Chapter 15
When the first shell smashed through the wall of the army’s hospital in the church of San Charles de Borromeo, Sarah’s first thought was that a horrible mistake had been made. Artillery shells had been known to go in wrong directions. Perhaps, she thought, this was the case. No one would intentionally bombard a church or a hospital, would they?
When the second and third shells slammed into the building, sending glass and plaster along with chunks of stone raining down on them, the nurses realized it was no mistake.
As always, Clara Barton took charge. “Gather everyone and everything you can carry and get down to the waterfront.”
No one needed urging. Shells were falling all around the hospital and smashing into other buildings. Men were running for their lives to find safety in trenches, while horses screamed in panic. One was hit and disemboweled by a shell. It howled like a demon on fire before it died.
There were only a dozen or so patients in the hospital and most of these were able to get out under their own power. The handful remaining were helped or carried by staff and volunteers out to the trenches.
“I’m getting very tired of this,” said Ruta as she settled into the relative safety of the trench’s earthen walls.
“I’m not arguing with you,” Sarah responded. Her arms were full of medical supplies.
A company of soldiers ran past them and inland in the general direction of the front. Rifle fire, along with the incessant cannonading, had commenced. The war had finally come to them.
Clara Barton jumped into the trench with them. “We are going to split up. I’m going to take half of my people up to the entrance to the bay, while you, Ruta, will take the remainder towards Mount Haney.”
“Then we’re losing, aren’t we?” asked Sarah.
“Indeed and quite badly. The Spanish are attacking all along the line, but it does look like they are concentrating on splitting our forces in half.” Barton smiled briefly. “And yes, it does look like your General Ryder was correct after all, not that it matters right now. Our job is to get the wounded taken care of and our own people into places of safety.”
With that, Barton clambered out of the trench with surprising alacrity and, hunched over, ran away with several of her medical personnel.
Ruta was the natural leader of the others. She got all of the remaining medical personnel and the handful of wounded out of the trench and towards the waterfront. Along the way, they passed another company-sized unit of American infantry running towards the sound of gunfire that appeared to be much closer.
As they inched towards what they hoped would be safety, numbers of soldiers suddenly swarmed passed them, running the other direction. Their officers screamed at them to form up and get ready to fight, but too many were wide-eyed with terror.
Ruta grabbed Sarah’s arm. “Look over there.”
Sarah did as she was told and gasped in shock. A mob of several hundred Spanish soldiers was heading towards them. They were howling and screaming in insane fury. They had broken through the despised Americans and their blood lust was up. If the nurses didn’t hurry, they’d wind up as prisoners if they were lucky. The Spanish could easily simply rape them and butcher them in their insane fury. Even the best and most disciplined soldiers could lose their minds in battle and the Spanish were neither the best or most disciplined. In the distance, they could see other waves of Spaniards heading towards other targets. The sounds of the battle were overwhelming and terrifying.
“Run!” yelled Sarah. The women dropped everything. They hiked up their skirts and ran as fast as they could. Bullets whizzed and pinged around them. One of the nurses screamed and fell over. Her arm was twisted and bleeding.
“Carry her,” ordered Ruta. There was no time for a tourniquet. If she bled to death there was nothing they could do.
Another nurse fell over. The top of her head was gone. This cannot be happening, thought Sarah. We’re nurses. We aren’t soldiers. The Geneva Convention is supposed to protect us. How could human beings do such terrible things to each other? This was far worse than anything she’d yet seen.
The Spanish were only a little more than a hundred yards away when several of them buckled and fell. A number of Americans in wide-brimmed cowboy hats pushed by the nurses, knelt, and continued to fire. Each bullet seemed to strike a Spaniard, with the officers being the favored targets.
The Spanish lost their enthusiasm and took cover. “Now follow me,” said Haney, “and don’t look back or delay or anything. Just run like your bloomers are on fire.”
Despite the insanity of the situation, Sarah found herself laughing. My bloomers cannot be on fire, she thought. I’m not wearing bloomers.
They ran for a couple of hundred yards and then paused. The soldiers who’d saved them were identified by Haney as Texans and that they were really good shots. They moved through gaps in barbed wire and were then escorted over trenches that were filled with American soldiers. More Americans moved through the defenses and to safety. Cannon fired over their heads and they heard the chatter of Gatling guns. Sarah took a moment to see what was happening and wished she hadn’t. Shells were exploding over and in the Spanish ranks, shredding and dismembering bodies. War is hell and never forget that awful fact, she reminded herself.
An American gunboat in the bay found that the Spanish were within range and added to the thunderous din with her cannon. The air was filled with smoke and debris. The nurses were walking now and not running. Their breath still came in gasps. They were exhausted, both emotionally and physically. “There are eight of us,” said Ruta, “and that includes Nurse Atkins who probably will lose her arm. Carmody is dead and there will be no attempt to retrieve her body. Perhaps it can be done if a flag of truce is initiated. Otherwise, we will not risk anyone.”
The nurses were moved into a sandbagged bunker where they could rest. Sarah thought she had seen Martin farther up on the hill, but she wasn’t certain. The sound of gunfire came from the inland side of the hill as well. She was certain that Martin was far too busy to check on her. He would find her in due course. In the meantime they would all rest and figure out where they could set up a hospital where the Spanish wouldn’t destroy it.
* * *
Colonel Gilberto Salazar still walked with difficulty. The wound to his groin was healing but exquisitely slowly. As the men of his Legion moved up the hill that both sides were now calling Mount Haney, he was forced to fall behind. He didn’t mind that at all. Let other brave fools get killed.
His attack was going to fail and in that failure lay success. It was conceded that the American fortifications on Mount Haney were too strong to take by storm. They would require a steady and deadly pounding by heavy artillery which the Spanish Army didn’t have. These would have to be followed by a further assault by huge numbers of well-trained infantry, which Spain also did have. No, the job of his Legion was to demonstrate and pretend to attack, holding the Americans in position so that the main force under General Weyler could storm through the American center and split the Yankee force in half.
For this demonstration, Salazar had been given command of four other regiments, all understrength and poorly trained. Since he didn’t want his own men killed in a useless gesture, he had the new regiments lead while his legion acted as a tactical reserve. As the soldiers neared the hated barbed wire, American rifles and machine guns opened up. Only a few cannon fired at them and it occurred to him that the American defenders were shifting their cannon to better cover the attack on their middle.
Soldiers fell in heaps, but not his best men. When it was apparent that the attack was not going to succeed, he ordered them all to lie prone and shoot at the entrenched Americans. Even this was futile. After only a few minutes, his men began to fall back. Some of the officers tried to stop them, but too many joined in the retreat.