CHAPTER XXIVEXPERIENCES AS A GOVERNMENT CENSOR OF TELEGRAPH
The few years succeeding the great strike were ones of calm, peaceful tranquility. Each recurring November 1st, brought the initiation of Post Lyceums at all garrisons, in which the officers were gathered together twice a week, and war in all its phases was studied. We didn't exactly know where the war was coming from, but, still we boned it out. Old campaigns were fought over; the mistakes made by the world's greatest commanders, from Alexander the Great to Grant and Lee were pointed out; Kriegspiel was played; essays written and discussed, recommendations made as to ammunition and food supply; use of artillery in attack and defense; the proper method of employing the telegraph in the war; and a thousand and one things relative to the machine militaire were gone over. All this time we were slumbering over a smoldering volcano, and on February 16, 1898, the eruption broke loose; thegood shipMainewas destroyed in Havana harbor, and the feelings of the people, already drawn to the breaking point by the inhuman cruelties of Spain towards her colonies near our own shores, burst with a vehemence that portended, in unmistakable language, the rending asunder of the once proud kingdom of Spain. The army wanted a war; the navy wanted it, the whole population wanted it and here it was within our grasp. It was the dawning of a new day for the United States; a new empire was being born in the Western hemisphere. The feverish preparations attendant upon the new conditions are of too recent date to need any sketching here.
When it was finally determined that the time had arrived for the assembling of the small but efficient regular army, I was stationed with my regiment at Fort Wayne, Michigan. Like all other troops, we were at the post ready for the start. The pistol cracked on the 15th of April, and on the 19th we started. Mobile, Alabama, was our objective where we arrived on the 22nd of the month. Here began the ceaseless preparation for the part the regiment was to play in the grand drama of war that was to follow, all this camp life and concentration being but the prologue.
The camp was a most beautiful one, the weather pleasant, and it was indeed a most inspiring sight to see the long unbroken lines of blue go swinging by, keeping absolute time and perfect alignment to the inspiring strains of some air like "Hot time in the old town to-night," or "The stars and stripes forever."
I had started in with my regiment and expected to remain on duty with it until the end of the war, sharing all its perils and hardships, doing my part in the fighting, and partaking of any of the renown it might achieve should the Dons ever be met. But "Man proposes and God disposes," and on the afternoon of May 21st, I was sitting in my tent correcting some manuscript when a very bright-eyed colored newsboy came along and said:
"Buy a paper, cap'n."
That was the day that a wild rumor had been in circulation that Sampson had met Cervera in the Bahama Channel and completely smashed him, so I laid down my manuscript and said:
"Anything in there about Sampson licking Cervera?"
"Naw, sir, dat were a fake, cap'n, but dere is lots of oder news fur you."
"No, kid, I don't want a paper to-night, and besides I'm not a captain, I'm only a lieutenant."
"But yer may be one some day. Please buy one cap'n," and with this he laid a paper down on my table (a cracker box). I was about to shove it aside and sharply tell him to skip out when my eye fell upon:
"Nominations by the President."
"To be captains in the Signal Corps," then followed my name. I bought a paper, yes, all he had.
On May 27th, I was ordered to proceed at once to Tampa, Florida, reporting upon arrival by telegraph to the chief signal officer of the army for instructions. Tuesday morning, the 29th of May, I reported my arrival and spent the rest of the morning in looking around the camps, renewing old acquaintances. I supposed of course that I was to be assigned to the command of one of the new signal companies then forming to take part in the Santiago campaign and was filled with delight at the prospect, but about eleven o'clock I received an order from General Greely directing me to assume charge of the telegraphic censorship at Tampa. Three civilians, Heston at Jacksonville, Munn at Miami, and Fellers at Tampa, were sworn in as civilian assistants and directed to report to me, thereafter acting wholly under my orders. Mr. B. F. Dillon, superintendent of theWestern Union Telegraph Company, was in Tampa, and I had a long conference with him. He assured me of his confidence and cordial support, and placed the entire resources of his company at my disposal. Operators all over the state were instructed that anything I ordered was to be obeyed and then the work began.
