Robert Conroy - 1882 - Custer in Chains

Lieutenant General Phil Sheridan shifted his bulk in a chair that was far too small for him. “These are only numbers, General Custer. What they don’t say is how well trained, equipped, or led the Spanish army is. It is also very likely that many of their soldiers are Cuban militia of dubious quality.”

“There are still far too many of them. Dear God, what have I gotten us into?”

“This is the war you wanted,” Sheridan said, stifling a laugh. “However, there is some good news. Many of the Spanish troops are not in the Havana area. We estimate there are about fifty thousand in and around Santiago, with other sizeable garrisons protecting other cities from the rebels. That and the sheer size of Cuba means that the Spanish will not be able to easily reinforce Havana, although they will doubtless try once we land and commit ourselves. We will always be outnumbered, but we should be able to outfight them, even though they will be based in a heavily fortified city.”

Custer wiped his brow. He was sweating profusely. “What will the Spanish do when we land?”

Lincoln was about to respond, but Sheridan beat him to it. “General Valeriano Weyler commands the troops around Havana. He is a young, fiery, aggressive and cruel commander. He will attack as soon as he can and will attempt to drive us into the sea around Matanzas. He will not permit his army to become a punching bag for us to wear down and destroy.”

Custer stood and paced his office. “When will we attack?”

“It’s somewhat up to the navy, but their plans say there will be no more than two weeks before embarking. It will also take a good week to steam to Matanzas. Then figure another week to disembark the troops, unload supplies, and get organized.”

“That’s too long,” Custer said in a whisper.

“We could call it off,” Lincoln said hopefully, “and give negotiations another chance.”

“No, damn it! We’d look like bloody fools. We have to fight them and beat them. We must have this war and we must take Cuba. Just like Blaine says, our country’s future as a great power depends on it. We can’t just back off and let a third-rate piss-ant country like Spain humiliate us. I don’t like what I’ve just heard, but I have to accept the reality of the situation.”

“It doesn’t matter how the Spanish split their forces, our boys will still be outnumbered many times over,” said Sheridan. “We haven’t been able to enlist anywhere near the number of men we thought we’d need. You could be looking at a blood bath if things don’t work out.”

“All the more reason I should be in command,” Custer snapped. “It’s going to take a brave and resourceful commander to lead the army to victory and I’m not certain Nelson Miles is that man.”

Sheridan laughed. “Then replace him with Hancock, but you cannot leave this country and remain president.”

Custer bristled. “Winfield Scott Hancock can go straight to fucking hell. He will never command a thing while I am president.”

Custer rose and stormed out of the room. He went directly up to his personal quarters to find that Libbie had beaten him there. She had been in an adjacent room and been listening to every word through a speaking tube held against the wall.

“Libbie, they want to destroy me,” he said as he pounded his fist on a dresser.

“Of course they do,” she said calmly. “Jealousy from insignificant others is the fate of all great men.” She sat down on a couch and he sat beside her. She smiled and pulled his head down to her lap where he could rest against her bosom.

“You will win, George. You will prevail against both Spain and the small minds who conspire against you. They can never stop us.”

* * *

Two nights later, Kendrick and Juana had a glass of brandy and another cigarillo in his room. As before, she was dressed in a nightgown while he had discretely put a robe over his underclothing. This time their meeting was far more cordial-she did not bring a pistol. It was a point they both found amusing. Salazar was still looking for rebels and would be gone for at least a week longer.

“What are you going to write about my husband?”

“The truth. I’m a reporter and I like to do that as often as possible.”

“Will you say that he is a monstrous maniac?”

“If that’s the truth, yes, and I am investigating that possibility. My readers in America are fascinated by the type of person who would massacre the innocent men on the Eldorado, and feel no qualms.” When she started to respond, he hushed her with a wave of his hand. “I know that Spain considers them to have been criminals and pirates, but they deserved a trial. Perhaps some or all could have been sentenced to jail and not executed. That would have been justice in accordance with established law. What your husband did was nothing short of murder. As a result of your husband’s actions, we now have a war between our two countries and people wonder why he did what he did.”

She took a deep drag of her cigarillo. “I could tell you but you would never print it.”

“Try me.”

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “Gilberto Salazar is not a truly brave man. He is inadequate and a coward with women and a man who hides those inadequacies with brutal acts. He’s never been in a real battle, only skirmishes with runaway slaves. He fears that he will fail in front of others in the event of a real fight. On a different level, he has never consummated our marriage, although he did try at first. For some reason, he’s afraid of me, perhaps he’s unable to perform with all women.”

Kendrick was shocked by her blunt admission. “Jesus. You’re right, though. I have no idea how my publishers would ever print this. Juana, are you telling me you’re still a virgin after being married to him for how long?”

“Ten years, and my so-called virginity is highly debatable. He did try for the first few months, but it turned out that his sword is small, blunt, and not made of good metal.”

Kendrick didn’t even try to stifle a grin, “But what about Helga?”

“Oh, I’m sure she satisfies him, but not in a way that I ever would with him. Besides, she’s more of an ornament than a true mistress. Now do you see why I am so bitter? I’ve wasted my youth on that fool just like he’s wasting his time trying to save Spain’s presence in a land that doesn’t want her. I cut my hair short because he likes it long and I keep myself thin because he wants his women more robust. It pleases me to anger him and everything he stands for.”

“Are you saying that you are a rebel?”

Juana smiled and this time it lit up her thin face. “Yes, and I’m proud of it. Since it’s widely assumed that you are a spy as well as a reporter, I propose to show you everything I can about Spain’s strengths and weaknesses around Havana. To help accomplish that, I propose we go riding around in Gilberto’s carriage and let you see everything.”

“That would be marvelous for several reasons, so, yes, I accept your kind offer.”

“Good. And I hope you have plans to leave this place before the war actually starts.”

“When I decided to come here, I believe I had two choices. One was to stay and write a journal about the war and publish it later. The second was to get out of here as soon as it became dangerous. I’m no coward, but I do think leaving discretely is the best option and, yes, I do have plans to do so.”

“Excellent.”

“But what will happen to you, Juana.”

She rose and walked to the doorway. “I can protect myself, although the next time I need to I’ll have the pistol cocked.”

* * *

“ Morituri te salutant ,” whispered Sarah as they joined the gaily dressed throng swarming into the White House.