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Full text of "In memoriam; C. Rodman Jones, born Aug. 14, 1875, died June 25,1909"

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BORN AUGUST 14, 1875 
DIED JUNE 25, 1909 



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C. Rodman Jones, January, 1904 Frontispiece 

Lieutenant C. Rodman Jones at the Presidio, October 15, 
1899 18 

Lieutenant C. Rodman Jones on a " Hike " in the Philip- 
pines, June, 1900 28 

Lieutenant C. Rodman Jones in his Quarters at Batangas, 

May, 1902 38 

Lieutenant C. Rodman Jones, First Cavalry U.S.A., at 
Batangas, July, 1902 48 

3to JWemortam 

WHILE it is true that the credit for the 
victory belongs by common consent to 
the man who has the greater number of 
stars upon his shoulder-straps, it is equally true 
that the battle could not have been fought and 
won but for the valor of those who, though of 
lesser rank, also wore shoulder-straps, and swords 
at their sides (unless they had drawn them), or 
of those who carried a musket. If we are looking 
about for the foundation stones upon which the 
fabric is reared, we shall find them here. Where 
is their memorial? Even the brightest deeds will 
sink into comparative obscurity, even in the time 
of those who looked on them, unless some pains 
are taken to record them, so as to recall them to 
the view of men. This narrative is none the less 
fitting because there have been wars upon a much 
larger scale, in which more gunpowder was shot 
away, more blood shed, and in which, apparently, 
far greater things were at stake; though if we 
look far enough into the future, it may turn out 
not to be so. In its way, however, it stands out 


quite alone among the records of military affairs. 
Nor is it the less fitting because the subject of it 
was a young officer of lesser rank. In military 
matters the qualities of an officer, according to 
his opportunities, may unfold themselves as well, 
and as valiant deeds be done, in smaller arenas and 
in lower rank as in the larger and higher ones. 
The quality may exist where the quantity is ab- 
sent. The best that can be expected of a soldier, 
no matter what his station, is that he deal credit- 
ably with the facts that are around him. When 
he has done that, he has given sanction to the 
record of his deeds. Milton has even said that 
"they also serve who only stand and wait." 

Charles Rodman Jones was born in Phila- 
delphia, Pennsylvania, and received his educa- 
tion at the well-known primary school of Miss 
Haven, on Pine Street below Broad, the Episcopal 
Academy, and the William Penn Charter School. 

In 1897 he made a pleasure tour along the east 
coast of Africa, visiting the towns of East London, 
Durban, Beira, Mozambique, and Zanzibar, and 
returned by the Suez Canal and Italy. He pre- 
ferred a comfortable state-room in a sailing ves- 
sel out of New York, and had been out of sight of 
land for three months when he landed in South 

When the Spanish-American War broke out, in 
the spring of the following year (now less than 
twelve years ago, and well within the memory of 


every one), there was a patriotic sweep that drew 
into the current the active, enthusiastic, and 
patriotic youth of the time. It was their answer 
to the call of their country. These calls, as a rule, 
fall upon ears that are too dull to hear, so that 
the few who do respond come rightly by the 
admiration and respect that are so liberally be- 
stowed upon them, and it is one reason why 
these are so bestowed. 

Among those who answered this call was C. 
Rodman Jones, a young man just starting out in 
life, then in his twenty- third year, who promptly 
enlisted in Company D, First Regiment of the 
National Guard of Pennsylvania. There was no 
time or opportunity to consider a commission, so 
he entered the ranks, and served there until he was 
honorably mustered out at the close of the war. 

At the time of his enlistment he occupied a 
position with the United Gas Improvement Com- 
pany, one of the largest corporations in Phila- 
delphia, which agreed to keep his place open for 
him if he should return. 

He began his service with the First Regiment 
in camp at Mount Gretna, Pennsylvania, and 
from there he was transferred with the regiment 
to the camp of the United States Army at Chicka- 
mauga National Park in Georgia. On their way 
there, flowers and trinkets were strewn in their 
path at almost every railway station. 

While at Chickamauga he was detailed to head- 
quarters by Major-General Brooke, who com- 


manded the army, and was appointed by him a 
mounted orderly upon his staff. A virulent form 
of fever was prevalent in the camp at Chicka- 
mauga, and while Mr. Jones was on the way to 
Porto Rico with General Brooke he was taken ill 
with this fever, which he had contracted in the 
camp, and was confined by it to a bed of suffering 
for over eight weeks. He always recalled with 
gratitude the attention he received from General 
Brooke while he was with him during the early 
stages of this fever, who every morning sent him 
flowers from the store which the citizens showered 
upon him during the journey. He was so sick, 
as his comrades reported, that he was indifferent 
to the demonstrations they met with, during their 
progress toward Porto Rico, from the young 
ladies and others who had assembled at the rail- 
way stations as they passed. His gallantry was 
such that this would have been impossible if he 
had not been utterly prostrated. 

As is well known, the United States by the 
treaty of peace with Spain acquired the Philip- 
pine Islands, in the antipodes, between the fourth 
and twentieth degrees of north latitude, over ten 
thousand miles from Pennsylvania, inhabited by 
an infinite variety of treacherous, half-civilized 
tribes and mixed races (mestizos) speaking an 
infinite variety of languages of doubtful ety- 
mology, unfriendly to each other, and none of 
them in sympathy with the United States. The 


heavy yoke of Spain had been removed from 
their necks as an incident of the Spanish-Ameri- 
can War, and they were unwilling to bear what 
they considered to be another. They were not 
capable of understanding how beneficent and 
beneficial the rule of the United States would be. 
They therefore declared their independence, or- 
ganized a republican form of government, and 
were in open and armed hostility to the sover- 
eignty of the United States. Manila was the only 
place in the islands where the authority of the 
United States was supreme. The islands were 
distant — on the extreme other side of the Pacific 
Ocean, mountainous, volcanic, malarious, poorly 
adapted to military operations, with practically 
no internal improvements, and the problem of 
suppressing the insurrection was a formidable, 
complex, and most difficult one. The United 
States had suddenly and unexpectedly, as the 
result of the war, become a world-power, and this 
problem was watched with interest by all the 
nations of the earth, with varied opinions as to 
the prospect of its successful solution. The regu- 
lar army was entirely too small to undertake the 
task, and volunteer regiments were called into the 
service of the United States for that purpose, 
under the act of Congress approved March 2, 1899. 
It was a call to the patriotism of the young men 
of the country under an unusual condition of 
affairs, in a peculiar crisis in the history of the 
country when their services were needed. Hav- 


ing undertaken the task, it was important to the 
honor of the country that it should be successfully- 

To this call young Mr. Jones, undaunted by the 
discouraging experience he had already had in 
the service during the Spanish-American War, 
promptly responded, and at the age of twenty- 
three accepted a commission offered him by Presi- 
dent McKinley as lieutenant in the 28th Volun- 
teer Infantry in the service of the United States. 
He was one of the youngest officers in the army. 
He was ordered to Fort Myer, and from there to 
Camp Meade, near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, 
where his regiment was organized in July, 1899. 
At this point they began the making of history. 

The greatest care was exercised in the selection 
of the men for this regiment, from among those 
who were sent to Camp Meade from the recruiting 
stations. The regiment was in command of Lieu- 
tenant-Colonel Robert W. Leonard — the colonel, 
William E. Birkhimer, who was a graduate of 
West Point, being then in the Philippines. The 
majors of the First and Second battalions were 
also graduates of West Point and officers in the 
regular army. 

The two months spent at Camp Meade were 
profitably and assiduously employed in the hard 
work of training, organizing, drilling, and dis- 
ciplining the regiment in preparation for the cam- 
paign in the Philippines that was before them. 
This was made less difficult, however, by the fact 


that many of the men had been soldiers before. 
At the end of the time the regiment had attained 
a high degree of efficiency. A week or ten days 
of this time was spent by each battalion in target 
practice at Mount Gretna. Lieutenant Jones was 
an officer of Company H in the Second Battalion, 
of which Elmore F. Taggart, a graduate of West 
Point and an officer in the regular army, was 

On Monday, September 25, 1899, the regiment 
left Camp Meade for San Francisco, in a train 
composed of three sections, each section carry- 
ing a battalion. On its way the Second Battalion 
left the train for exercise parade at Indianapolis, 
Kansas City, Cheyenne Wells (Kansas), Rawlins 
(Wyoming), Ogden (Utah), and Terrace (Nevada), 
looking spick-and-span, for in this respect the 
28th had been particular. At each of these 
towns they were received with enthusiasm, and 
were much admired on their march for their 
soldierlike appearance. It was almost like a trium- 
phant march across the continent. 

