"In disturbed districts a number of patrols may be in the field
at the same time. Extreme care must be taken to prevent
mistakes in firing upon each other . . ."
--Constabulary Manual

THE Constabulary, though unaware of the fact, was now entering into the final phases of the active Moro resistance. Under the hammering of the patrols the Moros were breaking up into small detachments, and the conflict was degenerating into disorganized guerilla warfare. But before that day when warfare was to become completely unofficial, there remained several sanguinary battles that were to establish definitely the prestige of the Insular Police.

The battle at Sahipas cotta in January, 1913, was one of the fiercest combats of the Moro wars. Near Taglibi, twelve miles from the city of Jolo, the Moros had built up a solid rock cotta and prepared for its defense. As usual, the cotta was constructed on fairly level ground, with stretches of cogon grass on all sides. The walls were of huge boulders rolled together to a height of ten feet, and pierced with loopholes for the concealed riflemen. Under the walls were firing pits to protect the defenders from shrapnel fire. Just outside the fort, and circling it, was a loose fence of bamboo, open in structure to offer no impediment to rifle shooting, but strong enough to prevent attackers getting through without delay.

Against this fort a force of Scouts under Captain McNally and Lieutenants Townsend and Cody, and a Constabulary detail commanded by Lieutenants Cochrun, Whitney, and Crites went into action to open the year 1913.

For some hours the attacking force lay under cover, while mountain attillery thoroughly shelled the Moro position. Aftger bombardment by one-pounder shrapnel shells the shacks inside the fort took fire and McNally, an impatient fighting Irishman, ordered a charge.

The line of Scouts rose from their positions and rushed the walls. But the Moros, secure in their rifle pits, had been untouched by the shrapnel, and as the Scouts boiled up to the bamboo fence, hacking and slashing with bolos at the impediment, the walls of cotta flamed with rifle fire. McNally took a slug in the body, and went down at the edge of the walls. Five Scout soldiers fell beside him, and nine Scouts were seriously wounded. Without making contact with the enemy, the Scouts were forced to withdraw, leaving their dead and wounded under the cotta wall.

Then, from the flank of the Moro cotta came the charge of the Constabulary, led by Cochrun and Crites. The lanky Cockrun, six feet in height and towering above his native soldiers, made a perfect target, and as the 6th Company of Constabulary came under the walls, he received a slug through the right forearm that shattered the bones and rendered the arm useless. Transferring his Colt .45 to his left hand, he moved ahead and received another bullet in the stomach that dropped him in his tracks. Two soldiers at his side died, shot through the head, and along the line the Constabulary wavered as a half dozen men went down wounded. The Moros in this battle exhibited the finest marksmanship of any battle of the wars.

Meanwhile, Whitney was clawing over the fence when a bullet passed through his left leg, severing the sciatic nerve. At his side, Lietenant Townsend of the Scouts went down with a bullet through his side. The Moros were making sure of the officers. Only Crites of the Constabulary and Cody of the Scouts were on their feet, and the young junior officer of Constabulary took command and ordered a withdrawal. In the face of the direct fire from the walls, the dead and wounded were gathered up and the force withdrew to shelter.

For two hours the battered American force gave first aid to the wounded, listening meanwhile to the shouts of derision of the Moros, who were maintaining a steady fire. Then the one-pounder began to pound away at the cotta wall. The shrapnel ripped through the bamboo fence that encircled the fort, firing the weckage. Then the little cannon shifted to high explosive shells and began to batter away at the rock wall. The wall began to crumble.

Late in the afternoon, the two Lieutenants began to organize for another charge. About the fort was a ring of live coals from the burning bamboo. The Constabulary soldiers could face rifle fire, but they found they could not cross the barrier of coals in their bare feet. One squad, led by a private, did leap across the flaming barrier and into the cotta, mopping up the defenders on one side. The Moros reorganized and drove them from the fort, and once again the American force withdrew, carrying with them their wounded.

Camp Taglibi was three miles distant, and during the night the dead and wounded were evacuated thither for embarkation on the Jewel to the hospital at Jolo. After a brief rest and breakfast, the troops returned to the cotta, prepared to renew the attack. But the Moros had evacuated the shattered fortress in the night and moved to the strong position atop Mount Bagsak, in the crater of an extinct volcano.

For this engagement, First Lieutenant James L. Cochrun, 6th Moro Company, was awarded the Medal of Valor.

Some months after the assault on Sahipas cotta Lieutenant Ellsey of the Constabulary was sent into the hills to serve warrant on a Moro named Usap for stealing carabao. He had anticipated no particular trouble, and carried with him a small patrol of six men.

He found his man standing in the door of the usual Moro shack, with a ladder leading up to the door. The Moro glowered down at the small patrol as Ellsey served his warrant. His expression did not change as he turned to get his turban for the trip. But Ellsey felt that all was not well. He circled the shack and saw Usap reach under a mat and draw forth a barong.

