San Francisco Call, Sunday, January 15, 1899, Page 11, Image 11, Columns 2, 3 -
BROUGHT HOME A DOG
WITH A BROKEN HEART
---
WHEN the Astor Battery arrived in this city yesterday the boys brought with them a little four-footed friend around whose life hangs a pathetic little tale of real life which sounds almost like fiction. The animal is just an ordinary little scraggy fox terrier bearing the un-poetic name of Boojum, but if ever dog suffered from a broken heart Boojum was that dog.
He was originally the property of Sergeant Major Holmes of the Astor Battery. When the battery was organized in New York the major did not want to part from his lively little canine friend, and accordingly took him along as a mascot. Everybody petted the little fellow. He was lively and intelligent, as all his breed are, and any one who would hurt Boojum would be called to account speedily.
When the battery shipped for Manila Boojum was the life of the ship. When everybody else was suffering from the dreaded mal-de-mar Boojum was skipping merrily around the deck, was wagging his stump of a tail and happy as a clam at high water. The sight of him cheered the weary ones, and he caused many a laugh.
But it was at Manila that the little dog distinguished himself; it was at Manila that his master fell, and it was at Manila that the joy went out of his heart of the faithful pet.
During the battle, when death and destruction was flying in the air, Boojum, like his master, was in the heat of the battle. The whole thing seemed a day's sport for the dog. He cavorted, barked merrily, and when a bullet would stir up a little cloud of dust near him would make a rush for it and bite up a mouthful of earth.
Then came the change. Somebody missed Major Holmes and his dog. After the battle they found them together. The major lay stiff and cold in death and his pet, his mascot Boojum, stood by his side, licking the cold face of his master and whining piteously betimes. They took the body away and the dog slunk silently after it, giving vent occasionally to a piteous, half-human cry of grief.
When the major was buried it was thought that the dog would die of grief. Day after day he lay on the grave and would not be comforted. When the regiment finally left he was with great difficulty coaxed aboard the transport, but has never been known to frolic or give vent to his merry bark since the Spanish bullet robbed him of his master.
Editor's notes: Herein are all the other articles that I could find concerning the war hero Boojum and Major Holmes. Maybe someday the details of both their lives in New York, and their exploits in the Philippines, will pass on to the internet and their final chapter will be given notice.
The Times, Monday, January 23, 1899, Page 2, Image 2, Column 1 -
RETURN OF ASTOR BATTERY
---
Rugged Philippine Veterans Welcomed
Home in New York
New York, Jan. 22.- Back from half way around the world and looking as ruddy and rugged as a squad of football men in the pink of training, the Astor Battery, 82 strong, which has been fighting in the Philippine Islands, returned to this city today. The men were received by their friends and relatives with a fervor that imperiled their ribs. From Capt. Peyton C. March to the last private in the ranks there was not a man in the battery who did sot find himself the centre of a little whirlpool of enthusiasm. Even the battery dog, "Boojum," was petted until on the verge of canine hysterics. The battery is at present stationed in the Seventy-first Regiment Armory, muster-out will come some time this week.
Four of the battery's dead rest under the Stars and Stripes that wave over Manila. One other man died on shipboard on the home trail. They were not forgotten today in the gay home-coming. At the celebration held immediately after the arrival their names were spoken and the men arose and in silence drank to the memory of their dead comrades. A few sick have been left behind in San Francisco and Manila, but they will recover, and the Astor Battery will probably pass out of Uncle Sam's service with the roster as it now stands.
That the seven months' service has been a benefit to the men no one can doubt who saw them today. Each man seemed to be at the top notch of physical vigor. To one who remembered the wrecks of the Cuban campaign that trailed pitifully through our streets a few months ago, the condition of these Philippine veterans was startling by contrast. It indicated that the Government diet and training can make giants instead of invalids out of men under certain conditions. A curious thing about these men is that they do not show in their faces the deep and somewhat dull brown of the Cuban and Porto Rico soldier boys. The Oriental sun paints in different color schemes, and most of the men had complexions that a debutante might delight in. She would not, however, delight in the hirsute adornments of several of the young men. A beard grown on army rations and under the fostering of an army barber is not a thing of beauty.
It was 6:30 a. m. when the train carrying the Astor Battery arrived at the Grand Central station. After greeting the waiting friends, the battery marched to the Grand Union Hotel, where the reception committee had breakfast ready. The soldiers were divided into squads and seated at small tables, presided over by ladies who assisted the committee. There were a few speeches and then the battery marched to the Seventy-first Regiment Armory.
Captain March, of the battery, was asked if he thought there would be trouble with the insurgent army. "Not around Manila," he said. "In Mindanao it is very likely. Spain never conquered that island. If we propose to take possession of it we shall have to fight for it. But at Manila the insurgents are getting too much cash from us to want to fight, and then Admiral Dewey is there. Dewey is the finest thing that ever lived. He is the idol of everyone there. I am proud to have met him."
The men will stay in the armory, Captain March said, until they are mustered out by Capt. E. R. Hills, of the Fifth Artillery, who was there today. Captain March is first lieutenant of the Fifth Artillery. The men who live in this city or who have relatives were allowed to go home tonight.
The Sun, Monday, January 23, 1899, Image 1, Page 1, Column 7 -
[Editor's notes: This article is curiously identical to The Times column of the same day until this section where the detail increases. Unfortunately, the newspaper image becomes unreadable.]
It was 6:30 A. M. when the train carrying the Astor Battery arrived at the Grand Central Station. A wan and heavy-eyed little crowd of men and women was waiting there. It was not curiosity or patriotism that had brought them there at that uninspiring hour, but the feeling that they must go to the front to greet the soldier-son or husband or brother. In view of the nature of the gathering it was perhaps superfluous that there should be 107 policemen present to preserve the peace. A thousand and seven couldn't have prevented a wild and tumultuous assault upon each soldier as he appeared. Possibly it was the consciousness of this that determined Capt. March not to march his men out in military order at first. Certainly there would have been a scandalous defeat of discipline when the mothers and wives and sisters other interested persons of the gentle sex beheld that military line. As it was, there were a series of short, mad charges upon the individual soldiers as they came out rubbing their eyes, only to be almost smothered in surrounding arms. It was not a Hobson performance. One had only to look at the yearning faces and the tear-stained eyes of the women to know that every one of them had her rightful share in some soldier boy. The men greeted the exiles with long, hard handshakes and husky voices, and presently the whole place was a series of little groups. There was a general cohesion for a moment about a woman for whom joy had been too much and who went into hysterics, but she soon recovered.
For half an hour the soldiers had leisure for home talk. Then began the work of getting them together. Several veterans of the corps who have been sent home......
