More positively, additional runaways had started returning, often reduced to shamefaced tears by the hoots and curses of those who had stayed the course. Patrick allowed each regiment to send men to their prior encampment to retrieve supplies and gear left behind, and he tried further to get his little army organized.

It was near noon when they received the stunning news that President McKinley was dead of a heart attack and Teddy Roosevelt was now president of the United States. It seemed appropriate and comforting to have brief prayer services, and each regiment held its own. Patrick stayed quietly to himself and wondered about the man he’d met just a few days ago, and the startling fact that brash, young Teddy Roosevelt was now the president.

It was after the last service that Patrick finally took stock of his own personal position. Without authority, he had assumed control of what amounted to a brigade. The officers, many older and more senior in state rank and grade, readily accepted him. Apparently, they believed he knew what he was doing. He also showed no urge to lead them again to the slaughter, and he didn’t hold it against them that they’d run so quickly. It later occurred to him that they would be quite willing to blame him for whatever foul-up might result from his leadership.

He was now in charge of more than six thousand men. Although he was a career officer, he had never commanded more than a company. His senior officers had always thought of him as the perfect staff officer, literate and well organized, rather than a leader of men. It was intoxicating and fulfilling to be in command.

One of the returning work parties brought with it Colonel Blaney’s large and elaborate tent as well as his camp furniture, and they insisted Patrick use it. There was no reason not to. It was a perfectly acceptable alternative to sleeping on the ground, even though the weather remained warm and dry.

The next day, a captain from the New York regiment brought with him a trunk of clothes and a little man he identified as a tailor. “Frankly, sir, we kinda noticed you didn’t have any baggage with you and figured you might need some changes of clothes before you, ah, get too gamey. These belonged to one of our people who, uh, isn’t going to need them again. He was kinda your size and, if you need some tucking and sewing, the corporal here is a real good tailor.” The captain grinned. “Only reason we keep the little shit.”

Ever practical and never prone to look a gift horse in the mouth, Patrick accepted. At least now he didn’t have to worry about the unlikely possibility of his baggage ever catching up with him.

If it hadn’t been for the omnipresent concern about the now-sedentary Germans, the next couple of days might have been pleasant. Patrick continued to organize, patrol, and drill, and was bemused by the almost worshipful way the men looked up to him. In their minds he had arrived at just the right moment to save them and, so far, had done all the right things. He could only wonder just how long the acceptance would last. If the Germans moved on them in any force, they would have to retreat. His six regiments were armed with only single-shot rifles. They had no machine guns and, of course, no artillery. That they were poorly trained to use what equipment they had was almost irrelevant.

Finally there was a small break. Sergeant Esau Jones, patrolling alone, actually located the Germans. They were digging in and fortifying an area about ten miles away and showed no signs of moving. Now that they were located, they could be observed, and Patrick set about organizing it. He also found from Jones that there seemed to be only a single regiment of Germans. Patrick realized sadly that his brave little army had been whipped by a German force one-fifth its size.

There had to be more Germans. They wouldn’t leave one regiment hanging out to dry.

Theodore Roosevelt lit a small cigar and eyed the golden hue of a well-aged brandy in a crystal goblet. “Well, Elihu, what do you have to tell me?”

Secretary of War Elihu Root put down his own goblet. Once he had wanted to be president himself and had campaigned shamelessly for the office. A brilliant lawyer and a solid Republican, he thought it the next logical step in an outstanding career. But as he looked at the younger and more vigorous man before him, he knew his time had passed. Perhaps it had begun to pass when, years before, he had defended some Tammany Hall Democrats in a criminal trial. Ah, well, hindsight. Now all he could do was to make as great an impact as he could in his loyal support of a president who was young enough to be his son.

“Sir, I-we-have a problem.”

“And that is?”

“Lieutenant General Nelson Miles.”

Roosevelt chuckled. “Ah, the charming and lovable commanding general.”

“It’s more serious than that.”

“Elihu, do you want him replaced?”

“It may come to that. I do not have much confidence in his skill should he command against the Germans. I doubt that he is capable of commanding the large force we both know will be needed. Worse, his ideas about combat are considered by many to be archaic.”

Roosevelt pondered. He knew that Root-who wanted very much to change the way the army commanded itself, did business, and fought-was opposed by an old guard, led by Nelson Miles. They wanted to retain the status quo of a small frontier army.

“Elihu, is this the proper time? Miles is a distinguished old soldier who has served his country well. And, after all, he is the commanding general. Who would replace him? Wasn’t he a great Indian fighter?”

“Sir, it took him three thousand men and several years to capture a score of Apaches. And Lawton, not Miles, actually captured Geronimo.”

“And Lawton ’s dead, killed in the Philippines, if I recall. A shame. But what about Puerto Rico? He took that, didn’t he?”

Root knew he was being tested. “Hardly a campaign, sir. His five thousand men took four casualties. The whole Spanish island garrison surrendered virtually without firing a shot. But that’s not the point. He actually thinks that fool Blaney’s a hero. He wishes to attack the Germans in overwhelming numbers as soon as the army is large enough. He doesn’t realize the current qualitative differences between the German soldier and ours-in training, in equipment, and in leadership. It will be a worse slaughter than Cold Harbor or Marye’s Heights,” he said, referring to Civil War incidents where thousands of Union soldiers had been killed in futile attempts to dislodge well-dug-in defenders.

“What do you propose?”

“Sir, I have seen Miles’s list of suggestions for expanding the army. In all fairness to the man, many of them have merit. I propose we act on those with which we concur and defer on the others. In particular we must avoid giving Miles overall field command. In the meantime, we can commence with his basic suggestions, which are to enlarge the number of available generals to command the larger army, and go about getting the modern equipment needed to outfit that larger army.”

“Does he wish himself a fourth star?”

“Not in so many words, but the implication is clear. Indeed, sir, someone may have to have a fourth star if the army is to be as large as we think will soon be necessary.”

Roosevelt grunted and asked for the list of names. He read it and grunted again. His cigar was out and he lit it. Then he took a pencil and began making notations, his brow furrowed in deep thought. “Elihu, don’t we have any young officers?”

For Patrick Mahan the next several days were notable only for their similarity. The weather remained constantly sunny and unthreatening, and the encampment took on the convivial look and feel of a boys’ camping ground. Had it not been for the weaponry, the constant patrols, and preparation for defense that he insisted upon, most of the men could almost be described as having a good time. He tried to drill them but not too hard, as he was well aware of the volunteer soldier’s long-standing antipathy toward close order drill. He did find them receptive to combat training. That was something they could see a purpose to. But to expect them to act like spit and polish soldiers was more than he could reasonably expect.