They reached San Francisco on Monday, Octo- 
ber 2, after a railway journey of upwards of 
thirty-three hundred miles, and after a long march 
through the streets went into camp at the Presidio, 
where they remained for over three weeks, wait- 
ing for their transportation, and spending most of 
their time in practice at the target range. 

On Thursday, October 26, the regimental head- 
quarters, staff, band, and the First and Second 


battalions embarked on board the army trans- 
port "Tartar" for the Philippines. They arrived 
at Honolulu early in the morning of November 3, 
and after a parade through this beautiful town, 
for exercise, continued their voyage at half past 
seven on the following evening, along the tropical 
latitude of the Philippines, with their horizon ever 
moving further and further from home. 

Day after day for seven weeks the routine, 
instruction, and experience of military life went 
unremittingly on within the walls of this army 
transport — a great floating barracks tossed about 
by the sea. Around them was nothing but the 
never-changing open ocean. Though it was in 
the late fall, they were dressed in their summer 
uniforms, for the climate was warm. The future 
to which they were constantly drawing nearer 
was a blank to them. It suggested nothing to 
their minds that they could connect with the 
past. Everything — climate, people, country — was 
strange and unfamiliar, but it awakened a cer- 
tain curiosity in them as to how the troublous 
times there in that future were to be settled down, 
how they were to bring order out of the chaos 
that was there with the force they were carrying 
with them. They had heard a good deal about it. 
They understood their mission. They knew it 
was not an easy one; but above all they knew 
that the whole atmosphere there was darkened 
by the ignorance and brutality of the purblind, 
inferior people who lived in it, and that it was the 


mission of the Government they served to make 
it better. This was elevating — was uplifting to 
the brave spirits that had undertaken the task, 
worthy of the respect of those who are able to 
understand. As for the rest, men like these have 
little concern. 

At last from the "crow's-nest" were dimly 
discerned the outlines of the coast of Luzon. So 
the "Tartar" with its reinforcements cast anchor 
in Manila Bay, where Dewey's fleet had lain, at 
eight o'clock on Wednesday morning, November 
22. The troops were kept on board for two days, 
when they were taken ashore in lighters and 
marched for about a mile through the strange 
streets of Manila to the old barracks of Cuartel de 
Meisic, where, within the same walls that had for 
so many years enclosed the vanished legions of 
old Spain, they passed their first night on Philip- 
pine soil. What a night it must have been! It 
was the turning-point to which their preparation 
had led up, and at which their hard experience 
was to begin. The 28th Infantry had become 
part of the army in the Philippines. 

Their arrival had been anxiously awaited, and 
no time for relaxation after their long voyage was 
allowed them. They did not ask or expect any. 
A soldier at such a time and in such a place could 
expect none. They were there ready for duty, and 
anxious to be assigned to it. At noon of the very 
next day (the 25th), under orders from the De- 
partment commander, they were hurried, equipped 


for the field, to Bacoor, a little town on the 
south side of Manila Bay, twelve miles from 
Manila, in the province of Cavite, the place of 
greatest distinction and importance, where the 
insurgents were in force, bold and aggressive. 
The Second Battalion was transported in cascoes 
towed by steam launches across the waters where 
Dewey's battle had been fought, and waded 
ashore at Bacoor about ten o'clock that night. 
They were now at the front, as Cavite Province 
was defiantly held by the insurgent forces. It 
was the home of Aguinaldo, the President of the 
Philippine Republic. It had always been trouble- 
some to Spain, as the most intelligent of her 
restless and refractory Philippine subjects lived 
there, and it was the place where all the revolu- 
tionary plots in the islands had been hatched. 
It was now regarded as the stronghold of the 
insurgents, where their best organized and best 
equipped troops were stationed. These troops, 
by reason of their superiority, went by the name 
of "Bon Cavite." The enemies' lines were just 
outside Bacoor, and when Lieutenant Jones was 
sent out late that night on outpost duty toward 
Big Bend, he found himself within the sound of 
their bugle calls and the fire of their sharp-shooters. 
On December 6, with his company, he moved 
his station further out from Bacoor to Big Bend, 
where he remained performing outpost duty until 
General Wheaton, the brigade commander, was 
ready to order the advance into the interior 

October 15, 1899 


toward the south. There were skirmishes about 
the town of Imus, three miles below, in which 
Lieutenant Jones was engaged, and in which the 
insurgents were held in check. 

The sanitary conditions of the country were 
bad, and small-pox was prevalent about Imus and 
Bacoor. Tropical birds, fruits, animals, vermin, 
and vegetation were abundant on every hand. 
The little brown natives chattered in a foreign 
tongue, and everything was as alien and unfamil- 
iar to an American as it was possible for it to be. 
The little, low, unsubstantial buildings were con- 
structed to withstand the shock of earthquakes, 
which were frequent, and the only buildings that 
were at all imposing were those of the Catholic 
Church, which through centuries of untiring effort 
had brought the natives under absolute subjec- 
tion and control. 

Among these contrasted surroundings Lieu- 
tenant Jones passed his first Christmas of the 
campaign sadly enough. 

The cunning insurgents, in view of these aggres- 
sive movements on the part of the 28th Infantry, 
and impressed by the gravity of the situation, had 
intrenched themselves strongly and skilfully in 
advantageous positions in the woods below Imus 
and at Putol. They were brave and well uni- 
formed, organized, and equipped. Many of their 
officers had been educated in Europe, and were as 
competent as their limited capacity would admit. 
There were also among them deserters from the 


ranks of American troops that had previously 
been in the Philippines. 

When the order came to advance, on Sunday, 
January 7, the Second Battalion, followed by the 
Third, marched out the Dasmarinas road, the 
band playing an air called "There will be a hot 
time in the old town to-night." They must have 
had plenty of time, and it would seem quite 
natural for them as they marched along, to adjust 
their minds to the gravity of the duty that lay 
before them and to reflect upon what the outcome 
of it was to be ; and notwithstanding the affecta- 
tion of levity in the air that was played by the 
band, the silence, no doubt, was only broken by 
the heavy, even tread of those two battalions 
marching to the time of the music along that 
Dasmarinas road. To one who is not a soldier this 
would seem to be an occasion of much solemnity. 

The Second Battalion, as they neared the 
enemy, deployed to the left, and the Third to 
the right, leaving the road clear for the artillery. 
They had formed in line of battle, and on they 
marched steadily into the range of the enemy's 
guns. Suddenly there came from the woods a 
terrific fire and the whizzing sound of thousands 
of bullets flying over their heads. They did not 
falter. Quickly the orders flew, and the men of 
the two battalions, throwing themselves down, 
brought their rifles to their shoulders, and with 
unerring aim this terrific fire was returned. The 
enemy outnumbered them three or four to one, 


and were confident and defiant. Their vanity 
had led them to believe they could turn back this 
advancing column. For many hours this battle, 
known as the battle of Tancanluma, raged fiercely. 
Lieutenant Jones was in the thickest of it. He 
lost one of his men within a few paces of him. 
Volley after volley was exchanged in quick suc- 
cession. A few of the Americans fell, but the 
whole line held its ground, with the support of 
the artillery, against this terrific fire from the 
enemy's intrenched position. The 28th Infantry 
had been well trained in marksmanship, as we 
have seen, and as time went on the heads along 
the intrenchments disappeared. Toward evening, 
after the battle had lasted for hours, the order 
came to charge, and with a loud shout the two 
battalions rushed forward with flashing bayonets, 
stormed the earthworks, and drove the insurgents 
before them, passing as they did so over the 
bodies of their dead and wounded. The insur- 
gent loss was 85 killed and 57 wounded. It was a 
hard-fought fight and a gallant victory. Its 
result had an important bearing upon the fate of 
the insurrection and the ultimate pacification of 
the Philippines. It and the battle of Putol, 
fought the same day in the same neighborhood 
by the First Battalion, were the most serious 
battles fought in the Philippines during the insur- 
rection, not excepting the battle of Manila. 