The idea of a telegraphic censorship was a new and irksome one to the great American people and just what it meant was hard to determine. Much has been written about "Press Censorship." That term was a misnomer. There neverwasan attempt tocensorthegreat American press. The newspapers were just as free to print as they were before the war started.All the censorship that existed was over the telegraph lines militarily occupied.A government officer was placed in charge and his word was absolute; he could only be overruled by General Greely, the Secretary of War or the President. It was his duty to watch telegrams, regulate the kind that were allowed to pass, and to see that no news was sent whereby the interests of the government or the safety of the army might suffer.
The instructions I received were general in their nature and in all specific cases arising, my judgment was to determine, and I want to remarkright here, the rapidity with which those specific cases would arise was enough to make a man faint. The first rule made was that cipher messages or those written in a foreign tongue were prohibited unless sent by a government official on public business. There were a few exceptions to this rule. For instance; many large business houses have telegraphic cipher codes for the transaction of business, and it was not the policy of the government to interfere in any manner with the commercial affairs of the country, so these messages were allowed to pass when the code book was presented to the censor and a sworn translation made in his presence. Spanish messages were transmitted only after being most carefully scanned and upon proof of the loyalty of the sender or receiver and a sworn translation. Not a single private message could be sent by any one, that in any way hinted at the time of the departure or destination of any ship or body of troops. Even officers about to sail away were not allowed to telegraph their wives and families. If they had a pre-arranged code, whereby a message could be written in plain English, there was no way to stop their transmission. Foreign messages were watched with eagle eyes and many and many a one was gently consignedto the pigeon hole, when the contents and meaning were not plain.
From Key West (which was shortly afterwards placed in my charge) there ran the cable to Havana, and this line was the subject of an extraordinarily strict espionage; not a message being allowed to pass over it that was not perfectly plain in its meaning. Mr. J. W. Atkins was sworn in as my assistant at Key West, and thus I had the whole state of Florida under my control. All the lines from the southern part of the state converge to Jacksonville, and not a message could go from a point within the state to one out of it without first passing under the scrutiny of either myself or one of my sworn assistants.
My office was in H. B. Plant's Tampa Bay hotel, and there, every day, from sevena. m.until twelve midnight, and sometimes one and two in the morning, I did my work. My own long experience as a practical telegrapher stood me in good stead and when any direct work was to be done with the White House in Washington, or any especially important messages were to be sent, I personally did the telegraphing. At the Executive Mansion was Colonel B. F. Montgomery, signal corps, in charge of the telegraph office, sowhen anything special passed, no one knew it but the colonel and myself.
The Tampa Bay hotel was at this time the scene of the most dazzling and brilliant gaiety. Shafter's 5th Corps was preparing for its Santiago campaign and each night many officers and their wives would meet in the hotel and pass the time away listening to the music of some regimental band or in pleasant conversation. Men who had not seen each other since the close of the great civil war renewed old acquaintances and spun reminiscences by the yard. Military attaches from all the countries of the world were daily arriving, and their gaudy uniforms added a dash of color to the already brilliant panorama. The bright gold of Captain Paget, the English naval attache, the deep blue of Colonel Yermeloff, who represented Russia, contrasted vividly with the blue and yellow of Japanese Major Shiska, and the scarlet and black of Count Goetzen of Germany. But prominent among all this moving panorama of color was the plain blue of the volunteer, and the brown khaki of the regular. My view of the scene was limited to fleeting glimpses from my office where I was nightly scanning messages, doing telegraphing or overlooking 30,000 or 40,000 words of correspondents' copy. Preparations forthe embarkation were going on with feverish haste, and orders were daily expected for the army to move.
There were at this time nearly two hundred newspaper correspondents scattered around through the hotel and in the various camps. They represented papers from all over the world, and were typical representatives of the brain and sinew of the newspaper profession, and were there to accompany the army when it moved. Such men as Richard Harding Davis, Stephen Bonsai, Frederick Remington, Caspar Whitney, Grover Flint, Edward Marshall, Maurice Low, John Taylor, John Klein, Louis Seibold, George Farman and Mr. Akers of the London papers, and scores of others. They were quick and active, intensely patriotic, alert for all the news, a "scoop" for them was the blood of life, and the censorship came like a wet blanket. In a small way I had been corresponding for a paper since the beginning of the war, but when the detail as censor came I gave it up as the two were incompatible.
