CHAPTER FIVE
“You May Fire When Ready, Gridley!”
A large wave that comes crashing in on the sandy beaches of a country originates miles away—sometimes days earlier. Beginning as an almost inconsequential swelling of a small volume of water, it travels under the surface for miles, causing only a mound on the expanse of the huge ocean. As it approaches the shore, it gains volume and speed until finally it breaks, raising an enormous white-capped, rolling expanse that crashes onto the shoreline with a roar.
Theodore Roosevelt’s career might well be said to have begun in such a fashion. The sinking of the battleship Maine was the tiny, almost unnoticed beginning in the life of the man who would be known to the world over as Teddy Roosevelt.
Roosevelt was a brisk young man with conspicuous eyeglasses. His mouth was packed with large white teeth, which he loved to bare when he grinned. He often uttered the word, “Bully!” to express his admiration for almost anything, from beef steak to a triumph in the State Department. He’d arrived in Washington in April as the new Assistant Secretary of the Navy. He was, however, no stranger to that city, for he’d served there as a civil service commissioner for five years.
Theodore Roosevelt was not ignorant of naval affairs. When he was a stripling of twenty-two, he’d written a book entitled The Naval War of 1812, a work recognized by military historians as the definitive record of that struggle. Roosevelt’s thorough understanding of the importance of maritime sovereignty had turned him into a longtime public advocate for a larger and more modern fleet.
Roosevelt’s carefully tailored suit, his precise enunciation, and his upper-class accent that had echoes of Harvard misled many of his observers. A huge bully wearing two guns had made that sort of mistake in a Dakota saloon once. Roosevelt had taken away the man’s guns, knocked him senseless, and then dumped him in a shed until he woke up and found his way out of town.
Those who were acquainted with the thirty-year-old aristocrat knew him to be a man of action, as well as a man of words. He was a fearless advocate of the strenuous life and proved it by his vigorous activities—hunting big game in Africa, turning himself into a cowboy by sheer determination, boxing, and other difficult pursuits that he felt made a man what he should be.
The state of the Assistant Secretary’s mind about war had been greatly influenced by a book written by Alfred Thayer Mayhan, a naval officer and historian. Roosevelt had devoured Mayhan’s The Influence of Sea Power Upon History, declaring it to be “a bully good book”! Basically, Mayhan had advocated that America could depend on one thing to preserve its sovereignty—sea power. The annals of history had already proved this true with European nations such as England and Spain. In 1884, as a result of this rising awareness, the Naval War College had been established at Newport, Rhode Island. Mayhan had been appointed as president of the newly formed college. Mayhan, a son of a West Point professor, began to develop his thesis on sea power there, and his maritime acumen influenced Roosevelt tremendously in the years that followed.
As the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Roosevelt delivered a speech to the student body and faculty at the Naval War College. It was, however, a speech intended for public consumption and was a plea for the country to build and maintain a bigger and better navy. Roosevelt took as his theme George Washington’s rule, “To be prepared for war is the most effectual means to promote peace.” The tone of the speech, so characteristic of Roosevelt, was so militant-minded that it startled the professional officers in the audience.
All the great masterful races have been fighting races; and the minute that a race loses the hard-fighting virtues, then it has lost its right to stand as the equal of the best.
No triumph of peace is quite so great as the supreme triumphs of war. It may be that at some time in the dim future of the race the need for war will vanish, but that time is yet ages distant. Diplomacy is utterly useless when there is no force behind it; the diplomat is the servant, not the master of the soldier.
There are higher things in this life than the soft and easy enjoyment of material comfort. It is through strife, or the readiness for strife, that a nation wins greatness. We ask for a great navy partly because we feel that no national life is worth having if the nation is not willing, when the need shall arise, to stake everything on the supreme arbitrament of war, and to pour out its blood, its treasure, and its tears like water, rather than submit to the loss of honor.
