1882: Custer in Chains (33 page)
Read 1882: Custer in Chains Online
Authors: Robert Conroy
“But you did nothing to stop it.”
“We didn’t find out that the
Eldorado
was actually going to be intercepted until it had sailed. By then it was far too late.”
“Then who did tell?”
“Who knows and who cares and why the hell should we have had any concerns?” Custer responded. “Everyone on that ship was a volunteer, including you. For all I know it was those American daredevils who wanted to conquer Cuba for their own purposes or even the Cuban rebels who caused the massacre in an attempt to drag us into their damn war. If that’s the case, they succeeded beyond their wildest expectations.”
Custer lit up a cigar and drew contentedly. “Personally, I think there were so many leaks in the
Eldorado
enterprise that it would be impossible to trace and identify the source for that damned book you’re so hell bent on writing.”
Kendrick laughed and lit up his own cigar. In deference to Custer’s newfound sobriety, he was deferring having a drink until later. He and Juana would have at least a couple before retiring to bed and yet another evening of frolicking. Juana was bent on purging herself of years of sexual restrictions and repressions and Kendrick would be there to help her. Custer was right about the book, however. He had enough material to fill a couple of manuscripts. All he had to do was survive this coming battle and get the hell out of Cuba and to New York.
* * *
General Weyler stepped into Villate’s office and closed the door behind him. The window was open and the smoke from numerous fires wafted in. Rifle shots rattled in the distance. “The city is clearly going to hell, General,” he said as he sat down in the chair in front of Villate’s large and ornate desk. “So is Cuba, for that matter.”
Villate shrugged off his concerns. “We will regain control of Havana in a few hours. In the meantime, we will let the soldiers work off their anger at having been so thoroughly defeated and forced to retreat to this last bastion of the Spanish empire in the Atlantic.”
Weyler kept his face expressionless. Villate’s comments were a not very subtle criticism of his handling of the American landings at Matanzas. Cables from Madrid had been received from an angry king and prime minister. How could a Spanish army that outnumbered the Americans by so many have been forced back to a small perimeter around Havana? How indeed, Weyler kept wondering. By rights, the smaller American army should have been pushed into the sea where thousands of American soldiers would have drowned. Worse, nearly every garrison in Cuba, including the large one at Santiago, was also under siege by the Cuban rebels who were growing in number and aggressiveness with each passing day.
The answer to the failure at Matanzas was quite simple. Many of the enlisted men in the Spanish army didn’t want to fight. Consisting in one part of Cuban conscripts and another part of Spanish conscripts, there was little motivation to engage the Americans. The Cuban conscripts either wanted to go home, or desert and join the rebels, while the Spanish enlisted men were homesick for Spain and had no idea why on earth they were fighting a war thousands of miles away in Cuba. The officer corps and the noncommissioned officers were made of sterner stuff, at least most of them.
Weyler wondered what the German observer, Helmsdorf, was thinking and sending to Berlin either in diplomatic pouches or via coded telegrams. The German’s attitude towards him was arrogant and condescending. It was almost as if he was saying that any German general could have better handled the fighting. He thought ruefully that Helmsdorf’s unspoken thoughts might have merit.
Weyler decided to respond to Villate’s comments. “The army will fight well behind the walls of Havana. However, if those walls are breached, I am not confident of anything. The entire army might collapse. I would like to repeat my earlier request that a second line of fortifications be built behind the first one.”
Villate shook his head angrily. “I said no before and I’m saying it again. If we build a second line it will be the same as admitting that we cannot hold the first. The already demoralized army might, as you suggest, collapse entirely. I would prefer that we attack. I suggest that we organize elite forces and send them out in raids. That will buoy up the confidence of the people and the army.”
“It will be done,” Weyler said. He liked the idea of keeping the Americans off balance. “On a slightly different topic, how long can we hold out and what plans does Madrid have for us? And when will Madrid send us reinforcements?”
Villate laughed loudly enough that people working and talking outside his office were suddenly silent. “They will not send us shit. We are totally on our own. We must defend ourselves so vigorously that the Americans will either withdraw or decide to negotiate an honorable end to this war. For instance, in return for sending them both Custer and that idiot Salazar so they can hang him, they might be induced to leave.”
“General, do you really believe that?”