[Editor's notes: From here the article becomes worse and worse, with the letters of many words are an indistinct blur.]
New York Times, Monday, January 23, 1899, Page?, Column 2 -
THE ASTOR BATTERY HOME
---
Survivors of the Command Arrive
In Splendid Health
---
THOUSANDS CHEER THE RETURN
---
Just in Time for Breakfast-The Men
To Parade Today-Stories Told
Of Their Campaign
---
The Astor Battery, seventy-nine strong, under the command of Capt. Peyton C. March, reached home yesterday morning from Manila. The men were enthusiastically welcomed at the Grand Central Station by an army of anxious relatives and friends and strangers, proud of their county's fighting men. The members of the command are.....
A large crowd of wondering visitors lingered about the armory throughout the afternoon and plied the few remaining soldiers with questions of every kind. The men were still filled with reminiscences of the 13th of August, when the battery promptly seized an opportunity to make for itself a reputation. The story of the work of McArthur's brigade, which bore the brunt of the fighting on the day Manila fell, was told over and over again by the men, who lost more comrades than those of any other body. McArthur's brigade consisted of the Thirteenth Minnesota, the Twenty-third Regular Infantry, and the Astor Battery. The battery began the battle on the right at 6 o'clock in the morning and after seven and one-half hours'fighting had demolished the enemy's blockhouse and put the Spaniards to flight. The pursuit continued a mile up the Pasay Road to a thick jungle of bamboo tree, where the enemy made the last stand. It was here that Gen. McArthur called for an officer to volunteer to lead his men in a charge. Capt. March instantly cried, "Come on, men," and dashed into the wilderness, who drew their pistols, their only weapons, and, after a desperate encounter, won a signal victory. So eager were the men to get into the fray that Sergeant Robert Sillman and Private W. D. Welsh ran ahead of their Captain in the charge. Sergeant M. E. Holmes and Dennis Crimmins were killed in the encounter, and Private Dunn was so badly injured that he died next day. Eight others were wounded......
During the afternoon, Sergeant's Lester K. Young and Privates Daniel Wright and Edward Kerr, the men who had missed their trains en route, strolled in, having taken later trains. Sergeant Young, who is a grandson of Brigham Young, had been left at Denver. Privates Wright and Kerr had a like misfortune at Ogden, Utah. They were made to believe for several hours that they had been declared deserters.
A popular member of the battery, who went through the campaign without a scratch, is Boajum, a fox terrier, who readily made friends yesterday with a host of admirers. Boajum's master, Sergeant Holmes, was killed, but Boajum has not even a scar to show after many victorious encounters with Filipino curs......
The Sun, Tuesday, January 24, 1899, Image 1, Page 1, Column 1 -
GLAD TO SEE ASTOR BOYS
---
ABOUT A THOUSAND SPECTATORS TO
EVERY ONE PARADER
---
Triumphal March of the Battery Down Fifth
Avenue and a Review by the Mayor That
Was Over So Soon as to Fool the Crowd
Battery's Mountain Guns Much Missed
In proportion to the number of those in line the crowd that turned out to welcome the Astor Battery back from Manila was probably as big as ever assembled in this city to see a single organization with an escort and a band parade. The procession was made up of Capt. Peyton C March with seventy-five men of the battery on foot, and Corporal Van Horne, who left his leg in Manila, in a cab, escorted by 100 men of Battery I, Fifth Regiment, U. S. A., under Lieutenants, Spinks, Douglas and Hall, and preceded by the regimental band. It would be difficult to estimate how many persons lined the streets through which the parade went, but there were fully 5,000 at the reviewing stand in Union Square, and all along the line of march the sidewalks had a rim four or five deep. Even after the soldiers had returned to the Seventy-first Regiment armory hundreds of people hung around outside for two hours. Many flags were displayed from buildings along the line, and the cheers with which the battery was greeted showed that the military enthusiasm of the public has not died out.
With the characteristic promptitude of the regular army, the artillerymen of the Fifth from Port Hamilton reached the armory at 3 o'clock and lined up alone the north side of Thirty-Fourth Street, just east of Park Avenue. They had a very brief time for rest before the call the bugles inside the building was heard, the big door opened, and the Astor Battery appeared with Capt March leading, the banner flying and Boojum, the fat and frisky fox terrier mascot, spinning around like a canine dervish in an agony of excitement and enthusiasm and uttering sharp yelps of glee. His emotional expressions were drowned in the cheers of the crowd as the battery swung around into the street with admirable precision and set off at a good marching pace up Park Avenue in the wake of the regulars, the band lending, and ten mounted police clearing the way. The greater part of the crowd had strung along Thirty-fourth street as far as Fifth Avenue, lining the sidewalks, filling the high front steps of the houses and perching jauntily on the area railings, but when the paraders set out due north instead of coming west, the multitude, with a general shout of "Sold again!" ran for new vantage points. Hundreds poured into Park Avenue and effectually choked that wide thoroughfare. Other hundreds rushed up Madison Avenue to intercept the parade when it should cross over, and a rushing multitude tumultuously swirled into Fifth Avenue and upward, passing double lines of populace along the curb, where they had established themselves wait with patience.
The soldiers swung into Fortieth Street and across to Fifth Avenue, where they turned downtown, passing the Union Square Club, which was decorated in front with American flags and in all its windows with crowds of clubmen. As the mounted police turned into the avenue the second horse from the left of the line slipped on the asphalt and fell heavily, carrying its rider down with it. In an instant the horse was up, and a bicycle policeman, darting in front, had seized the bridle, but the rider lay stunned. He was Policeman George Neill of the High Bridge station. Several of the policemen on duty near by carried him into an areaway, where he soon recovered consciousness, but on attempting to get on his feet fainted. An ambulance took him to the New York Hospital, where it was found that his leg was fractured. He has no internal injuries and will recover. Policeman Neill is 42 years old, married, and lives at 144 West 117th Street. The accident did not delay the march an instant. The rider-less horse was quickly led away and only those close by knew that anything of the sort had happened.
Down Fifth Avenue the paraders marched four abreast. The regulars in front stepped steadily ahead with the stolidity of long training, head up and eyes front, but the Astor Battery boys relaxed a little from their military rigidity. Here they were among friends, handkerchief-and-hat-waving friends, giving vent to their feelings with frequent cheers. No wonder that the military eye wandered and the martial countenance forsook its customary stony [stoney] aspect for occasional smiles and winks of recognition. Little groups of friends shouted personal remarks to the individuals. First Sergeant Benham, the old Cornell's football captain,......