In Teddy Roosevelt’s mind, as he struggled over the crisis of the Spanish War, he was extremely concerned about the position of Commander of the Asiatic Squadron, which was soon to be vacant. He well knew that the new commander would control to a great extent the events of the war that was sure to come. Roosevelt had his own candidate for that command—George Dewey, a fifty-nine-year-old Civil War veteran.
Roosevelt demonstrated his political prowess by adroitly manipulating the War Department until Dewey was appointed to the position. “Now,” Roosevelt exclaimed, “we’ve put this thing in the hands of a self-starter. He’ll know how to handle those Spanish fellows!”
After the explosion that destroyed the Maine, a furor swept through most of the Western countries. Germany sent armed naval forces into Manila, for Kaiser Wilhelm II was anxious to become involved in the fray. With the rising tide of antagonism, the Spanish Court began to seriously strengthen its military buildup. The court met for long hours, trying to ascertain what had happened in the Port of Havana, but they couldn’t come to any real conclusions. Eyewitnesses recalled two explosions—a sharp, gunlike report, followed a second or two later by a more massive and prolonged blast. However, after much discussion, there was never any conclusive evidence that the Spanish or anyone else had deliberately blown up the Maine.
That Spain was innocent apparently never once occurred to Teddy Roosevelt. He plunged ahead with his characteristic energy, and on February 25, the small wave that had begun years ago when as a boy he had become interested in politics and warfare finally crested and thrust Roosevelt into his career. The scene was set that would propel him into the developing political conflict. The Secretary of the Navy had left his Assistant Secretary in charge, and Roosevelt immediately began issuing a steady stream of orders. He sent guns from the Washington Navy Yard to New York, where they were used to arm merchant ships as auxiliary cruisers. Cables went out to American squadron commanders around the world ordering them to stock their ships with coal and make preparations to sail at once. But his most audacious action involved the Asiatic Squadron.
It was evident that this fleet anchored in Hong Kong was in the most advantageous position to attack Manila. Hong Kong lay only some six hundred miles from the Philippines, while most of the squadron remained at Nagasaki, twelve hundred miles from the Spanish-controlled islands. Teddy Roosevelt was a bold man. In the absence of the Secretary, he seized upon the opportunity to cable Dewey: “Order the squadron to Hong Kong. Keep full of coal. In the event of declaration of war with Spain, your duty will be to see that the Spanish squadron does not leave the Asiatic Coast. Then offensive operation in Philippine Islands. Keep Olympia until further orders. Roosevelt.”
It was sheer audacity. Those who later wrote the biographies of Teddy Roosevelt pinpointed it as one of the most propitious acts of his fiery political career. The next day, a stunned Secretary of the Navy, John Davis Long, wrote in his diary that the Assistant Secretary had come very near to causing more of an explosion than what had happened to the Maine. “The very devil seemed to possess him yesterday afternoon!”
But the orders to Commodore Dewey were not revoked, and the first phase of the Spanish-American War plans had now been set in motion. The navy was armed and ready to move at a moment’s notice.
****
Lewis pulled up in front of the Mark Winslow home and stepped out of the carriage. Sam, the lanky handyman who worked for Mark and Lola, came to take the lines. “I’ll put them up, Mr. Lewis,” he said amiably. “Mr. Mark and Miss Lola have been waiting for you.”
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“There was a lot of traffic,” Lewis said, handing the lines to the man. “We’ll be going back after lunch, Sam. You might give the team a good feed.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll take care of it.”
Lewis went over and helped Alice out of the carriage. Taking his hand, she stepped to the ground, looking at the lowlying house. “What a pretty place! Not as big as I’d expected.”
“It’s very comfortable, though not like your home. Uncle Mark and Aunt Lola aren’t much on big places.” He spoke offhandedly of the colossal manor where Alice Cates lived with her family. Lewis found it impressive, but was never very comfortable there, despite his many visits. He liked Mr. Cates well enough, a mild-mannered man, who gave no indication of the wealth he had accumulated—but he had felt the resistance of Mrs. Cates from the first day they met. He knew instinctively that the woman had high ambitions for Alice—primarily a rich husband. And the coolness and distance he had sensed at that meeting had not changed in the following weeks.
