CHAPTER XXIV
THE SITUATION WELL IN HAND
Zoom! Whiz-z-z, and then a distant bursting cloud of cottony whitesmoke high in the blue sky over the hill called Coyotepe. Soon thewaiting ear heard the sharp explosion of that seemingly soft fluffycotton-ball, which in reality carried death in its wake, for with thebursting came hundreds of tiny bits of steel and bullets seeking out theenemy behind their entrenchments. And through the day and the nightfollowing the sound of the field guns prepared the way for the attackingmarines, sailors and Federal troops the next morning.
At the first break of day two battalions of United States Marines begantheir advance. In reserve, a battalion of sailors, as yet untried inland warfare, fretted and fussed at their position behind the actualfiring line, and some even rolled in the yellow mud till their whitesuits were the color of marine khaki and then, rifle in hand, sneakedaway from their command and joined their brothers in arms. As for theNicaraguans, supposed to attack but not relishing the job, they delayedand delayed, only too happy to let Colonel Pendleton and his commandassume the task of attempting to drive Zeladon and his insurrectos fromCoyotepe and Barrancas. Deep down in their hearts they felt that whatno Nicaraguan army had yet accomplished could never be carried to asuccessful issue by these few pale-faced Americans from the North.
No! It seemed that those who held these two hills which commanded theroad and railroad, north and south, could never be driven from them.Yet, little by little, step by step, up the rocky, slippery slopes,struggled the thin brown lines of marines. On through briar and bush;over jagged cliff or bullet-strewn open space; on and ever on. Throughprepared traps of barbed wire; cutting, slashing, firing, sweating,swearing, always upward, till finally in one mad, glad, glorious,soul-stirring, blood-thrilling rush, they mounted the earthworks on thehilltop's crest, in spite of rocks, in spite of cannon, in spite ofrifle, in spite of machine-gun fire, and there at bayonet's pointengaged in hand-to-hand conflict with enraged men and wild Amazonianwomen who wielded bloody machetes with fanatical frenzy.
With those who shared in the glory of that conquest was RichardComstock, his breath coming in short, labored gasps; the rifle he held,taken from a fallen comrade far down the slope, still burning hot, andthe knife-like blade of the bayonet shining brightly in the earlymorning sunlight.
And the marines accomplished this supposedly impossible task in lessthan forty minutes from the beginning of their advance. Is it anywonder that the natives of the countries where the fighters visit anduphold the glory of the stars and stripes, honor and respect them,individually and collectively?
After the pursuit of the fleeing rebels the Federal troops, encouragedby the unbelievable success of their allies, attacked, took and sackedthe town of Masaya in true native style, which always involves uselessdestruction and uncalled-for brutality.
The "handwriting on the wall" was now unmistakable and when later in theday some of the victorious troops and the battery of field guns wereentrained and started for Leon, the rebels in that city gave up all hopeof ever putting their candidate into office.
Carrying despatches on the first train north went Sergeant Dorlan andhis guard, Dick Comstock, and in those despatches was a verycomplimentary letter to Dick's immediate commanding officer which toldof his timely warning and the manner of its accomplishment.
Barrancas and Coyotepe were taken on October fourth, and on the sixthlong lines of marines and sailors were seen leaving Camp Pendleton.That the rebels had agreed to surrender and lay down their arms withouta fight was very much doubted, and Lieutenant Colonel Long, who hadcharge of the coming occupation, was going to enter the town in forceand take no chances of a possible ambush.
Immediately after reveille the first troops had quietly reenforced thecompany already on duty at the railroad station. This was done withoutincident, and then on three sides of the city the forces began theiradvance. The rebel troops, knowing that their leaders, Generals Rivasand Osorio, had fled, had spent the night in drinking and debauchery. Asthe main column debauched into the principal street and the excited,inflamed wearers of the red cockades saw the stars and stripes of theUnited States flaunting in the breeze, they resorted to their usualstreet fighting tactics.
Street by street the marines advanced. Every inch of the way wasdisputed and the bullets whizzed and cracked, sang and stung; takingtheir tally of wounded and dead.
"Dick, me lad, I'd give me old pipe, I would, to be able to be on aheadwith the advance instead of here with the colors, much as I love 'em,"announced Dorlan as he stood in the shelter of an overhanging roof andwatched the windows of a pretentious building on his right.
Reaching a street corner or alley a little later it was found that thenatives had resorted to their brutal, inhuman tactics in dealing evenwith civilized troops. A sailor, stripped of his clothing andmutilated, was lying in the roadway. Perhaps he had lost his sectionand wandering here trying to locate it, was set upon by the cruelnatives.
"Ah! a sight like that makes the very blood in me bile," said Mike,shaking his fist in the direction of the dodging opponents far up thestreet; "if I knew the feller what did that to the poor flatfoot,[#] I'dbe a brute meself and tear him to pieces with me bare hands."
[#] "Flatfoot"--Marine Corps slang for a sailor.
"Look out, Dorlan," yelled Dick, and falling flat on the rough cobblestones in the middle of the street he emptied a clip of cartridges intoa doorway which that moment was flung open, and from which a half dozenrifle barrels were pointing from behind a rough barricade. But he didnot stop the volley of shots which followed, and the heavy leaden slugssplashed, pattered, and flattened all about the little color guard.They rained against the walls of the buildings on either hand, gougingout great chunks of mortar and plaster to a depth of several inches, andone bullet, partly spent, struck Dick in the shoulder, penetrated to thebone and lodged there.
"I guess I'm hit, old pal," he said weakly to Mike, after they hadsilenced the fighters behind the barricade and had gone on for a coupleof blocks. "I thought it was only a scratch, but the blood's runningdown my back, and----" but just then it seemed as though a greatthunder-storm was descending upon the city; the sky grew black and thedarkness came so swiftly that he could not see where to step, and with asob he fell into the arms of his faithful friend.
"After all, it is not much more than a scratch; it is lack of sleep andnourishment during the last few days," said the surgeon, handing Dick apiece of lead he had recently removed from the boy's wound, "but I haverecommended that you be sent back to Corinto, where you can receiveproper attention on board ship."
"But is the fighting all over?" asked Dick weakly.
"Surest thing you know, my boy, for 'the marines have landed and havethe situation well in hand,' as the papers always say," answered thesurgeon smiling.
"Thanks for the Navy's bringing us here," added Dick with a wan smile,and then he dropped off into a much needed peaceful sleep.
Two days later as he lay on his white bunk in the sick bay of the U.S.S._Buffalo_, steaming southward to Panama, and the wonderful hospital atAncon, a letter was handed him. On opening it he found a documentappointing him a corporal in the United States Marine Corps. Alsoenclosed was a very complimentary letter from the Commanding Officer ofMarines ashore, thanking him for his excellent work during the excitingdays of the campaign, and at the end he read with satisfaction that,owing to his information, a certain German and his accomplice had beenarrested by the Government authorities and were on their way to thecoast, where they were to be deported, and forbidden ever to return.
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