[Editor's notes: The letters are blurred or not printed and as such the article becomes unreadable.]
BROUGHT HOME A DOG
WITH A BROKEN HEART
---
WHEN the Astor Battery arrived in this city yesterday the boys brought with them a little four-footed friend around whose life hangs a pathetic little tale of real life which sounds almost like fiction. The animal is just an ordinary little scraggy fox terrier bearing the un-poetic name of Boojum, but if ever dog suffered from a broken heart Boojum was that dog.
He was originally the property of Sergeant Major Holmes of the Astor Battery. When the battery was organized in New York the major did not want to part from his lively little canine friend, and accordingly took him along as a mascot. Everybody petted the little fellow. He was lively and intelligent, as all his breed are, and any one who would hurt Boojum would be called to account speedily.
When the battery shipped for Manila Boojum was the life of the ship. When everybody else was suffering from the dreaded mal-de-mar Boojum was skipping merrily around the deck, was wagging his stump of a tail and happy as a clam at high water. The sight of him cheered the weary ones, and he caused many a laugh.
But it was at Manila that the little dog distinguished himself; it was at Manila that his master fell, and it was at Manila that the joy went out of his heart of the faithful pet.
During the battle, when death and destruction was flying in the air, Boojum, like his master, was in the heat of the battle. The whole thing seemed a day's sport for the dog. He cavorted, barked merrily, and when a bullet would stir up a little cloud of dust near him would make a rush for it and bite up a mouthful of earth.
Then came the change. Somebody missed Major Holmes and his dog. After the battle they found them together. The major lay stiff and cold in death and his pet, his mascot Boojum, stood by his side, licking the cold face of his master and whining piteously betimes. They took the body away and the dog slunk silently after it, giving vent occasionally to a piteous, half-human cry of grief.
When the major was buried it was thought that the dog would die of grief. Day after day he lay on the grave and would not be comforted. When the regiment finally left he was with great difficulty coaxed aboard the transport, but has never been known to frolic or give vent to his merry bark since the Spanish bullet robbed him of his master.
Editor's notes: Herein are all the other articles that I could find concerning the war hero Boojum and Major Holmes. Maybe someday the details of both their lives in New York, and their exploits in the Philippines, will pass on to the internet and their final chapter will be given notice.
The Times, Monday, January 23, 1899, Page 2, Image 2, Column 1 -
RETURN OF ASTOR BATTERY
---
Rugged Philippine Veterans Welcomed
Home in New York
New York, Jan. 22.- Back from half way around the world and looking as ruddy and rugged as a squad of football men in the pink of training, the Astor Battery, 82 strong, which has been fighting in the Philippine Islands, returned to this city today. The men were received by their friends and relatives with a fervor that imperiled their ribs. From Capt. Peyton C. March to the last private in the ranks there was not a man in the battery who did sot find himself the centre of a little whirlpool of enthusiasm. Even the battery dog, "Boojum," was petted until on the verge of canine hysterics. The battery is at present stationed in the Seventy-first Regiment Armory, muster-out will come some time this week.
Four of the battery's dead rest under the Stars and Stripes that wave over Manila. One other man died on shipboard on the home trail. They were not forgotten today in the gay home-coming. At the celebration held immediately after the arrival their names were spoken and the men arose and in silence drank to the memory of their dead comrades. A few sick have been left behind in San Francisco and Manila, but they will recover, and the Astor Battery will probably pass out of Uncle Sam's service with the roster as it now stands.
That the seven months' service has been a benefit to the men no one can doubt who saw them today. Each man seemed to be at the top notch of physical vigor. To one who remembered the wrecks of the Cuban campaign that trailed pitifully through our streets a few months ago, the condition of these Philippine veterans was startling by contrast. It indicated that the Government diet and training can make giants instead of invalids out of men under certain conditions. A curious thing about these men is that they do not show in their faces the deep and somewhat dull brown of the Cuban and Porto Rico soldier boys. The Oriental sun paints in different color schemes, and most of the men had complexions that a debutante might delight in. She would not, however, delight in the hirsute adornments of several of the young men. A beard grown on army rations and under the fostering of an army barber is not a thing of beauty.
It was 6:30 a. m. when the train carrying the Astor Battery arrived at the Grand Central station. After greeting the waiting friends, the battery marched to the Grand Union Hotel, where the reception committee had breakfast ready. The soldiers were divided into squads and seated at small tables, presided over by ladies who assisted the committee. There were a few speeches and then the battery marched to the Seventy-first Regiment Armory.
Captain March, of the battery, was asked if he thought there would be trouble with the insurgent army. "Not around Manila," he said. "In Mindanao it is very likely. Spain never conquered that island. If we propose to take possession of it we shall have to fight for it. But at Manila the insurgents are getting too much cash from us to want to fight, and then Admiral Dewey is there. Dewey is the finest thing that ever lived. He is the idol of everyone there. I am proud to have met him."
The men will stay in the armory, Captain March said, until they are mustered out by Capt. E. R. Hills, of the Fifth Artillery, who was there today. Captain March is first lieutenant of the Fifth Artillery. The men who live in this city or who have relatives were allowed to go home tonight.
The Sun, Monday, January 23, 1899, Image 1, Page 1, Column 7 -
[Editor's notes: This article is curiously identical to The Times column of the same day until this section where the detail increases. Unfortunately, the newspaper image becomes unreadable.]
It was 6:30 A. M. when the train carrying the Astor Battery arrived at the Grand Central Station. A wan and heavy-eyed little crowd of men and women was waiting there. It was not curiosity or patriotism that had brought them there at that uninspiring hour, but the feeling that they must go to the front to greet the soldier-son or husband or brother. In view of the nature of the gathering it was perhaps superfluous that there should be 107 policemen present to preserve the peace. A thousand and seven couldn't have prevented a wild and tumultuous assault upon each soldier as he appeared. Possibly it was the consciousness of this that determined Capt. March not to march his men out in military order at first. Certainly there would have been a scandalous defeat of discipline when the mothers and wives and sisters other interested persons of the gentle sex beheld that military line. As it was, there were a series of short, mad charges upon the individual soldiers as they came out rubbing their eyes, only to be almost smothered in surrounding arms. It was not a Hobson performance. One had only to look at the yearning faces and the tear-stained eyes of the women to know that every one of them had her rightful share in some soldier boy. The men greeted the exiles with long, hard handshakes and husky voices, and presently the whole place was a series of little groups. There was a general cohesion for a moment about a woman for whom joy had been too much and who went into hysterics, but she soon recovered.
For half an hour the soldiers had leisure for home talk. Then began the work of getting them together. Several veterans of the corps who have been sent home......
