* * *
Even though the army had not moved very far inland, Clara Barton thought it prudent for her medical staff to move to Cuba in anticipation of the fighting and not as a response to it. She and her volunteers were well aware that this would be dangerous, but she was proud that they all understood the risks and accepted them. It was the best, perhaps only, way they could treat the freshly wounded.
Their small steamer moved into the calm blue waters of Matanzas Bay and anchored. It was plainly marked as a Red Cross vessel and its arrival clearly stirred up a lot of curiosity. The regular military establishment medical personnel resented the presence of the Red Cross. They considered it an insult to their skills and that the Red Cross was saying that their abilities were somehow inadequate. Miss Barton seemed to agree with that assessment, although she did not quite say it.
The doctors and nurses disembarked onto a handful of lifeboats and small sailboats. Thus, Sarah, Ruth, and the other nurses found themselves all together. A couple of sailors had commenced rowing them to the shore only fifty yards away when one of the nurses shrieked and laughed. Sarah turned and laughed herself. A throng of soldiers was swimming and bathing in the water and every last one was buck naked.
“Ladies, don’t look,” commanded Barton.
“It’s a little too late, besides,” said Ruth, “we’ll see much more of the male anatomy when we start treating them.”
“True enough,” said Barton. Sarah thought her eyes were twinkling with uncharacteristic humor.
The men noticed them and most ran howling and laughing to the shore like little kids caught doing something naughty. A few, however, stood proudly and displayed themselves until they were yelled at by their officers.
“Recognize Martin in that mob?” Ruth asked and this time Clara Barton did smile. Sarah simply stuck out her tongue in response.
Moments after landing, they were met by a thoroughly upset and embarrassed Major General Nelson Miles. “Please accept my apologies, ladies, I had no idea you were coming. If I had I would have had my men behave themselves.”
“I assure you no one was hurt, either physically or emotionally,” Barton responded, “so let us get on with our work.”
Miles assigned a captain to find them a place to erect their tents and sent a detail to help them. Sarah smiled at the captain. “I have relatives and friends with the First Maryland; can you tell me where they are?”
He paused and thought for a moment before pointing to a hill a couple of miles away. “I believe they are up there, ma’am. That is what is called Mount Haney.”
The hill, or mount, was largely covered with lush foliage. She could see places where it had been cleared and indentations in the ground that she assumed were trenches. Martin Ryder was up there, only a few miles away, a decent walk on a pleasant afternoon. Perhaps she could get word to him or her brother that they had arrived.
Something boomed and they froze. The captain was perplexed. “It would appear that the boys up there on the hill have found something worth shooting at,” he said genially.
* * *
Diego Valdez and a score of Cuban insurgents lay in the thick brush that lined the narrow dirt road from Havana. They were several miles inland from the American perimeter and only a few yards from the road. Concealed by the shadows and the foliage, they were invisible. Diego had more men close by, but these were the only ones with rifles, and many of those were relics from wars gone by. A couple of his men had flintlocks that had been used against the English more than a century past. The lack of weapons was a problem that had to be solved.
The Spanish column was long and thin, and moved very slowly. The Spanish troops looked worn down by the heat and disinterested in the whole venture. They slouched and held their rifles any way they wished and few officers were in view. Invariably, breaks in the column occurred and Valdez watched for an opportunity. There. A squad was sauntering along as if they were on the way to Sunday Mass. For just a moment, no other Spaniards could be seen.
“Now!” he screamed and his men surged forward, shooting and howling. Several of the Spaniards fell and their screams added to the din. With their rifles empty, the rebels fell on the survivors with machetes, hacking and chopping. A couple of the Spaniards fought back, but most fell in the first wave. Then it was the turn of the survivors to fall and die in bloody piles. It was over in a few seconds. A couple of Spaniards had managed to run and Diego could hear orders being given to the rest of the column, still invisible from around the turn in the road.
