the honour to meet while in the service at Fort Apache, Arizona. Same story. I appealed to the President. Like result. All of these gentlemen answered politely but briefly — " No." I have known a number of pretty but otherwise estimable young ladies to say the same thing in much the same manner.

I was more than mildly astonished. I had supposed a graduated cadet and an army officer of some experience would be useful in the emergency of sudden war. I felt as many of my rejected manuscripts have looked — especially like one that a certain magazine, published in a town on the Hudson, held for a year in its office. This manuscript went forth arrayed like a bridegroom going to his wedding. It came back in the condition of the prodigal son. Of course it was not the fault of the magazine or its editors. Time had done the deed. When I wrote for the return of this manuscript I sent three two-cent stamps with the letter asking that the story be sent to my address at that time. I had moved during the year, and my stamped and addressed envelope inclosed with the MS. would take my story to the other end of a long railway system and beyond. Not the editor, but apparently some one else, returned the manuscript in the stamped and directed envelope. The three stamps were accepted, though they have not appeared yet in the magazine.

Having inherited some tenacity of purpose from distant relatives who sleep in ancient New

England graveyards, I tried again. I had some classmates and West Point friends in the War Department, and I wrote to them. Their answers coincided with mathematical accuracy. There were millions of men who wanted to volunteer, but most of them wanted to be officers. The majority wanted to be brigadier generals, but would take a second lieutenancy if they could do no better.

The situation reminded me of one that existed in Sweetwater County, Wyoming, in the later seventies. There was one militia company in the county (the county was then as large as the state of New York) and in this company there was but one private. Every one else was an officer, commissioned, non-commissioned, or self-appointed. The one private was a human wreck who lived on whiskey — whiskey of the kind that you have to drain through your teeth. Out there, at that time, they pronounced the word " drain " as though it were spelled " dreen." The officers took turns drilling the solitary private. In the course of time he died.

Everything is fish that comes to a writer's net, if it be nothing more than the raucous voice of the woman next door scolding her spouse. I determined to pursue that coveted commission if

I had to follow it to the end of the rainbow, if only to write up my experiences. So I wrote to the two senators from the state that appointed me to West Point asking their help. My friends in Washington had assured me that I could do nothing without strong political influence. One of these senators had honoured his state and his country for half a lifetime. He made a personal appeal to the President for me, and wrote me several encouraging letters. But without avail were his kindly efforts. The other senator was in his first term in the senate and was the most bellicose member of that body in regard to the war with Spain. He never lost an opportunity to belch his thunder, but my plaintive appeal was lost in its reverberations. He never answered my letter.

After this I wrote to the governors of three states in which I had resided, offering my services in any capacity. My ambition was deadened. I was now ready to go as a water-carrier. A fault in sex alone prevented me from volunteering as a vivandiere. From each of these governors I received a neatly type-written reply declining my proffered aid. I made one last appeal to the War Department. On the morning of April 30th, 1898, I received a note of three lines signed by Secretary Alger. The three lines stood for a polite " No." Then I started in to write up my experiences. The work was not completed when I received the same day a telegram from Colonel Wood asking me if I would be willing to go with the 1st Volunteer Calvalry as Regimental Quartermaster.

Would I ? I would have been willing to go as an army mule by that time. I answered in the affirmative. The next night I started for Washington to clinch the appointment before some one more enterprising had snatched it from me.

On that next morning, May 2d, I met Colonel Wood at the War Department, was introduced to Secretary Alger, who consented to my appointment very graciously (after twice refusing me one previously), and was mustered into the service of the United States about half an hour after I entered the building. Colonel Wood was to start for San Antonio that night. He wanted me to go with him, but it was necessary for me to return to New York for my clothes and a quick disposition of business affairs. All this I did in a state of great elation. At the time I did not know it, but some friends had been quietly at work in my behalf without my knowledge. There are lights as well as shadows in this dreary life. I think the world of my enemies because they keep me struggling to maintain my head above water. I would not part with one of them, and hope that Dame Fortune will give me more. But it is kind of restful once in a while to learn, in a quiet, practical way, that you have friends.

