The Rough Rider (22 page)

“Thanks a lot, Corporal,” said Lewis, who turned and headed for the tracks.

The two men found the storage depot without too much trouble. They moved inside and at once Lewis called out, “Doctor!” From behind a pile of large wooden crates, Dr. Burns appeared with his hands full of supplies. Lewis rushed forward and shook Burns’s hand, demanding at once, “Where are Gail and Deborah?”

Burns turned from Lewis, saying, “Out back sorting supplies.” He shook hands with Aaron, exposing a badly sunburned face. He smiled, though, and said, “It’s good to see ye both! When did ye get in?”

“Just two days ago,” Aaron said. He glanced at the jumble of supplies and grinned. “It looks like a Kansas tornado passed through here. Can you make any sense out of this?”

Burns’s hair was disheveled and he had a harried look. “We’ll have to,” he said. “We’ll need all of these medical supplies when we get to the field. Come along,” he said. “The young ladies will be glad to see you.”

They followed Burns around some piles of supplies, and he led them through the loose sand to the back of the building, where Lewis called out to Gail and Deborah. The two women looked up, and Aaron took off his hat, remarking, “Look at you two. You’re both sunburned.”

Gail smiled and shook her head. “There’s no way out of
it in this place,” she said. She touched her nose gingerly, adding, “I’ll be lucky if I have any skin left if I stay out in this sun much longer!”

Deborah smiled at Lewis, pleased to see him. “You look fit,” she said. “Are you ready for what’s coming?”

“Oh yes,” Lewis said confidently. He looked over at Aaron and said, “We can whip them, can’t we?”

“Sure,” Aaron said, shrugging his shoulders. “Let’s get out of the sun, though. Maybe we can find something cool to drink.”

They stayed only for a brief visit, but Deborah and Lewis went for a short walk. Lewis talked mostly about Alice, unaware that his words brought a twinge of displeasure to his companion. Finally, Deborah said, “I’ll be praying that you’ll be safe in the battle that’s coming.” Her voice held a note of urgency, and she took him unexpectedly by the arm, something she’d never done. “It’s important that you be careful,” she said quietly.

Lewis blinked in surprise and looked at the girl, seeing the seriousness in her face. “Why, I’ll be as careful as I can,” he said. He halted, then said awkwardly, “Nice of you to care.” The two turned and continued their walk and said no more.

As Aaron and Lewis made their way back to their tent, Lewis was very quiet. When they were inside he turned to Aaron and said, “Deborah’s worried about us.”

“She’s a very wise young woman,” Aaron replied. He’d faced death in the Klondike, but he knew Lewis was totally unprepared for the ordeal that lay ahead. Carefully Aaron said, “Don’t be a hero, Lewis. I’ve lost Jubal. That’s enough.”

Lewis cast a quick glance at Aaron, then dropped his eyes. Somehow things were different here, not what he had expected. He went to sleep thinking of Alice—and dreamed of returning to her to lay his triumphs at her feet. But the dream faded as the face of Deborah Laurent drifted into view. He awoke with a start, sat up in bed, and could not make anything of it. Finally he lay down and went back to sleep,
wondering what he would do when bullets began to whistle around his head. . . .

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A Fragment of Destiny

The days had crawled by slowly, and no one was more impatient for the invasion to start than Lewis Winslow. It was on June 6 when he finally exploded. Aaron had been sitting on his bunk writing when Lewis stormed in, snatched his hat off, and flung it violently at his bunk. It missed and fell on the floor, whereupon Lewis kicked it, exclaiming, “We’re never going to get out of this blasted sandpit!”

Aaron looked up and took in the flushed face of his younger brother. Putting the stub of the pencil in his mouth, he chewed it thoughtfully, then said, “Calm down, Lewis! It’s just a matter of time.”

“I’d rather be back home watching the wood warp!” Lewis snapped as he snatched up his hat and tossed it under the cot. His face was a light shade of brown, tanned by the southern sun.

Aaron carefully put the pencil in his notebook and wedged it under his bunk. He lay back on the bunk, his fingers laced behind his head, and stared up at the fabric on the tent. A mosquito was snarling busily somewhere around his ear, but he thought wearily,
There’s about twenty billion of them in this place—you can’t kill them all. Go on—have a bite!
But then, as the mosquito sunk her proboscis into his neck, he slapped the pest and sat up abruptly.

Lewis grinned at him spitefully. “Why don’t you let it go ahead, Aaron? I gave up slapping the pesky things a long time ago.” He slumped down on the bunk and put his chin
in his hands. There was a doleful look in his eyes as he said, “I’d like to get out of this place. I didn’t come down here to be eaten alive by bugs! And they say there have been some cases of yellow fever reported.”

“Dr. Burns told you that?”

“Yes, and I don’t want to miss the fight by being sick.”

The two men sat there idly, the heat sapping their strength, and finally through sheer lack of energy, they lay back until they fell into a fitful sleep.

They rose the next morning at the bugle call and were dressing when Isaiah Wilson, a black trooper attached to their unit as a hostler, opened the flap on their tent and stuck his head inside. His eyes were wide with excitement and he said, “Ain’t ya’ll heard the news?”

“What is it, Isaiah?” Lewis demanded. He’d become good friends with the wiry, young trooper over the past few days. Reaching out, he pulled him inside the tent, asking, “What’s happening?”

“While you two wuz sleepin’ yo’ life away,” Wilson grinned, “the orders done come through.” He was at once thrust back and forth between the two as they bombarded him with questions. Shoving them away, he grinned, “Here—don’t jostle me around. I done et breakfast. I don’t like my food to be all roiled after it’s et!”

“Never mind roiling!” Aaron said. “What’s going on?” His gray eyes were snapping and he demanded, “When are we getting out of this place?”

