America at War: Concise Histories of U.S. Military Conflicts From Lexingtonto Afghanistan
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American strategy was straightforward. The U.S. Navy would neutralize its Spanish counterpart in the waters around Cuba and the Philippines, then blockade the Cuban coast. This would enable the army to safely invade Cuba as well as Puerto Rico and, in combat with the Spanish troops, free the islands of control by Spain.
The American navy was up to its tasks. It had several battleships, modern by the standards of the day, and a large number of well-armed cruisers. Among the latter were four ships: the Olympia, the Baltimore, the Boston, and the Raleigh (at that time cruisers were given names of American cities, while battleships, larger vessels with bigger guns, were named after the states). These four cruisers comprised the principal assets of the navy’s Asiatic Squadron. Based in Hong Kong, this small fleet was commanded by Commodore George Dewey. Days prior to the outbreak of war, Dewey had been instructed to make his ships ready for action. On the other side of the globe, American warships were already at sea, having been ordered by McKinley to institute a blockade of Cuba.
The U.S. Army was less well prepared. No longer the formidable force once commanded by Ulysses S. Grant, the American army at the beginning of 1898 numbered but twenty-eight thousand. This made it one-twentieth the size of Germany’s army. Moreover, as historian Edward M. Coffman has noted, the army by then was essentially a frontier constabulary. Given the absence of military threats to the United States, plus America’s traditional distrust of standing armies and her reliance on citizen-soldiers, there was no need for a larger, standing army.
Thus, when war broke out, the army had to be, and was, rapidly enlarged. While Congress authorized additional regular troops, the bulk of the increase came from volunteers. Like Lincoln before him, McKinley issued calls for the states to meet the need. The president requested two hundred thousand men be armed and trained. The states responded in full. Practically overnight, the U.S. Army became manpower rich.
But the supply system could not cope. The new troop levels overwhelmed the capacity to provide required equipment. Clothing, tents, transport, medicines, and guns were all in short supply. In both training camps and combat, U.S. troops would face shortages that made their tasks more difficult and more dangerous.
Initially, once the sea-lanes were free of Spanish warships, the army was to attack Havana, the capital city of Cuba. However, this plan was set aside when a Spanish naval squadron led by Rear Admiral Pascual Cervera y Topete evaded the blockade, dropping anchor in the harbor of Santiago de Cuba on the island’s southeastern coast. A new plan called for the Americans to land troops nearby and take the city. Once that was done, Cervera’s ships would have to sail, into the waiting guns of the U.S. Navy. Entrusted with the assignment of capturing Santiago was Major General William R. Shafter, who, as a younger man, had fought in the War Between the States. He commanded V Corps, which consisted mostly of army regulars, though several regiments of volunteers brought his total force to approximately twenty-five thousand men. Their port of embarkation was Tampa.
It was an unfortunate choice. Tampa lacked the size and equipment required to handle the men and material of V Corps. Additionally, the army no longer possessed the logistical expertise necessary to embark such a large force aboard ships. The result was several days of confusion. Eventually things got sorted out, and most of the men, but not all, and their supplies, but not all of them either, got put into the waiting vessels.
On June 14, the ships sailed. On board were 16,300 soldiers, 2,295 horses and mules, and 34 pieces of artillery. Escorting the thirty-two transports were several naval ships. Among the latter was the new battleship Indiana. Her big guns were ready to protect the transports from any Spanish warship that might stumble on the convoy.
George Dewey had no such big ship. As mentioned, cruisers comprised his little fleet. On learning of the declaration of war, he and his ships steamed to the Philippines (a distance of 638 miles), intent on engaging Spanish warships known to be off the waters of Manila. Like Cuba and Puerto Rico, the Philippines was a colony of Spain. Her warships, if they could, hoped to destroy the Americans. If they could not, they aimed to uphold the honor of Spain by not shrinking from a fight.
Dewey arrived at the Philippines on April 30. That night, he led his ships into Manila Bay. In line astern, at intervals of four hundred yards, with the Olympia in the van, the American squadron steamed toward the waiting Spanish vessels. These were seven in number and moored in such a way as to be augmented by guns ashore. Unlike the American ships, these vessels were neither modern nor heavily armed.
