Robert Conroy - 1882 - Custer in Chains

“Excellent, major. Now send men back to bring up as much water as they can carry. Then we set up a steady stream of supplies from the bay to here. I also want patrols out to find out just what the damned Spanish are up to.”

Haney knelt down and handed him a canteen. Ryder took a swallow and nearly choked. “What the hell is this?”

“Irish whisky, sir. I save it for special occasions and I think this warrants it. We just won the first round of fighting between them and us and the men are right proud.”

Ryder laughed, agreed, and took another swallow, this time much slower. They’d just won a skirmish against an outnumbered handful of Spanish, but, yes, it did feel good and so did the whisky. Better, he still had half a canteen full of water to drink after he had another swallow of Haney’s whisky.

It took what seemed like an eternity to arrive at St. Augustine. To say that the train line from Charleston to St. Augustine was inadequate was a gross understatement. The gauge was narrow and the tracks and rail bed in such bad shape that the train could only crawl along lest it shake the tracks apart.

The detachment of doctors and nurses working under the flag of the Red Cross had been jammed into passenger cars that moved slowly through the humid Florida heat. It had been so hot inside the cars that a couple of them had passed out. Even though it was clear that efforts were being made to improve the tracks, the ongoing construction further hampered travel.

During one stop, Clara Barton gathered her flock in a local church. There were about fifty of them. Sarah and Ruth hung back, aware that their presence depended solely on how Miss Barton felt about enthusiastic volunteers who lacked professional training. There were some nurses who thought the two women had bought their way into the program and, to a large extent, they were right.

“We need to go to Cuba,” Barton announced.

“I need a bath,” muttered Ruth. Sarah agreed wholeheartedly. Sanitation had been miserable. They’d joked that the hogs on farms they’d passed had sneered at them.

Barton continued. “Towards that end, I have been petitioning and arguing with people in Washington and they have finally agreed. We will go to Cuba.”

This was met with applause and cheers. “However,” she said, “it will have to wait until the army has moved farther inland so we can set up a hospital in relative safety. That should only be a couple of days. In the meantime, we will move by ship to Key West where, I’ve been told, the conditions are even more primitive there than they have been.”

“I think I will take off all my clothes and jump into the ocean,” said Ruth as they left the church.

“An excellent idea if we can manage to not get arrested,” Sarah said.

“Try not to do that,” said Miss Barton, startling them. They had not heard her come up behind them. “I will need all my nurses. More importantly, the telegraph cable between Key West and Matanzas is now operational. Apparently someone in the government with half a brain had a ship laying cable for several days prior to the attack. Since the ship was showing British colors, the Spaniards left her alone.”

She handed Sarah a piece of paper. “This is an article sent north to the Washington Post. I believe the gentleman in question is an acquaintance of yours and that you are related to people in the First Maryland. You are to be congratulated.” She said and walked away.

“FAMED INDIAN FIGHTER LEADS CHARGE UP CUBAN MOUNTAIN,” by James Kendrick, the article proclaimed.

“Oh my God,” Sarah exclaimed.

It read, “ Colonel Martin Ryder commander of the vaunted First Maryland Volunteers and considered by some to be one of the true heroes of the Battle of the Little Big Horn, led a charge by his regiment up the slopes of an enemy occupied mountain overlooking and threatening the American landings below at Matanzas.

Braving heavy enemy fire, Ryder and the rest of the regiment attacked the Spaniards, causing numerous enemy casualties and driving them off the peak of the mount. The fighting was intense and sometimes hand to hand. Shortly after taking the high point, the Spaniards counter-attacked and were driven off, again with heavy casualties.

The position has been named Mount Haney in honor of a senior sergeant who recognized the importance of the site and urged the attack.”

Sarah breathed deeply. She didn’t know whether to be afraid or relieved. Yes, Martin was safe, but did he have to put himself in harm’s way? Of course, she thought, that’s what soldiers did.

“I think I would like something strong, like a brandy or a whisky,” Sarah said.

Ruth smiled. “Since women are not allowed alone in a bar, I’ll get one of the doctors to purchase a bottle for us and we can drink it in our room. We’ll drink and you can dream about your precious Martin while I try to figure out how to get that lovely Sergeant Haney into my bed. Mount Haney? Perhaps Sergeant Haney would like to mount me. I’d also like to know how the devil he got a mountain named after him.”

* * *

Custer wadded the newspaper and through it across their White House bedroom. “Why the bloody hell does this Ryder person keep coming back to haunt me and why is Kendrick standing beside him again?”

Libbie put down the brush she was using on her long and rich reddish brown hair. She checked the brush for anything gray and found nothing. “George, don’t let it get to you. The army has just won a great victory. Who cares who commanded it? You’re the president, the commander in chief. You’re the one who’ll reap the glory. Maybe Martin Ryder will be able to parlay this into a general’s star and a seat in congress, but that’s about it. And as to Kendrick, he’s a reporter, nothing more. When the war is over, you will review the troops in the victory parade down Pennsylvania Avenue and they will all salute you as their leader, their commander in chief. Perhaps you will even pin a medal on Ryder’s chest. But don’t forget, this is your war and it’ll be your victory.”

“You’re right,” he grumbled. “But I should be there.”

Libbie sighed. “And you know all the reasons you can’t. Congress would go into a state of shock, for one thing, if you ever left the country. They wouldn’t know what to do without your presence. It simply isn’t done.”

He sat down heavily on a chair by the bed. “Someday it will be done and I wouldn’t mind being the first to do it. If I went to Cuba it wouldn’t be as if I went to the moon. The last I checked, the telegram works quite well, thank you. The troops in Cuba need me, damn it. I am their commander in chief. I should be there.”

“The army is in good hands, George, even if the hands belong to Nelson Miles. In the meantime, dear husband, you will be the president who expands the United States beyond its continental boundaries. You will be the one who adds Cuba and Puerto Rico to our country as colonies. This will be the beginning of a true American empire.”

Custer laughed harshly. “That is if congress lets me.”

She stiffened. “What are you talking about?”

Custer was delighted to know something she didn’t. He had picked up on information that Libbie had not. “J. Warren Kiefer, our beloved Speaker of the House, has informed me that there is resistance in Congress to our annexing Cuba. The American people are thrilled that we are going to throw out the Spanish, but they do not want us to control Cuba in perpetuity. There will be a bill introduced limiting our involvement to three years. After that, the dark-skinned people of Cuban will have their freedom. I don’t understand Kiefer’s lack of support. He’s a fellow Republican. He should support the cause of expansion and not try to contain it.”