As Lieutenant Jones went over the intrench- 
ments at Tancanluma at the head of his men, he 


was confronted by the figure of an insurgent 
leaning firmly against the breastwork, with his 
rifle at his shoulder pointed directly at him. 
When, however, Lieutenant Jones rushed at this 
bold and apparently mortal antagonist, he dis- 
covered that the man was dead. 

His major, who had been at San Juan, and who 
was in command of the troops that day, in writ- 
ing of this battle to his wife afterwards, referred to 
the bravery displayed by Lieutenant Jones. He 
said he had observed his behavior throughout the 
entire action, and it had been "like that of a 

Lieutenant Jones afterwards wrote modestly of 
this battle as follows: "We started across the 
rice-fields, sinking up to our knees in the mud in 
some places and fording small streams. The in- 
trenchments of the enemy were in the woods, and 
we were in the open, and we were at once sub- 
jected to a heavy fire. Our men were ordered to 
lie on their faces, and volley after volley was fired. 
The bullets whizzed over us; one struck within 
two feet of me, another tore up the ground right 
at my foot. One of my men, Williams, was mor- 
tally wounded within two paces of me. I helped 
him to the rear, the bullets flying over our heads 
all the while. Finally we charged the intrench- 
ments and carried them, passing over the bodies 
of their dead and wounded. Night had come on, 
and after the insurgents had scattered we threw 
ourselves on the ground we had fought so hard for, 


and soon were sound asleep, dreaming of our far 
away homes and the loved ones there. We were 
up bright and early the next morning, and con- 
tinued our march, after a little hardtack and 
coffee, until we raised the American flag over 
Perez Dasmarinas." 

Some people keep anniversaries of less impor- 
tant events in their lives, or possibly may make of 
it a day of thanksgiving. 

A few weeks before, word had been brought 
into the insurgent camps that these troops which 
had just landed at Bacoor were volunteers, and 
this was freely circulated among them as good 
news in a way that was encouraging to the insur- 
gents and disparaging to the volunteers. That is 
one reason why these Filipinos felt so confident 
they could turn them back. But after the battles 
of Tancanluma and Putol they changed their 
minds, and the impression became general among 
them that this sort of volunteer was, if anything, 
more dangerous than the regular of whom they 
had heard, or with whom they had been ac- 

The over whelming and decisive defeat of the 
insurgents at the battles of Tancanluma and Putol 
practically put an end to organized warfare on 
the part of the insurgents. They broke up after 
that into small bands and took refuge in the 
mountains. The struggle became that most try- 
ing form of military service known as guerrilla 
warfare, in which the enemy attacks stealthily 


and is ever elusive. In this the Filipinos found 
their mountain fastnesses most formidable allies. 
They would not come out where these troops 
could get at them. They considered that too 
dangerous. It was necessary to go after them, 
no matter where they were, and to disperse them 
wherever they could be found. This mode of war- 
fare imposed upon the American troops one con- 
tinuous succession of forced marches and recon- 
noitring and scouting expeditions against this 
elusive enemy armed with rifles and bolos, some- 
times through swamps and rice-fields, across the 
fords of swift rivers and creeks, through jungles, 
and over almost impassable mountains, in the inces- 
sant downpour of the rainy season or under the 
scorching rays of a tropical sun. In these " hikes," 
as they were called, the troops were ever exposed 
to ambush, and suffered from exposure, exhaus- 
tion, homesickness, and the want of proper 
nourishment, which often caused them to pass 
many feverish nights in the hospitals. 

Though the organized power of the insurgents 
was broken, the scattered fragments of their 
army, well equipped, were still in the mountains, 
with their lines of communication open. The 
provinces of Cavite and Batangas were therefore 
in a very unsafe, unsettled, and turbulent condi- 

While the Third Battalion, with the head- 
quarters of the 28th, remained at Dasmarinas to 
hold the ground there, it was thought wise to 


send the First Battalion down to Taal, on the 
southern coast of Luzon, and the Second Battal- 
ion on long marches across the rough country to 
Calamba, at the foot of Laguna de Bay, and back 
again to Naic and Nasugbu, on the coast of the 
China Sea, for the purpose of beating up the insur- 
gents before the battalion went to its long base of 
operations at Balayan. 

After remaining on active duty at Dasmarinas 
for twelve days, therefore, Lieutenant Jones made 
the hard march of forty-five miles with his bat- 
talion to Calamba. They left Dasmarinas in the 
evening, and marched all night through this 
trackless wilderness. The country over which 
the line of their march lay was a wild and diffi- 
cult one. Rough mountain ranges and deep 
ravines ran directly across their path. Through 
these ravines rivers and smaller streams, filled with 
great boulders, ran down into Laguna de Bay. 
There were no roads, and the mountain trails were 
difficult and poorly defined, so they had to find 
their way up the steep mountain-sides and down 
into these deep ravines as best they could. Though 
these mountains over which they passed were full 
of armed insurgents, they were so scattered and 
demoralized by their recent crushing defeat that 
they did not attempt to molest the troops, being 
apparently perfectly well satisfied to keep out of 
their way. 

The Second Battalion remained as the garrison 
of Calamba, with all the incidents of garrison life 


in time of war in the enemy's country (in which 
Lieutenant Jones bore his full part), for ten days, 
when they resumed their march back across 
Cavite Province to the town of Naic. On this 
march they passed through the towns of Cabuyas, 
Santa Rosa, Binan, Carmonia, Silang, and In- 
dang. After a weary and vigilant march of forty 
miles, which occupied the greater part of three 
days, they reached Naic, where they performed 
garrison duty, with scouting expeditions into the 
neighborhood, for fifteen days, and then continued 
their march by the way of Magallenes to Nasugbu. 
This latter part of their march was a particularly 
rough and fatiguing one, over the passes and 
ravines of the Alfonso range of mountains and 
through perilous defiles that could have been held 
by almost a squad of insurgents ; and this country 
along the coast of the China Sea, into which they 
were marching, was the hot-bed of insurgents and 

These battles had been fought and these long 
and exhausting marches had been made by these 
troops without their baggage. Their campaign- 
ing had been so rapid and difficult for nearly three 
months that they could not carry it with them, 
but were obliged to leave it behind at Manila in 
the hold of the transport. 

The exhausting march from Naic to Nasugbu (a 
distance of thirty-eight miles) covered three days, 
and was made under the rays of a fearfully hot sun. 

"Toward evening of the second day," wrote a 


newspaper correspondent at that time, "they 
reached the banks of the pretty little river Amaya, 
where they concluded to bivouac for the night, 
and enter Nasugbu in the morning. Lieutenant 
Jones was placed in command of the outpost. 
While visiting the outpost, Lieutenant Jones made 
discoveries which led him to believe the enemy 
was near and about to attack. Although his 
patrol numbers but eight men (one squad), he 
continued to the furthermost outpost, to warn 
the brave fellows of the danger and call them into 
the picket line. He was within two hundred 
yards of the outpost when the attack came. The 
firing was hard and fierce. Instead of falling back 
for reinforcements, he took in with a glance the 
line of flashing guns, and noted that the line of 
fire was rapidly extending around the exposed 
outpost. With a quick 'Steady, fellows! Come 
on!' he advanced double time toward the right 
of the exposed outpost. Reaching the point, he 
ordered his squad to pour in rapid volleys, in the 
darkness, low and hard, at the flashing line of 
fire. The enemy, surprised, wavered, when the 
intrepid lieutenant dashed forward, calling loudly, 
'Companies forward, double time, march!' The 
insurgents, bent only on annihilating the outpost, 
thinking a couple of companies were coming, gave 
one volley and turned and ran. The lieutenant's 
audacity had saved the day with only eight 
men." The sound of this firing aroused the dis- 
tant camp, but as it soon subsided, they were able 


to return, without knowing the cause of it, to 
their much-needed rest. 

It requires but little assistance from the im- 
agination to understand what it means to bear 
the responsibility of guarding a sleeping camp 
through the night, as commander of the outpost, 
in the country of such an enemy as this. 