CHAPTER XXVMORE CENSORSHIP
I must confess that I stood in awe of these newspaper chaps, because I knew my orders would incense them and if they took it into their heads to roast me my life would be made miserable for a good many days to come. But then in the army orders are made to be obeyed and I determined not to show partiality to any of them. It was to be "a fair field and no favor," so I sent word and asked them to meet me in the reading-room of the hotel at two o'clock that afternoon. They came garbed in all sorts of field uniform and I made a little speech telling what they might send and what was interdicted; I remarked that the work was as irksome to me as it was to them, but orders were orders and if they would live up to the fewsimplerules they would make my task much easier and save themselves lots of trouble. Nothing absolutely was to be sent, that would convey in any way an idea of the number of troops in Tampa, the time of arrival or departure of any number oftroops or ships, and above all, not a word was to be sent out as to when the 5th Army Corps was to sail. When I had finished one of the correspondents shook his head in a deprecatory way and said:
"Well, captain, we thought Lieutenant Miley (my predecessor) was bad enough but you can give him cards and spades and beat him out. You're certainly a hummer from the word go, and I reckon we'd better go home."
He had my sympathy but that was all. Every correspondent had a war department pass; these I examined and registered each man.
That night my fun commenced. At sixP. M.they began to file stuff, and armed with a big blue pencil I started to slash and when I finished, some of their sheets looked like a miniature football field, while their faces betokened blank amazement and intense disgust. Boiled down, the first night's batch of copy consisted of a glowing description of the new censor; this fiend whose weapon was a blue pencil—his glowing red whiskers—his goggle eyes, and his Titian-colored hair. One of them said:
"This afternoon the new censor stuck his head out of the window and the glow was so great from his red whiskers and auburn locks that the firedepartment was turned out. The latest report is that the censor was unquenched," and so on. They couldn't send any news so they sent me. Most of them were space writers and everything went. In many ways they tried to evade the rules; by insinuations, hints upon which a bright telegraph editor could raise an edifice with a semblance of truth, but the blue pencil generally got in its work before the dispatch reached the operator. I had two stamps made; one "O. K. for transmission," and the other, "REJECTED, file, do not return." Number one went on all messages for transmission and number two on all others. As I gaze at these relics now I see that number two has been used much more than its companion.
I had made it a rule that each paper maintaining a correspondent in Tampa was to furnish me with a copy of every edition of the paper. As a result, in a few days I had a mail that was stupendous. A clerk was on hand who read these papers, marking all things bearing a Tampa date line. Then I would read them and woe betide the correspondent whose paper contained contraband news from Tampa. Off went his head and his permit was recalled for a certain time as a punishment.
There never has been a line of sentinels sostrong but that some one could break through, and there was undoubtedly some leakage from Tampa, but to see news of actual importance from there was like hunting for a needle in a haystack. The mails carried out some, but even then the correspondents suffered. Two incidents may not be amiss.
One young chap whose keenness ran away with his judgment, brought me a stack of copy one night, almost every word of which was contraband. The blue pencil got in its work in great shape and then the "rejected" stamp put its seal of disapproval on the message and it was filed away with many others, that "were not dead, but sleeping." Mr. Correspondent muttered something about "a cussed red-headed censor who wasn't the pope and could be beaten" and walked away. I thought no more of the matter until about seven days thereafter when my clerk gave me a marked copy of the correspondent's paper, and there, big as life, under a Tampa date line was the rejected dispatch. He had left my office and mailed his story to a friend living up in Georgia, and it was telegraphed by him from there. You see, Georgia was beyond my jurisdiction. He had surely made a "scoop;" he had sown the wind and that night he reaped the whirlwind, because Ipromptly suspended him from correspondents' privileges, and forbade him the use of the wires. General Greely upheld me in this as in all other cases and for ten days I allowed him to ruminate over his offence, while his paper was cussing him out for failing to send in stuff. Then I restored him to his former status, first making him sign a pledge on honor that he would abide forever thereafter by the censorship rules.
