I write you this letter because I am sorry to know that you and your people refuse to do what the government has ordered. You do not give up your arms. Soldiers were sent to Taglibi so that you could come into camp and turn in your guns. When the soldiers went to camp a Taglibi, your Moros fired into camp and tried to kill the soldiers. Then the soldiers had to shoot all Moros who fired upon them. When the soldiers marched through the country, the Moros again shot at them, so the soldiers had to kill several others. I am sorry the soldiers had to kill any Moros. All Moros are the same to me as my children and no father wants to kill his own children. ... I want to see all of my people and speak to them so that we may forever be friends.
John J. Pershing, My Life Before the World War, 1860--1917: A Memoir, pp. 292-293
I am very sorry these Moros are such fools—but this Dajo will not mean the slaugter of women and children, nor hasty assaults against strong entrenchments. I shall lose as few men and kill as few Moros as possible.
John J. Pershing, My Life Before the World War, 1860--1917: A Memoir, p. 293
There was never a moment during the investment of Bud Dajo when the Moros, including women, on the top of the mountain would not have fought to the death had they been given the opportunity. They had gone there to make a last stand on this, their sacred mountain, and they were determined to die fighting. Their former experience on Bud Dago did not deter them from taking this step, and it would not have deterred them from fighting to the death had an effort that their solid determination to fight it out could be broken. The fact is that they were completely surprised at the prompt and decisive action of the troops in cutting of suplies and preventing escape, and they were chagrined and disappointed in that they were not encouraged to die the death of Muhammadan fanatics.
John J. Pershing, My Life Before the World War, 1860--1917: A Memoir, p. 451