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

by Chris Stoesen

  …

  Hunt stood. The firing had all but ceased. They needed to consolidate their gains now. It was then that he saw the officer. That same pompous individual that had ridden by before the fighting had started. He was staring in horror at the dead soldiers lying in the road near the base of the rock where the Gatling gun was positioned. Never one to pass up an opportunity, Hunt raised his rifle and took aim.

  The officer was some 200 yards down the road. He was around the bend in the road and only visible because Hunt was himself on a hill and the officer was mounted. He took aim and fired. When Hunt reacquired his sight picture, the officer was no longer there. He saw movement and looked. A riderless horse was galloping away from the fight.

  Hunt then ordered his men to secure the donkeys and to get them moving, back through the trails that they reached the ambush site from. Time was short and they had to make good their victory here before reinforcements arrived.

  Chapter 29: German Awareness

  Major Erik von Fargell dismounted as he approached the attack site. He held a scented cloth to his mouth and nose to ward off the smells. The first thing that he noticed was that the bodies of the German soldiers were not butchered as some of the other ambushes had been. They were neatly arranged in rows. The dead animals were left where they had fallen and the carts were broken to block the road.

  The flies and stench nearly overpowered them. The major could hear at least one of his men getting sick behind him. He scanned the ground of the ambush site. He saw a few things that he expected to see. Footprints of either bare feet or local sandals were evident everywhere. What was disturbing was the areas that looked brushed as if someone were trying to hide something.

  “Herr Major!”

  The shout came from further into the ambush lane.

  A feldwebel emerged around the corner waving to him. Von Fargell was taken aback at the burst of emotion from the professional soldier. This was unusual. He walked calmly to the soldier.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “There is an officer, down the hill here. He may be alive!”

  “Well, don’t just stand there, go get him.”

  Von Fargell snapped with impatience. He was not unfamiliar with the guerilla tactics that were employed here on this forsaken island. He idly wondered why the Kaiser wanted such a miserable place.

  The feldwebel and several other soldiers began a scramble down the hill to rescue the fallen officer. It took them nearly twenty minutes to haul the injured man up the hill. He was indeed still breathing. He had a festering wound to his shoulder and his calf received a puncture wound from some jagged tree stump in his fall.

  With a drink of water and a restorative shot of schnapps, the officer began to come around. The man’s eyes went wide at the sight of von Fargell. He attempted to come to attention, but the major waved him down.

  “Rest easy. You are alright. Now, what happened here?”

  The man took another drink of water and thought for a moment. It was a long enough moment that von Fargell began to wonder if the man had heard him.

  “The attack came after I had road through the ambush site. I was mounted and was riding ahead of the column. They had one of those Gatling guns. It was far worse than the damned French Millatreause. They killed all those boys. I turned and galloped back and just saw them fall. There was nothing I could do. I turned to get out of the killing ground and was hit. I fell from my horse and have been there ever since.”

  He pointed to the woods and down the hill where he was found.

  The major held back his opinion of the officer and just nodded to him. He stood and walked towards the suspected location of the Gatling gun. There were no cartridge cases littering the ground to signify the spot. Whoever had conducted this ambush had cleaned up afterwards. He partially turned to the officer and pointed to the spot he suspected.

  “Was the Gatling gun here?”

  The man turned his head and just nodded.

  “What else can you tell me about the attackers?”

  “They were mostly local peasants. Like all of the others that we see, they were wearing straw hats and dirty white pants and shirts. They charged our men. They were using our rifles and bayonets. The survivors drove off their charge, but the damnable Gatling finished them off to a man.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “I am not sure. I believe that there was an officer with them. He did not wear a Spanish uniform. Instead, he wore a gray uniform that I had never seen before. He was directing the Gatling gun.”

  “Did you say gray uniform?”

  Chapter 30: New Targets

  The rain continued for its third straight day. The camp was in a downcast mood in spite of their recent victory just five short days ago. Devareaux sat under a tarp and wrote in his journal. The humidity was so great the pages had swelled and tore as he tried to write. He had to write very carefully which was outside of his nature. Forming words on the paper slowly and carefully was alien to him and his hands were cramping from the effort.

  Devareaux looked up to see Benjamin advancing towards him clad in pants and an undershirt. His hair was plastered to his scalp and he carried a bottle in his left hand. He nearly fell into the chair at Devareaux's left.

  "I have five marines down from dysentery. The locals have had at least three men run off and another two are sick, malaria maybe and no one is happy sitting here in the rain. On the plus side, the reports of our raid are showing fruit. We have taken on twenty new volunteers in addition to about thirty camp followers. Some of which may legitimately be wives of some of these men. The marines have become quite popular with the local ladies. I am trying to figure out how to control that. Things can get out of hand rapidly."

  Benjamin took a pull on his bottle and passed it to Devareaux who raised his eyebrows as he accepted it.

  "Don't worry, it’s mostly coffee."

  Devareaux chuckled before taking a pull of the 'mostly coffee' and winced as the rum bit through the cold coffee. He handed the bottle back to him.

