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 been. 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 and before being turned over to our navy, and 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 cannon 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 cannon were few, small, and didn’t have the range. This didn’t mean that Ryder’s First Maryland Volunteers didn’t have to pay attention to the enemy at their front. 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 behooved 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 looking old people lying placidly in coffins while everyone said how good they looked or they looked just like they were 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.