“Look—they’re waiting for us.” He led Alice up the steps, where they were greeted by Mark and Lola.
“Come in,” Mark said heartily. “You’re just in time for lunch. How are you, Alice? You’re looking beautiful, as usual.”
Alice smiled at Mark and put out her hand. She was fascinated by Mark Winslow. “I declare, Mrs. Winslow, you must have had a time being married to a good-looking man like this!”
Lola said, “Don’t encourage him! He’s vain enough as it is.” She smiled at the girl, shook her hand, and said, “Come inside—lunch is on the table. Why are you so late?”
“Oh, Alice wanted to show me Madison Square Garden.” He grinned at Lola and winked. “There’s a statue of a young lady in that place wearing no more than a few leaves. I think it’s indecent.”
Alice laughed. “I noticed you looked at it long enough to take notes. Are you planning on writing a letter of protest to the papers?”
The four of them entered the dining room and sat down to the luncheon. Mark bowed his head and asked the blessing. As soon as he had finished, Alice began speaking of the war.
“Isn’t it just terribly exciting? The war, I mean!”
“A little bit depressing, if you ask me,” Mark shrugged. He picked up a fork and nibbled at the salad on his plate, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s going to be a tough go of it, I think.”
“Oh, Mr. Winslow, you can’t mean that!” Alice said, her eyes sparkling. “We’ve got to teach those Spaniards a lesson!”
Lewis ate slowly as he listened to Alice go on about the war. He knew she was impulsive about her ideas, but he was drawn to her, just the same. She was wearing a beautifully designed gown. The dress had a bodice cut in the Eton shape, with a skirt that fit closely over her hips and fell in folds to the ground. The jacket was fit to her figure with a high satin collar and wide satin revers. The small bonnet she was wearing was one of the new styles, topped with small ostrich feathers. Probably cost more than Dad makes in a month! Lewis thought as he surveyed her outfit.
Lola was listening carefully as Alice began to speak of the importance of the war to free the Cubans. She was aware that Alice Cates was one of the most eligible young women in New York, and she could not understand what had sparked Alice’s sudden interest in Lewis. They had only met a few weeks before. At one time, after Lewis had brought Alice for dinner, Lola had said to Mark, “He’s just a poor young man with no prominent family, so I can’t understand why she’s after him.”
“Don’t you?” Mark had replied. “I think she’s using all her charm to turn Lewis into her pet volunteer.” When Lola had expressed surprise, he’d gone on to explain. “She wants a soldier going to the front—one she can call all her own. The bugles are going to start blowing and the flags will be waving. Sooner or later there’s going to be an army leaving. I think she’s been reading some silly novels about what war is like.”
Now as Lola listened to Alice, so enthralled with the adventure of war, Lola became convinced that Mark was right. Lewis needs to be careful, she thought. He’s idealistic enough, and with this girl fanning the flames, there’s no telling what he might do!
The afternoon was pleasant enough, except for the fact that Lola now clearly saw how infatuated Lewis was with the girl. After the couple left, headed back for a ride across the Brooklyn Bridge upon Alice’s insistence, Mark and Lola walked slowly along the border of the flower garden, speaking of the issue.
“I’m worried about Lewis,” Lola said. “He’s old enough to know better, but he’s acting like a foolish teenager.”
“I think he’s been pretty well protected from life. Davis and Belle live in an academic atmosphere, and they’ve raised their boys that way.”
“But Aaron’s broken out of it—running off to the Klondike.”
“I think he’s a different sort of fellow. Aaron’s always been rash and headstrong.” Mark put his arm around her and whispered, “Like all of us Winslow men—just like I was when I stole you away.”
Lola was pleased with his foolishness. It was something that she’d had to cultivate, for when they were first married he had been far too serious. She reached up, pulled his head down, and kissed him, saying, “You are a handsome thing—just like that silly girl said! I thought so the first time I saw you.”
