Three-fourths of them were too sick for duty, and the rest
looked like living skeletons. They fairly wallowed in their own filth
--and cursed the climate of Cuba on account of their sickness.
In sharp contrast to the 34th Michigan was the 1st U. S. Volunteer
Cavalry, the Rough Riders. This was an organization the peer of any in
the Regular Army in morale, in fighting, and in every quality that
goes to make up a fine body of soldiers. They were picked men; all
classes were shown in that organization. The tennis champion was a
private, the champion oarsman of Harvard a corporal. On the 2d of July
a stock-broker of Wall Street who can sign his check for $3,000,000
was seen haggling with a cow-puncher from the Indian Territory over a
piece of hardtack. Both were privates and both were fine soldiers. The
whole regiment was just such a medley, but fought like Regulars, and
endured like Spartans. They hung on like bull-dogs, and charged like
demons. They were as strict about the camp police as Regular Army
surgeons, and as punctilious about saluting as a K. O. on "official
relations." Withal, they were a clean-mouthed, clean-clad,
clean-camped lot of gentlemen, each in his way, from the "Hello,
pard!" of the cowboy to the frozen stare of the monocled dude from
Broadway.
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