One hundred years ago this month (Sept. 13), a 900-man regiment known as the Rough Riders gathered at Camp Wikoff in Long Island, New York. A month earlier, the Rough Riders had returned from Cuba to a hero’s welcome. But on this day, the regiment was to disband. Their work was finished. The glory had come to an end.

While making the final arrangements for demobilization, the regiment’s beloved Colonel was inside his tent, writing in his journal, not expecting departure for another hour or two. But suddenly, outside his tent, the chattering of soldiers and the clanking of packing supplies quieted. A group of troopers ducked into the Colonel’s tent and requested his attendance for a brief, makeshift ceremony.

Outside his tent, Colonel Roosevelt saw all 900 men standing erect, in full salute, and arranged in a perfect square, as if lined up around a gymnasium. In the middle of their square was a table. On top of the table was a mysterious, lumpy object, covered with a blanket.

Theodore Roosevelt first looked at the table in the middle, then at the saluting men. He noticed a lot of tears. By now, his own eyes were beginning to well up.

Private Murphy stepped forward to speak on behalf of the entire regiment. He said the First Volunteer Cavalry of the United States Army wished to present their commanding officer with “a very slight token of admiration, love and esteem.”

Murphy struggled to recount some of the wonderful memories they had had with their Colonel over the past 133 days. He choked up a bit as he heard crying in the background.

Then, regathering his composure, he said, “In conclusion, allow me to say that one and all, from the highest to the lowest…will carry back to their hearths a pleasant remembrance of all your acts, for they have always been of the kindest.”

Behind Private Murphy, a soldier yanked the blanket away to reveal a bronze statue of a Bronco rider, in remembrance of Roosevelt leading the charge up San Juan hill atop his horse, waving his sombrero.

One year earlier, Roosevelt, a life-long politician, was appointed by President McKinley as Assistant Secretary of the Navy. Relations between the U.S. and Spain soured because of Spain’s occupation of Cuba.

After the Spanish blew up the Maine, a U.S. warship stationed in Havana harbor, America declared war. Roosevelt used his political clout to procure a position in the Army, even though the President, his friends, and America at large did not want the up-and-coming statesman to join. But Roosevelt had insisted his entire life that as soon as the U.S. declared war on anyone, he would be the first to enlist. Now, at the age of 39, was the moment of truth. “I have always intended to act up to my preachings if occasion arose,” he said. “Now the occasion has arisen, and I ought to meet it.”

The President offered him command of a cavalry regiment, which TR turned down. He felt it would take at least a month to be adequately trained as a colonel. That month, Roosevelt reasoned, could be the difference between fighting at the front or missing the war altogether. He accepted an offer to instead serve under Colonel Leonard Wood as lieutenant colonel.

When 1000 volunteers showed up for boot camp in San Antonio on May 15, 1898, Roosevelt led the troops in training while the colonel contemplated battle strategies in the tent. When they left by train for Florida two weeks later, Roosevelt sat in coach with the troops, instead of the posh Pullman cars, reserved for officers. By this time, TR knew most of the soldiers by name.

When they reached Florida on June 1, there were so many volunteers to fight, the general in charge had to turn down half the men in Roosevelt’s regiment. There wasn’t enough room for them on the ships to get to Cuba.

There wasn’t enough room for their horses either. Roosevelt was able to take his horse, since he was officer. But when the troops landed on the shores of Cuba and the calvary-turned-infantry had to walk seven miles to Siboney, Roosevelt chose to walk with the troops, alongside his horse.

On June 24, American forces were ready to attack, hoping to drive the Spaniards out of their heavily entrenched mountain strongholds. While heading up a mountain pass, Roosevelt and the regiment confronted a barrage of Mauser bullets. Roosevelt was seen jumping up and down with excitement. Colonel Wood told TR to take half the regiment over a barbed-wire fence and into the jungle.

One reporter on the scene gave this account: “Perhaps a dozen of Roosevelt’s men had passed into the thicket before he did. Then he stepped across the wire himself, and, from that instant, became the most magnificent soldier I have ever seen. It was as if the barbed-wire strand had formed a dividing line in his life, and that when he stepped across it he left behind him in the bridle path all those unadmirable and conspicuous traits which have so often caused him to be justly criticized in civic life, and found on the other side of it, in that Cuban thicket, the coolness, the calm judgment, the towering heroism, which made him, perhaps, the most admired and best beloved of all Americans in Cuba.”

July 1 was the day that made Roosevelt one of America’s most beloved military heroes. TR called it the “great day of my life.” By this time, because of sickness and injury, Roosevelt had been promoted to colonel. His task was to lead his regiment, later known as the Rough Riders, in a charge across a large open field and up Kettle Hill where Spanish forces were well fortified.

Their charge across the field was very un-chargelike; more like a crawl. The entire regiment was hunkered down on all fours, hiding in the waist-high grass while bullets whizzed by and overhead. Roosevelt chose this occasion to mount up and lead his men from atop his horse. He rode high above the grass, waving his sombrero as if signaling to the Spanish for target practice. He yelled at his men behind him in the grass, “Are you afraid to stand up when I am on horseback?!”

Roosevelt survived that bloody day, even though his Rough Riders suffered the most casualties of any American regiment. They captured Kettle Hill and then joined the rest of the American forces in their sweep up the San Juan Heights, the last Spanish stronghold.

America won the war.

The Rough Riders returned home as heroes.

And on September 13, at Camp Wikoff, the regiment wanted to give their beloved colonel a fitting send-off. Upon seeing the glistening bronze statue, Roosevelt uttered this perfectly-worded impromptu: “Officers and men, I really do not know what to say. Nothing could possibly happen that would touch and please me as this has…. I would have been most deeply touched if the officers had given me this testimonial, but coming from you, my men, I appreciate it tenfold.”

Roosevelt then had all 900 men pass by him single file. As they passed, many of them sobbing, he bid farewell each of them with a complement, a quip—some form of recognition for a job well done.

And after the last one, Roosevelt sighed and said, “So all things pass away. But they were beautiful days.”

Three years later, Roosevelt became President of these great States he valiantly fought for in Cuba. He was arguably the finest American President this century.