Salazar was mildly annoyed that others had told the general about the wire. “I was able to get within a few feet of the barrier before I decided it was prudent to leave. It is not impenetrable by any means. A determined rush could have pushed through. It would have meant that the men in front would have had their flesh cut by the wire. Those men would have had to have been extremely brave. They would have had to lie down on the wire and allow others to clamber over them and using their bodies as stepping stones. It would have been difficult, but it could have been done. Men with blankets and mattresses could have done the same thing. Further, men with simple wire cutters could have eliminated the wire. I do wonder, though, whether artillery would have destroyed it or simply rearranged it.”
Weyler yawned. “I think you expect too much if you believe that men will voluntarily use their bodies to crush the wire while the hooks are digging into their flesh. And as to wire cutters, they would work but the soldiers would have to wait for the men with the cutters to finish their work. While our men were waiting for the wire to disappear, the Americans would be killing the men cutting the wire and shooting the waiting formations to pieces. And, oh yes, even with holes in the wire barrier, our formations would be reduced to the mobs we saw the other day. Do I state the problem correctly, major?”
“Yes, sir,” Salazar said glumly.
Weyler turned to the German. “Do you have anything to add, Colonel Helmsdorf?”
The German smiled. He would like to have added that he’d seen the timid way in which Salazar had gone to the wire, but declined. “What I have seen has convinced me that the German Army must have many, many more machine guns and countless miles of barbed wire. With them, the military arts have definitely shifted to the defensive.”
“Interesting,” said Weyler. “However, I am too tired to discuss it now. Salazar, do you have anything else to say?”
“Only that our men will be extremely loathe to attack again. The rumors are thick that the wire is ungodly and inhuman. The men are terrified of it. An attack on that hill as long as the barbed wire is in place is, in my opinion, doomed before it begins.”
Weyler nodded thoughtfully, then smiled. “Then we shall not attack the wire.”
* * *
If Custer was irked that the Atlanta was not available, he didn’t show it. At least he was able to get the hell away from his detractors on the mainland. Out of sight, out of mind, he thought happily. He felt like a kid playing hooky from school. Even better, if caught no one could punish him.
The Atlanta was fully repaired and patrolling off the channel leading to Havana. So too were most of the other American warships, including several old steam sloops. What remained of the Spanish navy in the Atlantic was in Havana’s harbor, locked up as tight as a bunch of nuns in a convent, as Commodore Bunce had told him. He added that travelling from Florida to the coast off Matanzas would be an easy trip and wouldn’t require taking a major warship away from its duties to carry the president.
So why not enjoy it, Custer had thought. Thus, he had settled on using a converted yacht named the Dolphin. There had been several other US Navy ships of that name, the last of which was a brig that had been burned to prevent capture by the Confederates. If he thought it was a bad omen, he didn’t let on.
This current version of the Dolphin had both sails and a steam engine. She carried a handful of small cannon and was clearly intended for escort or courier purposes only. Better for Custer, she had a large and luxurious cabin worthy of a travelling President of the United States. She was categorized as an auxiliary cruiser which was a catch-all title for a miscellaneous warship.
Custer took the long slow train to St. Augustine. Not even his position could make the iron beast go faster. The newly constructed tracks did not go all the way to Key West. Going by ship from St. Augustine was the only alternative. He would be away from the telegraph lines and out of touch for the shortest length of time.
A short and extremely fat lieutenant commander named Blondell was the Dolphin’s skipper. He didn’t know whether to be honored that the president was on his small warship or annoyed that he’d had to give up his spacious and luxurious cabin for the duration. Regardless, the two men took an instant dislike to each other.
Custer and the Dolphin arrived off Matanzas without incident. The ship was expected and a couple of the small warships protecting the anchorage fired off salutes. Custer enjoyed and appreciated it but was frustrated. He was only a couple of hundred yards from Cuban soil but he had promised Libbie that he would not set foot on it. Men waved and cheered and yelled at him to come ashore. He swore and waved back.
Then it was time for a barge bringing General Miles alongside and for the general to come aboard. They spent only a few minutes on deck together. Just enough time to shake hands with everyone and wave to the crowds on the beach while a photographer snapped shots. After that, it was time for privacy. They went to Custer’s cabin and took seats across from each other. Sandwiches were eaten and whiskey was served. Custer and Miles had known each other and, while there was a serious lack of affection, there was mutual respect due to each other’s rank. Miles’ trademark handlebar mustache seemed to twitch and he blinked nervously. The general was clearly tense and stressed, which concerned Custer.
Miles spoke first. “I’m glad you’re here. I just wish you could go ashore and see what’s happening and what we are confronting. If you would climb to the top of Mount Haney, you’d see the Spanish army that’s arrayed against us and maybe so many in Washington wouldn’t be asking so damn many questions. Unlike some Civil War generals who were mistaken about their enemy’s strength, McClelland in particular, we truly are seriously outnumbered. Our boys are by far the better soldiers, but the Spanish have got some good ones, too. When we finally do move out of our trenches, we will be the attackers and the Spanish will deal us large numbers of casualties.”
This was precisely what Custer didn’t want to hear. “You have upwards of twenty-five thousand men, general. They are the best America has and they are costing a helluva lot of money to feed. What more do you need? Yes, the navy has stopped the flow of men from Spain, but if you want a large number of reinforcements, say a hundred thousand men, that is highly unlikely to happen. The nation does not believe that a bunch of greasy Spaniards and pro-Spanish Cubans can stand up to American soldiers. And speaking of which, where the hell are our beloved Cuban allies?”
“I’m not going to say the Cubans are useless, general, but that’s pretty damn close. I think there are maybe ten thousand of them scattered throughout the Matanzas area, but nobody really knows. They may or may not be led by someone named Jose’ Marti or maybe a guerilla named Diego Valdez. By anybody’s standards, they are undisciplined and most of them have no weapons except machetes and what they’ve managed to steal and that includes robbing our boys. They’ve been fighting the Spaniards for a long time and now they expect to be able to lie down and take a nap while we do the rest of the fighting. Our boys are getting pissed off by that kind of attitude.”
“Jesus,” Custer muttered. He took a deep swallow of his whiskey. This was more that he didn’t want to hear. He began to regret not bringing either Blaine or Robert Lincoln. Hell, he at least should have brought Libbie. She would have known what to say.