Salazar counted the men gathered around him. There were just under a hundred and some of them were wounded and would play no further role in the fighting. His brave Legion had been bled out of existence. He wanted to weep out of frustration and bitterness, but would not permit himself so show weakness.
The failure of the attack wasn’t his fault. The damned American warships had shown up just as the Spanish Army was about to destroy the enemy. There had also been rumors of a large American landing to their rear that had arrived at about the same time. This had caused fear and confusion. The ferocious American defense, combined with the presence of the warships and a possible enemy force in their rear had proven disastrous to the fighting spirit of the Spanish army. They had broken and run. The Spanish army had collapsed.
Salazar recognized an aide from Weyler’s staff. The man was wide-eyed and looked like he was about to panic. Salazar grabbed his arm. “Do you have orders for us?”
The aide looked surprised, then suddenly pleased as he saw that it was Salazar. “Yes. I have been ordered to find you. All units are to take the roads to Havana. The Americans have landed in great force at Santa Cruz del Norte. Reports say there are a hundred thousand of them and that they are heading here to destroy us. General Weyler says we must flee to Havana before we are destroyed.”
* * *
Sarah wiped her brother’s forehead with a damp cloth. He was unconscious and could only moan, although she sensed that he was comforted by the feel. She wore a smock over her cut down soldier’s uniform and she, the smock, and her uniform were covered with drying blood and gore. She’d managed to keep her hands reasonably clean and had done her best to avoid infecting Jack and anyone else she’d treated.
“I’m sorry,” said Doctor Desmond. He too was covered with the blood of soldiers and his eyes were red-ringed with exhaustion. “We tried to save as much of his right arm as possible, but his hand was destroyed along with some of the bone above his wrist. With luck he’ll make it, but he will need help until he learns to function with only one hand.”
“He was right-handed,” she said numbly. “What will he do without a right hand?” Desmond didn’t hear her. He had gone on to another patient.
At least the killing had stopped, she thought, if only for a moment. The sounds of battle had faded to nothing. Martin and the army were off the hill and advancing inland. The combined might of the United States Army and Navy had won a great victory. So why were all of these people moaning and screaming, and why were there those hideous mounds of white limbs outside where flies were gathering by the millions to feast on them?
Nothing she’d seen or done before had prepared her for these sights and smells. Ruta was beside her. “Was it like this in Paris?” Sarah asked.
Ruta was just as filthy and exhausted. “Believe it or not, it was worse. At least we’re not starving as well.”
A soldier howled in indescribable agony. Someone said they were running out of ether. Ruta grabbed her arm. “We have to get back to help the others. You can either help your brother or mourn him later, Sarah. There’s nothing you can do for him right now.”
She agreed. Helping others to live was her duty. There truly was nothing more she could do for Jack. His fate was out of her control. She looked across and saw that Martin had come up the hill and was checking on some wounded soldiers. He looked up and caught her eye. He nodded grimly and walked over. They would not embrace in the hospital. Instead, they let their hands touch. She quickly explained about her brother and he responded that he knew, that he’d seen him get shot and that he was fortunate to be alive.
“I wonder if he’ll feel that way later,” she said. Martin said nothing.
A general was approaching them. “Jesus,” he said. “It’s Hancock.”
Ryder snapped to attention and saluted. Hancock returned the gesture and shook Martin’s hand. “Benteen says your men were magnificent. But what about your brigade’s casualties?”
Ryder took a deep breath. “In rough numbers, two hundred dead and three hundred wounded. Considering the brigade was under-strength, that’s about twenty per cent of our men.”
Even though the numbers were nothing like what Hancock had seen at Gettysburg and elsewhere, they were brutal enough and typical of other units. They could not afford to lose men at that rate. The roughly forty-thousand men now in Cuba were just about all there was. Even if he could somehow conjure up a larger army, he would have enormous difficulties supplying it.
“We will not chase them,” Hancock said, “at least not right away. We must rest our men and get them re-supplied. When that happens we will move towards Havana along the coast road. I’m sure the Spanish will be setting up roadblocks and strong points to slow us and bleed us.”
“If you get help from the guerillas, general, perhaps you can bypass them, maybe even attack them in the rear.”
Hancock scowled. “I was told that the guerillas were unreliable, that they were little more than bandits.”
“General, may I ask who told you that?”
Hancock looked away. “Why it was our Secretary of State, James G. Blaine. He said they were thieves who would steal everything that wasn’t nailed down. And, if they succeeded in gaining independence, that there would be a massacre of innocents that would eclipse anything that had happened elsewhere, even in Haiti. He said he’d spoken with some of their leaders and said they were a bunch of liars as well.”
“Sir, some are liars and thieves, but I’ve been working with a group that has been extremely helpful. They’ve scouted for us, carried messages, and ambushed small Spanish units. They’ve even managed to go in and out of Havana almost at will. They cannot stand up to the Spanish army in a traditional battle. They don’t have the weapons, the training, or the leadership. But they can guide us and will fight for us. Actually they’re fighting for themselves since they are convinced that they will be independent when all of this is over.”
“I don’t know about independence,” said Hancock. “That will be decided by the president, whoever he is, along with Congress. However, we do need good scouts who can fight. I’ve seen the maps of Cuba and, for all intents and purposes, they are utterly useless. They show no roads in the interior and that cannot be true, so, yes, I will gratefully take their help.”
Hancock patted Ryder on the shoulder and smiled. “In the meantime, look to your wounded and bury your dead. And don’t forget to talk to that lovely young woman who’s been staring at us.”
* * *
The last thing in the world Governor General Vlas Villate needed was an uninvited visitor from the Vatican. His once large army was in disarray and falling back as best it could to relative safety behind the impressive but still incomplete defenses of Havana. The Americans had begun their advance and, although moving slowly, appeared unstoppable. His army would fight them, and slow them along the road, but most of the army was demoralized and confused. A number of men and officers had not yet arrived from Matanzas, and that included his field commander, General Valeriano Weyler.
“Admit him,” Villate snarled to a secretary who scurried to an ante-room. He returned in a minute and announced the presence of Monsignor Eugenio Bernardi. The monsignor was short and plump, leading Villate to guess that the man had taken no vow that would result in his missing meals. Celibacy too was probably honored in the breach, as it was with so many priests.
They shook hands formally and Villate offered wine which the priest eagerly accepted. “I represent Rome,” he said a trifle pompously.
“And what does Rome say?” Villate responded sarcastically.