I saw one of our light batteries of artillery go in position under
fire at the foot of San Juan Hill. The movement was swiftly and
skillfully executed. A most interesting feature of this was to see the
Caissons, drawn by six magnificent horses, off for ammunition. Three
drivers to each outfit, one to each pair of horses; all plying the
whip at every jump, would remind you of a Roman chariot race coming
around on their last heat.
Wheeled vehicles of war suffer more than other troops, on account of
their stationary positions. It is here that the dreaded sharpshooter
comes in for glory, by picking off the gunners and other individuals.
Pack trains were seen dashing along the line with that always
absolutely essential--ammunition--thereby gladdening the hearts of the
boys who were doing their utmost to expend every round in their belts
to gain another foot of Spanish territory.
During all these stirring events the stomachs of the real heroes were
not neglected, and most certainly not along our part of the line. Pack
mules were brought right up to the line under a hot fire, loaded with
sugar, coffee, bacon and hardtack, all of which was in plenty. Some of
the mules were killed and wounded, but this did not retard the advance
of the train. When near the firing line some one called, "Whose
rations?" A prompt reply, "Hungry soldiers.
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