When they reached the ruins of Nasugbu, 
which, before the Spaniards had burned it, was 
the flourishing centre of the sugar district, the 
camp was pitched on the plaza. Lieutenant Jones 
remained here with his company for nineteen 
days, doing outpost duty and patrolling the sur- 
rounding country. During these long scouts, 
many of which were made on the native ponies, 
numbers of insurgents were killed or captured, 
with arms and ammunition. 

The condition of the Philippines at that time 
appears from the following letter, written by 
Lieutenant Jones from Naic in February, 1900: 

" The situation in the Philippines is better now 
than it has been at any time since the American 
troops landed, though it is still very grave. It 
will improve very slowly hereafter, and it will 
take many years before the islands are paci- 
fied. There is no organized insurgent army in the 
field anywhere, but the insurgents still hold their 
arms, which are carefully concealed, and though 
disguised under the name of amigos, they are still 
hostile, and ready to take up arms against us at 
any time. They are only kept in subjection now 



























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by the presence of the American army. They do 
not realize that this occupation is a blessing 
instead of a curse. They do not realize that they 
are utterly unfit to govern themselves. They are 
a poor, deluded people. In time this will all be 
changed, but many years of Spanish oppression 
has made these people suspicious and hostile. 
We have been fighting them with a rifle in one 
hand and an olive branch in the other, but they 
do not appreciate it. None of us feel safe at 
any time against their treachery. 

" I have had ample opportunities for observing 
the character of civil government established in 
the interior by the Americans. I have formed 
part of the garrison of three towns, Perezdas- 
marinas, Calamba, and Naic, and have either 
visited or rested while on long marches in a dozen 
more. The first and only consideration in every 
case is the native Filipino and his welfare. The 
commanding officers are selected for their special 
fitness to administer these governments; are ac- 
complished officers of the regular army, and many 
of them have had experience in Puerto Rico and 
Cuba. These governments are uniformly wise and 
liberal, and not in the least degree oppressive. 
Uniform justice is meted out to every one. Yet 
the people are restless, suspicious, and unfriendly. 
This is only because they are deceived by their 
leaders, who do not hesitate to invent any story 
that will prejudice them against the Americans 
and to grossly misrepresent. 


"No one can be an observer of affairs in the 
Philippines long without being satisfied what a 
blessing to the Filipinos this American occupation 
is. If it were not for the influence of these leaders, 
very many of the natives would soon become truly 
friendly to the Americans. But most of them are 
civilized to a very limited degree; are ignorant 
and superstitious, with no knowledge of the out- 
side world except such as they have derived 
through the Spanish. The American army in 
Luzon is now large enough to hold and garrison 
all the captured towns, and if the natives were 
left to themselves in the security which our troops 
afford them, they would accept and realize the 
blessings of American rule. But the hostile Tagals 
come and go freely among them, in the disguise of 
amigos, and keep their prejudices constantly 
aroused by their appeals and misrepresentations. 
If it were not for the protection of the American 
troops, they would murder those who had shown 
friendship for the Americans for the purpose of 
terrorizing those who will not be persuaded. The 
Tagals do not realize that their cause is lost. 
They are still hopeful that the tide may yet turn 
in their favor. As a rule they are ignorant, cred- 
ulous, with less education than the average Ameri- 
can child of ten or twelve years of age, and are 
easily prejudiced and influenced by their leaders. 

"The Catholic Church has a strong hold upon 
these people, and they are very superstitious. 
A hostile Tagal can pass with perfect freedom, 


under the guise of an amigo, from the American 
lines into the insurgent lines, and carry any infor- 
mation to and fro he may see fit, and they carry 
false stories of the most heinous atrocities com- 
mitted by American troops. These Tagals have 
among them many leaders who have been fairly 
well educated in foreign countries, and they 
have great influence over the masses. This is 
the greatest difficulty that confronts the Ameri- 
cans. If these leaders could be removed, the 
difficulty of pacifying these people would be very 
much simplified. As it is, if the garrisons were 
withdrawn from the towns, Manila included, an 
American would not be safe there for five minutes. 
The insurgent army is now broken up into small 
bands, who carry on an irregular warfare from 
the mountains with which these volcanic islands 
abound. These are supplemented by the lawless 
classes who have no higher object than plunder. 
They are nothing less than highwaymen, or la- 
drones, as they are called here, and they give our 
troops plenty to do. It will require the invest- 
ment of American capital, the building of rail- 
roads, and other internal improvements to entirely 
eradicate this evil. These ladrones lie in wait, 
and try to ambush wagon trains, or the wagons 
of the natives who carry on trade between the 
army in the interior and Manila. If the leaders 
were out of the way and the ladrones were sum- 
marily punished, the process of civilizing and 
developing the Philippines would go on much 


more rapidly. The masses would exchange their 
arms for the blessings of the good government 
the Americans are giving them, and these islands 
which have been stained with the blood of so 
many of our brave soldiers would soon nourish 
under our control, and become one of our most 
valuable possessions." 

Each battalion contained four companies, and 
from Nasugbu Lieutenant Jones with his com- 
pany preceded the other three companies of the 
battalion over a very difficult country to Bala- 
yan, situated eighteen miles below on the bay of 
that name, on the southern coast of the island of 
Luzon. This town was to become the base of 
their active operations for seven months. The 
region about it was considered the most trouble- 
some district in the island. Their post was shut 
off from the outside world, communication with 
Manila, which was almost entirely by water, 
being irregular and infrequent. The insurgents 
thereabout were called "South Liners," as dis- 
tinguished from those of the north, and were 
considered to be the hardest fighters in the 

The country was filled with treacherous bands 
of these insurgents and of ladrones, as the high- 
waymen or brigands were called. It was not safe 
for officers or men to go out alone. It may be 
recalled that at that time many officers who had 
ventured but a short distance from their quarters 
disappeared mysteriously, and no one ever knew 


what became of them. It is known that some 
were buried alive. These people believe in cruelty 
and homicide. The members of officers' families 
were not allowed to join them, as it was deemed 
unsafe, and Americans were advised not to ven- 
ture outside of Manila, because proper protection 
could not be afforded them. It is not easy for a 
civilian to understand how an officer, or any one 
else for that matter, constantly exposed to such 
a peril, can so easily keep it out of mind. Small 
detachments of troops were liable at any time to 
be ambushed. To keep these lawless Tagalogs 
down, to harass them (to capture them was next 
to impossible), to prevent them from organizing 
and receiving and storing arms and ammunition, 
to break up communication between them, to 
tire them out, to cut off their supplies of provis- 
ions, to intimidate and disperse them, became the 
hard duty of the Second Battalion while it gar- 
risoned these Filipino towns, and while it was 
stationed at Balayan during those seven exacting 
months; and small bodies of troops selected from 
the different companies were kept constantly out 
patrolling the mountains night and day, in the 
rainy and in the dry season, and Manila was 
filled from time to time with rumors of their 
achievements. Lieutenant Jones was always on 
the fighting line. 

It was not only in the dangers and hardships of 
an active campaign such as this, in a difficult 
country, that Lieutenant Jones as a young officer 



of infantry bore his part and won his laurels. It 
was on an island thousands of miles from home. 
It was natural that such a life should have its 
moments of oppression. There were in those 
times, no doubt, many melancholy days. Some- 
times it must have been as dark as Erebus. 
This army, like all armies, was chiefly made up of 
young men whose home ties had not been weak- 
ened by absence or experience, and these boys 
were followed to the Philippines by a reciprocal 
interest. That interest was not so strong in all 
cases, to be sure, as it was in O'Hara's, whose 
sisters tried to drag him from the military train 
as it passed through Pittsburgh on the way to 
the Philippines. But it was always strong. Dis- 
tance had strengthened rather than impaired this 
invisible cord. It was no wonder, then, that in 
their hardest trials in that far-off land the thoughts 
of these young soldiers should sometimes be 
turned to their distant hearth-stones. It was said 
that the military bands were forbidden to play 
"Home, Sweet Home." In all armies engaged in 
foreign service it is a known fact that nostalgia 
is a fixed and recognized disease. 

