by Tony Roberts
The two were goggle-eyed as he described the battlements of Valencia and the palaces of Toledo and Granada. The evening wore on and most of the men with Casey had lost interest in the tour guide of old Spain, as most couldn’t speak any Spanish. It was then that their elder sister, Maria, came to fetch them. She knew where they were, having seen them a few times already with the big scarred American, but he didn’t seem to be harmful.
She arrived, leaning on the fence that marked the edge of the village, not too far from the camp, and called over to her younger brothers to come home. Carlos and Tiago groaned with dismay and sulked, so Casey got up from his pail and waved the two boys to come with him over to the fence. Men were looking at Maria, a dark-haired late teenage girl with high cheekbones and a symmetrical set of features. She would be married off soon, no doubt, to one of the village boys.
Casey gently guided the boys to her and they climbed the fence and stood alongside their sister. “Two boys, well-fed, unharmed.”
Maria clucked her tongue. “They need to be fed at home, not by the American army.”
“I’m sure they’ll find space for the excellent food at your house,” Casey replied.
“Huh, how do you know what it’s like? It might not be to your American taste.”
“I have a varied taste, senorita. I like many countries’ cuisine, and I’ve tasted Spanish on many occasions.”
“But not Cuban-Spanish. We are a poor people, unlike you Americans.”
“America is not all rich and privileged, Maria, so don’t go thinking we’re all the same. But we have the right to choose our own leaders.”
“And you think whoever runs Cuba will care about us?” she scoffed. “You come here and wish to impose on us a new kind of government without asking us first? All this death and killing and destruction? Thank you very much!” she began to herd the two boys away.
“So angry for one so young,” Casey observed.
She whirled, furious. “Yes. I lost a friend, my neighbor, at Las Guasimas two days ago. For all I know you killed him.”
“I’m sorry, Maria.”
“Easy for you to say, Gringo! Go home, all of you, and let us mourn our dead in peace without your arrogant cries of murdering us all in the name of democracy and freedom.”
As she swung her head away from him again, Casey recalled the words of the Roman historian Tacitus: “To ravage, to slaughter, to usurp under false titles, they call empire; and where they make a desert, they call it peace.”
Maria stopped, looked at him over her shoulder and frowned. “What did you say?”
Casey shrugged. “An ancient wise man said that once.” Tacitus had been around during the time Casey had been down the copper mines of Achaea and then on the slave galleys of Rome, and finally died in the time a while before Casey had rejoined the legions for one of the many wars against Persia. His readings had been available and Casey had sometimes read them during some of the periods he’d been away from conflict. Shiu Lao Tze had given him a taste for philosophy and thinking, and maybe that had brought him up from the level of grunt to someone much more able to command armies and nations. He’d done that in his time.
Maria looked at him for a long moment, then turned away and led her brothers into the village. Casey pulled a face and returned to his pail and sat back down heavily.
“Brushed you off, then?” Corrigan grinned.
“She’s mourning her neighbor, killed at Las Guasimas.”
“Oh shit, no wonder she’s pissed at us then.”
“Yeah. Best to let the rest of the boys know so that they don’t go saying something that wouldn’t go down well.”
The next day they went through some exercises in advancing through jungle and supporting one another, a lesson learned during the recent skirmish. Both Colonel Wood and Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt wanted their soldiers to be better prepared for the coming fight against the Spanish dug in along the ridge that stood between the American forces and Santiago de Cuba, called San Juan. A few Cuban insurgents had come to the camp to tell them of the Spanish dispositions, and the generals were busy discussing the best way to take the heights. But until their supplies came up the wretched road from the coast, there was no way they’d be able to launch any kind of telling attack.
For Casey, it was a case of dreading the onset of disease. A few of the men were showing signs of falling to one or other of the illnesses, and if it got a grip on the army, then they’d be far too weakened to push on. The longer they waited, the worse it would be for them. He doubted the hierarchy had any idea of the conditions or what the terrain had been like. Now they were learning the hard way.
