Spanish-American War, 1898 -- Regimental histories; United States. Army. Volunteer Cavalry, 1st
We had the camp policed thoroughly, and I made the men build little
bunks of poles to sleep on. By July 23rd, when we had been ashore a
month, we were able to get fresh meat, and from that time on we fared
well; but the men were already sickening. The chief trouble was the
malarial fever, which was recurrent. For a few days the man would be
very sick indeed; then he would partially recover, and be able to go
back to work; but after a little time he would be again struck down.
Every officer other than myself except one was down with sickness at
one time or another. Even Greenway and Goodrich succumbed to the fever
and were knocked out for a few days. Very few of the men indeed
retained their strength and energy, and though the percentage actually
on the sick list never got over twenty, there were less than fifty per
cent who were fit for any kind of work. All the clothes were in rags;
even the officers had neither socks nor underwear. The lithe college
athletes had lost their spring; the tall, gaunt hunters and
cow-punchers lounged listlessly in their dog-tents, which were
steaming morasses during the torrential rains, and then ovens when the
sun blazed down; but there were no complaints.
Through some blunder our march from the intrenchments to the camp on
the foothills, after the surrender, was made during the heat of the
day; and though it was only some five miles or thereabouts, very
nearly half the men of the cavalry division dropped out. Captain
Llewellen had come back, and led his troop on the march. He carried a
pick and shovel for one of his sick men, and after we reached camp
walked back with a mule to get another trooper who had fallen out from
heat exhaustion. The result was that the captain himself went down and
became exceedingly sick. We at last succeeded in sending him to the
States. I never thought he would live, but he did, and when I met him
again at Montauk Point he had practically entirely recovered. My
orderly, Henry Bardshar, was struck down, and though he ultimately
recovered, he was a mere skeleton, having lost over eighty pounds.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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