1882: Custer in Chains (5 page)

Libbie smiled radiantly. “Excellent, and I’m sure you’ll think of something. Now let’s have some sandwiches. I’m famished.”

She took his arm and steered him to a table where a servant dashed in with some small sandwiches. He was acutely aware of the light feel of her breast against him. Jesus, he thought, she really is something.

When they were again seated, she smiled warmly. “Now, I would like a favor from you.”

“Just ask.”

“Since we’re going to be such good friends, please call me Libbie.”

* * *

Waves of blue-uniformed soldiers moved up the low hill while other soldiers awkwardly tried to maneuver a pair of brass twelve-pound cannons commonly known as Napoleons, and another pair of Gatling guns into position. This was the first time he’d had the entire regiment try a maneuver like this and it was apparent that they all had a lot to learn. The men were enthusiastic but untrained. Ryder had forbidden them to fix bayonets to their new to them 1873 Trapdoor Model Springfield rifles. There was a real fear that they would skewer themselves and that, as Haney said, would be bad for morale.

These rifles were improvements over the ones used by the Army during the Indian Wars and had largely solved the problem of jamming caused by overheating during prolonged firing. When the old rifles overheated, the spent cartridge might expand and get stuck and that would be disastrous on the battlefield. Unconfirmed rumors had it that some of Custer’s men had suffered from that problem and lost their scalps as a result.

The soldiers reached the summit of the hill and lustily cheered their victory over a nonexistent foe. The men dragging the cannons and the Gatlings were too tired to cheer.

“What do you think, Sergeant Haney?”

Haney snorted. “I think they look like a thousand little kids running for free ice cream. At least they didn’t bunch up until the last minute.”

Ryder agreed and dismissed them to their ice-cream reward. Despite all the good work done by Colonel Fowler, their former commander had trained them in Civil War tactics that included massed forces slowly approaching an enemy. With current weapons that fired more rapidly and more accurately and at greater ranges, the tactics used at Gettysburg were a recipe for disaster. The men had quickly learned that spreading out and shooting and reloading from a prone position, which the Springfield permitted, was a potential lifesaver. During the Civil War, soldiers generally had to reload while standing, which made them excellent targets.

The two battalions of five hundred each were only part of his regiment. A third battalion of almost totally untrained men was being formed. They were mere spectators to this show, although they looked as if they’d like to join in what appeared to be a lot of fun.

Ryder looked at the large number of civilians who’d showed up to watch the maneuvers. It reminded him of what he’d read about the First Battle of Bull Run when thousands of civilians had appeared thinking that war was a spectator sport. They’d quickly had their illusions dashed when they saw the bloody reality of battle. They’d fled in panic for the safety of Washington after the Confederate victory.

“Sergeant, we are going to keep doing it until we get it right. We are going to keep teaching these farm boys and mechanics how to attack and shoot without hitting themselves in the rear and we are going to whip them into shape.”

“Indeed, sir. By the way, I see young Major Barnes approaching with two ladies. With your permission I think I shall disappear and leave you to charm them.”

“Go to hell Sergeant Major,” Ryder said with a laugh. Barnes was only a couple of years younger than he. “And did I ever tell you how good you looked with a thousand Sioux arrows sticking out of your body?”

“Several times, sir. A bloody pincushion I was, although there were only three of them and not a thousand and they hurt like the devil,” Haney said and quickly walked away.

A slightly flustered Barnes approached. “Sir, may I present my sister, Mrs. Sarah Damon and her friend, Mrs. Ruth Holden.”

“A pleasure,” he said and wondered why Barnes had hesitated slightly before announcing Mrs. Holden. Barnes’ sister was a small slender woman who had intriguing features. No beauty in the classic sense, she had dark hair, large expressive eyes and looked intelligent, although quite prim and solemn. The other woman was older and a little more, well, robust and earthy.

Sarah Damon took the lead. “My brother has informed me that you are living a Spartan life in a tent and eating miserable canned food while you try to turn these poor boys into soldiers.”

“It’s not quite that awful, Mrs. Damon.”