The Constabulary Lieutenant raised his rifle and drilled the Moro through his head. AsUsap dropped, two other Moros leaped from the room. The waiting patrol dropped them in mid-air. They were dead when they hit the ground. The patrol then mounted the ladder and captured three additional Moros who had not yet worked themselves into the amuck stage.

While they were tying these prisoners beneath the house, a Moro in a near-by field was plowing rice with a carabao. They heard him shout as he leaped to attack with a barong. "Timbuck aco," he was shouting; "shoot me." He came with long bounding strides, headed straight for the waiting patrol.

Four of the soldiers opened fire on the advancing Moro in support of Lieutenant Ellsey. A stream of hot lead poured into his body, but the Moro never faltered. He came nearer, slower now, but still on his feet. The barong was upraised as he headed for Lieutenant Ellsey. Ellsey fired his last shot, and the Moro still came.

Ten feet from the officer a Krag bullet thudded into the amuck's spine. His legs gave away. As he fell, he hurled his barong before he died.

The patrol stripped the dead man and turned him over. Twelve bullet holes were in his body. Ellsey had escaped decapitation by only ten feet.

The patrols spread out to cover more fully the Moro Province; Lieutenant Polk operated from Guthries Post at Tubid Cove. With Captain Fawcett and Lieutenant Hoffman on station at Capay, two strong detachments were in the field in the vicinity. Captain Fort and Lieutenant Johnson were with the General Service Company, trouble-shooting through the hills. Tiffany was constantly in the field searching for outlaw bands.

Tiffany made the capture of old Amai-gin-dalungan his special task. All of May and June of 1913 he was on almost constant patrol in the territory of the wily old outlaw. In collaboration with Captain Fort, he had several brushes with the Moro, but Amai always managed to elude the patrols.

In July, Fort, Johnson, Polk, and Tiffany converged upon an outlaw clearing on the shoulder of mountain at a place called Gaba. As Moros began leaping from the shacks, the Constabulary opened fire. The range was 400 yards and it required fast, accurate shooting. Tiffany lined his sights on a Moro in the act of leaping. It was a hit, and since their main objective was to capture one of Amai's men, the patrol hastened to the fallen Moro. They followed a trail of blood and pulled the Mohammedan from beneath a log. The soft-nosed slug had torn a hole in the right lung the size of a quarter. Polk and Tiffany packed the wound and questioned the wounded Moro.

From him they learned the location of the band of Amai. Tiffany set his men to work on the wounded Moro, whose name was Pakalangut. By morning they had convinced him that the life of an outlaw was very foolish. They shared betel nut with him, and he announced himself ready to lead them to Amai's camp.

But Pakalangut, with a hole the size of a quarter in his lung, was very weak. After half a day's march into the interior, he fainted, and the advance halted. Tiffany revived him with brandy and the advance moved on. At the base of a rugged ravine the guide halted and whispered that they were within a quarter of a mile of the outlaw outpost. Polk and Tiffany divided their force into two detachments, each taking ten men.

Tiffany worked his way hand over hand up the mountain side when the sound of Polk firing opened the attack. The Moros broke from their camp in surprise and took to the brush. Tiffany saw two Moros helping along a third, who walked with difficulty. His Krag bullets followed them into the brush. Hastening forward, he found blood on the ground but no dead Moros, and a moment later the two detachments united with no apparent result from their attack.

Not until the following August did Tiffany learn that his volley into the group of three Moros had fatally wounded Amai. The old Moro chief had lived but a few hours and had been buried in the jungle.

More fortunate was Pakalangut, the guide with the jagged hole in his lung. He lived to become a valuable Constabulary guide at Dansalan.

In accounting for Amai-gin-dalungan, Tiffany accomplished a feat that had been the goal of all Constabulary officers for a period of half a decade. Amai was shrewd and powerful and a great leader. His death robbed the Moros of capable leadership in Lanao.

Tiffany must be ranked among the first files of the superior fighting men who made up the Constabulary roster. His record of continuous Moro service was excelled by few of his fellow officers. He had special qualities fitting him for leadership of the Moros and he was greatly respected by his wild, Mohammedan soldiers. He took over a Moro company that was riddled with dissatisfaction and desertion, and made it into one of the finest companies in Sulu.

When Tiffany finally resigned to enter the World War, the company passed to the command of Lieutenants Shamotulski and Wade. Wade and eight of his men were ambushed and slain by a rebellious Datu who had been friendly to Tiffany.

It was Tiffany who believed he had solved the mystery of the Moro means of rapid communication. His theory was that the robber bands used kites as means of spreading news of the approach of a patrol. The Moro kites were about five feet in height and had attached a rattan bow, with a deerhide thong. When the kite was high in the air, the thong vibrated with a sound that could be heard for miles. In Tiffany's opinion, the various colored tails used on these kites, were the code messages that signaled, "All clear," or "Patrol approaching."