“Take their rifles and ammunition, and you have ten seconds to strip off their uniforms.”
His men went to it with a will. It took less than ten seconds to get rifles, ammunition, and uniforms from the dead and wounded. The boots they left. It would take too much time to pull them off. Most of them had spent their lives barefoot and the soles of their feet were like stones. They gathered their plunder and ran into the brush. In seconds, they were hidden and safe. The Spanish might send a patrol, but it would find nothing. Diego’s men played this game far too well and for far too long. Now, they not only had more weapons, but a number of useable Spanish uniforms. He laughed. They would not become truly useable until his soldiers managed to get the blood off.
* * *
A heavily sweating soldier gave Ryder the envelope with his name written on it. The soldier was one of a number who delivered food and other items from headquarters down below the hill. Thus, it wasn’t at all unusual for Ryder to get handwritten messages. There’d been talk of connecting the telegraph line to the men on Mount Haney, but it hadn’t happened yet. Instead, heliographs, which reflected light and could send Morse code messages, were used to send urgent information. Clearly then, this was not urgent.
The handwriting looked vaguely familiar, but he was too tired to make any connection.
“Get yourself some water and take a ten second break, soldier.”
The trooper laughed, nodded and stepped away. Ryder noticed that he was heading directly to their small mess tent. Good man. Eat every chance you can. He looked at the envelope.
“Why don’t you open it, colonel dearest?”
“Then I won’t have anything to look forward to, Sergeant Major Haney.”
He tore the envelope open and gasped. It was a note from Sarah. Jesus Christ, he thought as he read it, she was here. How the devil had she managed that trick? He read further. She and Ruth were part of a contingent of Red Cross nurses that had just arrived. He wholeheartedly welcomed the medical aid they didn’t quite need yet. The sporadic gunfire from enemy lines was proof that there would be a compelling need in the not too distant future.
As happy as he was that she was just down from the hill, he was very concerned that she was in a very dangerous position. When the Spaniards attacked, she might be in the middle of it. Would the Spaniards honor the Red Cross emblazoned on their hospital? He walked to the other side of the hill and looked down onto the bay. Yes, he could see several tents with the Red Cross vividly displayed. All right, if he could see it, so could the Spaniards. But would they honor it?
Damn it. As much as he wanted to hold her in his arms and feel her warm and clean breath on his neck, he desperately wanted her to be safe.
“Colonel Sir.”
“Yes Haney.”
“Did I hear you say that Miss Holden is with Mrs. Damon?”
“I must have been thinking out loud, sergeant major, and yes, the two women have connived their way to Cuba.”
Haney smiled happily. “And isn’t that truly amazing, sir?”
* * *
Juana Salazar was quite pleased with herself. It was entirely possible that she had struck a blow for Cuban freedom. Better, it had been safe and easy, easy as pie as her American lover would have said.
She could not help but wonder what James Kendrick was up to and whether or not they actually were lovers after only one night of passion together. Kendrick was doubtless a hundred times more experienced than she. Would s
he ever see him again? She had mentally relived their night of torrid passion a hundred times since he’d left only a few days prior. He had awakened her like she’d always dreamed in a way that a lover, a knight errant, would. Of course, she’d never dreamed that her knight in shining armor would be starting to go bald and have a little paunch, but then she’d never thought she’d be thirty before even beginning to have a fulfilling sex life. On the other hand, many of her women friends admitted to not having a satisfying physical side of marriage with their husbands. She decided that she would count her blessings. It Kendrick was going to be a part of her life; well, they were going to have to deal with the fact that she was both married and a Catholic.
She would also have to go to Confession. Her confessor was her uncle, Bishop Estefan Canoy, and he would scold her and then ask why her husband did not please her. Juana would tell him the truth because that’s the way she was raised and that would outrage the good bishop even more. She decided that it was about time that her uncle knew the truth about Gilberto Salazar.