This war was carried on against an inferior race, 
whose chief amusement was cock-fighting, whose 
conduct had excited the contempt of these Ameri- 
can soldiers, whose habits and customs were un- 
familiar to them, whose Malayan skin was of a 
different color, whose towns and villages in which 
the people lived who tilled the soil were little 


more than small collections of low nipa shacks, 
who were treacherous — professing to be friends 
while they were with them, calling themselves 
"amigo," yet stealing off to the bands of insur- 
gents in the night with information and supplies, 
and who after a fight were often found dead among 
the hostile Filipinos. As Lieutenant Jones wrote 
from Naic, in February, 1900, "We have been 
righting them with a rifle in one hand and an olive 
branch in the other, but they do not appreciate 
it. None of us feel safe at any time against their 

For nearly three years in these earnest times 
Lieutenant Jones walked the crude streets and 
had his quarters in the little shacks of these un- 
sightly Philippine towns, among these strange 
people, steadfast, not knowing what fate the 
morrow had in store for him, or perhaps not 
expecting the morrow to bring much change, with 
the care of his men constantly on his mind, and 
the enemy all around him, getting along as well 
as he could without news from home, and bearing 
himself like a man, a soldier, and a gentleman. 
Everywhere about him, of course, were the re- 
mains of the Spanish occupation — over three 
centuries of them, language, currency, places, 
churches, manners, and customs. We can almost 
see him, in the mind's eye, in clear outline, as we 
are trying to recall what he did and suffered there 
in the honorable place he filled, how faithfully he 
bore his responsibilities, and how he contrasted 


at times, in no very happy mood, perhaps, his 
environment with the comforts and entertain- 
ments of other situations he had known, all of 
which has now gone into the irretrievable past. 
And what are we to say of the patience of it all, 
of its fortitude — how he was obliged to put up 
with the rats and insects, how he grew accustomed 
to monsoons and earthquakes, and to the use of 
the clumsy buffaloes as beasts of burden and in the 
tillage of the soil, in the days that he passed there 
nearly ten years ago? Then there were the ever 
present hospitals, with their suffering sick and 
wounded soldiers. Whatever benefit or value an 
experience of this kind may have for a young 
man were his, all of it deserving of more praise 
than it will get, perhaps, in our time. 

It was a sad and lonely life, spent at constantly 
changing stations (changes without variety) , under 
the daily round of military discipline from morning 
until night in time of war in an enemy's country, 
broken only by such pleasures of social life as the 
conditions would admit of, of familiarity with the 
daily sound of bugle-calls from dawn to the last 
call of the day, from reveille to taps. Often 
Lieutenant Jones and his comrades would be 
awakened at night by the crackling sound of 
volleys fired by lurking insurgents at their quar- 
ters or into their camps. It was the taking of 
early roll-call, going the round of inspection, 
attending guard-mount, or acting as officer of the 
day, sitting on courts-martial or other boards, 


and performing many other minor duties incident 
to the routine of an officer's active life in time of 
war which made up for him a busy day. Things 
moved swiftly enough. He often found himself, 
young as he was, in very trying situations of im- 
portance, danger, and responsibility, but his 
courage, his judgment, and the confidence that 
comes from a sense of power as the head of armed 
forces always brought him successfully out of 

The little world he looked out upon in all those 
years was a small enough one indeed, and not 
prepossessing, but there were some people there, 
the best of the natives, who might be called culti- 
vated, who were wealthy, and had had the ad- 
vantages and opportunities of foreign education 
and travel. Perhaps there were ladies in the 
family. These people were not friendly to the 
American cause. From among them came the 
officers in the insurgent army. But they were not 
bitterly unfriendly. They were courteous to the 
American officers, who brought into their draw- 
ing-rooms that effective charm which somehow 
seems to dwell in a soldier's shoulder-straps and 
the buttons of a soldier's coat. It made them 
welcome there and brought some brightness into 
their lives, a brightness which they found in the 
relaxation of an utter change of scene. 

Often Lieutenant Jones would go out from 
Balayan with a detachment into the adjacent 
mountains, against the lurking Tagalog bands 


who made the outskirts and roads leading to 
Balayan unsafe. They were able to take very 
little with them, only a little hardtack, coffee, 
and bacon. To recount one of these expeditions 
is to describe them all. It meant a climb up the 
rough surface of steep mountain-sides, often 
through the tangled growth of the briar and under- 
brush for miles and miles, where one mile covered 
counted for two or three, down into wild ravines, 
going out of their way to explore places that 
looked like intrenchments or as though they 
might shelter a band of insurgents or ladrones. 
Often their attention would be arrested by the 
misleading sound of wild-fowl or other inhabitants 
of the wilderness. The tension was a strain upon 
their nerves, for it was necessary for them always 
to be on the alert, as though they were hunting 
wild beasts — pursuing armed bands that were 
lying in wait for them. They would come to al- 
most impassable beds of rocks, and streams that 
they waded through waist-deep, or rivers which in 
the rainy season became raging torrents that they 
did not dare to attempt. They were obliged, 
withal, to proceed as stealthily as they could, and 
sometimes they would surprise a camp, and then 
under their deadly aim, even at long range, but 
few of their enemies would escape, and they 
might lose a man. Some who begged for mercy 
were taken prisoners. They took away with them 
from the enemy all the arms and ammunition 
they were able to carry, and everything else was 


May, 1902 


destroyed. Often these camps were intrenched. 
Sometimes they would have a stand-up fight, with 
the same result. Sometimes (but never, fortu- 
nately, in Lieutenant Jones' case) the tables were 
turned, and the enemy would surprise them from 
behind their well protected ambush, as in Biegler's 
case. When the long day's march was over and 
night came on, they would set their pickets and 
throw themselves down upon the ground, ex- 
hausted, in the solitude of the mountain heights, 
often without shelter in the thick darkness of a 
pouring rain. Sometimes they would leave the 
mountains where the ravines ran out into the 
open, and would wade through malarious swamps 
and rice-fields, and then come back to cavernous 
defiles, and go over their experiences again in 
other mountains and ravines. It was a serious 
procession and would often last for three or four 
days at a time, during which they would cover as 
much as fifty miles. 

There was one thing, however, that uplifted 
their spirits somewhat in these "hikes," and that 
was the only thing. The scenery at times was 
beautiful — the rivers, the valleys, the forests with 
their luxurious growth of bamboo, ebony, log- 
wood, and gum trees, the mountains, and the 
lakes. The most imposing volcano in the islands 
was within twenty miles of Balayan, in the middle 
of Lake Taal. The turbulence that was going on 
in the region round about this volcano was almost 
as bad as that which was going on inside of it. 


This is what a "hike" meant in those days in 
southern Luzon. This is what tested the metal 
of the brave men who undertook them. No pen 
is gifted enough to trace them upon paper as they 
really were. 

It is difficult to conceive how a soldier's life 
under any conditions could have been more try- 
ing and severe. Yet these are the fields, rough as 
they are, in which reputations are earned. How 
willingly, if it had been permitted them, would 
these men have fought the battle of Tancanluma, 
with all its perils, over and over again, in exchange 
for these terrible ordeals! 

Lieutenant Jones found it a hard and exacting 
line of duty from the day he set foot in the Philip- 
pines until he left them. It was the harder for 
him bcause of his devoted and affectionate 
attachment to his home. He was reduced by 
emaciation to almost a shadow of his former self, 
and only regained his normal weight in the long, 
restful homeward voyage of the regiment in the 
wholesome air of the Pacific. But he performed 
every task that was laid upon him uncomplain- 
ingly, almost heroically, with courage, alacrity, 
and fidelity. It was the work of a young man 
who was making his mark by deeds done that 
would have been creditable to any one. More 
than once he was sent to the hospital. For months 
he was in command of his company. When in 
July, 1900, two thousand insurgents under Malvar 
stealthily attacked and burned the town of Taal 


(which was garrisoned by the First Battalion), 
though his temperature was over a hundred, he 
led one of the columns from Balayan to the relief 
of his comrades, against the remonstrances of the 
regimental surgeons. 

There was but little room for repose in a stren- 
uous life like this, but in his leisure moments, 
while he was resting in his quarters, he had the 
companionship of his pony and his pet monkeys 
and deer. There was a sense of loneliness in his 
nature which always found comfort in the society 
of his pets. He liked fellowship, and when it was 
not available, he found a substitute for it in them. 

