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Our Last Skirmish in Las Villas 149
how many, — and as for the dead, of those who fell
on the field, or had died of wounds during the night,
it was said that they threw them into the farmhouse
and the adjoining sheds before they broke camp,
and made a bonfire of it all — a method they have
of concealing their losses.
We went into camp at noon on a savanna bordering the Sagua river, where a cow-shed served as
Gomez' headquarters. Here we were joined by the
two troops who had carried on the skirmishes from
the palm grove on the day before. Scattered
among the palms, they had kept up firing until sunset without losing a single man, and then they had
crossed the Villa Clara road and camped in the
thick of the forest beyond.
Here for the first time since leaving Marto's camp,
I was able to take a bath. I had been suffering
from a constant itching, beyond that caused by any
parasites I had ever known, and I settled down to
the belief that I was attacked by some horrible skin
disease. On taking off my flannel shirt, for the first
time in two weeks, I found it full of a kind of insect
that I had never seen before. They were much
larger than bedbugs, though similar in appearance.
I showed them to a trooper who was washing his
horse in the river, and he said they were the terrible
caranjanos that Cubans say were brought from Spain
by the Spanish soldiers.
The only way to get rid of them is to boil every
article of clothing. So, without specifying for what
purpose, I borrowed a leaky tin pail used for cooking potatoes, and rode from camp with Alfredo. I
boiled my wardrobe secretly, and from that day I
| Title | Marching with Gomez |
| Creator | Flint, Grover |
| Publisher | Lamson, Wolffe and company |
| Place of Publication | Boston, New York [etc.] |
| Date | 1898 |
| Language | eng |
| Type | Books/Pamphlets |
| Title | 00000192 |
| Type | Books/Pamphlets |
| Transcript | Our Last Skirmish in Las Villas 149 how many, — and as for the dead, of those who fell on the field, or had died of wounds during the night, it was said that they threw them into the farmhouse and the adjoining sheds before they broke camp, and made a bonfire of it all — a method they have of concealing their losses. We went into camp at noon on a savanna bordering the Sagua river, where a cow-shed served as Gomez' headquarters. Here we were joined by the two troops who had carried on the skirmishes from the palm grove on the day before. Scattered among the palms, they had kept up firing until sunset without losing a single man, and then they had crossed the Villa Clara road and camped in the thick of the forest beyond. Here for the first time since leaving Marto's camp, I was able to take a bath. I had been suffering from a constant itching, beyond that caused by any parasites I had ever known, and I settled down to the belief that I was attacked by some horrible skin disease. On taking off my flannel shirt, for the first time in two weeks, I found it full of a kind of insect that I had never seen before. They were much larger than bedbugs, though similar in appearance. I showed them to a trooper who was washing his horse in the river, and he said they were the terrible caranjanos that Cubans say were brought from Spain by the Spanish soldiers. The only way to get rid of them is to boil every article of clothing. So, without specifying for what purpose, I borrowed a leaky tin pail used for cooking potatoes, and rode from camp with Alfredo. I boiled my wardrobe secretly, and from that day I |
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