The next morning at 5:41, when Dewey issued his famous command to the captain of the Olympia, “You may fire when ready, Gridley,” the battle began. It did not last long. The attacking warships made short work of their Spanish adversaries. Dewey soon ordered his ships to cease firing and the Spaniards surrendered. Their casualties were heavy. Eight hundred and eighty-one sailors were killed or wounded. The American losses were minimal, with but nine men wounded.
News of the battle electrified the American public. Dewey became a national hero and received a promotion to rear admiral (his flagship, the USS Olympia, has been preserved and can be seen today in Philadelphia). Later, he helped engineer the peaceful surrender of the Spanish garrison in the city of Manila. The results of his efforts were substantial. Spain no longer held sway in the Philippines. America did.
What the United States would do with its new possession was unclear. Its purpose in sending Dewey to Manila Bay was to neutralize a Spanish naval squadron. It ended up being responsible for a vast new territory, on which a larger number of armed Philippine insurgents had rather strong views as to who should be in charge.
Far from the Philippines and several weeks after Dewey’s victory, Shafter’s V Corps was approaching Cuba. Because Santiago was well fortified, the American general chose to land his troops sixteen miles to the east, at the little town of Daiquiri. This turned out to be a poor choice. So the next day, disembarkation was moved to Siboney, farther west, toward Santiago. At neither location did the landings—they were unopposed—go particularly smoothly. But, eventually, the soldiers got ashore. The United States military was on Cuban soil.
The story is told that most of the horses in the expedition had to swim ashore, suitable landing craft not being available. Some of the horses, however, began to swim out to sea. An alert bugler, seeing where the animals were headed, sounded recall and the horses turned around and came ashore.
The soldiers at Daiquiri and Siboney were not the first U.S. troops to land in Cuba. That honor belonged to the United States Marine Corps. On June 10, 1898, some six hundred marines had secured the beaches and surrounding hillsides at Guantánamo Bay, forty miles east of Santiago. The bay provided a safe haven for the blockading U.S. Navy ships in the event of a hurricane. It also provided a secluded spot where the ships could refuel. Accompanying the marines was a newspaper correspondent. His name was Stephen Crane, the author of the Civil War classic The Red Badge of Courage. With the Corps’s encouragement, he made sure the Americans back home knew that the marines had been the first to fight.
The day after V Corps had completed its landing at Siboney, they learned from Cuban insurgents that Spanish troops were nearby. Joseph Wheeler, one of Shafter’s senior commanders and a former Confederate general, sent U.S. soldiers to investigate. The result was a nasty little skirmish at a place called Las Guasimas. This was not a town, but simply an intersection of trails. There, the Americans learned that Spanish soldiers were not lacking in courage or marksmanship. For their part, the Spaniards learned that the Americans had no fear of battle. The war, albeit limited in scope and duration, was going to be hard fought.
In charge of defending Santiago was Lieutenant General Arsenio Linares y Pombo. With some ninety-four hundred men he had to keep the insurgents in check as well as stop the Americans. With dwindling supplies this was no easy task. Uncertain as to whether the United States might land additional troops, he spr
ead his soldiers around the perimeter of Santiago.
To the east, in the direction from which the Americans were advancing, Linares placed soldiers along a ridge known as San Juan Heights. He also dispatched 520 men eight miles to the northeast, to a little town called El Caney. Their mission was to prevent the Americans from outflanking the main line of defense along the Heights. Linares hoped that if he could hold off Shafter and his men for a few weeks, the onslaught of yellow fever in the summer months would destroy the Americans. It was not an unreasonable strategy.
Major General Shafter was aware that tropical diseases soon would cripple his force. Although V Corps contained 150 surgeons and physicians, conditions in Cuba and the state of medical knowledge were such that tropical diseases would cause a large number of fatalities. Shafter was eager to do battle, but he too was short of supplies. Several days passed before the American was able to order an attack. His plan was straightforward. He would send a substantial force to neutralize El Caney, keeping his right flank protected, then have them rejoin the rest of his men for a frontal assault on the Heights. He expected a fierce but short fight. Shafter got the former but not the latter.
