“General Schofield, I am completely at a loss. If I didn’t respect both you and General MacArthur, I would consider the mission suicidal.”
Schofield smiled. “So you’ve doubtless been planning a way of not quite disobeying them, haven’t you?”
When all else fails, why not tell the truth? Patrick reasoned. “Absolutely, sir. The thought of my brigade attacking all those Germans alone is not a pleasant one. It’s not that any one of us wishes to shirk our duty, but this attack is doomed to fail. My brigade would not be able to do anything much against the Germans. We will attack as ordered, General, but I am planning on being able to beat a hasty and prudent retreat when the time comes.”
Schofield took off his campaign hat and sat in Patrick’s chair, a look of feigned puzzlement on his round face. “Why Patrick, whoever said you’d be alone?”
Trina saw the tracks and heard the train at the same time. It would beat her to the crossing, so she eased up on the reins and let the horses slow to a stop. Racing trains to a crossing was not her idea of a morning’s fun.
“How is everyone? Isn’t this a jolly trip?” she asked. Molly stuck out her tongue and Heinz moaned in mock agony. He was uncomfortable and in some pain but was really bearing up well. Molly, on the other hand, had thrown up her breakfast.
Trina checked and saw the people in other wagons and carriages in her group taking advantage of the enforced break to get out and stretch, and a few walked discreetly into the trees to relieve themselves. Stretching, she thought, was a splendid idea. She nodded and smiled at Mrs. Harris, and the two women walked toward the tracks. About time someone sent a train, she thought, but who was left to evacuate? She watched the thick, low column of smoke as it neared. It was, she realized, a very large train. Intrigued, she walked closer to the tracks.
The train rounded the final bend and came straight at her, moving at a good rate of speed. As it roared past, she realized there were three engines. Why? she wondered. The answer came as the flatcars rolled into view. At first she did not believe her eyes, did not trust herself to think. Then she realized what she was indeed seeing and, equally important, hearing as the sound of additional trains echoed in the distance. Along with talks of love and their future together, Patrick had confided in her and told her everything about the army-its strengths, its weaknesses, and its potential. Thus she understood quickly and totally the significance of the spectacle unfolding before her. Each of the many flatcars was jammed with hard and confident-looking armed men in American uniforms. Unlike the pasty- and flabby-looking recruits she’d seen, these men were tanned and fit, and there were some Asian faces mixed among the white. They had come. The American army was back from the Philippines.
Involuntarily her body convulsed. Uncontrollable tears poured down her cheeks and she clutched her chest as the train rolled by, causing unbearable waves of emotion that overwhelmed her. Annabelle Harris understood as well, and ran up to her. They held each other and sank to the ground. Trina grabbed a chunk of dirt and flung it skyward. Both their faces were wet with tears and they tried to yell over the sound of the rushing train. On board, only a few pairs of eyes noticed the two crazy-looking ladies sitting on the grass and crying hysterically.
27
A DMIRAL DIEDRICHS SAT up slowly in his bed. His head ached horribly and he was only beginning to keep food down. He kept his left hand under the covers to hide the fact that it had begun to quiver. He was reminded of how the kaiser pretended his left arm wasn’t withered. Diedrichs was on board his flagship, the battleship Barbarossa, in the lower bay of New York harbor. The remainder of the German main battle fleet had been deployed to deny access to the harbor should the Americans foolishly try to force entry.
An aide handed him a message, which he read quickly. “Damn.”
He signaled to his senior staff officers, who entered his stateroom and approached his bed. They looked dispirited, whipped. Diedrichs held up the message. “According to the kaiser’s supposedly infallible intelligence services, the American fleet is believed to have departed Boston Harbor, probably yesterday. Proper emphasis should be placed on the word ‘believed.’”
“What should we do?”
Diedrichs sank back on the pillow. His headache was returning. Perhaps he should have some broth. What he really wanted was an end to this humiliating war.
“Gentlemen,” he answered in a near whisper, “it is only believed that the Americans have sailed. Until we can confirm that, and then confirm their destination, we will do nothing.”
A young aide was aghast. “But sir, if they enter the Sound, they can support the American perimeter.”
Diedrichs rubbed his head with his right hand. “Then let them. The German army has long bragged of its ability to whip the Yanks without us; well, now they will have the chance. When we know the Americans’ destination, we will take action. Not before. Would you have me leave this anchorage and let them sneak in behind us? I think not.” As he spoke, the distant crump of a shore gun sounded as yet another shell was lobbed at long range into the Narrows. “On the other hand,” he sighed, “perhaps we should sail away and let them have this awful place.” He waved them out. “Please turn off the lights when you leave.”
Since no replacements had come aboard theAlabama, the lookout tower was far less crowded than usual. It was a common situation throughout both the ship and the rest of the fleet. There had barely been time to take off the wounded and bring on some badly needed ammunition and food before the order had come to get up steam and depart immediately. Now!
As a result, Ens. Terry Schuyler was again the senior man in the lookout post. His arm still ached awfully and there were many other bruises to remind him of that climactic day of battle, but he could still function as a junior officer. His mother, whom he barely remembered, would have referred to it as the resilience of youth. Resilience, hell. He hurt. But he had sworn an oath to his nation and he had a duty to fulfill. Too many of his friends were dead or wounded for him to let his injuries impede him. Besides, after what he had seen and done, he no longer considered himself a youth.
Charley Ackerman, the other officer in the tower, was an ensign like Terry, but slightly junior to him in time in grade. “What a magnificent view!” young Ackerman exclaimed.
Terry agreed. Ackerman had spent the last battle on the navigating bridge and had seen very little of the action. Too many senior officers had clogged up all the good viewing spots.
They looked ahead at the line of battleships in front of them. This time they were not fourth. Instead they were much farther back, second from the last of the battleships and ahead of the armored cruisers, because of their reduced firepower; the damaged stern turret had not been repaired. They had gotten the bodies out, and the sight had sickened them. Those blackened pieces of meat had once been men, friends.
Since none of the other big ships had lost any of their main armament, they went ahead. Behind theAlabama came the ungainly bulk of theMaine. The presence of the successor to the second-class battleship that had been blown up in Havana by the Spaniards was a tribute to the desperation that drove the U.S. Navy and the willingness of people to work around the clock and take chances with their lives. The ship had been launched in July, and completion should have taken more than a year. However, she had taken her place in the line of battle with only half her main gun turrets and none of her secondary guns. Her superstructure was incomplete, and Terry had no idea how she was commanded and controlled. But she had her engines, armor, two big guns, and a crew that had demanded the right to accompany the other battleships as replacements for the sailors of the sunkenTexas and theKearsarge.