Of course, there is an infinite variety of incident 
and adventure in such a life as this for which there 
is no room in this brief narrative. Upon one occa- 
sion Lieutenant Jones rode overland from Manila 
to Balayan, with Colonel Leonard, other officers, 
and a guard as far as Taal. It was a most pleas- 
ant journey, and occupied several days. He left 
them there, and, anxious to rejoin his troops, 
continued his lonely ride along the perilous road 
from Taal to Balayan alone. Fortunately he 
arrived there safely, but received a kindly repri- 
mand from Major Taggart for the recklessness of 
his undertaking. 

Upon another occasion, anxious to get back to 
duty at Balayan, he availed himself of an oppor- 
tunity to take passage on a boat from Manila 
manned by Filipinos. He had not gone far before 
his suspicions were aroused by the actions of the 


crew, and nothing but his constant vigilance day 
and night, probably, enabled him to reach his 
destination in safety. 

He was considerate of his men, one of whom 
was a graduate of Harvard, and others were from 
the better walks of life, many of them, no doubt, 
drawn into this adventure by the same motives 
that had actuated him. They shared each other's 
fortunes, and he retained their friendship and 
regard after their return to civil life. 

When information reached headquarters at 
Balayan in May that Colonel Pablo Bourbon was 
stealthily collecting arms, ammunition, and stores, 
and was enlisting insurgents at Nasugbu, Lieu- 
tenant Jones was selected for the important duty 
of surprising and capturing this insurgent officer 
and his stores. With a sergeant and twenty-six 
mounted men he started on his night expedition 
at a quick trot until he reached Tuy, that lonely, 
deserted little town of Tuy through which they 
had passed so often, lonely at all times, but espe- 
cially so on this lonely night ride. From this little 
village, which had once been a large and flourish- 
ing sugar town, he began the ascent of the Liau 
range of mountains over a poor trail, and after 
fording streams and crossing ravines he reached 
Nasugbu at four o'clock in the morning. He sur- 
rounded the town as well as his limited force would 
admit, and as his troops closed in around him he 
rode into the town, surprised and captured Colonel 
Bourbon and Captain Pastor Mayo, $14,000 in 


gold, 22 prisoners, arms, ammunition, and stores, 
destroyed a lot of rum, and returned in safety to 
Balayan with the fruits of his successful expedi- 
tion — and he was then under twenty-five years of 
age. "The little band," wrote a newspaper cor- 
respondent, " was sorely pressed on its return, but 
the men doughtily held their prizes and fought 
it out." 

For this gallant achievement Lieutenant Jones 
received the thanks of his commanding officer in 
the orders for the day. He stepped upon the 
field to receive this honor with a modesty that 
was characteristic and disconcerting. A stealthy 
attempt was afterwards made upon his life by a 
female friend of Colonel Bourbon. This attempt 
was only frustrated by the intervention of his 
orderly, who was near. This faithful orderly 
shortly afterwards laid down his life for his coun- 
try in one of the affairs with the natives. The 
dagger with which this attempt was made and 
a piece of the Spanish gold coin are now before 
me, with the pictures of these noted prisoners. 

When, late in October, friendly native runners 
brought letters to Balayan from Captain Biegler, 
stating that the party under his command had 
been ambushed and nearly annihilated in the 
Magallenes mountains, "such cheers and such 
queer jerks in the throat as happened," wrote a 
newspaper correspondent at that time, "beto- 
kened well enough the sentiments of the men. 
Lieutenant Jones pushed with a column of one 


hundred and fifty men into the hills, but the 
enemy was gone." 

He found there, however, the mutilated body 
of John O'Hara, a soldier in his company, only 
nineteen years old, whom he reverently buried 
in those lonely Luzon hills under the spreading 
branches of a mango tree, having first carefully 
placed a memorandum showing his identity in a 
bottle which he fastened to his wrist with wire. 
It was suggestive of the whole situation about 
him to find this poor fellow up there, when he 
was looking for the ghouls who had mutilated his 
dead body. Sadly enough, too (for he was at- 
tached to him as he was to all his men, and they 
to him, a common peril having united them), as 
he stood over him there, and recalled that scene 
in the far-off railway station at Pittsburgh when 
his sisters had tried to drag him from the train. 
So they left him and marched back to their 
quarters at Balayan, expecting to renew the same 
experience at any time. 

It is no wonder these striking incidents of the 
years he spent in those parts stood out in the mind 
of young Mr. Jones to the day of his death. 

At length they had the comfort of knowing that 
their work had not been in vain. The insurgents 
were losing ground. The swift campaigning of the 
28th had been too much for them. Their tropical 
fibre was not tough enough to withstand the 
untiring energy of the Americans. They had be- 
come less audacious, less confident, were harder to 


find, were discouraged. They had not been able 
to rest or to concentrate. Pretty much all that 
was left of them was their treachery and their 

Naturally, these distant military operations 
attracted the attention of his neighbors and 
friends at home — indeed, the attention of the 
whole community. They were kept informed 
through the newspapers and otherwise. The very- 
novelty of the situation interested them, and they 
observed it closely. They followed the career of 
Lieutenant Jones, and with one accord heartily 
commended it. Men of the highest standing in the 
community spoke of it with praise. With justifi- 
able pride this young man felt that he had accom- 
plished something. Young though he was, he had 
been a successful leader and warden of men under 
trying conditions, though he always referred to it 
with modesty, and was inclined to avoid the con- 
gratulations that were offered him. It was all 
done without ostentation. 

It was at a time when the military occupation 
of the Philippines was at its height. By far the 
larger part of the army of the United States, 
both regular and volunteer, was there. There 
were opportunities for frequent intercourse be- 
tween the officers at their clubs and elsewhere, 
who were drawn to each other by their common 
interest in the situation. Friendships were made 
and acquaintances formed which extended into 
the future, and long afterwards Lieutenant Jones, 


in his home in Philadelphia, was favored by visits 
from old comrades who looked him up on their 
way to other duties, and in these reunions they 
always thoroughly enjoyed their reminiscences of 
their life together in the Philippines. 

After their hard service of seven months at 
Balayan was over, Lieutenant Jones and his com- 
pany were relieved, and taking passage on the 
steamer "Petrarch," via Manila, the Pasig River, 
and Laguna de Bay, went down again to Calamba, 
in the glare of a long journey by water in those 
hot, sultry days, where they arrived on Wednes- 
day, October 31, 1900. It was the second time 
they had garrisoned this little town at the foot of 
Laguna de Bay. They had scoured the whole of 
this impassable country, the whole of Cavite 
Province, the home of their favored people, 
driving the insurgents out of it, from Bacoor to 
Dasmarinas, to Calamba, back to Naic and Na- 
sugbu, to Balayan, and back again to Calamba. 

They remained at Calamba for a month, when 
they embarked on cascoes for Manila, and were 
transferred to the transport "Sumner" in Manila 
Bay. They waited there until the entire regiment 
was assembled, and on Monday, December 3, the 
fleet, consisting of the "Sumner," the "Garonne," 
and the "Lennox," which carried the horses and 
camp equipment, set sail for Cagayan, Minda- 
nao, the most southern of the Philippine Islands. 
After a voyage of 725 miles they arrived in Maca- 
jalar Bay, off Cagayan, on December 6, 1900. The 


28th Infantry, numbering 1125, were charged with 
the duty of pacifying 5000 unruly, half -civilized Vis- 
ayans, which task they successfully accomplished. 

Lieutenant Jones with his company disem- 
barked at the mouth of the Cagayan River, and 
marched three miles up the river to the outskirts 
of Cagayan, where they pitched their tents. Ten 
days later the other officers and sixty-three men 
of his company were assigned to other duty, and 
he was left with the garrison of Cagayan, where 
he remained for thirty-four days in command of 
troops on scout and other military duty in the 
neighborhood. It was most important to hold 
securely the base of supplies while the main body 
was out on other duty in the interior. 

He found the Visayans a shade better than the 
Tagalogs, though possessing the same general 
characteristics. They were more intelligent, and 
their towns were neater and more attractive. 