  "We need another action. We have to keep these men occupied. Have the scouts found anything yet?"

  Benjamin shook his head in the negative.

  "No, they stopped using the supply road and it seems they are supplied by sea now. There was a regimental sized unit that attempted to follow us into the jungle. The traps that our brothers in arms set seem to have deterred them. We found three of them were tripped. One showed enough blood that it was probably a fatal incident. I don't like those but I have to say they seem to be effective. Furthermore, it led them away from our true location. You know, these fellows could make fine soldiers, one day."

  Devareaux nodded his head at Benjamin’s words.

  "They have heart that is for sure. I am still not sure that this is not a lost cause. We have not heard from our own forces since we have landed. Even if we would have had one of Witherspoon's radios with us, it would have failed in this climate and rain. Our coast spotters have not seen a friendly ship in weeks. We lost two Puerto Ricans to fire from a German sloop. The survivor reported that the sloop flashed recognition signals to them. When our boys did not respond, they opened fire. They may have figured out where we are."

  The two men sat in companionable silence for a while longer.

  Benjamin sat and stared at the bottle for a while. Then a sinister smile crept across his face. He looked at the bottle and weighed it in his hand as if coming to a conclusion.

  He looked up at Devareaux and his smile got bigger.

  "Humancao has not been taken yet because it doesn’t connect with the main rail line running east to west across the top of the island. Nor is there a significant road system that links it to San Juan and the other cities. It is a significant town, but it is isolated. The mountains contributed to this isolation. This makes it a great base for us to be near. The Germans have set up a camp there at the end of the roads in the town of Fagardo, north of the mountains. They are using that as a base to push in overland to
Humancao. They have not attempted another amphibious landing since the initial one west of San Juan. It would be a long march for us to reach Fagardo. But if we take enough of the local rot gut, I am willing to bet good money that we can carry off a night attack and burn the camp or at least some of its stores. What do you think?”

  Devareaux smiled back as his response.

  In the days that followed, Devareaux and Benjamin drilled both local militia and Confederate marine alike till there was not a man in the camp was not cursing their names.

  When the raid was finally organized, several more marines were rendered combat ineffective by sickness. Their force was now down to just 25 marines and 128 rebels. The rebels now had a few men seasoned enough to promote to serve as corporals.

  Trying an integrated platoon structure, marines served as platoon and company commanders with rebels acting as aides. Each platoon was formed around three 12 man squad led by a marine sergeant and supported by two rebel corporals. There were three platoons. The remaining marines and rebels formed a reserve and baggage train.

  They had a train of some 24 mules to haul spare equipment, food and medical supplies. No Gatling guns were taken. Each man carried two days of rations, forty rounds of ammunition and three bottles of locally made rum with fuse material.

  The plan was rudimentary. They would attempt to encircle the base on three sides. One platoon would open fire to cause a distraction while another would attempt to infiltrate and burn the camp. When the infiltrators were spotted, they would retreat into the bush and the other platoon would attempt to infiltrate. The distracting platoon would attempt to draw the defenders into the brush into small ambushes. The key to the operation is sowing confusion and delay.

  Devareaux's constant worry was that they would not reach the destination and he would lose more marines. Many of his sick had to be taken secretly into Humancao as they lacked medicine. The camp was being guarded by a few walking wounded marines and the best trained of the rebel Gatling crews.

  They erected three small firing platforms and mounted the guns on them. One Gatling was placed on each corner of the base. The guns could rotate 360 degrees to support the other guns.

  Other than the gun crews and the less sick marines, the wives and camp followers were there in abundance. The camp was constantly under construction, with no end in sight. Sanitation was a constant worry and the latrines had to be maintained to ensure sickness did not get worse. Next was mosquito treatment. Smoking pots of smelly local herbs were present as well as a significant amount of vinegar as troops rebel and marine alike followed in Devareaux' example. Because of their precautions, malaria was less of an issue than it could have been.

  There were patrols that were sent out to monitor the bush and check for any intruders. Most often the intruders were new recruits. By the time the raiders left, no signs existed that the enemy had discovered their camp.

  The journey to the enemy encampment was very difficult. Two men fell to their deaths while crossing one mountain pass. Three ankles were sprained and many smaller cuts and bruises were taken on by the raiding party. The worst loss was four mules that were injured and had to be put down. The men had to split their burden between them. But if there was a positive side, the cooks provided fresh meat to the men after the loss of each mule.

  It took them twelve days to cross the mountains to reach the coastal plain and draw close to their target. Devareaux sighed as he gazed through his telescope. He scanned the camp. There was no less than a regiment of troops surrounding the warehouses.

  Tenente Pena, Devareaux and Benjamin met and began to review their plan. They reviewed the hastily sketched map that Devareaux had made.

