CHAPTER XIII.

SHARPSHOOTING BY EXPERTS.

HERE has been so much said and written about the accuracy of the Spanish sharpshooters and their personal bravery in hiding in the tree-tops within the American lines, notwithstanding the knowledge that death would follow their discovery, and that there was no hope for them, unless the Americans were defeated and driven back, that it is fitting to tell something of the courage and accuracy of the American sharpshooters.

Whenever a Spaniard up a tree was becoming too deadly with his Mauser there would be volunteer and assigned hunting parties, who, leaving the ranks, stalked for Spaniards. The tiger hunts of India are tame sport to the man hunt at Santiago, and it took a stouter heart to steal from bush to bush and through the long grass, where the waving tops were as signals to the foe, than it does with dirk in hand to face a wounded grizzly or with rifle to the shoulder to stop the long leap of the panther.

It is related that at San Juan there was being much damage done by a Spanish sharpshooter and that it seemed utterly impossible to destroy him, unless ammunition was to be wasted in firing at long range at every tree-top in sight. Private George Washington Brown, of African descent and crap-playing proclivities, was "shakin' de bones" in his tin cup with his "bunkie," Alfred Johnson, of the same ancestry and passion for the dice, when just as the former had thrown "seven" a Mauser scattered the cubes. That was too much for George Washington. Grabbing his rifle, he begged of his Captain that he be allowed to hunt the Spaniard and the officer was not opposed.

The soldier made a detour of many miles, coming up on the rear of where he felt certain that Spaniard was, and then, with the cunning he had learned as a boy seeking game in the South and had perfected in the Northwest as an Indian fighter, he moved, making no sound and scarcely breathing, though in his heart he was cursing the sharpshooter who had spoilt his throw of "seven" and would have done the same had

it been "eleven." There was blood in his eye and caution in his footsteps. His hunter's instinct had not failed him, for, perched high in a tree not fifty yards from him, was a "sho' 'nough Spaniard, 'bout to kill frien' Johnson," as he said to himself.

It does not make any material difference who it was the Spaniard sought, for a Krag-Jorgensen bullet tore through his head and he fell to be counted among the missing of Spanish soldiers. Brown, too, fell, for a Mauser had caught him in the thigh, and it was then that his experience with the Indians helped him. Close to him was a fallen log and he quickly rolled to it, dragging his gun with him and praying fervently that he might live long enough to spot "dat odah one." Long he lay, thinking out a plan, when his quick ear caught the sound of rustling underbrush, and, as he afterward told the story:

"Dat bullet jus' hurt jus' like de crack ob a moole-whip or a 'blacksnake,' an' den while I was laying dah huggin' de log it burned like a hot pokah an' mah leg were gettin' mighty stiff like, an' ah heard de brush crackle agin an' ah knowed dat Spaniard wah aftah me foah certain, an' forgot de misery in mah leg and wondahed which side de log he goin' come lookin' foah a dead nigger, an' me an' de gun wah ready foah him an' he come de right way, and we bof shot sudden, but he didn' shoot no moah. To be sho' indeed I knocked him in de head, an' ah snook back painful to dah lines whah de fool sentry come nigh sendin' me to Kingdom Come to jine dose Spaniards, an' blame if de sentry wahn't Jonsin."

On another occasion a detail of six men were sent out to find an unusually troublesome sharpshooter. They were positive he was in a certain tree, which they gradually surrounded. Their instructions were to run no risks, but as soon as they were in fair shooting distance they were to blaze away at the high foliage. A Spaniard fell from the tree unwounded. He had lost his balance through fright. He was within the American lines and had killed one and wounded seven American soldiers. There was no mercy for him, and there is no necessity of describing his death. He had a chance to say his prayers and he felt no pain.

Another scouting party was less fortunate, for two soldiers were killed outright and four badly wounded in ridding their fellows of one Spanish sharpshooter. A Lieutenant, whose men were badly bothered by the enemy's splendid aim and constant alertness, detailed six men to hunt one Spaniard. Some hours later he saw the Corporal, John

Kelley, who had been in charge of the squad, taking his place in the trenches, the right side of his head smeared with blood. Going up to him he ordered the wounded man to the rear and asked him about the sharpshooter, to hear a pitiful tale. The Corporal's tale follows:

"Lieutenant," he said, "we could not tell where he was, but suspected that he was in a certain bunch of trees, and as we were carefully looking for him 'Biff' Jones fell dead, shot between the eyes. We knew we were looking in the wrong direction, for from where he stood no one could have hit 'Biff' as he was shot, from those trees, and then Reilly fell, shot just above the ear. He, too, was dead. Then we got down on our bellies and crawled for some other trees, and, sooner than I could tell it, both Robinson and Hunt were stretched out badly hurt. Quinn and I were feeling queer, and poor Quinn he got one in the hip.