Then she thought that perhaps it would be better if she waited a while before seeing her uncle in the confessional. Perhaps her husband would manage to get himself killed in the war. She could long for that but she could not, would not, pray for it. That would be a sin.
Juana presumed that Kendrick had made it safely to the American lines at Matanzas. With Diego to guide him, it should have been a simple journey. But her nation was at war which meant that nothing was guaranteed to be easy. Her husband was out with much of the Spanish army and they were between Kendrick and the Americans. Nothing was certain in life except that she was feeling like a giddy young girl. One certainty was that she was thrilled to be able to punish both Spain and Gilberto.
Before he left, Kendrick had shown her how to get telegraph messages to the American military in the U.S. She had no idea who would actually read any of the information sent, and she’d been told not to send too many telegrams lest the Spanish government suddenly become curious about her change in behavior. After all, she hadn’t sent more than a half dozen telegrams to the United States in the last several years.
This message was short. It was directed to a lady named Bertha Downey in New Orleans, and she assumed that Bertha didn’t exist. It said that Bertha’s two sisters were going to depart within a day and might make a number of stops before actually arriving at their destination. The two sisters were the pair of Spanish battleships at anchor in Havana’s harbor. She had no idea where they were headed and could only inform the Americans that they were about to depart. As she watched after sending the telegram, the battleships’ horns sounded stridently. Their anchors were winched up and the two ships began their stately crawl through the crowded harbor and narrow entrance and out into the Caribbean. If any American warships were watching, she didn’t see them.
Matanzas was only a few hours steaming away, if that was the ships’ goal. She presumed that her message would be relayed to someone in Washington and then down to Matanzas. She’d heard that the Yanks had set up a telegraph station at their new base and hoped it was true. But then, how would they get the word out to American warships at sea?
Chapter 8
A torrential rain pounded down on the American army at Matanzas. Many of the soldiers didn’t yet have tents, which meant they were all quickly soaked to the skin. Even though both the day and the rain were warm, they were soon chilled and shaking. Almost as bad, many of the tents the others had been issued were of poor quality and either leaked badly or were quickly torn apart by the wind.
“Damn it to hell,” snarled Ryder. “I’d like to find out who’s responsible for getting us this junk and make him try to live and work in it.”
From his vantage point on top of the hill and through gaps in the sheets of rain he could see the damage being done to the American base. At least it looked like the tents occupied by the Red Cross were still standing. He hadn’t yet had a chance to see Sarah, and he could only hope that she was dry and safe. At least safe, he thought wryly. He didn’t think anyone was truly dry and wouldn’t be until the sun had a chance to shine for a couple of days.
“The trenches are filling with water,” said Barnes.
“You look like a drowned rat,” said Ryder.
“Correction, colonel, I’m only half drowned. And may I say you don’t look that great either. I’ve got men bailing out the trenches and even digging runoff lanes to send the water downhill, but it’s pretty much a hopeless task.”
“And it’ll be that way until the damned rain stops. And they tell me this is just an ordinary rainstorm for this area. This is nothing like a hurricane. Hopefully, we’ll be all done here when that ugly season is upon us.”
Along with other officers, they’d gotten a briefing on hurricanes and what to expect. The massive storms usually arrived in the fall and the howling winds and drenching rains could easily eradicate the growing base the army had established. Caught unprepared, the army could suffer casualties greater than those suffered in battle.
“Do you really think the war will be over before hurricane season?” Barnes asked.
“Hell no, Jack. I’m just trying to keep your spirits up. It’s been raining heavily for almost a day now and I’m sick and tired of it.”
“And I think I hear thunder,” said Barnes.
Ryder told everyone nearby to be still. Yes, it sounded like thunder. Only thing, damn it, it wasn’t thunder. The Spanish navy had arrived.