On the trip to Washington just mentioned I was in a state of nervous perturbation. I do not refer to New Jersey. It was a mental state, I fancied that every young looking man in the train was going to Washington to get the particular office I was after. Before the time for starting I looked them over carefully. Among them I found William Astor Chanler. I had signed with the regiment he had raised, as well as with one that was being raised by Lafayette Post G. A. R. Chanler's regiment was rejected, and I suppose — if he enclosed stamps — was returned to him. I viewed him with suspicion, and I have no doubt he looked upon me in the same light. He told me he was going down to Florida to start an expedition or something of that nature in his own yacht and on his own account, by and with the approval of the Junta. I forget what particular excuse I gave for being pointed in the direction of Washington. It is well to forget such things. The next day we met in the War Department.

He had just been appointed a Captain on General Wheeler's staff. I had just been appointed to Colonel Wood's staff. We shook hands very cordially and grinned. Explanations were unnecessary.

On the 3d I started for San Antonio, where the regiment was to rendezvous, arriving there on the 7th. The Arizona contingent had arrived the day before, under command of Major Brodie, and was camped at the Fair Grounds, the men occupying the main building, the officers the gallery, save Major Brodie, who occupied a tent. Our pack train was also camped on the grounds, having just arrived from St. Louis, and the packers had already begun the instructions of the mules. It was a fine train, splendidly equipped, and it was a pity we could not take it with us, later, to Cuba. By the time we were ready to embark at Tampa it was thoroughly trained, and this is saying much. It had been divided into three trains, one for each squadron. Each of these trains was led by a bell mare, and the rapidity with which the mules learned to follow their own mare and stay with their own train was wonderful. Still more wonderful was it to see the ease with which they were trained to take their places in line, each in front of his own pack outfit, either to be loaded or tp have his back cleaned at the end of a practice march. Indeed there is but one fauh to find with the pack mule of the American army. He is of a deeply religious nature and says his brayers vociferously at unseemly times. No one kicks at his kicking. In fact a use was discovered for it by one of the Rough Riders. When the gas had escaped from the signal balloon sent up at San Juan to view the enemy's position, one of our men suggested that if we had a couple of our pack mules with us they could kick the balloon into the clouds.

It will be seen from the foregoing that Headquarters and the Arizona contingent arrived almost simultaneously with the pack train. Alas, the equipment and stores, which Colonels Wood and Roosevelt had with great foresight started on their way to the rendezvous by fast freight, some time before, had not arrived. Major Brodie's squadron had come provided with little or nothing in the way of bedding or anything else, as was quite natural. Every one supposed that everything necessary would be on hand before the arrival of the first soldier in the regiment. Colonel Wood was of course grievously disappointed, but immediately put his shoulder to the wheels that were in reach, and Colonel Roosevelt in Washington put his broad shoulders to the car wheels at his end of the line. Our freight cars were lost here, there, and everywhere along the roads. We did not understand the system of running southern railroads then. We do not now. Our equipment was to come by fast freight ! And in a government emergency at that !

In this dilemma it was well that we had two such human reservoirs of kinetic energy at either end of the line as Wood and Roosevelt. I will not attempt to say how much wire was burned off the telegraph terminals by the telegrams sent by these two officers, or how many instruments were damaged ; but the total destruction must have been considerable. At any rate the wheels began to move, and in a few days the equipment began arriving, in small and varied carloads at first, but eventually with a rush. In the meantime Colonel Roosevelt, boiling with anxiety to join and get into the practical work, was compelled to remain in Washington to keep things moving. If a hitch occurred anywhere (and there were many of them) he could go straight to the man whose single word would straighten matters out. In all this he was doing about as important work as any one did in the campaign. His foresight, as I have said before, and Colonel Wood's, had wrung from Dally, Dilatory & Co. — who were in charge of affairs at Washington before war was formally declared — as fine an equipment as a cavalry regiment could desire. They were equally successful in handling Hurry, Haste & Co. (unlimited) after war was declared. It was harder work handling the railroads, but it was accomplished. We are all beginning to realise, to be dimly conscious of the very patent fact, that the people are made of the railroads, by the railroads, and for the railroads. When a railroad is elected President of the United States and both houses of Congress are filled with railroads we will understand the situation thoroughly.