When his garrison and scouting duty at Caga- 
yan was over, he marched with his company 
across the country to Villanueva, where they 
bivouacked on the beach for the night, and on 
the following morning were taken by the transport 
"Carmen" up the coast to Balingasag. Here, 
with the same exacting daily routine in the life 
of an officer on active duty in time of war, he and 
his soldiers, who had become veterans by this 
time, faithfully performed for nearly eight weeks 
the hard tasks of pacifying the country that were 
allotted to them. 


His work throughout this whole active cam- 
paign of sixteen months had been hard — terribly 
hard and exacting, but there was about it the 
charm of adventure, of danger, of patriotism, and 
of glory. It was worth doing. It was honorable 
and beautiful to serve these high ideals, and it 
brought out the strong and fine traits of charac- 
ter that were in him. The life had something of 
the picturesque about it, and there was in it a 
flavor of romance. There was, moreover, a fra- 
grance of devotion about it which commended 
itself to all. 

The Filipino Junta at Hong Kong and Aguinaldo 
had their emissaries at work among the Visayans, 
but before the energy thrown into the campaign 
by the 28th Infantry all signs of resistance dis- 
appeared. On one of his scouts, when he marched 
against a town where the Visayans were reported 
to be in hostile force, he was surprised to find, as 
he approached the town, the presidente with a 
white flag and a band of music, who greeted him 
cordially and escorted him into the town. 

The people of Balingasag became over-zealous 
in their manifestations of friendship, but this 
young lieutenant, self-reliant, intrepid, was there 
at his post with his eyes vigilantly about him, not 
over-confident of the sincerity of these friendly 
Visayan professions. It was midnight where he 
was when it was noon here, in more senses than 
one. The heat was intense, as he was within 
eight degrees of the equator, but it was one of the 









'» ^ 

o H 

M o 













pleasantest situations he had found. Balingasag 
was high ; he was in the shade of mango and palm 
trees, and was refreshed by the cool breezes from 
Macajalar Bay and the tropical dews of the night. 

As the end of the two years' enlistment of the 
28th Infantry was now drawing to a close, Lieu- 
tenant Jones, in command of his company, em- 
barked on the transport "Thomas" at Balingasag 
in the bright early morning of Tuesday, the 5th 
of March, 1901. After enjoying for a week the 
cruise of the transport along the coast, picking 
up the other companies of the regiment at their 
stations, renewing the bonds of old comrade- 
ships, and with the prospect of home before them, 
they set sail for Manila on the nth, where they 
arrived two days later. They had been three 
months in Mindanao. On the 16th they set sail 
for Nagasaki, Japan, and cast anchor in that 
port ten days later. After two days spent there, 
during which Lieutenant Jones and the other 
officers visited the town and the regiment dis- 
embarked for practice march, the voyage was 
continued to San Francisco. Upon their arrival 
there they disembarked and went into their old 
camp at the Presidio, Monday, April 15, 1901. 
Here they were mustered out of service, May 1, 
1 90 1, and returned to their homes, thoroughly 
bronzed from their long and successful service 
under the tropical sun of the Philippines. 

The regiment left behind it two officers and 
thirty-eight men, who had died in the service of 


their country. Others have died since. With 
some of their countrymen of stoic mind this may 
seem no more than a cruel fate, but many a home 
has been desolate because of it ever since. People 
speak freely, even with pride, of a country's grati- 
tude, but they who have not been more closely 
touched are not able entirely to conceive how full 
the measure of the sacrifice was that earned that 
gratitude. In these desolate homes no measure 
of glory, however full, can compensate for the 
loss of the faces they are never to see again. 

In the meantime the regular army (to take the 
place of the volunteers) had been largely increased, 
and on his creditable record in the War Depart- 
ment as a gallant soldier in the Philippines Lieu- 
tenant Jones was commissioned by President 
Roosevelt a lieutenant in the ist Cavalry, United 
States Army, with rank from February 2, 1901. 
At his own request he was again ordered to the 
Philippines. For a time he was stationed at 
Columbus Barracks, Ohio, from whence he began 
his second journey to the Philippines, Tuesday, 
January 7, 1902, with 300 recruits. At Chicago 
the train on which they travelled was wrecked, 
and three of his men were injured. 

After another short stay in his old camp at the 
Presidio he sailed, Sunday, February 16, 1902, 
with 385 men, from San Francisco on the army 
transport "Warren," on his second voyage across 
the Pacific for the Philippines. The transport 


was obliged to put back by stress of weather, and 
lost one of her propeller blades on the way to 
Honolulu. In a leaky condition the transport 
continued her voyage to Manila, Friday, February 
28, 1902, but became totally disabled by the 
loss of another blade of her propeller, and was 
fortunate in being able to get back to Honolulu. 
Lieutenant Jones was detained there with his 
troops amid the delightful surroundings of Hono- 
lulu for several weeks, awaiting the repairs to the 
transport, when he continued his voyage and 
joined his new regiment, the 1st Cavalry, at 
Batangas, not far from his old station at Balayan, 
where he had had such a long and active line of 
duty. While at Honolulu he found the vessel in 
which he had made his voyage to South Africa 
five years before. 

The trying experiences of " hiking " were about 
over, the troops being assigned to the more com- 
fortable duty of garrisoning the towns ; and while 
Lieutenant Jones was stationed at Batangas, the 
war in the Philippines was brought to a close by 
the surrender of General Malvar, the successor of 

Lieutenant Jones was ordered from Batangas to 
Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and upon his retire- 
ment from the army after the pacification of the 
Philippines was commended in writing by Secre- 
tary of War Root upon his honorable military 
record and for his gallant conduct as a soldier 
upon the field of battle. 


The suppression of the insurrection in the 
Philippines was a difficult and great national 
achievement, critically watched by all the nations 
of the earth. It will be long before this striking 
and unusual episode in the history of the country 
will be forgotten, and those who contributed to it 
by their valor, patriotism, and sacrifices, in how- 
ever small a way, are entitled to the gratitude of 
their countrymen. This is the only form of 
reward an American soldier receives, but it is 
always generously bestowed. 

Already the importance of the Philippines to 
the growing interests of the United States in the 
Pacific is being recognized, and the extent to 
which Manila Bay is being fortified will make them 
the strongest place in the Pacific for the protec- 
tion of those interests; so that all who served in 
making them what they are are entitled to their 
enduring place in history. What they did was not 
easily accomplished; what they won was won at 
heavy cost. But it was important. The Philip- 
pines belonged to the United States by treaty, but 
they were not theirs in fact. Their title was dis- 
puted. Except within the lines about Manila, 
the islands were withheld from them by the grasp 
of the hostile, organized natives. The troops had 
been called upon by the United States to finish 
the work Dewey had begun, to brush away this 
cloud upon their title, to put them into posses- 
sion by force, to make their ownership real. It 
took years of sacrifice to do it. It is too early as 


yet for them to look for their reward, but here- 
after when the Philippines shall have assumed their 
full value and importance to the United States, 
it will be recorded in history to their honor that 
they did their work well. Already what took 
place then in the Philippines is bearing fruit. 
A telegraphic cable connects them with San 
Francisco. Steamship facilities of communica- 
tion have been greatly improved. Travel and 
trade have largely increased. The Panama Canal 
will soon be completed. Japan has crushed the 
aspirations of Russia in the Pacific. American 
supremacy there is beginning to dawn, and, as 
the result, war between the United States and 
Japan is seriously discussed. An immense armed 
fleet has been sent all over the Pacific by the 
United States, and recognized and welcomed — 
cordially received everywhere. 

The important part these troops played there 
is all over now. The curtain has fallen upon their 
part in this drama. Whatever we have of it (and 
we certainly have not all) only comes to us with 
a certain meteoric splendor from the past; but 
as time goes on, their renown must become more 
and more firmly established, and the people of a 
hundred years hence will read of them long after 
we have been forgotten, and so in soecula scbcu- 
lorum. When in those distant days some child 
shall ask, "Did these go through all that?" the 
answer must be, "Yes, and more." One must not 
look for nor expect things like these to come from 


the seclusion and quiet of the counting-house, 
the office, the counter, or the desk. 

