Nor had one man in the regiment ever fired a
Krag-Jorgensen carbine until he fired it at a Spaniard, for their
arms had been issued to them so soon before sailing that they had
only drilled with them without using cartridges. To this handicap
was also added the nature of the ground and the fact that our men
could not see their opponents. Their own men fell or rolled over on
every side, shot down by an invisible enemy, with no one upon whom
they could retaliate, with no sign that the attack might not go on
indefinitely. Yet they never once took a step backward, but advanced
grimly, cleaning a bush or thicket of its occupants before charging
it, and securing its cover for themselves, and answering each volley
with one that sounded like an echo of the first. The men were
panting for breath; the sweat ran so readily into their eyes that
they could not see the sights of their guns; their limbs unused to
such exertion after seven days of cramped idleness on the troop-ship,
trembled with weakness and the sun blinded and dazzled them; but time
after time they rose and staggered forward through the high grass, or
beat their way with their carbines against the tangle of vines and
creepers. A mile and a half of territory was gained foot by foot in
this fashion, the three Spanish positions carried in that distance
being marked by the thousands of Mauser cartridges that lay shining
and glittering in the grass and behind the barricades of bushes.
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