“This place stinks,” said Lang, “and not just because we haven’t bathed in a month of Sundays.”
Between the two armies, most of the dead had been removed, but not necessarily all of the body parts. The crabs and other scavengers were eagerly devouring what still remained, but much was still rotting in the heat.
Haney grinned. “Don’t fret, captain, the stench will clear up in a couple of months.”
As usual, Haney had worked wonders. Food had been brought up along with fresh water. There was no ice, however, and they drank their gin and tonics warm and with few complaints. There were no worries about the Spanish returning to the attack for a while. They had been badly mauled.
“The wire stopped them,” said Lang. “What we need now is a hell of a lot more wire.”
“Which has been requested,” Ryder answered. “But actually getting it is not going to happen overnight. I’m also impressed with your modifications to that Gatling Gun.”
Lang beamed. As he’d planned, he had mounted it on a swivel and lowered the wheels. As a result he had been able to turn it in a wide swath without having to move the entire weapon, enabling him to mow down scores of Spanish. “Like I said, I’m going to patent the modifications and we’ll all be rich. Well, at least I will,” he added cheerfully. “Of course, I’ll modify the rest of our guns free of charge.”
“You’re a fucking saint,” said Haney.
“But they’ll figure out what to do about the wire, won’t they?” asked Barnes. “They aren’t stupid. I’ll bet they’re scouring all of Cuba for wire cutters.”
“That and brave soldiers willing to cut it and pull it away,” added Haney. “My bet is they’ll find them both and we’ll all be in deep shit. Their next attack will be a real bear to stop.”
Ryder smiled and added a little more gin to his glass from the very elegant crystal decanter that Haney had somehow found and liberated. “Then we’ll have to plan for that fact. Yes, the wire can be circumvented, and maybe even destroyed by cannon fire, but it will still slow them down and mess up their formations. When that happens, we will have to be stronger and more disciplined.”
“And better dug in,” added Barnes. “We need ditches and all kinds of barricades to stop them.”
Ryder agreed, “And that, gentlemen, means that we must dig, dig, and dig some more. Where we can’t get wire, we make do with interlocking tree branches and anything else that will make their lives miserable. The troops won’t like working that hard, but I don’t really care.” He finished his drink and stood. The meeting was over. “Back to work, gentlemen.”
“But I’m not a gentleman,” Haney said with an evil grin.
Ryder nodded. “And you never will be.”
When they left, Barnes signaled Ryder. “Can we talk privately?” he asked. Ryder nodded. He thought he knew what was coming next. “I handled myself poorly during the battle. I don’t think I’m qualified to command a regiment. I’d like someone else to take over the First Maryland.”
“I hope this doesn’t insult you, Jack, but I agree. Things happened all too fast and you were appointed because you happened to be handy.” Kind of like me getting the regiment in the first place, he thought. “With some time to think on it, I’ll get somebody with more experience and you’ll be back on my staff.”
Barnes took a deep breath and smiled wanly. “I thank you. My sister will thank you as well.”
Barnes saluted crisply and departed. Ryder walked across the hill to where he could see down onto the town and the main camp. It was easy to spot the hospital church with the Red Cross painted vividly on it. He focused his telescope on it and saw people walking about. He turned to the place where the nurses were quartered. A canvas tent or room had been built on the roof. He recalled Sarah saying something about the nurses wanted a better place to bathe. He smiled and wondered just what was going on behind that canvas barrier.
* * *
Ruth sat on a stool on the roof. She was dressed only in a thin shift that revealed everything about her body and she had openly wished she was naked. It was the only way one could get truly clean, she’d said and Sarah had agreed. However, proprieties must be observed no matter how ridiculous they might seem. Even though they were safe behind the canvas walls, they could not run the risk of some soldier or sailor seeing too much and possibly going crazy with lust. Thus, they washed and cleansed themselves as best they could and rinsed with buckets of water pumped up to the roof. The water ran down a slope on the roof and down gutters. It was a fairly ingenious operation and similar to what the soldiers also had.
Ruth finished and it was Sarah’s turn. She got thoroughly wet and used some of their precious soap to wash herself under her shift. Ruth then slowly poured water over her. The feeling was exquisite and she sighed with pleasure. The great battle was now history and the situation with the wounded was stable. Ships were taking the badly wounded to Florida while the ones who would recover shortly and be returned to duty stayed behind.
“When this is over and we go back to Maryland, I’ve decided that I’m going to go back to using Ruta as my name and not Ruth.”
Sarah squeezed the water out of her hair. “Fine, but why?”
“Because I’ve suddenly realized that’s who I was and who I want to be. I see Cubans bravely fighting to create a new nation just like I would like to see Poland free again. I should be proud of my past. Haney is proud to be an Irishman and maybe his nation will be free as well. Someday I will write a book about my life.”
Sarah laughed as they let the sun dry them. “All of it?”
“Good point. I shall do some discreet editing.”
“Such as romping in the hay with Haney?”
“When I write my memoirs, I’ll leave it in. He won’t mind a bit. So when will you see your beloved general again?”
“Soon, I hope.” So close, but so far away, she thought.
* * *
Custer read the casualty reports with dismay. Despite winning the battle, the United States Army had suffered more than a thousand casualties. The fact that the Spanish had suffered an estimated three times that many meant little. The newspapers were being highly critical of both him and the war. They were openly wondering just when the army was going to move from Matanzas, take Havana, end the fighting, and get the troops home. It was clear that a stalemate was developing. There was a growing call for a change in command. More than one was suggesting that Nelson Miles be replaced by Custer’s nemesis, Winfield Scott Hancock.
At the thought of that possibility, Custer scowled. He accepted the feeling that Nelson Miles might not have been the best choice to command, but who else was there? Sheridan and Sherman had declined because of age and health, and Miles’ contemporaries were as inexperienced as he. Damn it, he thought. Was he doomed to go through a progression of commanding generals as Abraham Lincoln had until he finally got lucky and settled on Ulysses Grant? Too bad Grant was dead, he laughed mirthlessly. And no way in hell was he going to offer the command of anything larger than an outhouse to Winfield Scott Hancock.
“I’ve got to talk to Miles. I can’t sit here in Florida and twiddle my thumbs while the war is going to hell.”
“You can’t leave the United States,” reminded Libbie. “It’s the law.”
Custer snorted. “Actually it’s just a custom, a tradition. There’s no law involved at all. I had Chief Justice Fuller check it out and he agrees. No law, just a strong tradition and custom. Unfortunately, it’s one that’s taken very seriously.”
“Which you would be foolish to break,” she said sternly. “The country is upset enough right now.”