1882: Custer in Chains - eARC Read online

  Maria made up her mind. She walked over to the guard shack. It was by one of the several gates that led to the outside world. Ramon saw her and smiled. She gestured for him to come closer.

  “You win,” she said. “I want food. You can have me tonight and any other night if you will keep getting me food. And yes, I will do whatever you want, but for you and you alone.”

  Ramon grinned hugely. “Come into the shack and we’ll close the deal.”

  She smiled, hoping it was warm and seductive. “No. I am not a street whore who will do it standing up in that shack. And I will certainly not do it where people can see. You will find us privacy. I will come tonight when it’s dark and you will take me out of this stockade and into the fresh air. Bring a blanket and we will do it on the ground where no one can see us, and you can have me as often and any way you wish.”

  Before he could answer, she undid the strings on her blouse and exposed her breasts. They were still full enough to make his eyes widen. “All right,” he stammered and she almost laughed in his face.

  * * *

  It was dark when she made it to the guard shack. Ramon was waiting and he took her by the arm and through the gate. True to his word, he had found a secluded spot. Another guard, Carlos, was watching to make sure that no officer came and interrupted their fun. She sucked in the clearer air of the world outside the prison. She would not go back to the camp alive.

  Ramon turned her and kissed her on the lips. He was aroused and in a rush. “Slowly,” she said. “Take off your shirt and kneel on the blanket. You can watch me.”

  He did as he was told. He had even taken steps to clean up. He didn’t smell quite as badly as he normally did. She glanced around for a package of anything resembling food. There was nothing and she was convinced that he was not going to pay her and would even force her to service the other guard, Carlos.

  Ramon saw her looking. “Don’t worry, Carlos will bring the bag of food when we’re done. Now it is your turn.”

  She forced a smile and again exposed her breasts. She guided his mouth onto them and made pretend sounds of pleasure. She pushed him on his back and climbed on to his chest. “Close your eyes,” she said and he complied.

  She took the small sand-filled sack from behind her waist. She wished she had a knife, but the sand would have to do. She whipped the sack quickly and smashed it against the side of Ramon’s head, just as he opened his eyes to see what was happening. The thud made by the sack’s contact with Ramon’s skull was sickening. His eyes widened for a second and rolled back into his head. She checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one. She had just killed a man and she wanted to throw up, but there wasn’t time.

  Maria dressed quickly. In a few minutes Carlos would become curious, wondering how soon his turn would come, and check on them. She tucked the sack back in her waistband.

  She smiled as thunder rumbled and it started to rain heavily. The sudden shower masked her dash across the road and into the streets of Havana. She ran down the streets to where Luis had his shop. She was about to pound on the door when she saw him looking at her through the glassless window. “It’s about time,” he said as he let her in.

  * * *

  Maximo Gomez was sick of war. Gomez had been born in the Dominican Republic in 1836. He had been converted to the cause of Cuban independence shortly after his arrival in 1868. Prior to that he had served as an officer in the Spanish Army and was now a major general in the Cuban rebel forces. His unfulfilled goal was to drive the Spanish out of Cuba.

  Unless the military situation changed dramatically, this would not happen anytime soon. There was a truce in effect between the Spanish and the rebel governments that was based on mutual exhaustion. Unless something happened to change the balance of power, nothing decisive would occur.

  Gomez greeted his guest at his headquarters outside the city of Camaguay, which was located east of the middle of the island. His guest was Jose Marti, the young firebrand who was considered by many to be the soul of the revolution. Gomez was not so certain. Yes, the well-educated and highly articulate Marti attracted many followers, but they were not always fighters. Marti himself had never been in battle, while Gomez had seen many, perhaps too many. He fully understood the weaknesses of his rebel army. They had few weapons and precious little ammunition. They also lacked discipline. The only weapon they were skilled in was the machete and he’d ordered them to use it as effectively as possible. On several occasions, hordes of Cubans wielding machetes had panicked Spanish regulars, letting the rebels swarm their ranks, hacking and chopping.

  “Will the Americans fight for us?” Gomez bluntly asked as he twisted his trade-mark handlebar mustache.

  Marti shook his head. “The Americans will fight for themselves. If we are useful, then they will support us. Our friend Cardanzo spoke with their Secretary of State and it is his impression that President Custer’s government would like to drive Spain out of Cuba and annex it themselves. Their Secretary Blaine hinted at Cuba being the foundation of an overseas American empire.”

  “Then why should we help them?”

  “Custer and Blaine do not necessarily have the support of their congress in this endeavor. There are many in that body who do not want to acquire any territory outside America’s continental boundaries. There was concern when the U.S. bought Alaska from the Russians and that was only fifteen years ago. Nothing has changed. Custer and Blaine have gotten their war and it is likely that they will expel the Spaniards, but it is not certain that they will replace them permanently.”

  Gomez nodded. “Then you’re saying we should fight on the side of the United States and gain their undying gratitude.”