“Of course not,” Villate snapped. “In the meantime, we will make do with what we have. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve expelled many thousands of civilians who are of no military use to us. Those are the women and children and the men who are too young or too old to fight. Spanish women are being permitted to stay, of course. We cannot allow noble Spanish ladies to be abused by either the Americans or the rebels. The useless ones were simply taking up valuable space and eating irreplaceable food. As a result, we can last for about four months before starvation sets in. That assumes, of course, that the fools who are burning the city don’t destroy our food reserves as well. I’ve also closed the concentration camps and sent the inmates off any way they wish.”
“What about our ammunition?”
“That depends on how hard and long we have to fight. We have enough for several large battles, but that’s it. Once it’s gone, it’s gone, and it does not look like our good friends in the navy will be able to break the American blockade and deliver more to us.”
Weyler was saddened. “So, unless something dramatic happens, in a few months we will be starving and weaponless.”
Villate shook his head angrily. “Welcome to the modern Spanish empire in the New World.”
* * *
Haney stood beside Diego Valdez and looked at the mass of humanity penned up in a large field and loosely guarded by poorly armed Cuban rebels. He estimated at least ten thousand people were milling around. Almost all of them looked confused and dispirited, and many were bruised and injured. They all looked dirty and hungry. These were the human refuse that Villate had cast out to either fend for themselves or be fed by the American army.
“Diego, my friend, just what the hell do you plan on doing with these poor people?”
“We will separate the wheat from the chaff. I have my women searching the women from Havana for any hidden weapons or anything else that might identify them as spies. Maria Vasquez leads that effort.”
Haney leered. “What about prostitutes?”
Valdez chuckled. “Those we let go right away. They help the economy.”
Several brothels had sprung up around the American army and so far Hancock had done nothing to stop prostitution beyond ordering the whores to stay out of sight. Also, numbers of Cuban women had taken up informal relationships with American soldiers. It was the way of war as it had been since time immemorial.
“And the men?” Haney asked.
“Notice please, that there are very few men of military age in the camp. It appears that Villate and Weyler are keeping them back in Havana. If they are not drafted into the army, they will be used as laborers to help shore up the city’s defenses. Of course, they’ll be working right where we’re shelling the city. The poor bastards will be lucky to survive the war. If we don’t kill them, the Spanish will work them to death. I would say they will treat them like dogs, but dogs might have a better chance.”
“Helluva thing,” Haney said. “No wonder the Cubans want the Spanish gone.”
“And you Yankees gone, too,” Valdez said with a chuckle. Haney knew the man well enough to know that he wasn’t kidding.
* * *
Custer stared at the man in disbelief. “You bastard! What are you doing here? Have you come here to gloat? Wasn’t it enough that you captured me?”
Spanish Navy Commander Clemente Cisneros bowed. They were alone in the privacy of Custer’s apartment. “I am here to do no such thing. Quite frankly, President Custer, I am here to protect you. You may not be aware, but my little warship has been stripped of its guns so that those weapons can be incorporated into the defenses of Havana. While I regret the move, I recognize its necessity. My ship would have been devoured by your navy’s larger warships as little more than a snack. Or haven’t you noticed that every day there are at least a dozen American ships just off the entrance to the harbor and just out of range of our shore guns.”
“I hadn’t really noticed,” Custer admitted reluctantly. “The land war outside my door has me fully occupied.”
Cisneros continued. “Only a handful of the American ships are true warships. The vast majority of them are converted civilian ships. Some armor plating has been added and guns have been installed. They would not stand up to a modern capital ship for even a minute. However, they are better than what Spain has to send against them and there are so many of them. If you were to look farther out to the ocean you would see an additional score of them more distantly ringing the entrance to Havana’s harbor.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you, Commander? Well, I don’t. If you hadn’t captured me, I might be in Washington directing this war instead of sitting on my ass as a prisoner in Havana.”
“And if it hadn’t been for me, you might also have been swept out to sea where your bones would be lying on the bottom in the mud after the fish got through stripping the flesh from them. No, President Custer, I saved your life.”
Custer reluctantly conceded the point. “I suppose you’re right. The lifeboat was leaking and Captain Blondell probably couldn’t have found the outer ring of a bathtub without someone to guide him, much less a safe shore. And that brings us back to the beginning. What the hell are you doing here?”
Cisneros had discussed matters with Blondell before the man’s exchange and had far greater confidence in the captain of the
Dolphin
than did Custer. Now was, however, no time for argument.
“It has been determined that all soldiers should man the parapets against you gringos. It has also been determined that my sailors are not soldiers; therefore, they would be useless in a land battle. It was suggested that they be used to guard Havana’s treasures, such as the Cathedral San Cristobal. Our duties include protecting this building, which, along with housing you, is also the home of the British Consul in Havana.”
