And they did take it, as the first hill had been taken, by sheer pluck and dauntless determination.

In vain did the Spaniards hurl forth their deadliest fire of machine-gun and rifle.

The grim American advance was as unchecked as that of an ocean tide.

Finally it surged with a roar like that of a storm-driven breaker over the crest, and dashed with resistless fury against the crowning fortifications.
In another minute the Spaniards were in full flight, and from the hard-won heights of San Juan thousands of panting, cheering, jubilant Yankee soldiers were gazing for the first time upon the city of Santiago, which, only three miles away, lay at their feet, and apparently at their mercy.
While the troops who had thus stormed and carried San Juan were exulting over their almost incredible victory, word came that Lawton's men had performed a similar feat at Caney, and after hours of ineffective firing had finally won the forts by direct and unsupported assault.
Thus the entire line of Santiago's outer defences, many miles in length, had fallen to the Americans; but could they hold them until the arrival of their artillery?
This was the question anxiously discussed at headquarters, where several of the Generals declared immediate retreat to be the only present salvation of the American army.

The existing fortifications of San Juan Heights were unavailable for use against the Spaniards, and it did not seem possible that the tired troops could dig new ones in time.