“But it could be better. My brother is still too much of a civilian to understand military protocol and I know even less of it. So unless I am making a huge faux pas, we would like to invite you to dinner tonight. I can guarantee you that the Willard Hotel’s cuisine will surpass the tinned food you’ve been eating.”

“To tell you the truth, I think that anything that had once been alive would be better than the tinned food supplied by the Army, and, yes, I’d be delighted. Other than you two ladies and your brother, will your husbands be in attendance?”

Ryder noted a flicker of dismay before Sarah responded. “Both of our husbands have been dead for several years. I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with the three of us.”

“Please accept my condolences. Again, I’m delighted.”

His acceptance was greeted with a radiant smile that totally changed Sarah Damon. Yes, he would very much like going to dinner with the two widows and the young Major Barnes. Maybe, he thought wickedly, he could get rid of the young major.

Ryder was enjoying that last thought when a portly middle-aged man in a civilian suit approached him. “May I speak with you for a moment, Colonel?”

The man had a heavy accent and he wore his clothes like they were uncomfortable and that he would rather have been in a uniform. “Of course, and what embassy do you represent? From your accent, I would guess that it is either Germany’s or Austria’s.”

The man blinked and smiled. “Well done. I am Adolf Helmsdorf and I have the honor to be a colonel in the army of Imperial Germany. I am further honored to serve the Emperor Kaiser Wilhelm, whom, it is hoped, will be the first in a long line of German emperors ruling the new nation of Germany.”

Ryder nodded politely. “I’m honored to meet you. May I assume that you are assigned to the German embassy, which means that you have diplomatic immunity and are not a spy?”

“Colonel Ryder, why stoop to spying when all I had to do was follow the crowd to a very public event and observe to my heart’s content? And yes, I do have diplomatic immunity, for all that‘s worth. All I wanted to do, Colonel, was congratulate you on the efficiency shown by your men. I’ve watched other volunteer units and many of them would give a mob a bad name. Your army has a long ways to go before it can take on even an enemy as inept and corrupt as Spain’s. However, your regiment is off to a very good start, although I’m not sure I would recommend ice cream as a reward for a battle well fought.” That last comment was said with a small smile.

Ryder shrugged. He could not argue with that observation or its source. The new Imperial German Army, which previously had been the Prussian Army, was considered to be the finest in Europe. The Germans had defeated France and Austria-Hungary along with a number of smaller countries as Prussia became Germany.

Helmsdorf continued. “I was pleased to see that you took Gatlings with you up the hill. The machine guns are excellent defensive weapons, but not too many officers try to use them as offensive weapons. You, of course, did that when you saved Custer, and we in Germany have been trying to find offensive uses for them as well.”

Ryder was both surprised and pleased that the German knew about this exploits on the Little Big Horn.

“On the other hand, Colonel Ryder, I would strongly urge your government to find lighter weight uniforms. Your men will be weak and uncomfortable in what they are wearing. The British have begun wearing something called ‘khaki’ in warmer climes. I will be leaving shortly for Havana and a new assignment on the German consular staff. Of course I’ll be a military attaché and will be doing a lot of snooping. Assuming your country wins, I look forward to seeing you again some time.”

Helmsdorf bowed and departed. The German did not offer to shake hands. The Germans, Martin recalled, were too formal for that sort of thing.

* * *

Later as they walked from their horses to the Willard Hotel to meet the two widows, Barnes decided that some explanations were in order.

“Neither of the two women is in mourning, so please don’t let that be a concern. My sister’s husband died of a sudden heart attack almost five years ago. She inherited his substantial property, most of which she has sold and is living off the investments. She handles them herself and is doing quite well. The other widow is similarly well off, although I’m not totally certain of the source of her funds. I tease them about being the two richest widows in Maryland, although I believe that Mrs. Holden’s past has been a little more, shall we say, colorful? She actually lived in France and was in Paris when the Prussians attacked and when the French had their own bloody mess of a civil war. It is my understanding that her husband got himself executed for his part in it.”