Another young man who represented a Cincinnati daily, walked into the express office in Tampa one evening and gave the agent a package saying:
"Say, old chap, have your messenger running north to-night give this to the first operator after crossing the Georgia line and tell him to send it to my paper. It's a big scoop and I want to get it through."
Of course, the "old chap" was built just that way. He took the message and in five minutes it was reposing gently in my desk. I then quickly sent out a telegram to all my censors taking away the correspondent's privileges until further orders.
That night full of innocence—and beer—he walked into the Tampa city office and handed Censor Fellers a message for his paper, just as a sortof a bluff. Fellers grinned at him quietly said:
"Sorry, Mr. J—, but Captain B—has just suspended you from use of the telegraph until further orders."
In a very few minutes Mr. J—appeared at my office, blustering like a Kansas cyclone, and demanded to know why I had dared to treat him thus? I simply picked up his copy and showed it to him, saying:
"This is your handwriting, I believe, Mr. J—."
The props dropped out from under him and he said:
"Well, by thunder, you censor mail, telegraph and express; I reckon if I attempted to send anything by carrier pigeon you'd catch it and put that d—d old 'rejected' stamp on it."
"No," I replied, "but I might possibly use it on a mule."
In spite of his pleadings and promises he was hung up for ten days.
It must be said, however, that such men as these were rarities: most of the men, especially those representing the great dailies, were only too willing to abide by orders. They kicked hard—naturally and rightfully—because news that they were forbidden to send from Tampa was sent broadcastfrom Washington as coming from the war department. Oh! yes they kicked so much that it seemed as if my auburn locks would turn gray, but the protest was against the censorship in general and not against me. I was enough of a newspaper man to fully appreciate their position, and more than one message went from me to General Greely asking if Washington could not be censored as well as Tampa. No! Army officers had no power to stop the mouths of the high civil officials of the government, and so the dance went on.
And the managing editors would flood their correspondents with telegrams of inquiry as to why they did not send the news that daily came from Washington as having originated in Tampa; and the correspondents would come to me and I would endeavor to calm them down as best I could. Then, incidentally, the managing editors would take a fling at me personally, and I would receive a polite telegram of protest but to no avail.
Finally, one night the trouble culminated, and conjointly the correspondents sent a long telegram to General Greely asking if he could not right the seeming injustice. They did not mind being beaten in a fair field, but they did hate to be "scooped" by Washington correspondents whowere having an easy time. Almost every man signed the protest and then it was brought to me, and I quickly O. K'd. it. Shortly afterwards a number of them came to my office and assured me that it was not against me personally they were kicking, and Louis Seibold, of the New York World, sent General Greely a message saying:
"I don't like your blooming censor business one bit, but if you have to have it, you've got the best man for it in the army right here in Tampa," or words to that effect. Many others sent similar messages, but not quite so outspoken. General Greely appreciated their position and said so, but was unable to change the condition of affairs and so matters continued.
All this time feverish preparations were being made to rush off Shafter's expedition. June 7th was a very hard and trying day, and at six o'clock in the evening I had just seated myself for a hasty bite of dinner when a messenger came to me from the telegraph office saying that the White House wanted me at once. I went to the key and was informed that the President wanted to talk to Generals Miles and Shafter and that the greatest secrecy must be maintained. After sending word to the generals, I sent all the operators out of the office, closed the windows and turned down thesounder so that it could not be heardthree feet away. When General Shafter came in he had an officer stationed in the hall so that no one could approach in that direction. General Miles came in shortly afterwards and the door was closed. We all sat in front of the table, General Miles on my right, and General Shafter on the left. Lieutenant Miley of General Shafter's staff stood behind his chief. It was a scene long to be remembered. General Shafter was dressed in the plain blue army fatigue uniform, its strict sombreness being relieved only by the two gleaming silver stars on his shoulder straps. General Miles, the commanding general, was in conventional tuxedo dress, and looked every inch the gallant soldier and gentleman that he is. From the little telegraph instrument on the table ran a single strand of copper wire, out in the dark night, over the pine tops of Florida and Georgia, over the mountains of the Carolinas, and hills and vales of Virginia, into the Executive Mansion at Washington. In the office of the White House were the President, the Secretary of War, and Adjutant-General Corbin. The key there was worked by Colonel Montgomery, so if there ever was an official wire this was one.