[Editor's notes: From here the article becomes worse and worse, with the letters of many words are an indistinct blur.]
New York Times, Monday, January 23, 1899, Page?, Column 2 -
THE ASTOR BATTERY HOME
---
Survivors of the Command Arrive
In Splendid Health
---
THOUSANDS CHEER THE RETURN
---
Just in Time for Breakfast-The Men
To Parade Today-Stories Told
Of Their Campaign
---
The Astor Battery, seventy-nine strong, under the command of Capt. Peyton C. March, reached home yesterday morning from Manila. The men were enthusiastically welcomed at the Grand Central Station by an army of anxious relatives and friends and strangers, proud of their county's fighting men. The members of the command are.....
A large crowd of wondering visitors lingered about the armory throughout the afternoon and plied the few remaining soldiers with questions of every kind. The men were still filled with reminiscences of the 13th of August, when the battery promptly seized an opportunity to make for itself a reputation. The story of the work of McArthur's brigade, which bore the brunt of the fighting on the day Manila fell, was told over and over again by the men, who lost more comrades than those of any other body. McArthur's brigade consisted of the Thirteenth Minnesota, the Twenty-third Regular Infantry, and the Astor Battery. The battery began the battle on the right at 6 o'clock in the morning and after seven and one-half hours'fighting had demolished the enemy's blockhouse and put the Spaniards to flight. The pursuit continued a mile up the Pasay Road to a thick jungle of bamboo tree, where the enemy made the last stand. It was here that Gen. McArthur called for an officer to volunteer to lead his men in a charge. Capt. March instantly cried, "Come on, men," and dashed into the wilderness, who drew their pistols, their only weapons, and, after a desperate encounter, won a signal victory. So eager were the men to get into the fray that Sergeant Robert Sillman and Private W. D. Welsh ran ahead of their Captain in the charge. Sergeant M. E. Holmes and Dennis Crimmins were killed in the encounter, and Private Dunn was so badly injured that he died next day. Eight others were wounded......
During the afternoon, Sergeant's Lester K. Young and Privates Daniel Wright and Edward Kerr, the men who had missed their trains en route, strolled in, having taken later trains. Sergeant Young, who is a grandson of Brigham Young, had been left at Denver. Privates Wright and Kerr had a like misfortune at Ogden, Utah. They were made to believe for several hours that they had been declared deserters.
A popular member of the battery, who went through the campaign without a scratch, is Boajum, a fox terrier, who readily made friends yesterday with a host of admirers. Boajum's master, Sergeant Holmes, was killed, but Boajum has not even a scar to show after many victorious encounters with Filipino curs......
The Sun, Tuesday, January 24, 1899, Image 1, Page 1, Column 1 -
GLAD TO SEE ASTOR BOYS
---
ABOUT A THOUSAND SPECTATORS TO
EVERY ONE PARADER
---
Triumphal March of the Battery Down Fifth
Avenue and a Review by the Mayor That
Was Over So Soon as to Fool the Crowd
Battery's Mountain Guns Much Missed
In proportion to the number of those in line the crowd that turned out to welcome the Astor Battery back from Manila was probably as big as ever assembled in this city to see a single organization with an escort and a band parade. The procession was made up of Capt. Peyton C March with seventy-five men of the battery on foot, and Corporal Van Horne, who left his leg in Manila, in a cab, escorted by 100 men of Battery I, Fifth Regiment, U. S. A., under Lieutenants, Spinks, Douglas and Hall, and preceded by the regimental band. It would be difficult to estimate how many persons lined the streets through which the parade went, but there were fully 5,000 at the reviewing stand in Union Square, and all along the line of march the sidewalks had a rim four or five deep. Even after the soldiers had returned to the Seventy-first Regiment armory hundreds of people hung around outside for two hours. Many flags were displayed from buildings along the line, and the cheers with which the battery was greeted showed that the military enthusiasm of the public has not died out.
With the characteristic promptitude of the regular army, the artillerymen of the Fifth from Port Hamilton reached the armory at 3 o'clock and lined up alone the north side of Thirty-Fourth Street, just east of Park Avenue. They had a very brief time for rest before the call the bugles inside the building was heard, the big door opened, and the Astor Battery appeared with Capt March leading, the banner flying and Boojum, the fat and frisky fox terrier mascot, spinning around like a canine dervish in an agony of excitement and enthusiasm and uttering sharp yelps of glee. His emotional expressions were drowned in the cheers of the crowd as the battery swung around into the street with admirable precision and set off at a good marching pace up Park Avenue in the wake of the regulars, the band lending, and ten mounted police clearing the way. The greater part of the crowd had strung along Thirty-fourth street as far as Fifth Avenue, lining the sidewalks, filling the high front steps of the houses and perching jauntily on the area railings, but when the paraders set out due north instead of coming west, the multitude, with a general shout of "Sold again!" ran for new vantage points. Hundreds poured into Park Avenue and effectually choked that wide thoroughfare. Other hundreds rushed up Madison Avenue to intercept the parade when it should cross over, and a rushing multitude tumultuously swirled into Fifth Avenue and upward, passing double lines of populace along the curb, where they had established themselves wait with patience.
The soldiers swung into Fortieth Street and across to Fifth Avenue, where they turned downtown, passing the Union Square Club, which was decorated in front with American flags and in all its windows with crowds of clubmen. As the mounted police turned into the avenue the second horse from the left of the line slipped on the asphalt and fell heavily, carrying its rider down with it. In an instant the horse was up, and a bicycle policeman, darting in front, had seized the bridle, but the rider lay stunned. He was Policeman George Neill of the High Bridge station. Several of the policemen on duty near by carried him into an areaway, where he soon recovered consciousness, but on attempting to get on his feet fainted. An ambulance took him to the New York Hospital, where it was found that his leg was fractured. He has no internal injuries and will recover. Policeman Neill is 42 years old, married, and lives at 144 West 117th Street. The accident did not delay the march an instant. The rider-less horse was quickly led away and only those close by knew that anything of the sort had happened.
Down Fifth Avenue the paraders marched four abreast. The regulars in front stepped steadily ahead with the stolidity of long training, head up and eyes front, but the Astor Battery boys relaxed a little from their military rigidity. Here they were among friends, handkerchief-and-hat-waving friends, giving vent to their feelings with frequent cheers. No wonder that the military eye wandered and the martial countenance forsook its customary stony [stoney] aspect for occasional smiles and winks of recognition. Little groups of friends shouted personal remarks to the individuals. First Sergeant Benham, the old Cornell's football captain,......
[Editor's notes: The letters are blurred or not printed and as such the article becomes unreadable.]
