CSS Appomattox: A Thomas Devareaux Alternative History Military Adventure (The Thomas Sumter Devareaux Series Book 1)

by Chris Stoesen

  Chapter 24: News

  Devareaux and Almond were tired and exhausted. They were fully involved in the estimation of the repairs. They were sweaty and their uniforms needed laundering. For once, Almond did not look like a recruiting poster. A young army lieutenant was waiting for them when they disembarked the Santiago.

  “Sirs, Colonel Graham requests your presence in his office. Will you follow me please?”

  Devareaux looked down at his body and sighed. He buttoned up his jacket and followed the young man towards the headquarters building.

  “He needs us now? We don’t need to clean up first?”

  The lieutenant shook his head.

  “No, sir. He needs you now.”

  …

  They entered the office and walked past the receptionist’s desk. The office seemed to be empty. They walked down the corridor and to the colonel’s office. The lieutenant knocked on the door and a voice called out.

  “Come in.”

  He opened the door and allowed Almond and Devareaux to precede him into the office. They saw the colonel behind his desk. There were two other officers standing in the office that Almond and Devareaux had not met yet. Both were Army Captains with Signal Bureau Insignia.

  Colonel Graham dismissed the young lieutenant and turned to face the other four officers.

  “I thought you would like to hear the results of your recent exercise. Lieutenant Benjamin will be coming home by tomorrow. The collier arrived late this afternoon in Savannah. They found shelter in the Altamaha and went to the Savanah naval base once the storm looked like it was breaking. We lost one marine killed and one missing from the action. Another man is injured following an accident in the boiler room. The German crew will be returned to the German embassy in Richmond as soon as we can get them aboard a train. Their crew suffered losses of five men dead in the seizure. It was the best outcome we could hope for.”

  He moved papers on his desk to get to the next one in order.

  “The German fleet off of San Juan is not returning to New York. The loss of the collier and the crippling of the SMS Kaiser seemed to have galvanized them. Since they are not receiving material aid from the United States, as the US does not wish to break the fiction of our cease fire with them, they are doubling down on their efforts there. They moved their remaining troop transports and began conducting landing operations.”

  He frowned for a moment before continuing.

  “The Spanish have claimed credit for damaging the SMS Kaiser even though by your own report, their shots did not even land close. The submarine that fired was the CSS Carp. She returned the next night to duplicate her efforts, but ended up being lost in the heavy weather. All hands were lost. The Kaiser is being towed to New York. The gunboat that you fired upon did not suffer significant damage, but you did manage to cause a few casualties among her crew. The bridge crew was nearly killed to a man.”

  He pulled another sheet of paper from the stack and laid it out for them. It was a map of Puerto Rico. He pointed to San Juan.

  “The enemy left San Juan and proceeded west along the coast and forced a landing at Arecibo. The guns of the German ironclads silenced any resistance in minutes and three regiments of German troops were landed by boat. They quickly seized the town and are now situated on the major rail line on the island. The Spanish have their regulars in and around San Juan. There are units of militia throughout the country, but they have old rifles with little to no artillery. The German infantry should make short work of them. We think German operations will secure the island in just a few weeks. So in short, we are out of the fight.”

  He let that sink in for a minute. Devareaux thought of the damage to the Appomattox and cringed. By the time she was repaired, San Juan will have fallen. With a strong foothold in the Caribbean, they would have a base for continued operations and be able to take other islands like Cuba. The Confederacy would lose the few advantages that she had.

  “The Germans have placed several of their gunboats to blockade San Juan harbor from resupply. In conjunction with the Spanish, we have established our supply base already. We have a significant warehouse on the small island to the east of Puerto Rico named Isla de Vieques. It is sheltered in a ring of small islands that Vieques is part of the southern rim. We have some naval stores there. I want to send the Santiago there with additional supplies including the marines and your men. I do not want to leave you idle too long after all.

  “Once you are there, you are to work with the Spanish military and supply the militia with better weapons and see if you can stir up some trouble while the Appomattox is repaired. Devareaux, I am sending you to be in command. Almond will remain here and fly the Appomattox to you when it is ready. You will have your gun crews, some Gatling guns, some rockets and all of the marines on base. You will be leaving as soon as we can get the Appomattox off of the Santiago. Are there any questions?”

  Devareaux frowned.

  “How many marines are there on the base sir? Lieutenant Benjamin took 42 marines with us on the last trip out. Are there any more?”

  Graham nodded.

  “Yes, we have a full company of marines on the island, including Benamin’s men that we are still waiting to return. The marine commander is Captain Tolbert. He is supported by Sergeant Major Vance. Including Second Lieutenant Benjamin, there are two other officers, Lieutenants Grace and Cavandish. The remainder of the force is three Staff Sergeants, nine sergeants, 18 corporals and a company clerk. In addition, there are 90 privates that are now present on the island. Benjamin will no longer be the senior marine on the island, but his men are the only marines that are air service qualified at this time.”

  Devareaux had never commanded a landing force before. He had many questions.

  “How will we move from Isla de Vieques to the main island?”