It is also probable that the Moros used the drums fashioned from a hollow hardwood log as a means of communication.

Second Lieutenant Samuel T. Polk, who had operated with Tiffany after Amai, had won his Medal of Valor a few months previously on the Labangan River in Mindanao. Trailing the Moro outlaw Mapandi, Polk had ordered an advance on the Moro position, and in the ensuing fight a private of his detachment had fallen in an exposed position in front of the outlaws, shot through both legs. Polk had moved up to within a few yards of the bandits, who were concealed behind boulders, and had carried out the wounded private under direct fire.

Across a valley and a mountain range, Lieutenant Donald Root, a restless young New Yorker, was leading a patrol against the band of Raja Muda Randi in the vicinity of Mamaya Peak in Lanao. The mixed command of Constabulary and Scouts had departed from Tamparan, Lanao, on December 13, 1913, and at two o'clock in the afternoon on the fifteenth, the column encountered Randi's band in dense jungle on Mamaya Peak.

At the first volley of the outlaws Root received a serious gunshot wound in the side, but he continued to advance until, weakened by loss of blood, he was forced to halt. Supporting himself against a tree, he continued to fire and direct his men until he fell unconscious. He won his Medal of Valor at the age of 21, the youngest officer to achieve that distinction.

Minor engagements were of daily occurrence during these preliminaries to the pitched battle at Bud Bagsak. Lieutenants Gunn and Gilmore were in the Sarangani Bay region of southern Cotobato. Youngblood was on the shores of Lake Buluan, against Moros and Bilaans. Tiffany, Tarbell, Preuss, and Wood were in northern Cotobato. The assault of each cotta paid a price in lives. From 1901 until June 30, 1911, the Constabulary had patrolled more than 10,000,000 miles, fought in more than 10,000 engagements, and suffered heavily in casualties. The records show officers killed, wounded and dead to the number of 104 in that ten-year period. Enlisted men killed, wounded, and dead totaled 1,602.

The Moros were standing fast to a principle that was centuries old before America came to the Islands--their inherent right to bear arms.

The assault on the five cottas of Pujacabo, Bunga, Matunkup, Languasan, and Pujagan was not a Constabulary engagement. General Pershing, in his capacity as commander of the armed forces in Mindanao and Sulu, ordered out Scouts and regulars after it was seen that arbitration was useless. In a terrific five-day battle that saw mountain artillery, Scouts and infantry in action, the last great organized resistance of the Moros was waged. Five hundred Moros occupied the cottas on the mountain top, and at the close of the campaign they were dead to the man.

The Constabulary had only a minor part in the battle, which was of the close order, massed attack, suitable to regular army tactics.

To Captain Jesse C. Tiffany I am indebted for this Moro version of the battle of Bud Bagsak. Better than any American account of the battle, it expresses completely the attitude of the Mohammedans:

"When America came and the Spanish devils were driven out of Sulu we rejoiced. I saw your Honorable Taft in Jolo. He smiled at our Sultan and waved to the people. These Americans are friends of the tao Suug (Sulu Moros), we thought. When your Generals, Bates, Scott, and Wood went among the people and made friendly talk with our Datus we were sure of it.

"But America changes face. One man promises and goes away. Another follows and will not perform.

"Soldiers came and the Constabulary. For us you made laws without our consent. Always before we had slaves to do the work and a man could have two or three wives. But now we must give up our slaves and have only one wife. Our Datus were pushed aside. New Judges came from Manila. No friend of the Moros came from Manila. Our laws were ignored. Moros were judged by laws we knew nothing of and were sent away to jail. They did not come back. But their message came to the people. Prison and jail were worse than death.

"Somehow I knew. The Panditas were false leaders. We could not fight your soldiers. Their guns would kill as far as you could see a man. Their cannon could blast down a mountain. What could we do with barongs, and a few sinapans (guns) that we had smuggled in from Borneo? There was no hope in our arms. There was no hope, save Allah.

'As you Americans say, 'we had a rendezvous with death' on Bagsak. We were not to be denied. There was no reason in the hot-heads. Better to give battle now. In a few months all our guns would be gone. And next they would be asking for our barongs--which you are doing now.

"For months we had been making our cottas on Bud Bagsak secure. There were five of them, and our main cotta, Bagsak, had thick walls of stone. From deep firing trenches and pits, our bamboo tubes commanded the slopes of the mountain. One of our rifles could stop a hundred soldiers on the steep slope of the mountain, so we believed.

"But the Americans were hard to hit. They hid in the grass and brush and climbed the rocks like cats. And they could shoot straight from a long distance.

"Before they got up close enough for us to shoot them their shells began to burst in four of our cottas, Matunkup, Languasan, Bunga, and Pujacabao, killing many of our people.