When all was ready I told the White House to go ahead.
The first message was from the Secretary of War to General Shafter directing him to sail at once, as he was needed at the destination which was known at this time only to about five officers in Tampa. General Shafter replied that he would be ready to sail the next morning at daylight. Then, by the President's direction, a message was repeated that had been received from Admiral Sampson, saying he had that day bombarded the outer defenses of Santiago, and if ten thousand men were there the city and fleet would fall within forty-eight hours. The President further directed that General Shafter should sail as indicated by him with not less than ten thousand men. Then followed an interchange of messages, more or less personal in their nature, between the generals and the Washington contingent. Finally all was over and the line was cut off. The whole conversation lasted about fifty minutes, but the beginning of new history was started in that time and the curtain was going up on the grand drama of war. All the time this was going on I could hear faintly his strains of 'Auf Wiedersehn,' together with the merry jest of the officers and the light laughter of the women. Brave men, braver women—soontheir laughter was turned to tears and many of the officers who went out of the Tampa Bay hotel on that warm June night are now sleeping their last sleep, having given up their lives that their country's honor might live. The train carrying the headquarters to Port Tampa left at five o'clock in the morning. There was very little sleep that night and the next morning the big hotel was well nigh deserted. And all this time the destination of the fleet was unknown to all but those high in rank and myself.
CHAPTER XXVICENSORSHIP CONCLUDED
My own sleep on that night was limited to about two hours snatched between work, and the following morning was a very busy one. About once every hour I would report to the White House how things were progressing at the port. As the big transports received their load of living freight, one by one they would pull out in the stream and anchor, waiting until the time should come when all would be ready, and then like a big swarm they would pull out together. They did not sail at daylight; unexpected delays occurred, and eight, nine, ten, eleven and twelve o'clock passed and still they had not sailed, although the twelve o'clock report said they would be gone by twelve-thirty.
At one o'clock a messenger came hurriedly to me and said the White House wanted me at the key at once. When I answered, Colonel Montgomery said, "The President wants to know if you can stop that fleet?" Now the wire to Port Tampawas on a table right back of me and calling him with my left hand I said:
"Can you get General Miles or General Shafter?" and with my right hand I said to the President, "I'll try, wait a minute."
Then said the White House, "It is imperative that the fleet be stopped at once."
From Port Tampa, "No sir, I can't find General Miles or General Shafter."
I replied, "Have all the transports pulled out of the slip?"
"Yes sir, so far as I can see they are all gone."
From Washington, "Have you stopped the fleet?"
"Wait a minute—will let you know later, am trying now."
To Port Tampa, "Go out and find a tug and get this message to either General Miles or General Shafter, 'The President directs that you stop the sailing of Shafter's army until further orders.' Now fly."
Just then Port Tampa said, "Here comes General Miles now," and in a minute more the message was delivered and the fleet stopped. I then reported to the President:
"I have delivered your message to GeneralMiles and the fleet will not sail until further orders."
They came back wondering what had stopped them and that evening we learned of the appearance of the "Phantom" Spanish fleet in the Nicholas Channelheading westward. "Cervera wasn't bottled up in Santiago," said some, "and before morning he will be here and blow us out of the water." Great was the consternation and as a precaution all the ships were ordered back into the slip. It must be said, however, that General Milesnever had any idea that the Spanish fleet was approaching our shores.