San Francisco Call, Sunday, January 15, 1899, Page 11, Image 11, Columns 2, 3 -
BROUGHT HOME A DOG
WITH A BROKEN HEART
---
WHEN the Astor Battery arrived in this city yesterday the boys brought with them a little four-footed friend around whose life hangs a pathetic little tale of real life which sounds almost like fiction. The animal is just an ordinary little scraggy fox terrier bearing the un-poetic name of Boojum, but if ever dog suffered from a broken heart Boojum was that dog.
He was originally the property of Sergeant Major Holmes of the Astor Battery. When the battery was organized in New York the major did not want to part from his lively little canine friend, and accordingly took him along as a mascot. Everybody petted the little fellow. He was lively and intelligent, as all his breed are, and any one who would hurt Boojum would be called to account speedily.
When the battery shipped for Manila Boojum was the life of the ship. When everybody else was suffering from the dreaded mal-de-mar Boojum was skipping merrily around the deck, was wagging his stump of a tail and happy as a clam at high water. The sight of him cheered the weary ones, and he caused many a laugh.
But it was at Manila that the little dog distinguished himself; it was at Manila that his master fell, and it was at Manila that the joy went out of his heart of the faithful pet.
During the battle, when death and destruction was flying in the air, Boojum, like his master, was in the heat of the battle. The whole thing seemed a day's sport for the dog. He cavorted, barked merrily, and when a bullet would stir up a little cloud of dust near him would make a rush for it and bite up a mouthful of earth.
Then came the change. Somebody missed Major Holmes and his dog. After the battle they found them together. The major lay stiff and cold in death and his pet, his mascot Boojum, stood by his side, licking the cold face of his master and whining piteously betimes. They took the body away and the dog slunk silently after it, giving vent occasionally to a piteous, half-human cry of grief.
When the major was buried it was thought that the dog would die of grief. Day after day he lay on the grave and would not be comforted. When the regiment finally left he was with great difficulty coaxed aboard the transport, but has never been known to frolic or give vent to his merry bark since the Spanish bullet robbed him of his master.
Editor's notes: Herein are all the other articles that I could find concerning the war hero Boojum and Major Holmes. Maybe someday the details of both their lives in New York, and their exploits in the Philippines, will pass on to the internet and their final chapter will be given notice.
The Times, Monday, January 23, 1899, Page 2, Image 2, Column 1 -
RETURN OF ASTOR BATTERY
---
Rugged Philippine Veterans Welcomed
Home in New York
New York, Jan. 22.- Back from half way around the world and looking as ruddy and rugged as a squad of football men in the pink of training, the Astor Battery, 82 strong, which has been fighting in the Philippine Islands, returned to this city today. The men were received by their friends and relatives with a fervor that imperiled their ribs. From Capt. Peyton C. March to the last private in the ranks there was not a man in the battery who did sot find himself the centre of a little whirlpool of enthusiasm. Even the battery dog, "Boojum," was petted until on the verge of canine hysterics. The battery is at present stationed in the Seventy-first Regiment Armory, muster-out will come some time this week.
Four of the battery's dead rest under the Stars and Stripes that wave over Manila. One other man died on shipboard on the home trail. They were not forgotten today in the gay home-coming. At the celebration held immediately after the arrival their names were spoken and the men arose and in silence drank to the memory of their dead comrades. A few sick have been left behind in San Francisco and Manila, but they will recover, and the Astor Battery will probably pass out of Uncle Sam's service with the roster as it now stands.
That the seven months' service has been a benefit to the men no one can doubt who saw them today. Each man seemed to be at the top notch of physical vigor. To one who remembered the wrecks of the Cuban campaign that trailed pitifully through our streets a few months ago, the condition of these Philippine veterans was startling by contrast. It indicated that the Government diet and training can make giants instead of invalids out of men under certain conditions. A curious thing about these men is that they do not show in their faces the deep and somewhat dull brown of the Cuban and Porto Rico soldier boys. The Oriental sun paints in different color schemes, and most of the men had complexions that a debutante might delight in. She would not, however, delight in the hirsute adornments of several of the young men. A beard grown on army rations and under the fostering of an army barber is not a thing of beauty.
It was 6:30 a. m. when the train carrying the Astor Battery arrived at the Grand Central station. After greeting the waiting friends, the battery marched to the Grand Union Hotel, where the reception committee had breakfast ready. The soldiers were divided into squads and seated at small tables, presided over by ladies who assisted the committee. There were a few speeches and then the battery marched to the Seventy-first Regiment Armory.
Captain March, of the battery, was asked if he thought there would be trouble with the insurgent army. "Not around Manila," he said. "In Mindanao it is very likely. Spain never conquered that island. If we propose to take possession of it we shall have to fight for it. But at Manila the insurgents are getting too much cash from us to want to fight, and then Admiral Dewey is there. Dewey is the finest thing that ever lived. He is the idol of everyone there. I am proud to have met him."
The men will stay in the armory, Captain March said, until they are mustered out by Capt. E. R. Hills, of the Fifth Artillery, who was there today. Captain March is first lieutenant of the Fifth Artillery. The men who live in this city or who have relatives were allowed to go home tonight.
The Sun, Monday, January 23, 1899, Image 1, Page 1, Column 7 -
[Editor's notes: This article is curiously identical to The Times column of the same day until this section where the detail increases. Unfortunately, the newspaper image becomes unreadable.]
It was 6:30 A. M. when the train carrying the Astor Battery arrived at the Grand Central Station. A wan and heavy-eyed little crowd of men and women was waiting there. It was not curiosity or patriotism that had brought them there at that uninspiring hour, but the feeling that they must go to the front to greet the soldier-son or husband or brother. In view of the nature of the gathering it was perhaps superfluous that there should be 107 policemen present to preserve the peace. A thousand and seven couldn't have prevented a wild and tumultuous assault upon each soldier as he appeared. Possibly it was the consciousness of this that determined Capt. March not to march his men out in military order at first. Certainly there would have been a scandalous defeat of discipline when the mothers and wives and sisters other interested persons of the gentle sex beheld that military line. As it was, there were a series of short, mad charges upon the individual soldiers as they came out rubbing their eyes, only to be almost smothered in surrounding arms. It was not a Hobson performance. One had only to look at the yearning faces and the tear-stained eyes of the women to know that every one of them had her rightful share in some soldier boy. The men greeted the exiles with long, hard handshakes and husky voices, and presently the whole place was a series of little groups. There was a general cohesion for a moment about a woman for whom joy had been too much and who went into hysterics, but she soon recovered.
For half an hour the soldiers had leisure for home talk. Then began the work of getting them together. Several veterans of the corps who have been sent home......