He stripped to the waist, knowing his scarred torso was a sight for the others, but he was long past caring about that. It impressed the hell out of the men and as for the women… he grinned. It had never done any harm in that direction.
He was helping to repair the rotten fencing of the village the next day, thinking it was useful for two reasons; one, it passed the time and relieved boredom, and also it might make the locals think differently about them being here. He organized his unit into a big repair squad. Some chopped deadwood up, others arranged them into planks and posts, some more dug holes for the posts, and the rest actually built the fencing.
A few locals watched in surprise. Casey asked a couple of families where it was needed and they were shown the old fence that was nothing more than splinters and old posts stuck in the ground. The original function was to keep animals in and stop them from running off into the jungle, but a combination of the weather, the environment and the animals’ need to escape had dealt with that.
Casey hammered the posts into the ground; as one of the strongest, he took care of that task himself. He was aware that he was getting a few admiring looks and one of the onlookers was Maria. He smiled at her but she turned away and walked off in response.
Corrigan sniggered. “She ain’t interested, bud. Forget her.”
“I want to make it clear to her that we’re not here to kill everyone; she thinks that’s the case.”
“That’s dumb,” Al replied, spitting into the soil.
Casey shrugged. “You can see her point of view, but hell, at least we’re doing something here for these people other than killing and wrecking their ways of life.”
“We ain’t here to do that,” Corrigan objected.
“No, but sometimes it happens and we can’t do anything about it. War does that; even wars fought over the best intentions cause harm and destruction, Al. Always remember that. Armies fight, and the poor damned civilians suffer.” He remembered the Thirty Years’ War in Europe, a particularly nasty conflict, when he’d been part of the Swedish army. The appalling suffering of the population of Germany had been unparalleled in his experience. Official armies, mercenary armies, bandit armies, starvation, disease, death. No, it hadn’t been the most enjoyable of experiences in an army for him.
“That ain’t why we went to war in the first place. We’re here to make their lives better so they oughta be grateful we’re putting our lives on the line for them.”
Casey held Corrigan’s look for a moment, then looked away and stared into the jungle. Not the most thoughtful point of view; no doubt Maria and most of the other villagers would disagree with him, too, but they had no say in this matter. Not unless they grabbed a weapon and joined in on one side or the other. He sighed and packed the dirt and earth around the bottom of the post to a hard consistency and tested the post. It was firm enough.
“Jeez I’d love to go for a swim in the sea right now,” Corrigan declared, wiping his dripping forehead. “I’m as wet as being in a shower right now.”
“Aren’t we all?” Casey said. “This is the jungle, Al, and this is what happens.”
“So why the hell do those pesky bugs leave you the hell alone?” another guy waved an irritated hand at Casey. “Look, clouds of the bastards all around us guys, yet you? Nah, they’re leaving you well alone. It ain’t natural, I tell y
a.”
The eternal mercenary agreed with him. It wasn’t, but that was down to his Curse. His blood was poison, and the insects that sucked blood from people seemed to know instinctively to leave him well alone. So he was doubly insulated against Cuban fever; given that his immunity would deal with the infection quick enough, he was also protected because the insects’ bites that gave it to people stayed the hell away from him. “Guess they think I taste awful,” he shrugged.
“Wish I did, too, then I’d be free of these goddamned things!” one slapped one to extinction against his arm.
Root wiped his nose. He wasn’t feeling too good and felt a little sick. He wondered if the last meal he’d had was disagreeing with him. He stayed out of the conversation; he just wanted to go home. The romantic reasons for joining up had faded and now it was just a hard reality for him and he didn’t like it one bit.
They completed the fence and returned to their camp. Sergeant Holland was waiting, fists on hips, and he shook his head slowly. “Well, Corporal, I guess its one way of keeping the men occupied, but next time pass it by me first, alright?”