  “Yes, general. It will definitely strengthen our hand with their congress if we are perceived as the brave independence fighters. Actually, general, we don’t have much of a choice. I do not see us standing aside while two powers fight over Cuba. Nor do I see us fighting for Spain to keep the Americans out. Even if we exchange Spanish sovereignty for American, I do not think it would be for very long. Besides, the Americans would definitely be the more gentle overlords.”

  Gomez snarled. “I do not want any foreign overlords in Cuba. But you’re right. We must be pragmatic. Yes, my forces will ally with the Americans if and when they arrive. May I assume that you will be active in Washington instead of here in Cuba?”

  Marti smiled and ignored the implied slur on his lack of military experience. “I will do what I do best and that is to be an advocate of a free Cuba.”

  Chapter 6

  Ryder got his men up and marching on the road to the harbor well before dawn. Breakfast was a few swallows of bad coffee and a stale cold biscuit along with plenty of grumbling from the sleepy troops who openly wondered just what the hell was the hurry. It was Ryder’s goal to beat the rush to the ships and avoid the chaos that embarking so many men at the same time would entail.

  Unfortunately, a number of other regiments had the same idea. Thousands of men converged on the limited number of places where small boats could tie up and send men out to the transports. Instead of trying to use one of the few inadequate docks, Ryder had arranged for the men do wade out to where their three ships’ boats had been anchored and guarded, and then be rowed to the transports. They grumbled some more about getting wet, but their complaints were ignored and all were on board by noon.

  Sarah’s brother had done an excellent job maintaining control of the ships assigned to the regiment. A steady stream of boats took his now fifteen hundred men out to the vessels that would carry them to Cuba. They’d be cramped and uncomfortable, but the ships were sturdy and as safe as they could be.

  The ship that would carry Ryder was the Aurora. She’d been chartered by the navy, and her skipper and owner was a Baltimore native named Wally Janson. Janson was a stocky middle aged Swede with thinning white hair. Barnes said he had a reputation as a firm but fair disciplinarian and had done an excellent job of allocating space for men and supplies. Once again, young Major
Barnes had done good staff work.

  Janson invited Ryder to join him on the cramped bridge. “Colonel, insofar as this regal craft is leased to the navy, I’m supposed to obey navy regulations. However, some of them are nonsense. If you want to come up here, you don’t have to ask permission. Just try not to break anything and definitely don’t spit on the deck.”

  “Much appreciated,” said Ryder who found everything on the ship fascinating.

  “Are you going to spend the night on board or are you going ashore to make goodbyes?”

  Martin grinned. “Ashore sounds like a wonderful idea. Obviously, this armada isn’t going anywhere tonight and rank does have its privileges. However, if everyone can’t sleep ashore then I won’t either. I will go ashore for a few hours but will be back well before midnight.”

  “You going to say hello to Custer? I understand he’s going to be at Fortress Monroe and will wave bye-bye to the ships as they pass.”

  “I’ll let you have that honor, Captain Janson.”

  As they talked, rioting had broken out as some of the later arriving units tried to bull their way onto ships that had been assigned to others. Several soldiers had been either been pushed or thrown into the Chesapeake. Ryder was certain that not all of them had been pulled out. What a hell of a way to start a war, he thought.

  Protected by armed soldiers, the Aurora’s boat took Ryder back to shore and he walked the couple of miles to the hotel where Sarah and Ruth had rooms.

  Sarah met him in her suite. Ruth was there as chaperone, something that both thought was silly considering that they were all adults and that the women were widows. Sarah greeted him sedately but her smile was warm and her eyes were moist. “I don’t want you to go. This is just beginning for us and I don’t want it interrupted.”

  “I think I’ll go for a walk,” Ruth said with a knowing grin. “Don’t do anything too terribly foolish,” she added as she left.

  In an instant they were in each other’s arms and kissing passionately. She could feel him aroused against her and smiled to herself. She recalled the first time she had realized what affect she was having on her husband and how confused she’d felt by both his and her reactions.

  “I’m tired of being a good girl,” she said as she pushed him down onto the couch. “Tonight, I would like to be just a little scandalous.”

  Ryder grinned as he pulled her down on his lap. “Fine by me,” he whispered in her ear as he slid his hand beneath her dress and up her leg. She gasped with pleasure as he found a tantalizingly bare spot.

  * * *

  Spanish Generals Weyler and Villate looked up as Major Gilberto Salazar entered their office in Havana’s ancient and gloomy Morro Castle. Villate commanded all of Cuba while the younger Weyler was in charge of the army and the defenses of Havana.

  “We have read your report,” Weyler said after returning Salazar’s crisp salute, “and, while it is interesting, we cannot necessarily agree with your conclusions. Yes, the Americans may land near Matanzas, but they may also land at a hundred other spots along the very long Cuban coast.”

  “Three of my men were killed at Matanzas,” Salazar said stiffly. “That must count for something.”

  Villate, much larger and older, sighed. “Cuba is again in a state of turmoil. Rebels are attacking isolated posts everywhere. It is entirely possible that this is what happened to your men and that it has nothing to do with the Americans. Neither you nor your men are popular with the population. In fact, they hate you. It’s possible that they were merely targets of opportunity and do not imply the likelihood of an American landing.”