[Editor's notes: From here the article becomes worse and worse, with the letters of many words are an indistinct blur.]
New York Times, Monday, January 23, 1899, Page?, Column 2 -
THE ASTOR BATTERY HOME
---
Survivors of the Command Arrive
In Splendid Health
---
THOUSANDS CHEER THE RETURN
---
Just in Time for Breakfast-The Men
To Parade Today-Stories Told
Of Their Campaign
---
The Astor Battery, seventy-nine strong, under the command of Capt. Peyton C. March, reached home yesterday morning from Manila. The men were enthusiastically welcomed at the Grand Central Station by an army of anxious relatives and friends and strangers, proud of their county's fighting men. The members of the command are.....
A large crowd of wondering visitors lingered about the armory throughout the afternoon and plied the few remaining soldiers with questions of every kind. The men were still filled with reminiscences of the 13th of August, when the battery promptly seized an opportunity to make for itself a reputation. The story of the work of McArthur's brigade, which bore the brunt of the fighting on the day Manila fell, was told over and over again by the men, who lost more comrades than those of any other body. McArthur's brigade consisted of the Thirteenth Minnesota, the Twenty-third Regular Infantry, and the Astor Battery. The battery began the battle on the right at 6 o'clock in the morning and after seven and one-half hours'fighting had demolished the enemy's blockhouse and put the Spaniards to flight. The pursuit continued a mile up the Pasay Road to a thick jungle of bamboo tree, where the enemy made the last stand. It was here that Gen. McArthur called for an officer to volunteer to lead his men in a charge. Capt. March instantly cried, "Come on, men," and dashed into the wilderness, who drew their pistols, their only weapons, and, after a desperate encounter, won a signal victory. So eager were the men to get into the fray that Sergeant Robert Sillman and Private W. D. Welsh ran ahead of their Captain in the charge. Sergeant M. E. Holmes and Dennis Crimmins were killed in the encounter, and Private Dunn was so badly injured that he died next day. Eight others were wounded......
During the afternoon, Sergeant's Lester K. Young and Privates Daniel Wright and Edward Kerr, the men who had missed their trains en route, strolled in, having taken later trains. Sergeant Young, who is a grandson of Brigham Young, had been left at Denver. Privates Wright and Kerr had a like misfortune at Ogden, Utah. They were made to believe for several hours that they had been declared deserters.
A popular member of the battery, who went through the campaign without a scratch, is Boajum, a fox terrier, who readily made friends yesterday with a host of admirers. Boajum's master, Sergeant Holmes, was killed, but Boajum has not even a scar to show after many victorious encounters with Filipino curs......
The Sun, Tuesday, January 24, 1899, Image 1, Page 1, Column 1 -
GLAD TO SEE ASTOR BOYS
---
ABOUT A THOUSAND SPECTATORS TO
EVERY ONE PARADER
---
Triumphal March of the Battery Down Fifth
Avenue and a Review by the Mayor That
Was Over So Soon as to Fool the Crowd
Battery's Mountain Guns Much Missed
In proportion to the number of those in line the crowd that turned out to welcome the Astor Battery back from Manila was probably as big as ever assembled in this city to see a single organization with an escort and a band parade. The procession was made up of Capt. Peyton C March with seventy-five men of the battery on foot, and Corporal Van Horne, who left his leg in Manila, in a cab, escorted by 100 men of Battery I, Fifth Regiment, U. S. A., under Lieutenants, Spinks, Douglas and Hall, and preceded by the regimental band. It would be difficult to estimate how many persons lined the streets through which the parade went, but there were fully 5,000 at the reviewing stand in Union Square, and all along the line of march the sidewalks had a rim four or five deep. Even after the soldiers had returned to the Seventy-first Regiment armory hundreds of people hung around outside for two hours. Many flags were displayed from buildings along the line, and the cheers with which the battery was greeted showed that the military enthusiasm of the public has not died out.
With the characteristic promptitude of the regular army, the artillerymen of the Fifth from Port Hamilton reached the armory at 3 o'clock and lined up alone the north side of Thirty-Fourth Street, just east of Park Avenue. They had a very brief time for rest before the call the bugles inside the building was heard, the big door opened, and the Astor Battery appeared with Capt March leading, the banner flying and Boojum, the fat and frisky fox terrier mascot, spinning around like a canine dervish in an agony of excitement and enthusiasm and uttering sharp yelps of glee. His emotional expressions were drowned in the cheers of the crowd as the battery swung around into the street with admirable precision and set off at a good marching pace up Park Avenue in the wake of the regulars, the band lending, and ten mounted police clearing the way. The greater part of the crowd had strung along Thirty-fourth street as far as Fifth Avenue, lining the sidewalks, filling the high front steps of the houses and perching jauntily on the area railings, but when the paraders set out due north instead of coming west, the multitude, with a general shout of "Sold again!" ran for new vantage points. Hundreds poured into Park Avenue and effectually choked that wide thoroughfare. Other hundreds rushed up Madison Avenue to intercept the parade when it should cross over, and a rushing multitude tumultuously swirled into Fifth Avenue and upward, passing double lines of populace along the curb, where they had established themselves wait with patience.
The soldiers swung into Fortieth Street and across to Fifth Avenue, where they turned downtown, passing the Union Square Club, which was decorated in front with American flags and in all its windows with crowds of clubmen. As the mounted police turned into the avenue the second horse from the left of the line slipped on the asphalt and fell heavily, carrying its rider down with it. In an instant the horse was up, and a bicycle policeman, darting in front, had seized the bridle, but the rider lay stunned. He was Policeman George Neill of the High Bridge station. Several of the policemen on duty near by carried him into an areaway, where he soon recovered consciousness, but on attempting to get on his feet fainted. An ambulance took him to the New York Hospital, where it was found that his leg was fractured. He has no internal injuries and will recover. Policeman Neill is 42 years old, married, and lives at 144 West 117th Street. The accident did not delay the march an instant. The rider-less horse was quickly led away and only those close by knew that anything of the sort had happened.
Down Fifth Avenue the paraders marched four abreast. The regulars in front stepped steadily ahead with the stolidity of long training, head up and eyes front, but the Astor Battery boys relaxed a little from their military rigidity. Here they were among friends, handkerchief-and-hat-waving friends, giving vent to their feelings with frequent cheers. No wonder that the military eye wandered and the martial countenance forsook its customary stony [stoney] aspect for occasional smiles and winks of recognition. Little groups of friends shouted personal remarks to the individuals. First Sergeant Benham, the old Cornell's football captain,......
