1882: Custer in Chains (15 page)

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Chapter 8
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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 as if 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 themselves, although the ground was quickly becoming a muddy quagmire. They kept their feet tucked under themselves 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 stood. 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.

Everyone was shocked to silence. Finally, Sarah spoke, “How many men were on the
Franklin
?”

“At least a couple of hundred,” the officer said sadly, “and I knew a lot of them.” He smiled weakly. “I’m Ensign Paul Prentice and I was on the British ship, the
Shannon
, when she toured Havana before being turned over to our navy. I just arrived on the
Franklin
. I guess I was lucky to get off when I did.”

“So where is our mighty new navy now?” Ruth said sarcastically. “I think it might have been useful.”

“No idea,” Prentice said sadly.

Heads were bobbing in the water and small boats were pushing off from shore to help the survivors. The Spanish ships were not going to stop and help. They had decided it was time to run. At least they weren’t going to hinder rescue operations.

“It’s over with,” Ruth said, “unless they want to take a parting shot or two.”

“Was it like this in Paris?” Sarah asked as they climbed out of the trench.

“Oh lord, it was a thousand times worse. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of cannons firing and it went on all day and night. This was nothing compared with that, although I’m afraid there will be a number of casualties. We’d better get to the hospital and await what comes.”

Prentice wished them well and walked slowly away.

* * *

When the Spanish ships began their bombardment, the enemy soldiers near Mount Haney chose that time to commence their own shooting at the Americans. The Spanish cannons were few, small, and didn’t have the range. That didn’t mean that Ryder’s First Maryland Volunteers didn’t have to pay attention. There was concern that the Spaniards would launch an attack if they thought the hill’s defenders were distracted or had been drawn off to repel a potential amphibious invasion.

Ryder wouldn’t let his men be distracted, although he had to grab a couple of them and bodily push them back to where they were supposed to be. They all wanted to see what was happening below in the main camp and do did Martin. Sarah was down there and he was in agony with worry for her safety. What the hell had moved her to come to Cuba?

White-clad Spanish skirmishers began to probe up the hill. Ryder had his men hold their fire until they got within a hundred yards. When the Spanish reached that point, the Americans began shooting. In seconds, concentrated rifle fire had blown them away, leaving a score of dead and wounded littering the slope. Behind the retreating survivors, he saw a larger body of soldiers, but they stopped and withdrew. The Spanish army was not ready to attack Mount Haney this rainy and miserable day.

When he was certain everything was stable, he ran to the other side of the hill and looked down. Smoke poured from where a number of shells had hit. He used his binoculars and looked at the Red Cross compound. Several tents were down and others looked damaged. Soldiers helping casualties were moving towards what remained of the Red Cross facility. He could see what looked like medical personnel helping them. Was one of them Sarah? He could only hope and pray. He hadn’t prayed in a long time, but it seemed like a good idea this day. He looked out to sea where the Spanish warships were disappearing and a third ship was burning.

“Where the hell was our navy?” asked Barnes. “They should have been protecting us. Now look at all the damage and God only knows how many killed and wounded. Jesus, and look at all the ammunition that’s been destroyed. We’re pretty damn near helpless.”

Ryder nodded agreement. “And that means we’re going to both conserve what ammunition we have as well as try to gather up as much extra as we can. If the Spanish attack, we don’t want to have to fight with only what the men have in their pouches. That’d last only an hour or so. Send some runners down and get more ammo before somebody figures out that most of our reserves just got blown up. We have to hold on to this high ground.”

In the meantime, he thought, I’ve got to find out if Sarah is safe. Damn it to hell, why didn’t she stay in Maryland?

* * *

Sarah vomited the first time she saw the man whose face had been destroyed. He had no eyes and the skin on his cheeks had been flayed off. He seemed to be trying to speak even though the lower part of his chin was missing as well. The result was a horrible gurgling sound.

She caught Clara Barton staring at her. “Well?”

Sarah wiped the vomit off her chin. The young American soldier in question was also missing an arm and blood bubbled out from where his chest had been crushed. Despite that, he began to thrash about on his cot. “He’s going to die,” she said softly.

“Why are you whispering?” asked Barton.

“Because I don’t know whether or not he can hear me. The only thing we should do is give him enough morphine to make his passing painless.”

“Do you know how to inject with a hypodermic?”

Sarah said that she did. She got morphine and injected it into his remaining arm. The man sighed and relaxed almost immediately. Barton nodded approvingly. “When we’re through with the others, we’ll come back and see how he’s doing, although I’m reasonably certain he’ll die shortly.”

“I’m sorry I threw up.”

“Nonsense. I’d have been shocked if you hadn’t. And I won’t be shocked if it happens again. The important thing is that you got control of yourself. This battle was just a minor bloodletting although a terrible one for this poor soldier. Things will get much worse, I’m afraid, before this war is over.”

The line of wounded needing treatment was surprisingly long. If this was a minor bloodletting, Sarah thought she didn’t want to see a major one. In battle there was no such thing as a peaceful death, not like most of the ones she’d seen at home. There were no gentle-faced old people lying placidly in coffins while everyone said how good they looked or how they appeared to be sleeping. Nor was this anything like the occasional badly injured people she’d helped her father treat. No, this was beyond ghastly. Worse, these were not old people. Many of the casualties were so young they hadn’t begun to reach their prime, much less become aged.

The first thing the medical staff did when the wounded arrived was decide who might live and who likely would not. Sometimes it was easy. Young men who’d lost several limbs and much of their blood would likely die, like the man without a face. They were made as comfortable as possible and injected with morphine to ease their passing.

The wounded who might survive also needed that narcotic, and Sarah went around and administered it. Unlike a couple of other nurses she saw, she always washed off the needle before using it on another patient. It was her father’s policy. He had read the works of Lister and Pasteur and strongly felt that cleanliness would prevent infection and gangrene. She was pleased to see that Doctor Desmond, their chief surgeon, also concurred. Some of the Army doctors dismissed such notions as foolish and time consuming. Perhaps, she thought, that was why so many of the wounded were lining up to be helped by Clara Barton and the Red Cross and not by Army doctors.

Caring for the wounded took several hours. She did not have to assist in any amputations, although she did see one poor young man having his leg sawed off just above the knee. The foot and knee had been mangled to a pulp, with pieces of white bone sticking out through the flesh. She shuddered. What the devil had she gotten herself into? She checked on the man without a face and his cot was empty. She was informed that he had died, peacefully she hoped.