122 The Rough Riders 



let any man come away with me." When I shook 

 hands with him I thought he would surely die ; yet 

 he recovered. 



The most serious loss that I and the regiment 

 could have suffered befell just before we charged. 

 Bucky O'Neill was strolling up and down in front 

 of his men, smoking his cigarette, for he was in- 

 veterately addicted to the habit. He had a theory 

 that an officer ought never to take cover a theory 

 which was, of course, wrong, though in a volunteer 

 organization the officers should certainly expose 

 themselves very fully, simply for the effect on the 

 men ; our regimental toast on the transport running, 

 "The officers; may the war last until each is killed, 

 wounded, or promoted." As O'Neill moved to and 

 fro, his men begged him to lie down, and one of the 

 sergeants said, "Captain, a bullet is sure to hit you." 

 O'Neill took his cigarette out of his mouth, and 

 blowing out a cloud of smoke laughed and said, 

 "Sergeant, the Spanish bullet isn't made that will 

 kill me." A little later he discussed for a moment 

 with one of the regular officers the direction from 

 which the Spanish fire was coming. As he turned 

 on his heel a bullet struck him in the mouth and 

 came out at the back of his head ; so that even before 

 he fell his wild and gallant soul had gone out into 

 the darkness. 



My orderly was a brave young Harvard boy, 