While waiting patiently (satirical for impatiently) for the railroads to disgorge, something had to be done to provide even the slightest comfort for the men. Here Colonel Wood bent his energies with the almost tireless activity with which he — the only white man who ever did it — ran over mountain trails in Arizona in company with Apache scouts until the scouts dropped from exhaustion. Fort Sam Houston was situated at the other side of San Antonio on Government Hill, and was garrisoned by a part of the generous and celebrated Fifth Cavalry. They came to our rescue nobly, as did the staff departments. We drew

THE GATHERING OF THE CLANS ii

everything that could be spared from the quartermaster's stores at the post and after that borrowed condemned cooking utensils, camp equipage, and so forth which were awaiting the order for destruction. It was not an inspiring sight to see three or four troopers of Ours drinking coffee out of a single cup (there were by no means enough to go around) that had been condemned as unfit for a regular to use. It was the same with tin plates. Several men ate from one plate with their fingers, for we had no knives or forks to give them, but there was not a complaint. Those men were thoroughbreds. But I often wondered what they thought of such a state of affairs.

In the meantime the Fifth Cavalry was waiting with harrowing anxiety for orders to go to the front, and nervous with fear that they would be one of the regiments to be left in their own country. This did not prevent them from aiding us, however. Lieutenant Haines of that regiment, Post Commissary, took charge of the important duty of feeding us. Our horses were bought by the Quartermaster stationed there, and were provided with hay and grain from the post. Lieutenant Jenkins, the Adjutant of the Fifth, provided everything he could spare, including to me personally (he was a classmate of mine at West

Point) an old pair of shoulder straps — the only ones I was able to obtain during the war. We ordered and ordered all sorts of necessary insignia, but the dealers were too busy with orders nearer home to pay any attention to us. It was useless to order khaki uniforms. All cloth of that description was already in the hands of the tailors, who had not then a sufficient supply. The mills were just beginning to manufacture a further and sufficient quantity. As a consequence most of the officers were compelled to buy the brown uniforms issued to enlisted men and have them altered into something like a fit, or to buy the material and have uniforms made. These were decorated with yellow cloth ; and in many instances the insignia were cut out of this cloth and sewed on. Afterwards in the field, when jackets were thrown away, these yellow cloth tokens of rank were cut out of the yellow trimmings on the discarded jacket and sewn on the shirt, or cut out of tin from empty tomato cans. I am rather certain that Colonel Roosevelt himself wore more or less of this untailor-made roughness and w^as rather proud of it. Both he and Colonel Wood came provided with kahki uniforms. They looked very nice at first, but after a week's wear and a washing they looked sadly different,

A number of the men who joined from the North and East also came provided with khaki uniforms, and gave themselves away as being promised or anticipating appointments as commissioned officers. They had to adopt the brown overalls for a time, but most of them clung to the pretty khaki suits until they could wear them with propriety.

Among ourselves we were known, and officially also, as the ist U. S. Volunteer Cavalry. The newspapers, however, had named the regiment the " Rough Riders," probably on account of the apt alliteration with Colonel Roosevelt's name. Most of the papers were friendly and complimentary to an unnecessary degree, but this very fact made others disparage the regiment, and some to actually revile it. Nor did the publicity given to the regiment do us any good with the regular army. The regiment was advertised too much. If it had been a Wild West show the advertising would have been invaluable. But to a regiment of men earnestly intent, from colonel to corporal and from A on the roster of privates to Z, on preparing themselves for duty as soldiers in the quickest time on record, it was quite unwelcome. There were some men in the army — as there are in all ranks and classes of men — who were weak enough to be jealous ; and some of them had the power and opportunity to throw obstacles in the way of the regiment. But the regiment never had any difficulty in riding over those obstacles — and often somewhat " roughly " at that.

It is but fair to say that most of this jealousy disappeared later in the campaign. After the charge at San Juan a trooper of the Rough Riders shouted, " Somebody give me a chew of tobacco." An officer in command of a troop of regulars near him pulled a plug of the desired weed from his pocket and gave it to the man, saying, '' Here, you fellows can have anything I've got." And before the campaign ended Colonel Roosevelt was a more potent factor in the army of invasion than most of the grizzled veterans of the civil war.