[Editor's notes: The letters are blurred or not printed and as such the article becomes unreadable.]
BROUGHT HOME A DOG
WITH A BROKEN HEART
---
WHEN the Astor Battery arrived in this city yesterday the boys brought with them a little four-footed friend around whose life hangs a pathetic little tale of real life which sounds almost like fiction. The animal is just an ordinary little scraggy fox terrier bearing the un-poetic name of Boojum, but if ever dog suffered from a broken heart Boojum was that dog.
He was originally the property of Sergeant Major Holmes of the Astor Battery. When the battery was organized in New York the major did not want to part from his lively little canine friend, and accordingly took him along as a mascot. Everybody petted the little fellow. He was lively and intelligent, as all his breed are, and any one who would hurt Boojum would be called to account speedily.
When the battery shipped for Manila Boojum was the life of the ship. When everybody else was suffering from the dreaded mal-de-mar Boojum was skipping merrily around the deck, was wagging his stump of a tail and happy as a clam at high water. The sight of him cheered the weary ones, and he caused many a laugh.
But it was at Manila that the little dog distinguished himself; it was at Manila that his master fell, and it was at Manila that the joy went out of his heart of the faithful pet.
During the battle, when death and destruction was flying in the air, Boojum, like his master, was in the heat of the battle. The whole thing seemed a day's sport for the dog. He cavorted, barked merrily, and when a bullet would stir up a little cloud of dust near him would make a rush for it and bite up a mouthful of earth.
Then came the change. Somebody missed Major Holmes and his dog. After the battle they found them together. The major lay stiff and cold in death and his pet, his mascot Boojum, stood by his side, licking the cold face of his master and whining piteously betimes. They took the body away and the dog slunk silently after it, giving vent occasionally to a piteous, half-human cry of grief.
When the major was buried it was thought that the dog would die of grief. Day after day he lay on the grave and would not be comforted. When the regiment finally left he was with great difficulty coaxed aboard the transport, but has never been known to frolic or give vent to his merry bark since the Spanish bullet robbed him of his master.
Editor's notes: Herein are all the other articles that I could find concerning the war hero Boojum and Major Holmes. Maybe someday the details of both their lives in New York, and their exploits in the Philippines, will pass on to the internet and their final chapter will be given notice.
The Times, Monday, January 23, 1899, Page 2, Image 2, Column 1 -
RETURN OF ASTOR BATTERY
---
Rugged Philippine Veterans Welcomed
Home in New York
New York, Jan. 22.- Back from half way around the world and looking as ruddy and rugged as a squad of football men in the pink of training, the Astor Battery, 82 strong, which has been fighting in the Philippine Islands, returned to this city today. The men were received by their friends and relatives with a fervor that imperiled their ribs. From Capt. Peyton C. March to the last private in the ranks there was not a man in the battery who did sot find himself the centre of a little whirlpool of enthusiasm. Even the battery dog, "Boojum," was petted until on the verge of canine hysterics. The battery is at present stationed in the Seventy-first Regiment Armory, muster-out will come some time this week.
Four of the battery's dead rest under the Stars and Stripes that wave over Manila. One other man died on shipboard on the home trail. They were not forgotten today in the gay home-coming. At the celebration held immediately after the arrival their names were spoken and the men arose and in silence drank to the memory of their dead comrades. A few sick have been left behind in San Francisco and Manila, but they will recover, and the Astor Battery will probably pass out of Uncle Sam's service with the roster as it now stands.
That the seven months' service has been a benefit to the men no one can doubt who saw them today. Each man seemed to be at the top notch of physical vigor. To one who remembered the wrecks of the Cuban campaign that trailed pitifully through our streets a few months ago, the condition of these Philippine veterans was startling by contrast. It indicated that the Government diet and training can make giants instead of invalids out of men under certain conditions. A curious thing about these men is that they do not show in their faces the deep and somewhat dull brown of the Cuban and Porto Rico soldier boys. The Oriental sun paints in different color schemes, and most of the men had complexions that a debutante might delight in. She would not, however, delight in the hirsute adornments of several of the young men. A beard grown on army rations and under the fostering of an army barber is not a thing of beauty.
It was 6:30 a. m. when the train carrying the Astor Battery arrived at the Grand Central station. After greeting the waiting friends, the battery marched to the Grand Union Hotel, where the reception committee had breakfast ready. The soldiers were divided into squads and seated at small tables, presided over by ladies who assisted the committee. There were a few speeches and then the battery marched to the Seventy-first Regiment Armory.
Captain March, of the battery, was asked if he thought there would be trouble with the insurgent army. "Not around Manila," he said. "In Mindanao it is very likely. Spain never conquered that island. If we propose to take possession of it we shall have to fight for it. But at Manila the insurgents are getting too much cash from us to want to fight, and then Admiral Dewey is there. Dewey is the finest thing that ever lived. He is the idol of everyone there. I am proud to have met him."
The men will stay in the armory, Captain March said, until they are mustered out by Capt. E. R. Hills, of the Fifth Artillery, who was there today. Captain March is first lieutenant of the Fifth Artillery. The men who live in this city or who have relatives were allowed to go home tonight.
The Sun, Monday, January 23, 1899, Image 1, Page 1, Column 7 -
[Editor's notes: This article is curiously identical to The Times column of the same day until this section where the detail increases. Unfortunately, the newspaper image becomes unreadable.]
It was 6:30 A. M. when the train carrying the Astor Battery arrived at the Grand Central Station. A wan and heavy-eyed little crowd of men and women was waiting there. It was not curiosity or patriotism that had brought them there at that uninspiring hour, but the feeling that they must go to the front to greet the soldier-son or husband or brother. In view of the nature of the gathering it was perhaps superfluous that there should be 107 policemen present to preserve the peace. A thousand and seven couldn't have prevented a wild and tumultuous assault upon each soldier as he appeared. Possibly it was the consciousness of this that determined Capt. March not to march his men out in military order at first. Certainly there would have been a scandalous defeat of discipline when the mothers and wives and sisters other interested persons of the gentle sex beheld that military line. As it was, there were a series of short, mad charges upon the individual soldiers as they came out rubbing their eyes, only to be almost smothered in surrounding arms. It was not a Hobson performance. One had only to look at the yearning faces and the tear-stained eyes of the women to know that every one of them had her rightful share in some soldier boy. The men greeted the exiles with long, hard handshakes and husky voices, and presently the whole place was a series of little groups. There was a general cohesion for a moment about a woman for whom joy had been too much and who went into hysterics, but she soon recovered.
For half an hour the soldiers had leisure for home talk. Then began the work of getting them together. Several veterans of the corps who have been sent home......