Interesting, Ryder thought. A woman who handles her own investments and another who saw and survived the horrors of the fighting in Paris in 1871.

They entered the Willard Hotel and were informed that dinner would be served in the women’s suite. Yes, Ryder thought, the ladies did have money. He liked the idea of a private dinner more than being in the Willard’s large, gaudy, crowded and ostentatious dining room where it was sometimes necessary to shout to be heard. Too many people who thought they were important liked to see and be seen at the Willard. This made private conversations almost impossible.

In the women’s suite, Ryder found himself essentially paired with Sarah, which he didn’t mind at all. He confirmed that his first impressions that she was quiet and reserved were totally wrong. Sarah was vivacious and delightful. Either that or he’d been away from women for far too long. No, he decided, she was both attractive and pleasant.

Dinner was extremely pleasant as well. He decided that the ladies must have thought he hadn’t eaten in weeks and had ordered a full menu of beef, fish, and chicken, all cooked superbly by the Willard’s staff. Wine was served, and since they were in private, no one looked askance at mixed couples enjoying themselves, as sometimes still happened.

In short, Ryder was soon as stuffed as a Thanksgiving turkey. A walk was in order, they decided. Again, he found himself paired with Sarah while Barnes and Ruth Holden went in another direction. Part of him wondered if this had been planned. Another part decided he didn’t much care.

The Willard was only a block from the White House so they decided to walk to it and then around the mansion where George and Libbie Custer lived.

In response to her question, Ryder gave her a brief personal history. “We lived in Ohio and my father owned a store. He had political connections so I was admitted to West Point at the tender age of sixteen, which meant I graduated at twenty. I think a mistake was made in admitting me at such a young age, but I also think the Army decided to live with it once they found out.

“After graduation and being commissioned, I was immediately sent out west and you already know the story of me allegedly saving Custer from the Indians.”

“Allegedly? Colonel, everything I’ve read and heard said that if you’d arrived a few minutes later, Custer and the remainder of his men would have been killed.”

Martin grinned. “And do you know how many people have told me I should have waited another half hour before showing up? Or maybe stopped for lunch and a beer? Custer is not overwhelmingly popular among the military.”

Sarah smiled at the thought. “And after that, my brother says, you had a number of postings in the west and helped keep the Indians pacified.”

“Let’s just say I tried. Many Indians hate us and don’t want to be pacified. To them this means being confined to those open air prisons called reservations, all the while being swindled by government agents who are supposed to distribute food and clothing to them. I tried to put a halt to that but was singularly unsuccessful. The agents have too many powerful political connections here in Washington. It’s another reason I’m not all that popular here.”

“It sounds like you sympathize with the Indians.”

“I do. They’ve been treated brutally and I hope that the country someday realizes the shame of it. Now please tell me something about yourself.”

They had walked more than a mile so she steered him to a bench in a small park. They could still see the White House from where they were seated.

“I was married at seventeen and widowed at twenty. My parents loved the idea of my getting married. They were afraid I’d become an old maid. My husband wasn’t much taller than me and quite possibly just as skinny.”

“If I may be bold, I don’t think you’re skinny.”

She smiled and flushed. “Thank you. At any rate, Walter was an incredibly hard worker and, shortly after our marriage, his parents died in a train accident and left their businesses to him. He tried hard to run them, but it was overwhelming. I helped him and learned a lot. In fact, I think I ultimately knew a lot more about the world of business than he did. Then one day he simply keeled over at his desk and died. The doctor said it was likely a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Again thank you, but it was five years ago and, while I was fond of him and have warm memories, that part of my life is over. I sold off most of his properties except a house and small farm in Maryland, and formed my own investment company with the proceeds. I buy stocks in companies I think will do well in the future and, so far, I’ve won far more than I’ve lost.”

“I’m impressed,” he said truthfully.

“Sometimes it’s so annoying when I find that some laws do not permit women to do certain things in the world of business, while some men flatly refuse to deal with a woman regardless of the law. Fortunately, I do have a brother and a father who front for me when the occasion arises. Please don’t tell me that you believe women have no brains and should be confined to the kitchen.”