Robert Conroy - 1882 - Custer in Chains

“Why did you have to kill her?” Hector Rojas asked in a flat, dull voice. His large hammer hung loosely from the leather loop around his hand.

The agony from the broken bones in Salazar’s shoulders made speech almost impossible. “Get me a doctor,” he managed to gasp.

“No doctor,” Rojas said calmly. He swung the hammer and smashed Salazar’s left kneecap. “Again, why did you kill her?”

“She angered me,” Salazar managed to gasp through his agonies. “She said I wasn’t a man.” He looked wildly for the two men who were supposed to protect him. They weren’t around. Either they’d fled or Rojas had killed them. The bishop was standing with Juana and Kendrick.

“She was right. You aren’t a man,” Rojas said as he swung the hammer and destroyed Salazar’s right kneecap, causing his incoherent screams to reach an even higher crescendo. “Mercedes was a wonderful woman. She was kind and thoughtful and you killed her like she was a bug. She should be alive and you should not be. I am going to correct at least part of that.”

Rojas swung the hammer again and brought it down on Salazar’s skull, smashing it. Rojas could hear Juana vomiting and the bishop praying. He wiped the mess that had been Salazar’s brains off of the hammer and turned to the bishop. “I have killed a helpless man and I want you to hear my confession.”

Campoy swallowed. “With pleasure. We will go into the other room and you will confess this and any other sins you might have committed. Your penance will be light because you have killed a monster. When that is done, perhaps we can discuss your taking employment with me. You would be in charge of protecting the cathedral and all its valuables.”

Rojas smiled. He would have a good job along with all the wealth that he had taken. “I would like that.”

The bishop continued. “I have seen Mercedes’ will and she has left a goodly part of it to you. You took care of her and she will take care of you.”

Rojas nodded. He wondered if the bishop suspected that he had looted money from Mercedes’ safe. Ah well.

Juana was wide-eyed and stunned at the turn of events and Kendrick wasn’t in much better shape. Campoy took both of Juana’s hands in his and smiled with genuine joy. “My dearest niece, it very much looks like you are now a widow. All of our wishes and prayers have come true. If you wish to marry this fire-breathing pagan, I will dispense with any formalities and marry you right after I hear this other gentleman’s confession.”

Juana smiled and grabbed Kendrick’s arm. “The pagan and I would like that very much.”

Campoy hugged her. “After the nuptials I would strongly urge you to leave Cuba as quickly as you can. The fever season is coming and I don’t know how well the Americans are prepared for it.”

“You can count on it,” said Kendrick. “I have a book to write.”

Surgeon General Rear Admiral John B. Hamilton had a sterling reputation as an administrator, doctor, and reformer. Thus, his opinions were highly regarded and the handful of high-ranking listeners sitting at the table with him was extremely attentive.

“Mr. President, Mr. Secretary of State, and the Secretaries of War and the Navy,” he began as if giving a lecture, “I wish I had better news for you but I don’t. Despite our best efforts, we still have no firm idea what causes Yellow Fever, how to prevent it, and how to cure it. And all this is despite offering a ten thousand dollar reward to the person who finds the cause and cure. As a result, of course, we’ve been inundated by suggestions that were both plausible and insane.”

“I can only imagine,” said President Chester Arthur. “But do any of them have merit? We have had thousands of men go down with the fever and, while many have recovered or are recovering, others have died and the disease has become a catastrophe.”

“Well, sir, we have pretty well laid to rest the twin ideas that Negro soldiers are immune to it or that it is caused by breathing bad air. We are now of the opinion that it is caused by germs and not by bad air. Since Negro soldiers have also caught the fever, we know that they are not inherently immune because of their African heritage. It is small consolation, but Spanish soldiers are suffering just as badly.”

Blaine shook his head angrily. “I don’t give a damn about Spanish soldiers. I want our boys protected from this scourge.”

President Arthur turned away. All across the country blame for the disease was falling on Blaine for being such a strong supporter and instigator of the war. He was being pilloried in newspapers and on the floor of congress as the man who had caused the deaths of so many young men. The American people were better able to handle wounds and deaths in battle than they were from disease. That there had been enormous numbers of fatalities during previous wars was ignored for the simple reason that the war in Cuba was a foreign war in a strange and foreign land. What are we doing there was a simple question that was being spoken loudly and often. Why had we gone in in the first place and why don’t we just get the hell out and leave Cuba for the Cubans.

“Are there any serious leads?” asked Arthur.

“A Cuban doctor named Carlos Finlay seems to think the disease is caused by and spread by mosquitoes. Perhaps the mosquitoes carry germs that pass into the human bloodstream much in the manner that rats carried plague infected fleas that bit people and spread that disease. Right now the idea of mosquitoes as a source is as good an idea as anyone else has.”

Blaine showed his disbelief. “Even if true, how does one eliminate mosquitoes? Hopefully not one at a time,” he snorted contemptuously.

Hamilton showed his frustration. “Of course not! The obvious tactic is to find out how and where the little creatures live and breed and stamp out those places, and this is what we are now doing. To the best of our knowledge, they live in swamps and stagnant water and there are literally tens of thousands of potential breeding spots in Cuba. Unfortunately, it will take a long while to determine if the efforts to clean up the breeding grounds will be successful. It should also be noted that the fever does not attack people in colder climes, which lends some credence to the mosquito theory.”

“In the meantime,” Arthur said sadly, “our boys are sickening and dying.”

“Sadly, sir, these things take time and sometimes lots of time and with no guaranty whatsoever that we are on the right track.”

“What can we do?” Blaine said sadly.

Admiral Hamilton shook his head sadly. “The only feasible thing we can do now is see to it that our boys get to colder weather as soon as possible.”

* * *

King Alfonso XII sagged back in his chair. He felt ill. He had turned the offending telegram face down so he wouldn’t have to look at it, would not have to confront the disaster it represented. The Spanish forces in all of Cuba had surrendered to the Americans. Even those divisions far away had been ordered to surrender by General Weyler.

There was no way to keep the tragedy a secret. The cable had arrived without being encoded. Now all of Madrid was aware that Cuba, the jewel of the empire that had been Spanish for nearly four hundred years had been surrendered. And worse, it had been surrendered to those that Holy Mother Church still referred to as heretics. Outside the palace there was rioting and buildings were being burned. Alfonso wondered if there would be a thirteenth Alfonso or would he be the end of the imperial line.

Prime Minister Canovas was pale with disbelief. “We outnumbered them, we sent a fleet, we had good generals. I don’t understand this.”

Previous Prime Minister Praxedes was blunt. “We sent an army of conscripts that was poorly trained and inadequately armed and led. We then sent them thousands of miles away from their homes to fight a war they didn’t understand. The soldiers sympathized with the rebels and didn’t want to fight. That we outnumbered the Americans is irrelevant. How many times have you seen a small vicious dog beat a larger dog in a fight?”