"It wouldn't do for six of us to get licked by one Spaniard, and I was mad and reckless, and stood up and got it through the ear, but I saw him, when he must have been reloading. I could not see much, but what I did see I filled full of lead and he dropped. I made sure he was dead and came back and got help and the wounded boys are now at Siboney."

Kelley, with his head bandaged, was on the firing line the next morning and his comrades swear that the way he fought proved that he was still thinking of his comrades, Jones and Reilly, and the others in the hospital.

It is interesting to note that not only the men of our regulars are scientific in handling the rifle, but that the officers who wear the sword as a symbol of power rather than as an offensive aid, are competent and clever with the gun. Indeed, it is a point of particular pride with the officers to be able to shoot well; nothing gives them quite the same hold on their men or more quickly wins their admiration and trust. At many army posts shooting matches between the officers has been a regular practice and a means of passing time off duty. When our few regulars were widely scattered over broad territories and there were not many officers and men in one place, there were necessarily handicaps, spurring on the superior to greater perfection and encouraging the less skilled to trials leading to real improvement. The Government has not been stingy with ammunition.

Inspector General Reade reports that First Lieutenant Charles Muir, Second Infantry, is of "the class of distinguished sharpshooters," known for ten years for his honorable identification with target prac

tice. He is a man who mixes brains with gunpowder and has ability be yond that of neatly and correctly judging "the effects of wind, light and shade on a projectile, also of ability to have eye and finger muscles act simultaneously in pulling trigger."

While in the trenches in the battles of Fort San Juan he saw a guard of the Spanish at a range of 1,100 yards, adjusted his sights, United States rifle, model 92, fired twice, called his shot instantly and each time brought down an enemy. Members of his squad, with equal success, same time and range, potted a third Spaniard.

"This is in direct line," says General Reade, "with what I have, during many years past, advocated and repeatedly officially recommended. Some of our distinguished marksmen have earned all of the medals that orders allow and are disqualified from entering further small-arm competitions, but ask that each year they may be permitted to compete with those of their own class, the prizes to be rifles or carbines of especial manufacture, range-finders, binocular glasses, or other paraphernalia proper for the outfit of a marksman who is also a practical hunter.

"Captain George Morgan, Third Cavalry, and who is also a distinguished marksman, United States Army, an officer of ripened experience in Indian warfare in Arizona, and who is, like Lieutenant Muir, a very cool-headed man, of good judgment amid surroundings of excitement, says that he would have had some interesting data to furnish supporting my conviction that individual marksmanship, properly supplemented, counts in battle, if he had had a proper range-finder. He says that in trench work, having no glass, he could not locate the point of impact of the bullets, even when his troops fired volleys.

"Lieutenant Hugh D. Wise, Ninth United States Infantry, alleges that during the battle of July 1st he and a sharpshooter named McIlhaney had their attention attracted by a Spanish officer who was conspicuous because riding a white horse. Guessing at the range, 1,100 yards, McIlhaney opened fire upon and hit the Spaniard. Lieutenant Wise says that he subsequently learned that General Linares, the commander of the Santiago Spanish forces, rode a horse of that color when wounded, and he believes that McIlhaney did it. Our trenches in places were not over 500 or 600 yards from the trenches of the enemy during the fusillades of the 2d and 3d of July.

"One of our Lieutenants of artillery told me that at a period when the Spanish guerrillas were especially pestiferous and annoying, a Sec

ond Lieutenant, name unknown, went under a tree in whose dense foliage he thought a sharpshooter might be concealed, and fired at random several revolver shots into the tree-top. After the fourth or fifth shot a Mauser or Remington rifle was dropped from overhead, followed a few seconds later by a frightened Spaniard, who was clad in a darkblue United States Army blouse. My informant went on to say that he must decline giving me names, because the incident closed without aid from any priest or clergyman.