“So you are now my jailer?”
“I prefer to think of myself as your host. But let me assure you that while I will do everything in my power to protect you, I will also do everything I can to prevent you from escaping to your fellow Americans and that includes shooting you if it becomes necessary. We would aim to wound, of course, but my men are not such great shots, and that means you could easily get killed if you were to attempt something foolish. Right now, you are a valuable bargaining chip. When a peace is negotiated, you will be an important part of it.”
Custer watched as several of Cisneros’ men walked through the building. They carried rifles and had cutlasses in scabbards slung over their shoulders. They looked well trained and hardened. They saw Cisneros and grinned happily. The inept soldiers who had been protecting him had been replaced by men who would do their duty and, if he judged things correctly, the sailors were devoted to Cisneros.
Custer smiled ingratiatingly and held out his hand, which the other man took. “Will you be staying for dinner?” he asked.
◆
Chapter 19
◆
T
he large, squat siege mortar had first been used in the Civil War in the long fight for Petersburg, Virginia, but age did not diminish its effectiveness. It could hurl a ninety-pound shell nearly a mile and a half and, hidden behind its own earthen walls, it was almost impervious to the light enemy fire directed at it and its sisters.
“Beautiful thing isn’t it?” asked a gaunt General Benteen as he leaned on his cane. He was out of breath and he cursed the illness that had weakened him so much. “That damn big gun of ours can’t be killed unless the Spanish are dumb enough to run out and attack it. On the other hand,” he said thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t put it past them. They haven’t fired their cannons very much at all, which tells me that they don’t have a lot of ammunition and certainly none to spare for shooting at targets they can’t hit.”
The illness that had attacked Benteen was abating, but he was still weak and had lost a lot of weight. The doctors were mystified as to what had hit him. They blamed it on bad air, spiders, bad food, and bad luck. Sarah had told Martin that the general had very likely drunk some very bad water. Benteen did not think it was possible, since, as he joked, he only drank alcohol and never water. But, since he was recovering, everyone was willing to let the doctors figure out what had happened.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Ryder asked.
“Go to hell, Martin. You just want my job. A couple more promotions and you’ll be in charge of this whole army.”
“Which is just about the last thing I want,” Ryder responded. “I’m not certain I’m ready to command a brigade, much less a division and certainly not an army.”
Benteen laughed. “Incompetence never stopped other people from rising to high office. Just look at your history and think of how many of Lincoln’s generals failed before he found Grant. And Grant was a virtual nobody before the Civil War. Just like you. Maybe you’ll be this war’s Grant.”
“As long as I’m not the next war’s Custer,” said Ryder.
Ryder helped the other man up a low rise. The mortar was about to fire and it was time to get out of the way. Older cannons had a bad habit of exploding and spraying chunks of hot metal all around at the oddest times, killing anyone who happened to be in their way. There was no reason for anyone not directly connected with firing the massive weapon to be out in the open.
Ryder continued, “For me to be this war’s Grant, it’d have to last three or four years like the last one. It ain’t gonna happen, General.”
“One can only hope you’re right,” said Benteen a second before the charge exploded and sent the shell arcing high into the air. They followed it with their eyes and watched as it landed and exploded beyond the city’s walls. This time there was no secondary explosion.
“I guess we just dug up some dirt,” laughed Benteen. “According to the boys in the balloons, the Spanish have gotten smart and have pulled back their troops. They’re sitting safely a quarter of a mile away from the walls. When they think we’re gonna attack, they’ll run back to their firing platforms and try to kill us.”
Since Ryder was going to command the attack, the picture he envisioned was not a pretty one. “Perhaps we should fake an attack. Then, when they’ve all returned to their positions, start firing at them. Wouldn’t that be a nasty surprise?”
Benteen watched as the mortar’s crew reloaded. “The real surprise would be if General Hancock hasn’t already thought of it, Martin.”
* * *
Bishop Estefan Campoy looked fondly at the conflicted woman sitting across the room from him. He loved her like the daughter he would never have and he ached at the thought of her being in so much emotional pain. To his eternal regret, he had been one of many friends and relatives who had urged, even coerced, plain and innocent young Juana into marrying Diego Salazar.
“Will you hear my confession, Uncle?”
Unabashedly, he wiped away a tear. “No,” he said softly, “and you know why.”
“Yes, but let me hear it from you.”