“Sergeant,” Casey stood smartly to attention.
“OK,” Holland nodded. “Now get the men settled down. We’re going to be moving out in a day or two so I want them well rested and not worn out building fences for the people here, got it?”
Casey saluted and was left on his own for a moment. Then he began waving the men to their tents, telling them to get fed and then settled down for the evening. He didn’t like the look of the Kid and got him to report to the medic tent; Root’s face was pale and he was looking slightly yellow around the eyes.
He got the bad news just after finishing supper. The Kid had developed a fever and was now on his way to the coast for medical attention at the field hospital that had been set up at Siboney.
Casey tutted and decided to walk alone for a while, having a smoke by the fence they had put up that day. He blew out a plume of smoke and leaned against one of the trees that grew tall by the village’s edge. The night had come and under the trees the darkness was intense. Here, on the edge of the cleared jungle, there were patches of brightness where the light from the glittering stars filled the sky. He gazed up at them for a moment, then became aware that someone was standing on the other side of the fence. “A bit late to be out alone, senorita?” he asked.
Maria stepped forward up to the fence. “I’m seventeen; I’m old enough to walk at night in my own village, gringo.”
“Call me Casey; it sounds friendlier.”
“Why should I be friends with you?”
He shrugged and passed her his cigarette. He had no idea whether she smoked or not, but she took it and dragged long and hard before passing it back, then exhaled a plume of smoke into the sky. She still said nothing, just staring at him.
“You can have a few of these,” he said. “I’ve got plenty more.”
She slowly shook her head. “My father would ask where I got them from and he would beat me when he found out. He doesn’t like invading soldiers. He was a Spanish soldier in his youth.”
“Oh, I thought you might be Cuban.”
“We are, but we are also Spanish. Don’t think everyone wants to separate from our motherland. I think sometimes people have far too simplistic ideas about the world. There are just as many here on Cuba who want things to remain as they are than those who want change. But its easy to ignore the voices of those who say things you don’t like, isn’t it?”
“I guess so. But then, don’t go thinking all us Americans are the same.”
Maria placed both hands on the fence top. “Of course. You’re different from most of the others. You speak of philosophy. How many soldiers do that?”
“You’re knowledgeable.”
She laughed softly. “For a peasant girl from a village in the jungle? Don’t be fooled, Casey. I go to Santiago University, but when war was declared, I came here to be with my family. I can speak English, some French.”
“You study languages?”
She shook her head. “Politics.”
He was impressed. “Brains as well as beauty. Whoever marries you will be a lucky man.”
She snorted, took his cigarette again and inhaled deeply. “Whoever wants to marry in this time is a fool. I’m no compliant female waiting to be impregnated by the first amorous man who takes a fancy to me. I want a career, a living, away from this world here,” she waved behind her. “When the war is over, I’ll return to Santiago to continue my studies.”
He liked her attitude. “But in the meantime you’ll remain here under the protection of the American army.” He grinned.
She saw it and smiled in return. “Ah, you do not take your own words seriously. Good. You’re a very interesting man, Casey.” She ran her hand over the fence. “And thank you.”
“For what?”
“This. It might not be much, but it is a gesture to my people. It will be gone in five years, but the effort is appreciated,”
He shrugged. “Its what I thought. Shows we’re not all dishonorable barbarians. We can build as well as destroy.”
“Yes. My father is all for tearing it down but mother shouted him down, saying he should be grateful you did this; the Spanish soldiers have been here for centuries and none even so much as offered to help us.”
She carried on stroking the top of the fence, then her hand strayed to his, resting on top of the post, and held it. He didn’t move, and looked at her still features. Her eyes were looking at his, and then he pushed her hand aside, reached over, placed his hands on her waist and lifted her over to his side. As he put her on the ground, he leaned forward and kissed her. She kissed him hungrily, then leaned back. “And now I am going to give you a gesture of friendship.”