  “We have contracted a number of small fishing craft to engage in landing operations. You are to make the Germans as miserable as possible. The Santiago will continue to ferry supplies from the Confederacy to your men by way of Isla de Vieques. Is there anything else that you need?”

  Thinking quickly, Devareaux closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment. Without raising his head or opening his eyes, he began to speak as the thoughts were forming.

  “Explosives, we would need lots of explosives. I will need someone with training on how to use them. Maybe a miner maybe or engineer could do the job. Additional arms for the locals as gifts would be good. Also, I would rather leave the Appomattox complete, can we have standard Gatling guns to take with us?”

  Graham nodded and smiled.

  “That is easily arranged. We have an explosives expert, François Delacroix, late of the French Foreign Legion. He was left behind in Mexico and made it to our embassy there. He is a sapper and claims rather extensive knowledge of explosives. The Gatling’s are easily done as well. The arms are not. We are struggling to keep up demand of our own forces. See if you can arm them with captured German weapons.”

  Devareaux frowned in concentration. He was trying to remember something.

  “What are the Germans using now? The Dryse Needle-gun or something like that?”

  “No, sir, the Germans have been issued the Mauser Gewehr 71 just after the Franco-Prussian war of 1870. It fires a center fire 11mm round. It is a single shot, bolt action rifle. Our information is that they are researching an integral magazine in the rifle, but the army has not yet adopted it. You can out shoot them, but their rifles fire fast enough and accurate enough.

  “Another worry for you is the presence of a battery of Krupp artillery. From what we have learned, they have a battery of six guns that have been landed on the island. They will ultimately be used in the reduction of the Spanish defenses in San Juan. If you manage to cause the nuisance that we hope you will, they may direct these towards you.

  “From the sea, you have to worry about the addition of the SMS Königgrätz. She is a cruiser that has replaced all of its secondary armament with Krupp Anti-Bal
loon guns. They believe that she will prevent more attacks from Confederate or Spanish airships. They are light guns that can nearly fire directly upwards. They first fielded them in the Franco-Prussian war against French artillery observation balloons. They were not a great success, but they did keep the French balloons away from their operational area. They have a range significant enough to keep the Appomattox away from being able to fire with impunity as you have in the past. I also suspect that they will have more of their balloon bombs enabled on their ships.”

  This painted a bleak picture for the naval officer. Devareaux’s stomach turned over violently, but he maintained his outward composure. The Confederate Navy was never in an advantageous position and had throughout its short history had to make do with what little was available. Who was he to break with tradition?

  “We will succeed, sir.”

  The meeting wound down from there with various logistical details being finalized. Everything from pay to food and water to ammunition was laid out in exhaustive detail that left all of the officers drained. At the end of the meeting, Devareaux was an airship officer leading a ground mission. He was not a happy man.

  Chapter 25: A Trail Far from Home

  The bartender, Dave, polished the glass with his apron. He was a pleasant enough looking man with a large red nose that showed he enjoyed drinking as much as he enjoyed serving others. The saloon was poorly lit by only a few brass lamps in the large space. There were a number of tables in the saloon, but at the moment only one was occupied. The piano sat closed in the far corner. A cowboy leaned across the bar and pointed with his thumb.

  "What is the story with this one Dave?"

  The cowboy wore the chaps and spurs of his profession as well as a bright blue shirt that was dusty from the trail. His leather boots were worn but in excellent condition. All the leatherwork he wore was well cared for. He was a fastidious man. His face was clean shaven and his hair neatly cut. This alone made him stand out from the normal patrons of Dave's Tavern.

  Dave had taken serious grief for the name of his tavern. His wiseacre patrons complained that it had no spark to it. Yet they kept coming. His customers knew that Dave's prices were cheaper than the other two saloons in towns. This made sure that he always had customers.

  The story in question was the Confederate Midshipman laying passed out across the table. Beneath his head was a copy of the Naval Gazette. It was the official newspaper of the Confederate Naval Service. The newspaper was soaked with a combination of drool and whiskey from the nearby overturned glass.

  "Him, ah well, I am not sure. He came in here every day after his duty for the past month. He reads the paper and leaves. Yesterday, the boy found a story in his paper and read it over and over. Instead of sarsaparilla, he switched to whiskey and drank himself into a stupor. He has been like that since last night. He is a good boy and I saw no reason to throw him out to the street. Has to be plum terrible for him to be assigned to New Mexico when he is a naval officer."

  There was a loud belch and the midshipman raised his head. The paper was stuck to it. He clawed at his face to free it from the Naval Gazette and he blinked. He glanced around the room with bewilderment attempting to puzzle out what was going on.

  Dave leaned on the bar and laughed.

  “Well morning sunshine. How is your head feeling?”

  Midshipman Sykes attempted to speak, but only a croak emerged. He looked for something to drink, but could only find his spilled glass.

  He turned back to Dave and tried to speak.

  “Water.”

  Dave laughed, but it was a gentle laugh of a compassionate man. He poured a glass of water and walked around the bar and handed the glass to him.

  Sykes took a drink quickly. He stretched his neck and tried to speak again.

  “What time is it?”

  His voice was better than he thought. He could actually be understood.

  “Well, son, it is 9am in the morning. I hope you are not late for duty. We were going to wake you soon.”