And so it was permitted to these young men to 
stand in those far-eastern places, upon the thresh- 
old of a policy whose stupendous outcome in the 
distant future not even the foresight of the wisest 
can discern, as the instruments on the other side 
of the world of the youngest nation, where the 
oldest races and the oldest peoples had flourished 
for ages and ages, time out of mind. Were the 
power and control there some day to change hands ? 
Was the star of empire to go westward some day 
this far? Were they preparing the way for those 
distant changes? Were they helping to make a 
foothold, 'way off there, for that policy ? Were they 
the humble instruments in the hands of fate at the 
small beginning of changes that were some day to 
affect the destiny of the world ? If so, they were 
making history indeed. If so, their history should 
be written when all these things come to pass. 

With a high sense of all that was imposed upon 
him by the uniform he wore in this cause, Lieu- 
tenant Jones sought rather than shirked every 
opportunity that was within his reach during his 
long and arduous military service, regardless of 
the danger to which it exposed him and of the 
consequences to himself, and he performed con- 
scientiously everything he undertook, with credit 
to his sense of duty, his capacity, and his perse- 
verance. His superior officers came to understand 
that they could depend upon him. They had 


confidence in his courage, his judgment, his 
vigilance, and his tenacity. They felt safe when 
he was in command of the outpost. When serious 
work was to be done, like the capture of Bourbon 
or the relief of Biegler, they selected him. It was 
a short but brilliant career, to which this brief 
sketch does but meagre justice. 

Lieutenant Jones had thus sustained himself 
creditably for nearly five of the best years of his 
life, in active military duty in the service of his 
country in time of war. Five years out of twenty- 
eight, at that time of life, is no small contribution 
to any cause, even if the reward be fame. He 
came successfully out of about the whole of it, as 
we have seen, to his honor, and it was not acci- 
dental. It was the result of the combination of 
certain elements of strength in his character: the 
power to close his mind to every form of danger 
that encompassed him about on every side; a 
proper regard for the safety and comfort of those 
who were under him, not exposing them to any 
peril he did not share; forgetfulness of comfort 
and ease, or even the simple requirements of 
existence, for himself, in the contemplation of the 
object he had before him; ability and good judg- 
ment in the arrangement of his plans, and direct- 
ness and caution in the execution of them; utter 
obliviousness of the possibility of failure, and a 
stolid determination to succeed. A newspaper 
correspondent called it "audacity," upon one very 
trying occasion. Often, of course, this taxed his 


powers of endurance to the uttermost limit; but 
he held on, though it would have been far better 
for his own sake and for the sake of his friends, 
if he had given up when he should have done so. 

He was under twenty-eight when, the emergency 
which called him into service having passed, he 
returned to the pursuits of civil life. Though they 
were tame when compared with the stormy and 
varied experiences through which he had passed, 
he thoroughly enjoyed the change. He had no 
liking for army life in time of peace. He had 
travelled more, into far more distant regions, had 
been thrown with more of the strange inhabitants 
of the earth, had undergone more trials, hardships, 
and dangers, and had experienced far more of the 
realities of life, than fall to the lot of most young 
men of his age. It gave him a distinction which 
was generally recognized, and brought him into 
a prominence that was unusual at his time of life. 

Without any previous military training or 
experience, he became by his adaptability an 
efficient officer. Without any inclination or taste 
for military life, he left his civil calling and the 
comforts of home to answer the call of his country, 
and he continued in that service until the emer- 
gency was passed. There was always present, 
however, in his life, throughout those long years, 
a consciousness of sacrifice, but though it may at 
times have become oppressive, he never com- 
plained or allowed it for a moment to swerve him 
from what he considered to be the line of his duty. 


When the time came, however, when he could lay 
those duties down, he did so with a sense of relief, 
in the consciousness that he had performed them 

The youth of his neighborhood sent him flowers 
while he lay upon his sick-bed after Chickamauga, 
and prized souvenirs from the uniforms he had 
worn in the Philippines. 

He never fully recovered from the ravages of 
the fever of Chickamauga, nor his long exposure 
to the tropical miasmas of the Philippines. They 
undermined an otherwise vigorous constitution, 
and ultimately broke him down. 

Lieutenant Jones had a wide circle of friends 
and acquaintances, to whom he was known for 
his bright social qualities and his genial disposi- 
tion. How many of them will recall with pleas- 
ure the flashes of his wit! 

That fine soldier, Colonel Leonard of the 28th 
Infantry, his commanding officer, wrote of him 
as follows : "He was one of the first of the officers 
to report at Camp Meade in 1899, and in the ensu- 
ing two years I saw a great deal of him, and I 
shall always recall with pleasure his enthusiasm 
in those days. His attractive personality and his 
unfailing good humor made him popular with 
officers and men. He liked his duties, too, and in 
the frequent affairs with the natives he showed 
both courage and judgment. His record was 
honorable and manly, and I wish we could have 
had more young officers such as he." 


That distinguished soldier, Major-General J. 
Franklin Bell, now the head of the army of the 
United States, under whom Lieutenant Jones 
faithfully served at Batangas, and under whose 
able direction the insurrection in the Philippines 
was brought to a close, wrote of him as follows: 
"Upon my return to Washington after several 
months' absence I was grieved to hear of the 
death of Lieutenant C. Rodman Jones. Lieuten- 
ant Jones came under my personal observation 
during the Batangas Campaign of the Philippine 
Insurrection, which followed the Spanish-Ameri- 
can War, and during those trying days he proved 
himself to be a courageous young soldier, always 
cheerful and good-natured, and ever ready to take 
the field with his troop. I never knew him to 
miss duty in that capacity, he having been the 
type of soldier who knows no fear and is always 
eager to participate in the event of actual hos- 

A soldier could not receive greater praise, nor 
praise from a higher source. 

The way in which he led his soldier life rose to 
the dignity of an example. Like all his other 
conduct in life, it was done with few words but 
with emphatic action. 

There were so many more things crowded into 
his few years than usually come into the life of 
one so young, that he seemed older than he was — 
more mature. He had that kind of charity that 
suffereth long and is kind. At his best he was one 


of the wittiest and most entertaining of com- 

He was of a singularly gentle and tender cheer- 
fulness, which even the trials of life could not 
easily suppress. Kindly, sensitive, sympathetic, 
always good-humored and good-natured, of gen- 
erous impulses, it gave him real pleasure to con- 
tribute to the pleasure of others. A neighbor in 
the country, in the humbler walks of life, whom 
he knew, lost a child. He was the only one of the 
few who were present at the funeral not of their 
class. One of their friends afterwards wrote: 
" I saw him with his hand on the shoulder of the 
mother, trying to console her; which showed the 
kind of man he was." 

His personal and social gifts made him a con- 
spicuous figure in the highest functions of Phila- 
delphia society. Few men of his age took a larger 
and more intelligent interest in the men and pass- 
ing events of his time, or were brought into con- 
tact with more people in every relation of life; 
and few were more admired or more largely known. 

He came of a good stock, well rooted in American 
soil, of ancestors who, like himself, had answered 
the call of their country in earlier times, and, ac- 
cording to his opportunities, he proved himself 
worthy of them. He honored his father and his 
mother. He had the high spirit of that stock, too, 
as his conduct showed, and he had a more brilliant 
record within his brief span of years than the best 
of them, acording to what is known of them in 


their day. He was an actor in world-history. 
How few of all the young men we know have a 
record like it! 

His standards of life were high and exacting, 
and though, like the best of us, he may not always 
have been able to live up to them, he expected it 
in others, and every deviation from them on his 
own part caused him suffering. 

He was favored by nature — dark hair and hazel- 
colored eyes, handsome, dignified, with a presence 
likely to impress even the ordinary observer, 
bright, courteous, always considerate of others, 
and anxious to be helpful to his fellow men — 
especially so. A prominent citizen of Philadel- 
phia once wrote of him: "I have always ob- 
served the neatness of his appearance, and his 
gentlemanly deportment . ' ' 

Another wrote of him after his death: "The 
magnificent record he made for himself as a 
soldier in the service of his country at an impor- 
tant period in its history will be referred to with 
just pride by his family and their descendants 
for many generations. He always displayed the 
characteristics of a true gentleman, which he was." 

When we left him in the family lot in the beau- 
tiful cemetery at Reading, alone with his God, 
there was a military funeral in another part, and 
the strains of the band playing Chopin's funeral 
march floated softly over us as a requiem and a 
refrain of the past, as we laid him affectionately 
to his eternal rest. 

















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