Contents:
The Cuban-Spanish War
The Death of Rodriguez
The Greek-Turkish War
The Battle of Velestinos
The Spanish-American War
I. The Rough Riders at Guasimas
II. The Battle of San Juan Hill
III. The Taking of Coamo
IV. The Passing of San Juan Hill
The South African War
I. With Buller's Column
II. The Relief of Ladysmith
III. The Night Before the Battle
The Japanese-Russian War
Battles I did not see
A War Correspondent's Kit
THE CUBAN-SPANISH WAR: THE DEATH OF RODRIGUEZ {1}
Adolfo Rodriguez was the only son of a Cuban farmer, who lived nine
miles outside of Santa Clara, beyond the hills that surround that
city to the north.
When the revolution in Cuba broke out young Rodriguez joined the
insurgents, leaving his father and mother and two sisters at the
farm. He was taken, in December of 1896, by a force of the Guardia
Civile, the corps d'elite of the Spanish army, and defended himself
when they tried to capture him, wounding three of them with his
machete.
He was tried by a military court for bearing arms against the
government, and sentenced to be shot by a fusillade some morning
before sunrise.
Previous to execution he was confined in the military prison of Santa
Clara with thirty other insurgents, all of whom were sentenced to be
shot, one after the other, on mornings following the execution of
Rodriguez.
His execution took place the morning of the 19th of January, 1897, at
a place a half-mile distant from the city, on the great plain that
stretches from the forts out to the hills, beyond which Rodriguez had
lived for nineteen years. At the time of his death he was twenty
years old.
I witnessed his execution, and what follows is an account of the way
he went to his death. The young man's friends could not be present,
for it was impossible for them to show themselves in that crowd and
that place with wisdom or without distress, and I like to think that,
although Rodriguez could not know it, there was one person present
when he died who felt keenly for him, and who was a sympathetic
though unwilling spectator.
There had been a full moon the night preceding the execution, and
when the squad of soldiers marched from town it was still shining
brightly through the mists. It lighted a plain two miles in extent,
broken by ridges and gullies and covered with thick, high grass, and
with bunches of cactus and palmetto. In the hollow of the ridges the
mist lay like broad lakes of water, and on one side of the plain
stood the walls of the old town. On the other rose hills covered
with royal palms that showed white in the moonlight, like hundreds of
marble columns. A line of tiny camp-fires that the sentries had
built during the night stretched between the forts at regular
intervals and burned clearly.