"We were in the main cotta of Bagsak, my father and I. But my uncle and brothers were in Matunkup. Toward noon my brother came up to us horribly torn, deaf, and almost blind. The jagged metal from shells had torn the flesh of his legs to shreds. He said the inside of the fort of Matunkup was roaring with exploding shells like a volcano. There was no air to breathe. Only dust and acrid powder smoke. My poor brother wanted to die but couldn't.

"Then came more wounded. In the face of exploding shells they could not see to shoot. An American officer with his soldiers climbed the face of a cliff and took Matunkup. The mountain shook and seemed aflame with guns. The roar of the cannon was like heavy thunder. In a few hours they pounded Pujacabao to pieces. Amil, our leader, came up wounded. He foamed at the mouth and screamed for Allah to send fire and brimstone to avenge the Moros. Before night Languasan had also fallen.

"That night we rested on our arms. My brave father wanted to lead a hundred barong-men into the American trenches at night. He would drive the soldiers off the mountain or die. But Amil would not give the order. 'Wait,' he said. 'There is tomorrow and there is Allah. When the battle turns we will mow them down like grass. None shall escape.

' "All night we worked constructing shelters to shield us from exploding shells. The next day was ours. We held our own. Our bullets kept the Americans crawling in the grass. All day their mountain guns pounded cotta Bunga. But our men fired from bomb-proof pits beneath the walls. We beat off every attack. Foolishly, Amil ordered counterattacks. He fell, likewise several Datus, and all the Moros who charged the Americans. None came back.

The next day the fight raged around cotta Bunga. After hours of slaughter on both sides, Americans climbed the walls. Inside was carnage, as the Moro likes it. Barong against bayonet. The defenders died to a man, but their blades found the enemy. My father was wounded that day.

"There remained Pujagan and Bagsak, our last stand at the rim of the crater. After a hard day's fighting, the Americans seemed discouraged. Our leaders predicted they would give up the fight. The cost of taking Bunga was more than they had the bowels to pay. Another fight and we would go forth to the slaughter.

"But another night never came. It was Sunday, the Christians' Sabbath. Maybe that was why. Anyway, it was not our day. Allah and Mohammed seemed to be hiding behind a sky of brass that day. The Americans had dug trenches close. From these came a stream of bullets. Our men in the trenches outside the walls of Bagsak traded with them bullet for bullet. Then came a hail of shells that men above ground could not endure. They pounded our outer defenses to bits. The few men living had to retreat to the cotta. All day they pounded us with shells inside the cotta. Only a few of us lived through it. The walls were finally crumbling like clay. Firing pits caved in to bury my father, mother, and sisters alive. My own life seemed charmed. We fought on doggedly, looking to the only escape--death. Several rifles and muskets burned out in my hands.

"Now the Americans were not three lengths of a coconut palm from us, firing from our old pits. Their cannon sprayed the top and inside of our fort constantly with metal so that we could not show our heads to shoot down on them. Yet our fire was so hot they dared not spring from their trenches for the final rush. Their fierce attack was matched by our own desperate resistance. Thus we were deadlocked while the sun climbed across the brass dome of heaven and dropped down toward the rim of the world.

"Suddenly the cannon ceased. We rushed from our holes to man the top and meet them with our barongs. Horrible creatures we were, red eyes rimmed with clay, naked, blood-caked bodies, wounded, bleeding, crawling. My wounds were so many I no longer felt them. I managed to stand on top of the wall of Bagsak and fire into the faces of the soldiers. I saw a man with red hair and fierce glaring blue eyes topple back and fall as my shot caught him in the stomach. Another soldier as he vaulted to the top of the wall was slashed in two pieces by one of our barong-men. I drew my barong and slashed at the head of another soldier, and then things turned black. I was falling."

Following the assault of Bagsak, the back of the resistance was broken, and the Moros were split again into small guerrilla detachments. The army withdrew, and the patrol duty in the interior was resumed by the Constabulary.

Driven from Jolo, the worst of the bandit element took refuge on Basilan Island, across the straits from Zamboanga. It was there that Lieutenant Ernest Johnson met death while pursuing the band of Moro Atal. The patrol, with Johnson at the head, was moving along a narrow jungle trail, to walk squarely into ambush. The first warning was the whine of a thrown spear and Johnson went down, pinned through both lungs. Lieutenant Ernest Johnson was a graduate of the University of Nebraska and the University of Oregon. He was greatly respected by his fellow officers for his fighting qualities and unfailing good disposition.

Return to Main Page - Jungle Patrol

Original publication © 1938 E. P. Dutton & Co., Inc.

Filipiniana Reprint Series © 1985 Cacho Hermanos, Inc.

This publication (HTML format & original artwork) © 2001 Bakbakan International.

Transcription courtesy of Ashley Bass.