The Spanish soldiers at El Caney were commanded by Brigadier General Joachim Vara del Rey. He was a fine soldier and determined to hold on to El Caney. The town’s defense was well laid out, with barbed-wire barriers, interconnected trenches, wooden blockhouses, and a stone fort. Though heavily outnumbered—the Americans had sixty-five hundred men—the Spanish soldiers had one key advantage. Their rifles used smokeless powder and, thus, when fired, did not reveal the shooter’s position. Not all the Americans had such ammunition, nor did their artillery, which placed them at a disadvantage.
The attack began at 6:35 A.M. Shafter expected the town to fall in two hours. The battle did not end until 3:30 in the afternoon. Moreover, casualties were substantial. The Americans’ numbered 441, 81 of whom were killed. The defending Spaniards lost 235 dead, among them Vara del Rey.
The defenses of El Caney brought great credit to the army of Spain. Vara del Rey and his men fought tenaciously but in the end were overwhelmed by numbers. While they did not defeat the Americans, they so occupied their opponents that the attackers did not participate in the assault on San Juan Heights.
To reach the Heights the rest of V Corps had to move down a narrow trail, ford a small stream, advance across an open field, then scale the hills, the top of which was their objective. While doing so, they would be subject to fire from both Spanish sharpshooters and artillery.
The attack began in the early morning of July 1, 1898. The American Signal Corps employed an observation balloon to spot enemy positions. This worked, but, unfortunately, it also revealed the location of the troops advancing to the stream. There, as along the trail, the result was heavy casualties. The soldiers were anxious to move up the hills but had received no orders to do so. Shafter had lost control of the battle, so the necessary orders were delayed. When they arrived, the Americans launched their final assault. This was in two parts. The first involved a hill to the northeast, forward of the ridgeline, called Kettle Hill. Occupied by the Spanish, it had to be taken first. The assignment was given to the 1st U.S. Volunteer Cavalry Regiment and to several regular army cavalry units. (As in the Civil War, the U.S. Army consisted of volunteers who had enlisted for a specific period of time and of regular career soldiers.)
Among the latter were the 9th and 10th Regiments. These were African-American units that, along with the 24th and 25th Infantry Regiments, formed the famous Buffalo Soldiers. They had fought in the West against the Indians, and had done well. In Cuba they would do well again, thereby helping to refute the absurd notion that military skill and courage were functions of race.
The 1st Volunteer Cavalry Regiment was commanded by Colonel Leonard Wood, a regular army officer who, in addition, was a well-regarded physician. When General Joseph Wheeler fell ill, Wood was advanced to brigade commander, leaving the regiment in the charge of its second in command. This was the one and only Theodore Roosevelt.
At the outbreak of war Roosevelt had been assistant secretary of the navy. This was an important position, one that would have involved the future president in significant decision making. But Teddy wanted action. So he resigned and secured a commission in the army. He then helped recruit volunteers to serve in a cavalry regiment, mostly from the American Southwest. Known as the Rough Riders, they would achieve a special place in American military history.
As did all U.S. Army cavalry regiments in Cuba, the Rough Riders and their fellow troopers of the 9th and 10th served dismounted, essentially as infantry. When the orders to attack Kettle Hill arrived, Roosevelt did not hesitate. The Rough Riders and the Buffalo Soldiers charged up the slope, led by Teddy Roosevelt, pistol in hand. Confronting considerable enemy gunfire, they took the hill. Later they moved forward—assisting in the main assault—and charged the northern slope of San Juan Hill. They soon reached its crest, suffering little loss of life. In doing all this, Roosevelt got the action he wanted. He also secured the fame he sought. And the Buffalo Soldiers earned the respect they deserved.
