The Sergeant-Major of the Tenth Cavalry, Mr. E.L.  Baker, who served with great credit during the Santiago campaign, is a soldier with an excellent record.  He was born of French and American parentage in Wyoming and enlisted in the Ninth Cavalry as trumpeter in 1882, serving five years in that regiment.  He then enlisted in the Tenth Cavalry, and in 1892 became Sergeant-Major.  Being desirous of perfecting himself in the cavalry service he applied for an extended furlough with permission to leave the country, intending to enter a cavalry school in France.  In this desire he was heartily endorsed by the officers of his regiment, and was specially commended by General Miles, who knew him as a soldier and who highly appreciated him as such.  The breaking out of the Spanish war soon after he had made application prevented a full consideration of his case.  In 1897 Sergeant-Major Baker published a specially valuable “Roster of the Non-Commissioned Officers of the Tenth U.S.  Cavalry, with Some Regimental Reminiscences, etc.,” which has been of marked service in the preparation of the sketches of the enlisted men of his regiment.  He contributes the interesting sketch of his experiences in Cuba with his regiment, which follows this chapter, and which will prove to many perhaps the most interesting portion of my book.

The Twenty-fourth Infantry advanced in that line of attack on the extreme left and reached the crest of the San Juan Hills in such numbers as to lead the press correspondents and others to conclude that there were more men of this regiment promptly on the ground than of any other one regiment.  It is certain they made a record for heroism in that assault as bright as any won on the field that day; and this record they raised to a magnificent climax by their subsequent work in the fever hospital at Siboney.  For their distinguished service both in the field and in the hospital, the colored ladies of New York honored themselves in presenting the regiment the beautiful stand of colors already mentioned.  As these fever-worn veterans arrived at Montauk they presented a spectacle well fitted to move strong men to tears.  In solemn silence they marched from on board the transport Nueces, which had brought them from Cuba, and noiselessly they dragged their weary forms over the sandy roads and up the hill to the distant “detention camp.”  Twenty-eight of their number were reported sick, but the whole regiment was in ill-health.

These were the men who had risked their lives and wrecked their health in service for others.  Forty days they had stood face to face with death.  In their soiled, worn and faded clothing, with arms uncleaned, emaciated, and with scarce strength enough to make the march before them, as they moved on that hot 2nd of September from the transport to the camp, they appeared more like a funeral procession than heroes returning from the war; and to the credit of our common humanity it may be recorded that they were greeted, not with plaudits and cheers, but with expressions of real sympathy.  Many handkerchiefs were brought into view, not to wave joyous welcome, but to wipe away the tears that came from overflowing hearts.  At no time did human nature at Montauk appear to better advantage than in its silent, sympathetic reception of the Twenty-fourth Infantry.