[Editor's notes: From here the article becomes worse and worse, with the letters of many words are an indistinct blur.]
New York Times, Monday, January 23, 1899, Page?, Column 2 -
THE ASTOR BATTERY HOME
---
Survivors of the Command Arrive
In Splendid Health
---
THOUSANDS CHEER THE RETURN
---
Just in Time for Breakfast-The Men
To Parade Today-Stories Told
Of Their Campaign
---
The Astor Battery, seventy-nine strong, under the command of Capt. Peyton C. March, reached home yesterday morning from Manila. The men were enthusiastically welcomed at the Grand Central Station by an army of anxious relatives and friends and strangers, proud of their county's fighting men. The members of the command are.....
A large crowd of wondering visitors lingered about the armory throughout the afternoon and plied the few remaining soldiers with questions of every kind. The men were still filled with reminiscences of the 13th of August, when the battery promptly seized an opportunity to make for itself a reputation. The story of the work of McArthur's brigade, which bore the brunt of the fighting on the day Manila fell, was told over and over again by the men, who lost more comrades than those of any other body. McArthur's brigade consisted of the Thirteenth Minnesota, the Twenty-third Regular Infantry, and the Astor Battery. The battery began the battle on the right at 6 o'clock in the morning and after seven and one-half hours'fighting had demolished the enemy's blockhouse and put the Spaniards to flight. The pursuit continued a mile up the Pasay Road to a thick jungle of bamboo tree, where the enemy made the last stand. It was here that Gen. McArthur called for an officer to volunteer to lead his men in a charge. Capt. March instantly cried, "Come on, men," and dashed into the wilderness, who drew their pistols, their only weapons, and, after a desperate encounter, won a signal victory. So eager were the men to get into the fray that Sergeant Robert Sillman and Private W. D. Welsh ran ahead of their Captain in the charge. Sergeant M. E. Holmes and Dennis Crimmins were killed in the encounter, and Private Dunn was so badly injured that he died next day. Eight others were wounded......
During the afternoon, Sergeant's Lester K. Young and Privates Daniel Wright and Edward Kerr, the men who had missed their trains en route, strolled in, having taken later trains. Sergeant Young, who is a grandson of Brigham Young, had been left at Denver. Privates Wright and Kerr had a like misfortune at Ogden, Utah. They were made to believe for several hours that they had been declared deserters.
A popular member of the battery, who went through the campaign without a scratch, is Boajum, a fox terrier, who readily made friends yesterday with a host of admirers. Boajum's master, Sergeant Holmes, was killed, but Boajum has not even a scar to show after many victorious encounters with Filipino curs......
The Sun, Tuesday, January 24, 1899, Image 1, Page 1, Column 1 -
GLAD TO SEE ASTOR BOYS
---
ABOUT A THOUSAND SPECTATORS TO
EVERY ONE PARADER
---
Triumphal March of the Battery Down Fifth
Avenue and a Review by the Mayor That
Was Over So Soon as to Fool the Crowd
Battery's Mountain Guns Much Missed
In proportion to the number of those in line the crowd that turned out to welcome the Astor Battery back from Manila was probably as big as ever assembled in this city to see a single organization with an escort and a band parade. The procession was made up of Capt. Peyton C March with seventy-five men of the battery on foot, and Corporal Van Horne, who left his leg in Manila, in a cab, escorted by 100 men of Battery I, Fifth Regiment, U. S. A., under Lieutenants, Spinks, Douglas and Hall, and preceded by the regimental band. It would be difficult to estimate how many persons lined the streets through which the parade went, but there were fully 5,000 at the reviewing stand in Union Square, and all along the line of march the sidewalks had a rim four or five deep. Even after the soldiers had returned to the Seventy-first Regiment armory hundreds of people hung around outside for two hours. Many flags were displayed from buildings along the line, and the cheers with which the battery was greeted showed that the military enthusiasm of the public has not died out.
With the characteristic promptitude of the regular army, the artillerymen of the Fifth from Port Hamilton reached the armory at 3 o'clock and lined up alone the north side of Thirty-Fourth Street, just east of Park Avenue. They had a very brief time for rest before the call the bugles inside the building was heard, the big door opened, and the Astor Battery appeared with Capt March leading, the banner flying and Boojum, the fat and frisky fox terrier mascot, spinning around like a canine dervish in an agony of excitement and enthusiasm and uttering sharp yelps of glee. His emotional expressions were drowned in the cheers of the crowd as the battery swung around into the street with admirable precision and set off at a good marching pace up Park Avenue in the wake of the regulars, the band lending, and ten mounted police clearing the way. The greater part of the crowd had strung along Thirty-fourth street as far as Fifth Avenue, lining the sidewalks, filling the high front steps of the houses and perching jauntily on the area railings, but when the paraders set out due north instead of coming west, the multitude, with a general shout of "Sold again!" ran for new vantage points. Hundreds poured into Park Avenue and effectually choked that wide thoroughfare. Other hundreds rushed up Madison Avenue to intercept the parade when it should cross over, and a rushing multitude tumultuously swirled into Fifth Avenue and upward, passing double lines of populace along the curb, where they had established themselves wait with patience.
The soldiers swung into Fortieth Street and across to Fifth Avenue, where they turned downtown, passing the Union Square Club, which was decorated in front with American flags and in all its windows with crowds of clubmen. As the mounted police turned into the avenue the second horse from the left of the line slipped on the asphalt and fell heavily, carrying its rider down with it. In an instant the horse was up, and a bicycle policeman, darting in front, had seized the bridle, but the rider lay stunned. He was Policeman George Neill of the High Bridge station. Several of the policemen on duty near by carried him into an areaway, where he soon recovered consciousness, but on attempting to get on his feet fainted. An ambulance took him to the New York Hospital, where it was found that his leg was fractured. He has no internal injuries and will recover. Policeman Neill is 42 years old, married, and lives at 144 West 117th Street. The accident did not delay the march an instant. The rider-less horse was quickly led away and only those close by knew that anything of the sort had happened.
Down Fifth Avenue the paraders marched four abreast. The regulars in front stepped steadily ahead with the stolidity of long training, head up and eyes front, but the Astor Battery boys relaxed a little from their military rigidity. Here they were among friends, handkerchief-and-hat-waving friends, giving vent to their feelings with frequent cheers. No wonder that the military eye wandered and the martial countenance forsook its customary stony [stoney] aspect for occasional smiles and winks of recognition. Little groups of friends shouted personal remarks to the individuals. First Sergeant Benham, the old Cornell's football captain,......
[Editor's notes: The letters are blurred or not printed and as such the article becomes unreadable.]
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