“Today, I hear! So you’d better git dis tent pulled down and git your stuff together.”

Lewis and Aaron piled out of the tent and found the whole encampment in pandemonium. Officers were yelling and troopers were struggling to take their tents down and pull their gear together. “Come on, Lewis!” Aaron said instantly. “This looks like the real thing . . . !”

An hour later, they found themselves with the rest of the regiment, out of breath and waiting for the train that would
take them to the coast. However, after over an hour, they all grew restive.

“It looks like we’ve been stood up.” Aaron shook his head in disgust, then suddenly pointed and said, “Hey—there’s the colonel. He looks mad as a hornet!”

Roosevelt came stalking toward the track, accompanied by Major Spotsworth. Aaron was close enough to hear him say, “Major, where’s the train?”

“I don’t know, sir. It was supposed to be here by now.”

Roosevelt stood there, a disreputable-looking figure with his uniform wrinkled as always. Aaron was close enough to see his mouth drawn into a thin line, covering the prominent teeth, and his eyes were pulled almost shut. Suddenly he pointed and blurted out, “What’s that train down there?”

“Coal train, sir,” the major said nervously. “It hauls the coal in from up north. It’s empty now, waiting to go out.”

“We’re taking that train!” Roosevelt snapped.

“Sir?”

“You heard me, Major. We’ll take that train to the coast.” Roosevelt lifted his voice and called, “Officers—get your men in that train on the double!”

Lewis laughed suddenly as he began running along with Aaron and the others. “Looks like we’re going to begin this war by stealing a train!” he yelped. “Can’t think of a better way to do it!”

The men piled into the empty coal cars and were covered immediately by a fine black dust that rose like a cloud. “Well, I sure hope we don’t have inspection today,” Lewis grinned. The two watched as the engineer was literally forced into the cab, accompanied by Roosevelt and two of his officers. Soon the whistle screamed and the train jerked into motion. As they left Tampa, a wild, ragged cheer went up from the soldiers, and it was Isaiah Wilson, standing next to Lewis, who said, “I sure ain’t sorry to say goodbye to this place! Come on, Cuba!”

****

The Rough Riders arrived at the coast and labored all day loading baggage, food, ammunition, and the officers’ horses. As night fell, the transport pulled away from the dock and anchored among the other waiting ships. The boat was overloaded, and the men were packed in like sardines—not only below but topside as well. That night it was only possible to walk about by stepping over sleepers. The travel rations that had been issued to the men were not sufficient, and the meat served at the evening meal was very bad. Roosevelt was heard to have called it “nauseous stuff called canned, fresh beef.”

“Tastes like embalmed beef to me,” Lewis said, spitting out a bite of the stuff and tossing his ration overboard. “I hope we get something besides that to eat before we get to Cuba.”

There were no facilities for cooking and, of course, no ice. They discovered the water wasn’t good, and there were no vegetables or fresh meat. However, as they were all boxed and ready to go on their way, there was remarkably little complaining. That is, until a telegram came from the Secretary of War in Washington. It read, “Wait until you get further orders before you sail.”

They soon discovered that the navy had spotted what seemed to be a Spanish armed cruiser nearby, and through some inexplicable timidity, the navy held up the Spanish-American War until they made certain that there was no Spanish warship. As the troops suffered the heat and crowded conditions for the next two days, Roosevelt jotted down a note to his friend, Cabot Lodge, on June 10:

Two days later, he fumed and sent off another fiery missive to Lodge:

The ship was named the
Yucatan,
and Lewis and Aaron had been pleased to discover that Dr. Burns and his assistants occupied one crowded portion of the first deck. There was no provision of privacy for the nurses, so the two women simply made themselves a compartment by hanging a sheet from the ceiling. They probably had more room than anyone else on the ship.

On the night of June 13, Gail found herself on the fantail in a relatively private situation. She was surprised when a voice called her name, and she turned around to see Aaron step out of the darkness. “Well, Gail,” he said, coming to lean on the rail beside her. “How do you like being an army nurse?”

Gail was very much aware of Aaron. She’d spoken to him several times, but always under rather crowded and hectic conditions. Now, as they stood on the deck, a quietness of sorts washed over them.

From across the waters floated the strains of a hymn on the night air. And instead of answering his question, Gail stood there listening to the singing. Evidently, some of the men had found enough talent for a quartet and they sang sweetly, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me; I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see.”

Aaron said quietly, “I must have heard that song a thousand times. We sang it every Sunday morning in our church.”

Gail turned and studied him thoughtfully. “It must have been nice growing up in a little town like that. Tell me about it.”

“I was bored to tears,” Aaron said, staring moodily across the water lapping gently against the side of the ship. “To me it was the same thing every day, and church on Sunday. Looking back, I think it was probably the best time of my life—those younger years. I don’t have enough sense to know what’s good for me. We ought to grab those good times when they come and hang on to them and enjoy them.”

“Like this one?” Gail asked quietly.

Aaron turned to look at her with surprise. “I wouldn’t call this a good time—mosquitos, heat, bad food.”

“No, I mean right now—this moment.” Gail’s features were caught by the silvery moonlight. There was a smoothness on her cheeks, and her eyes reflected the soft light. “This very minute. All day’s been bad—hard, hot, and uncomfortable. When I go below to sleep, it’ll be the same. But right now it’s fine, isn’t it, Aaron?”

Aaron was caught by her observation. He leaned against the rail, turning to watch her. “That’s a good way to look at it,” he murmured. “And I believe you’re right.”

“I always try to think like that,” Gail said. “When I was growing up I’d think, ‘We’ve got something to eat in the house today, and we’ve got a roof over our heads tonight. Tomorrow it may not be so, but we’ve got to take what we have now and be grateful for it.’ Somehow it made things easier.”