Campoy sighed. This was the first time he had seen Juana since she’d run away with the American reporter. He couldn’t bring himself to visit her in the home of Mercedes de la Pena, a woman of loose morals he considered complicit in Juana’s sins. There would have been too much public scandal. But now she was in the British Consulate and that provided a form of cover. He could always claim official Church business. That no one would believe him was irrelevant.
He wiped away another tear. Why was life so unfair? Juana was a good woman who deserved so much better. “I can hear your confession and counsel you as I have so many times in the past, but I cannot give you absolution for the obvious reason that you are not in the slightest bit sorry for your sin.”
Juana smiled and her face lit up. “Nor will I ever be, Uncle. But where is it written that I must stay married to a monster, a man who beats his wife and tortures innocent people, and a man who murders innocent men and women? I think that is the greater sin. Worse, he may even have created this foul war.”
He had heard the same question from others and sometimes he did doubt the Church’s reasoning. There was nothing he could do about it, however. “Both the laws of the Church and the laws of Spain prohibit divorce. And even if you and Mr. Kendrick were to flee to the United States, you would find that you were still bound by many of those same laws. Divorce in Cuba is impossible and almost so in the U.S.”
Juana stood and brought the bishop some brandy. “Then what about an annulment?”
“On what grounds, and please don’t tell me you’ve never consummated your marriage.”
“For all intents and purposes, we haven’t, and don’t look so shocked, dear Uncle. Surely you’ve heard rumors about his strange and exotic preferences. And even if we
did
consummate our marriage, the last time he took me to his bed and tried was a number of years ago. He has effectively abandoned me.”
The bishop swirled his brandy and took a sip. “This is outstanding brandy. Are you trying to coerce me?”
“Of course,” she smiled warmly.
“Does anyone else know enough about the details of your marriage to be able to testify under oath in a Church court or in a Spanish court?”
Her face fell. “No.”
“And while he may be a murderer and a fool and a deviant to some, he is a hero to others. He was even wounded in battle, was he not?”
Juana laughed hugely, surprising the bishop. “Uncle, he fell off his horse and ruptured himself, which, while painful, is hardly a war wound. Yes, he has been in battle, but did you notice that he always survives unscathed while many of his men are slaughtered? His actions are hardly heroic.”
Campoy smiled. Ruptured? How delicious. “Juana, would you be willing to say that you are frigid and have refused him his rights as a husband?”
Juana thought for only a second. “Of course,” she said. “It would only be part of a lie since he hasn’t asked in so long. If he had, I would have rejected him outright, especially after he betrayed me to his mistresses. I only wish that his latest, Helga, was still in Havana. We had come to an accommodation and I believe she would have supported me.”
Campoy gestured and received some more brandy. “I don’t know how you would explain away your sexual frolics in the home of Mercedes de la Pena or here in the estate of Mr. Dunfield. These are hardly the actions of a frigid woman.”
“Are you saying I can’t be selectively frigid? I think you would find many women are that way. You’d know that if you’d been listening more closely during confessions instead of dozing off.”
Campoy laughed and stood. It was time to go. “I will think on what you are saying. I cannot hear your confession and give you absolution, but I can give you and your barbarian Protestant lover my personal prayers and blessings, and I do. In the meantime, I will try to help you find a way out of your dilemma. But first, I have a different task. There is a matter of church and state I must discuss with our beloved governor-general. This war is bringing out the worst in people and now I am finding that there are quite a few more bad priests than I ever thought. Almost all of my clergy are good people and it is deeply disturbing when I find that a handful have betrayed the laws of God and man.”
“Well then, Uncle, may I pray that my husband dies in battle? Heroically, of course.”
Campoy winced. “That thought is most un-Christian and un-Catholic. And besides, be careful what you wish for, it might come true.” Although, he thought, it would be a fitting end to their problems, even ones she didn’t know existed.
Juana kissed him on the cheek and led him to the door. She looked around the outside and determined that Cisneros’ guards were in place and that there was no danger to her or to the bishop. She didn’t think that Salazar would strike at a man of God like her uncle, but who knew what he was capable of.
* * *
Ryder was jarred awake by the sound of gunfire, punctuated by screams and yells. Bugles and drums added to the din as the alarm was sounded. But why, he wondered as he pulled on his pants? According to the clock on his stand, it was three in the morning.
Haney burst in. “It’s a raid, General. The goddamn Spanish are trying to destroy our guns. They’ve hit General Gibbon’s division with a large force and they seem to be causing a lot of damage.”
