While thus
firing, there suddenly smote on our ears a peculiar drumming sound.
One or two of the men cried out, "The Spanish machine guns!" but,
after listening a moment, I leaped to my feet and called, "It's the
Gatlings, men! It's our Gatlings!" Immediately the troopers began to
cheer lustily, for the sound was most inspiring. Whenever the drumming
stopped, it was only to open again a little nearer the front. Our
artillery, using black powder, had not been able to stand within range
of the Spanish rifles, but it was perfectly evident that the Gatlings
were troubled by no such consideration, for they were advancing all
the while.
Soon the infantry took San Juan Hill, and, after one false start, we
in turn rushed the next line of block-houses and intrenchments, and
then swung to the left and took the chain of hills immediately
fronting Santiago. Here I found myself on the extreme front, in
command of the fragments of all six regiments of the cavalry division.
I received orders to halt where I was, but to hold the hill at all
hazards. The Spaniards were heavily reinforced and they opened a
tremendous fire upon us from their batteries and trenches. We laid
down just behind the gentle crest of the hill, firing as we got the
chance, but, for the most part, taking the fire without responding.
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