The transport fleet was tied up and then followed six days of weary waiting, and the duties of the censor became more arduous than ever, and the utmost vigilance was exercised. Private messages were almost all hung up, in fact, very little else than government business was allowed to pass over the wires. And yet, every day for a week, copies of the daily papers that reached me had, under flaming headlines, the startling news that Shafter's fleet had sailed—destination—Havana, San Juan, Matanzas,—yes—even the Spanish coast. All this was announced from Washington, and made the correspondents snort; they made every excuse to let their papers know they werestill there. They wanted money, they wanted to send messages to their families, in fact, they wanted everything under the sun, but to no avail. Finally, on the 14th of June the army sailed away, filled with hope and courage, on their mission that resulted in victory for the American arms; but that was a foregone conclusion, while we less fortunate ones were left behind to pray for the success that we knew would be theirs.
The correspondents were all on the transport "Olivette," and just before they pulled out I sent them a message saying I would release the news that night about thesailing of the fleet only, and they might file their messages. They did in large numbers and here is where the joke came in. When the messages reached the papers they thought it was all a bluff to mislead the public, and many of them refused to publish the news, but the fleet had gone this time for certain. As late as two days afterwards I received messages from the managing editors of two of the greatest papers in the country, asking me if the fleet had really sailed. I assured them it had. One thing is certain, the destination of that fleet was a well-kept secret. Mr. Richard Harding Davis in his admirable book on the Cuban and Porto Rican Campaigns, says that credit is due the censor becauseit was so well kept. I am afraid that this is about the only good word the censor ever received from the said Mr. Davis.
The "Olivette," on which the correspondents sailed, was the last boat to leave Port Tampa. She left about six-thirtyP. M.in the glory of the setting sun of a tropical evening. About five-thirtyp. m.Mr. Edward Marshall, that prince of good fellows, who represented the New York Journal, came into my office to write a message for his paper, to be left with me and sent when the story was released. Marshall was a typical newspaper man and a thorough American, and had just returned from New York where he had been in attendance upon the sick-bed of his wife. He was very anxious to get his story written before he sailed. I knew the "Olivette" was about to pull out, and if he expected to go on her it was high time he was moving. As Port Tampa was nine miles away, I told him to fly and cut his story short or send it from Port Tampa. He thanked me and reached Port Tampa just in time to save being left. It was this same Edward Marshall who so daringly pushed to the front during the Guasimas fight of the Rough Riders, and was seriously wounded by a Mauser bullet near his spine. He was supposed to be dying, but true to hisnewspaper training and full of loyalty to his paper, he dictated a message to his journal between the puffs of a cigarette, when it was supposed each breath would be his last. But thank God he did not die, and now gives promise of many years of useful life. I have often thought if I had not warned him in time to go he would not have been shot; but then all war is uncertain, and in warning him I was only, "Doing unto others as I would be done by."
During all these stirring times just described there were two women correspondents, poor souls, who were indeed sad and lonely. They were very ambitious and wanted to go to Cuba with the army, but the War Department wisely forbade any such a move and then my trouble began. At all hours of the day or night I was pestered by these same women. One of them represented a Canadian paper and was most anxious to go. She tried every expedient and tackled every man or woman of influence that came along. Even dear old Clara Barton did not escape her importunities. She wanted to go as a Red Cross nurse, but didn't know anything about nursing. However, I reckon she was as good as some of the women who did go. She was an Irish girl with rich red hair, and as mine was of an auburn tinge we didn't getalong worth a cent. She didn't do much telegraphing but sent all of her stuff by mail. However, it was her intention to sendone telegramto her paper and "scoop" all the other chaps in so doing. She wrote a letter to her managing editor in Toronto and told him there was a censor down there who thought he could bottle up Florida as regards news, but she intended to outwit him. Particular attention was being paid so as to preserve the secrecy of the sailing day of Shafter's army. Cipher and code messages bearing on this occurrence were to be strictly interdicted. But that didn't make any difference to her; she could beat that game. So on the day the fleet actually sailed she would send a message to her paper saying, "Send me six more jubilee books." This would indicate that the fleet had really gone. Brilliant scheme from the brain of a very bright woman, but she lost sight of the fact that Messrs. Carranza and Polo y Bernabe were at that time in Canada spying on the United States, and that all the Canadian mail was most carefully watched. Such, however, was the case, and in a short time the contents of her letter were known to General Greely, and by him communicated to me. One evening Miss Correspondent was standing in thelobby of the Tampa Bay hotel surrounded by a group of her friends, when I approached and said:
"Excuse me, Miss J—, but I should like to speak to you for a moment."