  “First, we have Pena’s group hitting the camp from the west, Benjamin will attack from the South and I will lead the group from the east. My group will attack first. We have some cover in the brush. The shots will be long. There are about 100 yards from the brush to the edge of the encampment. Fortunately, there are no fences or walls between any of us and the camp. There are several small wood and tin buildings between the edge of camp and the warehouse on the eastern side. I noted at least 10 guards moving on that side alone. We will begin by opening fire on these men. Those wood and tin shacks could end up being strong points. We will keep them under fire. Under this fire, Pena will attack.”

  He stared at the men to see if they had any objections so far.

  “From the south, there is nothing but tents. I counted at least six rows of tents between the warehouse and the edge of camp. The distance between the jungle and the edge of camp is less here at a mere 60 yards of open ground. Attacking through those to reach the warehouse will be difficult to say the least. Benjamin, we should not take any unnecessary risks. Burn everything you can and only go for the warehouse if you are able. Got it?”

  Benjamin nodded.

  “Good. Now, Pena, you will begin your advance. You have the farthest and most difficult ground to cross. There are no less than 10 rows of tents before the warehouse. To the north of the tents, there is a large building that we think is a cafeteria or office buildings. Hopefully this will not be an issue. You have a short 40 yard run from the jungle to the tents. Burn anything you can. I don’t think you can safely penetrate to the warehouse. We may not be able to achieve our objective, but we should disrupt them for some time.”

  “Capitano Devareaux.”

  It was Pena calling out in his heavily accented English.

  “My men all have machetes. We can use these to cut our way to the warehouse silently. This is not a problem. The ones with bayonets will deal with any that stand in their falling tents. Your distraction can cover our advance. I would like to move before you shoot. We will take the guards with knives. It will be night. They cannot stop us.”

  This was not the first time that Pena had asked for this. Devareaux was hesitant to allow it. His way was safer, but would result in less damage to the camp. Rubbing his eyes, he decided he needed to allow Pena some autonomy here. He had heard complaints that the rebels thought they were not important. If he allows Pena to do as he said, that would solve that problem. But if they suffered too many casualties or worse, had men captured, it could be trouble for all of them.

  “OK, Pena. You can do so. We will launch the attack at 1am. I will not fire until 1:05am. That should give you plenty of time to reach the tents. Does that work for you?”

  Pena smiled broadly.

  “Si el jefe!”

  The excitement of Pena was palpable. Devareaux hoped he would not regret this.

  “Pena, I will put some of the reserve marines in the trees behind you. Once the shooting starts, they can fire over your men into the camp to cover you. It is not much, but it may help.”

  Pena nodded and did not object. Now they had to simply wait. Benjamin had to lend Pena his watch, so that he would know when to attack. They moved into position and were ready for the attack by 11pm.

  Chapter 31: Fortune to the Bold

  Devareaux held his watch up and tried to catch the moonlight. It was just a quarter-moon and did not light the face very well. He finally made out the face, 1:02am. He began to count as he raised his spyglass to his eye. He could not make out the far side of the camp where Pena’s men should be moving.

  He quietly verbalized 3 as he counted past the minute. Right before he reached 4 shouts could be heard from the far side of the camp and a scream. That was the sign they were waiting for.

  Devareaux yelled out to his men.

  “FIRE!”

  In seconds, shots rang out as marines and rebels fired on the distracted guards.

  In the first volley, five of the guards were cut down. Targets were not picked with care as one man was hit multiple times. Of the remaining three guards, two took cover. One looked around in confusion while the other two began to shout. The next set of rounds fired were not fired in a volley, but cracked out as targets were acquired. The guards who had not sought cover died. To this point, the Germans had not fired a
single shot at his men.

  Devareaux sighed and scanned the area as best as he could. The three men who had taken cover now fired up into the jungle at Devareaux’s men. His men were well concealed and the shots whipped high above their heads.

  The lights in the nearest of the wood and tin buildings flared brighter. This proved deadly to one of the men at the corner of the building. He was quickly found by either a rebel or marine bullet.

  Devareaux turned to the marine closest to him.

  “See if you can shoot that light through the window.”

  The man looked at him in confusion, but quickly gave him a quiet acknowledgement. Officers, you just can’t understand them.

  “Aye, Aye, sir.”

  The man fired three shots before the lamp was struck. It did what Devareaux hoped. The vessel holding the lamp oil was struck and shattered dropping the whole mess on the floor of the building. While at first the building grew darker, it quickly got brighter as the lamp oil caught flame and began a fire in the building.

  A panicked man fled the building out of the side door. This left him open to rifle fire. He survived for seven shots before he was hit. The man spun and fell to the ground. Shots kept ringing out, but Devareaux watched the building in fascination. Soon the windows were breaking and flames were licking up out of their broken flames.

  He tapped the marine again and pointed at the other wood and tin building. This time the marine just smiled. He did not wait to see if he would have success again, but got up and moved. He was trying to direct the fire of his men.

  Men were moving out of the tents to the south. They were moving quickly to the warehouse. Or at least that is what it looked like through the haze of the glass he held to his eye. From the far end of the camp, he saw light.

  He focused the glass on the new light and saw that there were flames among the tents. The light of the flames revealed that many of the tents extending towards the jungle to the west were lying flat on the ground.