With Kettle Hill secured, the second part of the American assault, the attack on San Juan Hill, which lay to the southeast, began. Here the attack was carried out by the remaining soldiers of V Corps, about sixty-eight hundred men. They were commanded by two brigadier generals, Samuel Sumner and Jacob Kent. Not lacking in courage, the American troops began their climb. More than a few were cut down and the attack appeared to stall. Then four Gatling guns opened fire. Early rapid-fire machine guns, they laid down such murderous fire that the defenders gave way. Those that could retreated into Santiago. The Americans thus controlled the Heights. In doing so, they were in a position to pound the city into submission, or so it seemed.
In fact, Shafter’s men were in poor shape. At El Caney and the Heights they had suffered more than thirteen hundred casualties. Moreover, V Corps was seriously short of supplies. The food, medicines, and transportation that were available were insufficient to meet the need. Perhaps more important, disease was beginning to strike the Americans. It would do far more harm that Spanish gunfire ever did.
Still, the American army had won a victory. It had landed on hostile territory, defeated the enemy in battle, and fought quite bravely. Its performance since arriving in Cuba may not have been a textbook example of how to conduct military operations—and it wasn’t—but the U.S. Army had accomplished what it set out to do.
Soon it would be the navy’s turn.
Inside Santiago, Linares and his men also were suffering. They too were in need of supplies, and desperately so. Although reinforcements had arrived, they proved more of a burden than a blessing. The Spanish commander had enough men to fight. He did not have enough food to feed them. All the while, the civilians, with little to eat, feared for the future.
Among the defenders in Santiago General Linares had been able to deploy were some one thousand sailors, all from the ships of Admiral Cervera. His squadron, four cruisers and two destroyers, was still in the harbor. Now that the enemy controlled the Heights, his ships were vulnerable. He recalled his men and considered his options. There were three. He could haul down his flag and surrender. He could scuttle his vessels, that is deliberately sink them. Or he could weigh anchor and do battle with the enemy.
Spanish honor dictated that Cervera would fight.
On the morning of July 3, 1898, a Sunday, the Spanish ships steamed out of Santiago Harbor. Led by the flagship Infanta Maria Teresa, the vessels were in line astern, their crews at battle stations. The adjectives “heroic” and “foolhardy” accurately describe their sortie. Awaiting their arrival were four American battleships: the Indiana, the Iowa, the Oregon, and the Texas, along with an armored cruiser, the USS Brooklyn, and two smaller vessels.
At approximately 9:30 A.M., the American warships opened fire. Their big guns pounded Cervera’s ships. The two
destroyers were sunk. Three of the cruisers were set ablaze and deliberately run ashore. So too was the fourth. Of the 2,227 sailors in the Spanish squadron, 323 were killed. More would have died save for the rescue efforts of the Americans. Only one U.S. sailor was killed.
Once again the United States Navy had triumphed, first at Manila Bay and then at Santiago. That later analysis of both battles showed American naval gunfire to be often inaccurate mattered little. The wreckage of Cervera’s cruisers along the beaches near Santiago was ample evidence that the Americans owned the waters around Cuba.
In command of the American squadron blockading Santiago had been Rear Admiral William T. Sampson. That Sunday morning, aboard his flagship, the armored cruiser New York, he had sailed for a conference with his army counterpart, Major General Shafter. Left in charge of the blockading vessels was Winfield Schley, also a rear admiral. When Sampson learned that Cervera had sailed, he had the New York come about and steam to the scene of battle, arriving toward the end of the fighting. Meanwhile, Schley simply had each ship do what was expected of them, which was to pursue and fire at the enemy. Neither admiral controlled the sea battle, though both claimed credit for the victory. Their subsequent public quarrels over who was responsible for Cervera’s defeat embarrassed the navy and brought credit to neither man.
The dispute with Schley was not the only disagreement Admiral Sampson experienced. He also differed with Shafter on how best to subdue Santiago, a disagreement less personal than that with Admiral Schley but more fundamental, as it reflected basic differences between the army and the navy. General Shafter wanted the navy to bombard the fortifications of Santiago in order to assist the army’s capture of the city. Admiral Sampson wanted the army to subdue the force, making it safe for the navy to enter Santiago Harbor and force the city to surrender.