He and the others headed into the city, looking for Spanish patrols to avoid. They wanted to flee to the Americans but that would involve going through Spanish lines where they would likely be shot as the deserters they were.
Manuel wanted to cry. He wanted to go home to his mother. Did that make him a coward? If it did, he was not concerned. This was not his war and all he wanted was to leave Havana. And he certainly did not want to be responsible for a pack of boys as young as he.
Chapter 17
The fire from the Spanish lines was deafening and overwhelming, causing everyone to keep their heads down as bullets and shells flew overhead or thudded into the American barricades and trenches. At the moment, the Spanish were making no attempt to attack. They were using their cannon and thousands of riflemen to provide covering fire for the soldiers who were creeping up towards the hated barbed wire.
Martin only let a handful of his men expose themselves to enemy bullets, and those were his invaluable sharpshooters. The Spanish were pushing pieces of wood and anything else that would stop or deflect a bullet ahead of each crawling soldier, which made them very hard to hit. What they were about to do was painfully obvious, but not even machine gun fire appeared to hit enough of them to stop or deter them.
“We knew they’d figure out something,” said Benteen. “I just didn’t think it would be this simple.
When they were close enough to the wire, Spanish soldiers would quickly stand and hurl a grappling hook into the wire. Most of the time it held and a trailing rope was pulled on by Spaniards who yanked the poles holding the wire from the ground. The wire was then dragged back to the Spanish lines. The wall of wire was being systematically dismantled.
“At least they’ve told us exactly where they’re going to attack,” Ryder said. “Now I can place my guns with a degree of confidence.”
Benteen muttered something obscene that Martin didn’t think warranted a reply. A two hundred yard breach in the barbed wire was almost completed. To stop an attack, he’d jammed in almost his entire brigade and Benteen had placed another behind it. Six Gatling guns were arrayed along with a number of cannon loaded with grape and shrapnel. Lang’s work in making the machine guns more portable was working.
On the other hand, he fervently wished that Sarah and the others were safe in Florida instead of less than a hundred yards behind him. Women should not be in battle, especially women who were dressed in men’s uniforms. If the position was overwhelmed, would the Spanish even recognize the nurses as women until after it was too late? And what would happen to them if they did? One of Valdez’s Cuban rebels said that the Spanish considered a woman in man’s clothing to be a whore and would likely be treated as one.
Trumpets sounded from below and thousands of voices roared their defiance. They signaled that it was time for the assault. A horde of Spaniards emerged from the ground. They’d gotten much closer than Ryder had thought. American rifles and machine guns ripped through them. They fell by the score, but kept on coming. His cannon fired grape and shrapnel and shredded still more bodies. These too fell and the dead and wounded began to pile up. The smoke was blowing downhill and hiding the Spanish from Ryder’s men. The Americans fired into the clouds and hoped they hit something. His men had to expose themselves in order to fire and they were falling. Some screamed, but far too many simply lay ominously still where they lay in crumpled bloody heaps in their trenches.
His men were falling back from their first trench line and tumbling into the second. He had intended to stay farther back from the front than he’d done during the first attack, but the Spaniards were getting closer and closer to his position. He ordered his men to fix bayonets. Ryder heard the fire of heavy guns coming from his rear. Shells far larger than those from his field guns landed among the Spaniards still climbing the hill.
“What the hell?” Ryder wondered. A few moments later, a breathless Major Barnes flopped down.
“The navy’s arrived. There are gunboats in the bay, and it looks like one of our bigger sloops is shelling the Spaniards by the bay’s opening.
More shells landed, further shredding the Spanish attack. The enemy paused, seemed confused and dispirited, and then began to drift back. In another minute and another volley, the backward drift became a run. The Spaniards were fleeing.
“We should attack,” said Barnes.
Ryder shook his head. “Until and if we can contact the navy about our intentions, we’re better off staying right here. We wouldn’t want to get killed by our own people, would we?”
Barnes response was a sudden shriek. Ryder turned. Barnes’ right hand was a pulpy mass below his wrist. Bones and tendons were clearly visible and he was bleeding profusely. Hands grabbed him and a rough tourniquet was applied above his elbow. He stopped screaming and his face turned a pasty white. His eyes were blank and rolling back in his head. He dropped to his knees and fell backwards.
“Get him to the rear,” yelled Haney. Soldiers quickly complied. Ryder could only shake his head. Sarah was going to be horribly shocked and stunned when she saw her brother and there was nothing he could do. His job was where he was, on the top of a hill looking down as the Spaniards slowly withdrew.
“The navy’s ceased fire,” said Benteen. His cheek had been sliced open and the wound made him talk funny. “The Spanish are almost out of the ships’ range anyhow. We will advance.”
Whistles and bugles blew. The men of Ryder’s brigade moved cautiously out of their trenches and down the slope. They walked gingerly through the ground that was blanketed with dead and wounded. They tried very hard to not step on a wounded man or a corpse, but there were places where the Spanish casualties were piled so deeply that it was impossible. Some of the dead groaned as they were stepped on, giving the illusion that they were still alive. They weren’t. It was air being expelled from their dead lungs. Some of the wounded screamed, but there was nothing the Americans could do for them.
They kept an eye out for any wounded Spaniard who wanted to take an American with him before he died. None did and they walked through the charnel house and into the Spanish camp. Only a few more wounded lay there along with several dozen enemy soldiers who stood with their hands up.
“Now what, general?” asked Lang.
Ryder looked around and picked out a good defensive position. “We stop here and get organized, maybe figure out how many men we’ve got left and, oh yeah, get some food, water, and ammunition.”
“What do we do about cleaning up the battlefield? We should do something before all those bodies begin to stink to high heaven,” Lang said.
The several dozen surrendering Spaniards had become a couple of hundred with more giving up every minute. Ryder agreed with Lang. There already was a stench coming from the battlefield as ripped bodies, blood, and torn entrails along with the usual smells of sweat, piss and shit began to heat up. Some bodies were beginning to bloat.
Martin waved in the general direction of the prisoners. “We’ll let them collect and bury their comrades. They can take any wounded back to our hospitals.”
Haney was beside him. “Want me to go and check on Major Barnes?”
Ryder nodded. “And everyone else.” Haney understood. It was a given that he would check on Sarah and Ruta as well. Martin would have to find a way to see Sarah and comfort her. Barnes’ hand was clearly gone and a wound like he’d gotten could easily get infected and prove fatal. Damn it to hell.
* * *
Gilberto Salazar stopped running after about a mile. He could still see the damned hill in the distance and the many tiny dots that were American soldiers emerging from their trenches. He had led his men as close as possible for his own safety until they were able to throw their grappling hooks and begin to drag down the wire. At that point he had stopped and gradually fallen back. The hooks had been his idea and his men had been ordered to be a major part of the effort. They had performed nobly and bravely, but now most of them were dead or wounded.