  “Sir, under intense interrogation several people said they witnessed an American in the area.”

  Weyler shrugged. “We don’t doubt that the Americans are checking out a number of places as landing spots. We also don’t doubt that your methods of interrogating people would result in them admitting to murdering their own mothers and eating the remains in order to stop the agony. There just might have been an American or two around, and they might just have killed your men, but that does not necessarily mean that the Yankees plan on attacking us at Matanzas.”

  Villate concurred. “Cuba is an island almost seven hundred and fifty miles long. Its coastline is more than double that and is impossible to defend. The Americans can land anywhere they choose; therefore, we must keep our soldiers close to Havana and where they can respond to the invasion when it occurs. We can rule out nothing, not even Santiago, which is five hundred miles away. We have nearly fifty thousand men at Santiago, which means that they are effectively out of any coming campaign for Havana. Yet, if we draw them closer to Havana, the rebels under Gomez will seize Santiago. And yes, the Americans can land there, take the damn place, and force us to either negotiate a treaty or send an army five hundred miles to liberate it.”

  “The Americans will not land at Santiago,” Salazar said, barely controlling his anger. “Their President Custer is an impetuous fool who will attack where we are strong in order to go for the jugular and end this war quickly and gloriously. Just consider what he did when he nearly got killed by the Indians.”

  “We agree with your assessment of Custer,” Weyler said with a laugh, but quickly turned solemn. “And that is why we have nearly a hundred thousand men in the Havana area. As you know, however, our soldiers are far from the best. They are poorly trained and equipped and very far from home. To counter that, when the Americans land we will attack them with overwhelming strength. If we win, the Yankees will either surrender or withdraw. If we lose, we will pull back to Havana and make them dig us out.”

  Salazar did not like what he was hearing. What was happening to the glory that was Spain? “And what will our navy be doing during all of this?”

  “Not much of anything, I’m afraid,” said Villate. “Even though we are reasonably certain that the American transports have left port and are on their way, we will wait for proof. Sadly, it turns out that our two so-called battleships are inferior to any of the three armored cruisers that the Americans bought from the British. It is rumored that the American ships have also bought the new Armstrong breech-loading cannon from the British. Therefore, the navy will avoid battle until the last moment. Worse, the navy doesn’t know what to protect, either. Nor can they send our small fleet out to intercept them. The ocean is too vast and they could easily miss the American ships. They too will wait for the Americans to arrive and then help us dislodge them.”

  “What about the French?” Salazar asked. “Weren’t they going to help us by providing us with ships?”

  “They were,” said Villate, “but the French are too busy being French. They are equivocating and will likely not sell us anything until the war is over.”

  Salazar was aghast. What was he hearing? “Sirs, are you implying that we will lose this war?”

  Villate shrugged. “Who knows what might happen when armies actually start fighting, so, yes, we might actually lose this war. And before you argue that premise, let me remind you that there are many who blame your impetuous actions for causing it in the first place. There are those both here and in Madrid who would have shipped you to the United States to be tried by them if their request for your extradition hadn’t been such an arrogant demand. If it is forced upon us as a condition of ending a war that is unfavorable to Spain, we will happily trade you for peace.

  “Therefore,” Villate continued, “I strongly suggest that, if we are not victorious, you manage to get yourself killed in battle. If that happens, we will put up an appropriate statue celebrating your heroism.” That last comment was said with a sneer. Salazar’s ability to avoid battle was a strong rumor.

  Weyler stood and walked to a large map of Cuba that had been pinned to a wall. “We will concede the point that Matanzas is an attractive and likely target, major. We will assign two regiments of militia to support you. Along with your existing unit, you will have two thousand men. Do not promote yourself. You will still be a major although you will command wh
at amounts to a brigade. You will take charge of defending Matanzas. You will not have enough men to stop an invasion, but we hope you can at least slow them down.”

  “I will do more than that,” Salazar said fervently. “I will kill them.”

  * * *

  For the first several days, the trip from the Chesapeake and down the Atlantic coast had been pleasant. Even though most of the soldiers had never been out to sea and the majority of them had gotten seasick, the nausea passed fairly quickly.

  But then came the storm. It appeared as a line of black clouds on the horizon that crept inexorably and threateningly towards them. As it overwhelmed the host of transports, the waves became choppy and intense and the ship seemed to vibrate from the impacts. Captain Janson quickly ordered everyone not involved in working the ship to go below where there was relative safety from the threat of being swept overboard.

  As the wind-whipped seas attacked the Aurora, everyone again became ill. Ryder had hoped to be able to control his heaving stomach, but he lost. He made it to his cramped quarters and vomited into a bucket. The stench of hundreds of others doing that same thing made him and others even more nauseous. Soon, the transport was wallowing in the vomit of hundreds of men. Worse, Ryder quickly realized there was no place to empty the damn bucket.

  Somehow it became night and still the storm lashed at them. Finally and just about dawn, he felt the winds slackening. A sailor looked in on Ryder and barely stifled a grin. The bucket had spilled and there was caked vomit on his uniform. Had the sailor laughed, Ryder was certain he would have killed him. If he’d been able to stand up, that is.