"Well, what is it, pray? Surely you haven't anything to say but what my friends can hear, have you?" Sassy, wasn't she?
"Oh! well if that is the case?" I replied, "I am sorry to inform you that you are suspended from correspondent's privileges and from the use of the telegraph until further orders."
"And what for pray?"
"I don't just exactly know," I answered, "but I think it has something to do with sending you 'six more jubilee books' from Canada."
Well! she turned all the colors of the rainbow, and snapped out, "Goodness gracious! how did you—where did you hear that?"
I smiled politely and walked away. The next morning, shortly after I reached my office, a timid knock was heard at the door.
"Come in," I yelled, thinking it was a messenger boy. In walked Miss J——, woebegone, crestfallen and disheartened, with a letter of apology and explanation. I forwarded this to General Greely and kept her suspended for seven days.She never offended again, and the last I heard of her she was in Key West gazing with longing eyes towards the Pearl of the Antilles. She never reached there.
The other woman correspondent was different. She was an American widow, bright, dashing and vivacious. She had heard of the ogre of a censor; she would conquer him through his susceptibility. I'll admit that the censor in question was susceptible of some things—but not in business matters. One day she filed an innocent little telegram to her paper, saying, "For ice cream read typhoid." The operator glanced at it and said, "You'll have to get Captain B——'s O. K. on that message before I can send it."
She talked sweetly to him, but that didn't happen to be one of his "susceptible" days. Then she came to me, and as my "susceptibility" had run to a pretty low ebb I refused to permit the message to go on, on account of its hidden meaning.
"Oh, pshaw! Captain, I wrote a story for my paper and in it described the death of a man from the effects of eating too much ice cream, and now I learn that he died of typhoid fever."
I was pretty hard-headed that morning and couldn't assist the lady and she left the office vowingvengeance. The next edition of her paper contained the most charmingly sarcastic article about the red-headed, white-shoed censor I have ever seen, but I had become case-hardened by this time and did not mind it in the least.
It might be supposed that as soon as the army had sailed and the correspondents had gone, that the censorship duties would be lighter. They were, officially, but otherwise they became harder than ever. The army had gone, but the women had been left behind. The husbands were away—fighting—dying—while the wives were waiting with dry eyes and aching hearts for the news that would mean life or death to them. There were some forty wives, daughters, and sweethearts remaining in the Tampa Bay hotel, and to them the censor became a most interesting party. They knew that any news that came to Tampa would come through him, and they wanted it whether his orders would allow him to divulge it or not. Before, I had to contend with the importunities of zealous correspondents, now it was the longing eyes of sweet women whose hearts were breaking with suspense, whose lives had stood still since the 14th day of June when the fleet sailed away. Of the two, I would rather contend with the former.