She took him by the hand and led him to the tree and she let him go, turned so she was leaning her back against the trunk. She stood with her legs apart, head on one side. “So, my heroic conquering soldier, what are you going to do now?”
He grinned. As a come-on, that was as bold as he could think of. He pressed against her vibrant body and felt the old stirring in his body. Uh-huh, this was going to get interesting. “We’re not that far from the camp, Maria,” he said softly.
“Then be quiet about it.” She kissed him, her tongue exploring his mouth, and he forgot about Cuba, Spain, America, the jungle and everything else. One of her legs came up slowly and her calf caressed his buttock. She was emitting small moans of pleasure and he was getting too damned turned on. He slipped his hands under her blouse and captured both breasts and began stroking her nipples. She squeaked softly and now both legs took their turn in stroking his legs and butt.
It wasn’t long before his trousers were down by his ankles and her legs were wrapped around his back, ankles locked, and his arms were supporting her ass as he drove into her, the tree taking the force of their lovemaking. Maria groaned, her lips still clamped to his, and he thought that this may well be one of the longest kisses he’s ever experienced. She was all tongue, lips and gyrating hips as she encouraged him to greater efforts.
Sweat dripped from both and Casey wished that he could take her to a nice safe house somewhere and do this to her all night. But as least here he was living up to the unit’s Rough Rider nickname.
Hell, yeah.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next day Casey packed up with the rest of the unit and they moved out of camp and made their way along the dirt track over a mile down towards Santiago to a low hill called El Pozo – the fountain. His mind was on Maria, that steamy Latin lady, and he hoped to hell she would come through this war unscathed and return to Santiago once this matter was cleared up.
But that was for her to do, not him, and he was now on one knee, peering over the lip of El Pozo hill and across to the ridges that formed the final defenses of Santiago de Cuba. He knew that if they managed to secure that ridge, then the city would be at their mercy and their artillery would be able to pound Santiago at their
leisure.
He hoped young Billy Root would recover from his illness. He would by now be in the hospital on the coast and hopefully getting proper treatment. More soldiers were showing signs of one or other of the diseases that wracked these parts, and it wouldn’t be all that long before the army started to be weakened badly by the number of men falling ill.
To his left, the south, the sea glittered temptingly in the distance, over the canopies of the trees that stood between their position on the hill and the shore. Off in the other direction were a series of higher peaks, some low mountains or so, and a village could be seen nestled in the foothills over there, some four miles or so distant. What was of more interest was what was in front of them. The hill they were on dropped away into a valley, and through this flowed the small San Juan river. The road that they had followed from Sevilla crossed the river ahead of them on a small stone bridge and climbed the ridge beyond, then passed into Santiago.
The ridge had a blockhouse on it, and they could see Spanish soldiers digging in on the top.
“Puttin’ up a load of wire,” Corrigan said dourly. “Gonna be tough gettin’ up that hill.”
“Aye,” Casey nodded. He glanced to the north-west. Just across the river another, smaller hill rose, isolated. There appeared to be some kind of factory on top of that, and more Spanish soldiers were there, digging pits. “That’ll have to be taken first,” he pointed to the isolated hill.
“Oh?”
Casey nodded. “Or else when the main ridge is attacked, they’ll be able to pour enfilading fire onto our flanks. It’d be a slaughter.”
Corrigan surveyed the hill thoughtfully. “Guess that’ll be us then.”
Casey grinned. “You’re getting the idea. Roosevelt will want us in the thick of the action to make him look good in the newspapers, so he’ll be already begging at master’s table for a go at it.”
He took another good look at the hill. Although the jungle covered the ground below their position, it had been cleared on the other side of the river so that anyone crossing the river was instantly visible to the Spanish on the hill. There was a stretch of ground to brave before the hills began, so any attack would have to be made uphill into the teeth of any defensive fire. He hoped their leaders had a plan to avoid a frontal assault.