Chapter 23

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?”

“We’re talking about armies, not dogs,” Canovas said angrily.

“Spain will become a second rate power,” said the king.

“With profoundest respects,” said Praxedes, “Spain began to become a second rate power when the Armada was destroyed in the sixteenth century. The collapse was completed during the Napoleonic wars. We are a second rate power and, if we don’t do something to prevent a further brutal collapse, Spain will become a total irrelevancy in the world of nations.”

“What would you have me do?” asked the king.

Praxedes answered. “We must accept the fact that our empire is largely gone. We have lost Cuba and Puerto Rico. We must negotiate the best treaty we can with the United States. All that we have left are the Philippine Islands and a few specks of land in the Pacific along with and our territories in North Africa. If the Americans desire them, they can take the Philippines from us without any effort whatsoever. Those islands are again in a state of rebellion and we will not be able to crush it. We do not have an army and, even if we did, we have almost no navy; therefore, and no way of sending it to the Philippines.”

“What do you propose?” asked a despondent Canovas.

“That we sell everything to the Americans,” Praxedes answered. “They can claim Cuba and Puerto Rico by right of conquest, and we will not be able to hold on to the Philippines. If the Americans want them, they can take them at any time. So too can the British and the Germans. I’ve received a telegram from a friend of mine in Berlin saying that there is pressure on the Kaiser to annex the islands. I suggest we take whatever we can get for the remnants of our overseas empire and begin to rebuild.”

Alfonso smiled wryly. “Then we will offer the Philippines to the highest bidder. And God help the winner. He will have to fight the rebels.”

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