“No, you didn’t. I was locked up in that dirty Mexican jail. You’ve just romanticized that time—it was pretty rough.”
Lola thought back to the time when they had escaped from Texas—she from an abusive brother-in-law and Mark from an unjust jail sentence. They had gone through a great deal of hard times during the building of the Union Pacific Railroad. Now she reached over, took his hand, and said, “I know it was hard, but look what it did for us. It made us one more than anything else. Hard times do that, Mark.” She hesitated for some time, turning it over and over in her mind, then said, “I think this is Lewis’s first time out on his own, so to speak. He’s never seen a young woman as enticing as Alice. She’s spoiled, aggressive, and not like the college girls he’s used to.”
“She’s bound and determined to get this war going—and to influence as many men to get involved as she can.” Mark’s lean face grew solemn. He thought of his sister Belle, and said at once, “I’ve got to talk to Belle. I don’t think she and Davis have any idea of Lewis’s foolish notions. I doubt if Lewis has said anything about this war to them. I’ll try to talk to him, too.”
“That’ll be good, dear,” Lola said quietly, but something inside her told her it would do little good to talk to their young nephew. She had a feeling Lewis could be very headstrong if pushed on the issue. “He’s in love, or thinks he is,” she said quietly. “And when a young man’s in love for the first time, words won’t do much to change him.”
“But the war would,” Mark said grimly. “It could get him killed—and that’s why we have to try to protect him.”
****
If the war had simmered down, or the threat of it, things might have been different. There was always the possibility that diplomacy might prevail and that the Spanish Court might bend itself to meet the American demands, but certain events at home and abroad changed all of that.
On April 19, after a week of intense debate, the House and Senate passed a joint resolution: “ . . . for the recognition of independence for the people of Cuba, demanding that the government of Spain relinquish its authority and government on the island of Cuba and Cuban waters and directing that the President of the United States use the land and naval forces of the United States to carry these resolutions into effect.”
When the resolution was passed, all that remained was for President McKinley to sign it. After that, a state of war between the United States and Spain would be in effect. He did so and the wheels of war began to roll more rapidly.
The North Atlantic Squadron, under command of Admiral Simpson, formed off Key West and headed for Havana. At about three o’clock one afternoon, the dark medieval towers of Morro Castle loomed ahe
ad. The blockade of Havana was in place—and the Spanish-American War had begun.
****
Commodore Dewey’s squadron swung at its moorings on gentle waves in Mirs Bay, a small inlet on the Chinese coast. The fleet was small, consisting of only seven warships, and some military strategists wondered if a force that small could accomplish anything. Dewey wrote in his diary early in the morning: “The prevailing impression is that our squadron is going to certain destruction. In the Hong Kong club, it was not possible to get bets, even with heavy odds, that our expedition would be a success. One of the British officers said at our sailing, ‘A fine set of fellows, but unhappily, we shall never see them again.’ ”
Dewey knew there were some forty naval Spanish vessels in and around Manila. The coastal defenses that were in place seemed formidable. And the Island of Corregidor stood as a fortified sentry guarding the broad entrance to Manila Bay. There were reports that batteries of five- and six-inch guns had been installed there, commanding the entire entrance to the bay. Rumor had it that the bay was full of submerged mines waiting for an incursion of any kind. All in all, the entire invasion seemed a dangerous and foolish undertaking. But as the Asiatic Squadron steamed out into the South China Sea, there were no doubts in the heart or mind of Commodore Dewey. He was a leathery character, exactly the right kind of man to lead a naval squadron against such odds.
The American fleet slipped through the waters under the cover of darkness off the coast of Luzon. Dewey saw at once, however, that the Spanish Fleet was fully armed and waiting for them. “Now we have them,” he said. “We shall enter Manila Bay and you will follow the movement of the Flag Ship which will lead.”
Lieutenant William Winder, Dewey’s nephew, spoke with the commodore after the meeting. “Sir, let me lead my ship through the channel. If she goes down, you’ll be safe. It’s the one chance I have to become famous.”
The Rough Rider Page 9