Ryder thought quickly. Gibbons’ division was to his brigade’s right as he faced the Spanish lines and, he thought with sudden horror, the hospital where Sarah worked was directly behind it.
All over the area, his men were rousing. He quickly ordered one of his three regiments to maintain their forward positions facing the Spanish and ordered the other two to prepare for a flanking attack against the Spaniards. None of this would occur instantly. The men, dragged from their sleep, were forming up as quickly as they could, but they would have to advance as entire major units and not as small groups that would be cut to pieces by the Spanish.
If Haney was right, and he usually was, this was only a raid, which meant that the attackers would withdraw fairly soon. It could not be a major attack since the observers in the balloons would have caught the movement of large numbers of enemy troops towards the area. This meant that the Spanish would retreat fairly soon but after they had spiked cannons, destroyed ammunition and other supplies, and caused as much mischief as they could.
After what seemed an eternity, his two remaining regiments moved towards the fight. They kept their order and moved slowly so as to avoid shooting fellow American soldiers. After only a couple of hundred yards, they saw numbers of Spaniards pulling back and firing at them and at other advancing Americans. Ryder’s soldiers returned fire. Because of the darkness, almost all shooting was wild and inaccurate. Even when a target appeared, the flash of gunfire and smoke temporarily blinded the shooters.
Fires from burning supplies and small explosions punctuated the night, further destroying soldiers’ vision. Ryder caught up with an outraged Gibbon. “Somebody’s going to be crucified for letting them get on top of us like this,” he raged. Ryder had the sneaking thought that it might have been Gibbon’s men who were responsible, but prudently kept quiet.
They soon came upon the first Spanish dead. Someone had gotten smart, Ryder thought. The soldiers weren’t dressed in their white uniforms. Instead, they were wearing what looked like dark blue. Their faces had been smeared with dirt to make them even more difficult to spot. Still, wide-awake sentries should have caught them before they got as far as they did.
Ryder stayed close to General Gibbon and heard that a number of cannons had been spiked. While Gibbon swore colorfully, another messenger said that the Spanish had done a poor job of disabling the guns and that they all would be back in working order in a few hours.
“Thank heaven for small favors,” Gibbon snarled. “It was just a raid and they botched it. This’ll be embarrassing, but I’ll get over it. Hell, I didn’t have that much of a career left anyhow.”
Ryder tried to force another concern out of his mind. Sarah and the hospital were fairly close and looked like they were directly in the path of the Spanish assault. Some tents were burning, but he couldn’t tell what they had been. He looked for Haney and couldn’t find him. Good. The man had probably slipped away to find out what had happened to Ruta and, at the same time, Sarah.
* * *
Sarah and several others, including Ruta, had been sleeping soundly when the shooting started. Their first reaction was the same as everyone’s—shock that the gunfire was so close, and then horror that it was getting closer. Something was clearly, horribly, wrong.
She and the others slipped robes over their ankle-length nightgowns and put on their shoes. If they had to flee they would be ready to escape. They were wrong. There would be no escape. Minutes later, Spanish soldiers burst into their tent. A couple of them jeered and laughed at the disheveled nurses, but were soon silenced by a Spanish captain.
“You are nurses from the hospital, are you not?”
Sarah saw no point in lying. “Yes.”
“Good. You will come with us. You are an unexpected bonus. Governor Villate will be pleased to have you working in our hospital and healing Spanish soldiers instead of aiding the gringos who have invaded our land.”
Sarah started to argue and struggle, as did the others, but they were quickly knocked down and tied up. She was angry at being restrained and by the fact that the still laughing soldiers were taking the opportunity to paw her, one even slipping his hands under her nightgown.
The captain again controlled the situation, slapping the impertinent soldier who didn’t seem at all abashed. “Ladies, it will go so much easier for you if you stop fighting. One way or the other, you will be going to Havana and, one way or another, you will be helping wounded Spanish soldiers.”
When they hesitated, he eyed them coldly. “Perhaps I did not make myself clear. So far I have restrained my men. If you do not accept my kind invitation, I will grant them certain latitudes with you. Their favorite sport when transporting women prisoners is to hang them by their hands from the crossbar of the cart. After which, you will be stripped naked and driven all around Havana so that one and all can see your charms. The men will be posing you with your legs spread and your knees in the air, ensuring that your most private and intimate body parts are vividly displayed for admiring thousands. You will not actually be raped—I will not permit that, of course—but you will feel thoroughly violated by the time you make it to the dubious safety of a prison cell.”