* * *
Sarah and Ruth were in the tent they shared with several other nurses and huddled under a blanket as the rain pounded down on the canvas roof above them. The canvas roof leaked, but so far they’d managed to keep most of the rain off of them, although the ground was quickly becoming a muddy quagmire. They kept their feet tucked under them as they sat on Sarah’s bunk. For the moment, they had the tent to themselves.
“Sarah, this is not exactly the exciting and fulfilling adventure I thought it would be. The next time I absolutely will not let you plan my vacation.”
“I’m not aware that any of this was planned. On the other hand, we haven’t had much to do as nurses, which is a blessing. A war without casualties is a good thing.”
“That will change, I’m afraid,” said Ruth.
Only a handful of soldiers and sailors had required their assistance. These were the usual broken bones that occurred when a lot of manual work was required and the workers were inexperienced and unenthusiastic. Accidents were always going to happen and some of the men were doing work that was totally unfamiliar to them. So far, only a few men had been killed. Both agreed that would change when the fighting actually started.
“Wonderful,” said Ruth. “Now it’s thundering.”
Sarah was about to comment when an enormous explosion sent shock waves through their tent, nearly collapsing it and knocking them to the muddy ground. “What on earth was that?” she said.
Ruth had turned pale. “We’re being bombarded. Christ, it’s just like Paris.”
Another explosion, but this one was farther away. Still, it was strong enough to finish the job of collapsing their tent. Both women crawled out from under the canvas and outside into the rain. The rain seemed to be abating, and they could see shell craters with smoke emanating from them. More shells landed and they ran towards trenches that had been dug to defend against a Spanish assault from the sea. This, they decided, qualified and they jumped in, heedless of the mud at the bottom and the fact that the trench was rapidly filling with frightened soldiers.
Along with the others, they huddled as best they could. More shells landed nearby and some were close enough to send chunks of mud raining down on them. They remained unhurt, although increasingly wet and dirty. It seemed as if the Spanish were just lobbing shells in the general direction of the American position and not aiming at anything in particular.
Sarah’s only problem was that she thought one of the soldiers had his hand on her bottom and seemed to be enjoying it. This was
confirmed when the man shifted his body. He got his hand under her dress and began to run his hand up her leg.
“Damn you,” she said as she pulled the long pin from her hair. She quickly identified the man pawing her. He pulled his hand away and grinned happily. “Enjoy this!” she said loudly enough for him to hear as she jammed the hat pin into his thigh. The soldier bit his tongue in order to stifle a scream. Thank God for hat pins, she thought. Once again one had come to her rescue.
A fresh barrage of shells got their undivided attention. Seconds later, something huge exploded and again shook them violently.
“Oh shit, there goes our ammunition,” said the man she’d just stuck.
Sarah peeked over the lip of the trench. Smoke and flames were billowing from where a number of tents had once been. She could see bodies lying in the mud. A number of smaller explosions followed as shells exploded. Again, they ducked down. This time she found herself on her hands and knees and with her face nearly in the muck.
There was a pause in the shelling and explosions and they all rose up. In the distance, they could see a pair of large Spanish warships heading out to sea.
As they watched, another ship approached the two Spaniards from the east. Even from a distance they could see it flew the American flag. Sadly, though, it looked like an obsolete wooden frigate from wars gone by. It fired a broadside that fell short of the two enemy ships who responded quickly. The American vessel was hit and seemed to shudder from the blows.
“Jesus,” said a naval officer in the trench with them, “she’s the steam frigate Franklin. She was obsolete when the Civil War ended. Those people are brave, but foolish.”
“But they had to do something,” commented Ruth. “If you haven’t noticed, we don’t have any big guns on shore. We’re helpless.”
The Franklin was burning. Spanish guns fired again and pieces of wood and other debris that might have been bodies flew skyward. Explosions ripped through the Franklin, setting more fires. Men began to jump overboard. The American ship was doomed. She turned on her side and sank slowly as water gushed through gaping holes in her hull.
1882: Custer in Chains - eARC Page 13