Chapter II

It was the original hope and intention of the regiment to be given a roving commission in Cuba — to act almost independently, I suppose, somewhat after the manner of Marion's men. The idea was to equip, drill, march part way to the coast, thence — from some convenient point — go by rail to Galveston and take ship for some point in Cuba, west of Havana. After this it was expected that we should act more or less in conjunction with the Cuban forces and make an extended foray through the island.

It soon developed, however, that Havana would not be the objective point of the army ; and that our chance lay in being ordered to join the 5th army corps, which was mobilizing at Tampa. This required all the more haste in equipping and drilling, for we expected to hear every day that the expedition had sailed. At first, indeed, the future seemed quite hopeless. In a few weeks, however,

telegrams began to reach Colonel Wood asking 2 IS how soon the regiment would be ready to start. It was with pardonable pride that the Colonel answered the very first of these with a telegram to the effect that the regiment was ready to move at a moment's notice with its full complement of men thoroughly equipped and mounted, with its horses all shod and a pair of extra shoes fitted for every horse in the regiment. All this had been done in three weeks, in fact in less than that time. If there is any record in the world to beat that the Rough Riders would like to have it produced. As a matter of fact the Rough Riders were in as good a condition to fight the battle of Guasimas on May 24th, 1898, as they were on June 24th. Most of the time intervening was spent in travel by land and sea.

How was it done ? The only answer is, by the expenditure of an enormous amount of American energy. Even to-day it seems almost like a dream to the writer. Both Colonels Wood and Roosevelt were saturated with energy, and the ofificers and men added their own with grim enthusiasm.

The first ten days broke the back of the difficulty of organizing; but it was a ten days the writer never wishes to see again. I was Regimental Quartermaster by appointment. Lieutenant Capron of the 7th Cavalry was to be Adjutant when he arrived. But he was elected Captain byone of the Indian Territory troops he had mustered in, and the office of Adjutant was later given to me. In the meantime, however, I acted as Adjutant in addition to my duties as Quartermaster. I also acted as Commissary, and likewise had charge of the ordnance stores. For several weeks I acted nominally as troop commander of " K " troop which at that time did not have a commissioned officer present. It was necessary that some one in the nature of a commissioned officer should be responsible for the property issued to the troop, and I was the only available man.

Let me explain here that I use the term " commissioned officer " for convenience. As a matter of fact we were all officers by appointment.

In addition to my other duties I acted as instructor in guard duty. On top of all I had to study the new cavalry drill regulations, a pretty good job in itself, for three weeks. Added to the rest I had to sign passes for the men to leave camp ; and answer (to the best of my ability) the questions of many anxious learners. As Regimental Quartermaster I had to receipt for practically everything delivered to the regiment — and one thing or another was being delivered constantly. As the original Quartermaster Sergeant deserted within a day or two after his arrival in camp and we had no Commissary Sergeant until later, I was unable to make out receipts for myself when issuing to the troops, and I was prepared to go into bankruptcy when the government got around to demanding my accounts, receipts, expenditures and so forth. Nor did I ever get receipts, save for the various things loaned from the condemned stores at Fort Sam Houston. These had to be returned so that they could be destroyed to the satisfaction of the inspector at his next visit. Eventually the matter was straightened out, as both Colonels Wood and Roosevelt assured me it would be, and I rest in the serene consciousness that if the government's account with me does not balance it is because the government owes me and not I the government. I am willing to call it square though. If the government is rich enough to stand it I am poor enough to take a like view of the situation.

It was all excellent practice, however. Before we broke camp at San Antonio I can almost say — not quite but almost — that I could sign a receipt with one hand and a pass with the other, at the same time answering the questions of a mystified member of the guard and dissecting a new and wonderful movement in the drill regulations.

Very often after I had dissected such a movement, some regular ofificer would happen along and inform me that the movement had been materially altered by recent amendments to the drill regulations. And in some cases after puzzling my head over something that seemed utterly incomprehensible, to say nothing of impossible, I would learn in the same way that there was a mistake in the book, either in the- diagram or in the text.