The long and trying days dragged slowly by and still no news. Finally, on the 22nd of June, it was known that the army was landing; June 24th, the Guasimas fight of the cavalry division took place, and from that time on life was made miserable for me by importunate women. Many telegrams—yes, hundreds of them—came to me every day, and each time one of those cursed little yellow envelopes was put in my hands, if I happened to be in the lobby of the hotel, I could feel forty or fifty pairs of anxious eyes concentrated on me, as if to read from the expression of my face whether the news was good or bad. Colonel Michler of General Miles's staff was there, and if we should happen to be together talking, the women would surmise that the news was bad; and many times their surmises were just about right. One sweet little black-eyed woman always said she could tell from my face whether I was bluffing or not. July 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, were very gloomy days for we poor chaps who had been left behind—and for the women. We—they—knew the fight was on, that men were heroically dying, andwealso knew that the army was in a hard way. Strive as we might, no gleam of hope could be culled from the news of those three days. Cervera's fleet was still in the harbor of Santiago, andthe army not only had the Spanish troops to fight but the navy as well. Flesh and blood might stand the rain of Mauser bullets, but they could not stand rapid-fire guns and eight-inch shells. The third of July dragged by, and at eleven o'clock Colonel Michler retired for the night not feeling in a very pleasant frame of mind. The lobby was well nigh deserted, but Colonels Smith and Powell and a few more officers sat by one of the big open doors having a farewell smoke and chat before going to bed. At eleven-thirty I was standing by the desk talking to the clerk, when the night operator came charging out of the office and gave me a little piece of yellow paper. I quickly opened it and read, "Sampson entirely destroyed Cervera's fleet this morning." News like that, if true, was too good to keep, so I went into the telegraph office and had a wire cut through to the New York office and asked for a confirmation or denial of the report. They confirmed it and gave me the text of the official report. I bounded out in the hall and shouted out the glorious news at the top of my voice. Gloom was dispelled instanter, and joy reigned supreme. At just twelve o'clock midnight, we drank a toast to the army and navy, and to our country.
Santiago surrendered and the army went toPorto Rico only to be stopped in the midst of a most brilliant campaign by the signing of the protocol. The censorship was ended and willingly did I lay down the blue pencil and take up my sword.
CHAPTER XXVIICONCLUSION
I cannot refrain from concluding this little volume by a tribute to the telegraphers of the country.
It is but fifty-five years since Professor S. F. B. Morse electrified the civilized world by the completion of his electro-magnetic telegraph. Since that time great improvements have been made until now it is difficult to recognize in the delicate mechanisms of the relay, key, sounder, duplex, quad, and multiplex, the principle first promulgated in the old Morse register. Its influence was at once felt in all walks of life; it was an art to be an expert telegrapher. Keeping pace with the strides of advancing civilization, the telegraph has spread its slender wires, until now almost the entire world is connected by its magnetism. Away back in the early fifties when railroads and comforts were few, while danger and trials were plenty, these faithful knights of the key carried on their work under the most adverse circumstances. Since its first appearance it has manifestly been the possessor of millions of secrets,public and private. In times of joy you flash your congratulations to distant relatives or friends; in minutes of sorrow and tribulation, your message of sympathy is quickly carried as a balm to aching hearts; in the worries of business its use is of the most vital importance; and while you are peacefully slumbering on some swiftly moving railroad train the telegraph is one of the principal means of insuring a safe and speedy trip. Pick up your favorite daily paper—the one that is always reliable—read the market or press reports accurately printed, and then think that the telegraph does it all. Read news from foreign countries—from out-of-the-way places—and think of the miles of mountains, deserts, plains and valleys passed over; think of the slender cable down deep in the throbbing bosom of the ocean and of the little spark that brings the news to your door; and then reflect on the men whose abilities accomplish these results. Think of his work in the countries where it is so hot that it seems as if the land beyond the River Styx is at his elbow; in lands where it is always cold and the days and nights are long. In season and out; in times of death, pestilence and famine, with never a murmur, these sturdy, loyal men, and true-hearted women do their work. All these are incidents ofpeace. Now think, when war, grim-visaged and terrible, spreads its mighty power over the earth. What is responsible for the news of victory? What brings you the list you so anxiously scan of the dead and wounded? What means are employed by the subdivisions of the army in the field to keep in constant communication, so that they may act as the integral parts of an harmonious whole? In the late Spanish-American war what first brought news, authentic in character, to the Navy Department that Cervera with his doomed fleet was in Santiago harbor? And during the dark and trying days from June 22nd until July 14th, the telegraphers of the army—the signal corps men—were ceaseless and tireless in their efforts, and as a result within five minutes of its being sent, a message would be in Washington. While the army slept they worked, without any regard to self or comfort. And to-day in the far-off Philippine islands they are still striving with the best results. The telegraphers are honest, loyal, patriotic men—a little Bohemian, perhaps, in their tastes—and deserve a better recognition for the good work they do.
"30""Filed, 2:35a. m.""Received, 2:43a. m."