It has been estimated that about 4,000 Spanish were engaged.  Everything indicated that they lost heavily; a Santiago paper put it at 240.  The writer and the Sergeant-Major of the First U.S.  Cavalry superintended the digging of one large grave where all the dead of the two regiments were interred according to the Episcopal service.  The Rough Riders, being farther to our left, buried their own.  If advantage of position goes for anything, the Spanish should have annihilated the Americans as they approached the stronghold.

The command remained on the battlefield until June 26, when it proceeded to Sevilla, an old coffee and sugar plantation, to await the assembling of the army and placing of the artillery.

Our camp at Sevilla was an interesting one in many ways.  It was pitched between the main road and a stream of excellent water.  From the hill beyond, the Spanish works could be viewed.  From the roadside many acquaintances were seen, also generals, foreign military attaches, troops, artillery and pack trains.  Wheeled transportation seemed entirely out of its place in Cuba; one piece of artillery was noticed with 24 horses tugging away at it.

The Cuban Army, cavalry and infantry, passed us at this point, which seemed to consist of every male capable of swelling the crowd.  Those unable to carry or secure guns had an old knife or machete strapped to them.

On June 30, about 4 P.M., shortly after our daily shower, which was a little more severe and much longer than usual, the regiment was put in motion for the front.  We had marched about 1600 yards when the war balloon was seen ascending some distance to our right.  As the balloon question was new, every one almost was stumbling on the man’s heels in front, trying to get a peep at this wonderful war machine.

After much vexatious delay, narrow road crowded with troops, a pack train came along and added its mite to the congestion, as some of the mules turned their heels on the advancing column when pushed too much.

We finally merged into a beautiful lawn, site of the Division Hospital, where all were as busy as beavers in placing this indispensable adjunct in order.  Here the work of July 1 was clearly suggested.  Proceeding, wading and rewading streams, we bivouacked beyond the artillery on the heights of El Poso, an old sugar plantation, about four miles off, in plain view of the city of Santiago.  The lights of the city showed so brightly, the enemy offering no resistance to our advance, I could not help feeling apprehensive of being in a trap.  I thought so seriously over the matter that I did not unroll my pack, so as to be ready at an instant.  Simply released my slicker, put it on, and lay down where I halted.

Early July 1 all the brigade was up, getting breakfast and making as much noise as if on a practice march.  The Tenth Cavalry did not make any fire until orders were received to that effect.  I remarked to my bunky that we were not going to fight evidently, as the smoke would surely disclose our presence and enable the enemy’s artillery to get our range.  The whole of Santiago seemed to be decorated with hospital flags.