  “Ah, well. They don’t know what to do with me at the fort. I just have to report in once a day.”

  He turned to the paper again and reread the headline of the story that took him by surprise. Devareaux was dead. A fire? His former commanding officer was just gone. Enemy fire could not take him, but a house fire. If the story was to be believed, he was just about drummed out of the service as well. Sykes was rushed out to New Mexico before the loss of the Appomattox was even begun.

  He pointed to the paper.

  “Has this made the news out here yet? It’s the story about Lieutenant Devareaux? I once served with him.”

  Dave leaned over and gazed at the article. Somehow, the spots of drool and spilled whiskey did not affect the article. The article was actually quite favorable to Lieutenant Devareaux. It mentioned the court-martial, but noted that he was cleared of all charges.

  “Well, I can’t say that I have. Sounds like a tragedy. Was he a good man?”

  Sykes could not speak for a second and just nodded his head.

  “Yes, yes, he was. He was one of the best officers I have ever known. He was a good man. It… it just does not make any sense.”

  …

  Sykes stumbled out of the tavern and found his horse. It took him a bit to mount due to the hangover. Once mounted he slowly rode his way back to the fort. The ride took him a good thirty minutes at a slow trot which was all that he could handle. Upon arriving at the gate to the fort, he saluted the officer of the guard.

  The name of the fort was rather ironic, Fort Union. It was established in 1851 and remained in Union hands until the end of the war. Whereas the Confederacy was quick to rename many of the Union forts in the South, they left Fort Union alone. It was under constant expansion since the war. The base hospital became the medical response headquarters when the area was hit with a smallpox epidemic in 1877. The base had a Post Office, a Quartermaster Depot and an Ordinance Depot. In the past two years, a balloonist unit was added to the fort in addition to the Negro cavalry and infantry units. There were some supporting artillery and Gatling guns in the battlements as well.

  The Army lieutenant chuckled at the sight of Sykes.

  “Welcome home Midshipman. You must have had a heck of a night.”

  Sykes waved at him and rode straight to his barracks. He dismounted and entered his room. Once in his room, he disrobed and bathed. Once he rendered himself into a near human condition, he donned a fresh uniform shirt. When properly dressed, he left to report in to the base commander.

  He knocked on the door of Major Thomas Raleigh. From behind the door, he heard the slow Texas growl of ‘Come in.’

  He opened the door. The officer was behind the desk and was working on paperwork. He was writing for a moment while Sykes advanced to the desk and assumed the position of attention.

  After a minute of hasty scribbling, the major looked up and spoke to the young midshipman.

  “What do you need Sykes? I don’t have anything for you today. We don’t need your balloon.”

  Sykes sucked up his irritation.

  “Sir, I would like to request a transfer to a naval unit, possibly in Huston or even Charleston.”

  The major laughed. He turned in his chair and seized a cabinet behind him and opened a drawer. In a few seconds he found the file that he was looking for and withdrew it and laid it upon the desk.

  “I would love to transfer you. But my orders are to keep you here for the next year. I have no idea of what to do with you. My men can handle anything we need to do with the observation balloon. You really are superfluous. The Yankees across the border in Colorado are supposed to be observed regularly, but both sides spend more time operating against renegade Indians. Hell, last month, we cooperated with the Yankees to fight against some Comanche raiders before you arrived here.”

  He shook his head.

  “Look boy, I have nothing against you. I am sure you are a fine officer. You are in a competing service. I don’
t know who you pissed off to end up here in the asshole of the Confederacy. But you are plumb stuck. Hell, I want to get transferred myself, but I just don’t want to leave my boys out there. I have two companies of men here, plus the depot troops. They are fighters. Tough men whom I have seen go toe to toe with the worst that the Indians have to offer. I love them. Back in Virginia or the Carolinas, people would spit on these boys. Out here, the White, Spanish and any other settlers respect them. More importantly, they need them. Out here, they are men. Back east, hell, they are looked at as if they are escaped slaves. Many whites don’t want to be out here with them. But I would pit my boys against any army on earth.”

  The major rubbed his face and sighed.

  “At ease. We don’t need to keep you all tense like that.”

  Sykes took in the major’s words and relaxed somewhat.

  “Look, I will try to involve you more and make your stay with us at Fort Union seem more purposeful. I know this has to be a painful assignment for you. Your file came to me and you appeared to be a perfect officer. Not a single black mark on your record. You have done your duty here, what little I have asked of you.”

  He thought them over and then nodded.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Good. I know about last night. To ensure that you leave here with an excellent fitness report, from now on, you will need a pass before spending the night outside of the fort.”

  He said that last with a smile on his face.

  “Look Sykes, I know you are not a drinking man. What the hell set you off last night?”

  Sykes considered how to answer.

  “Sir, my former commanding officer died. I read about it in the Naval Gazette. It was a shock. I was unable to come to terms with that.”

  The major nodded. He turned to another drawer and opened it. He pulled out a bottle that looked to be a far better quality than anything he had seen or drank in the town. He withdrew two glasses and poured a small glass for each of them. He handed one glass to Sykes and took the other. He raised it above the level of his eyes.