Ch. XVII.
ON the next day, the 27th, fully determined to drive out the enemy, our entire artillery began firing at early dawn, striving to open a passage for our infantry. Our bombardment was more violent than on the previous day, and the enemy’s response was also proportionately fiercer. Why was it that the Russian forts were so strangely impregnable? On the line connecting the heights their trenches were faced with rocks and covered with timber roofs, and they could fire at us through portholes, safely concealed and protected from our bursting shells. They had quick-firing guns and machine-guns arranged in different places so that they could fire at us from all points and directions, and these formidable guns were well protected with strong works built of strong material. Added to all this, the side of our hill and the opposite side of their hill formed a rocky valley with almost perpendicular walls, so that we could not climb down or up without superhuman efforts. To attack such a strongly armed enemy in a place of such natural advantage meant a great amount of sacrifice on our part.
So long as our artillery remained unsuccessful, our rifle fire was of course of no use. Somehow we must damage the enemy’s machine-guns, otherwise all our efforts would end only in adding to our already long list of dead and wounded. This we well understood, but if we could not utilize our firearms, our only and last resource was to shoot off human beings, to attack with bullets of human flesh. With such unique weapons,—human bullets, the consolidated essence of Yamato Damashii,—how could we fail to rout the enemy? Orders were soon given. The fifth, seventh, and tenth companies of our regiment precipitated themselves down into the valley and began a furious assault on the enemy; whereupon the Russian artillery, who had hitherto been aiming at our artillery, directed their guns upon this forlorn hope, this rushing column. Simultaneously all the machine-guns and all the infantry in the forts concentrated their fire upon this desperate body, who pressed on like a swift wind with shouts and yells, not a whit daunted by this devilish fire. Their shrieks and the cannon-roar combined sounded like a hundred thunders thundering at the same moment. Press on! rush in! They fought like so many furies, wounded officers unheeded and fallen comrades ignored! Stepping on and jumping over the dead and dying, the survivors came at last within a dozen metres or so of the enemy. But they could not overcome nature—the rocky precipice stood like a screen before them, and half their comrades were strewn dead on the side of the hill at their backs; they could do nothing but stand there facing and staring at the enemy. While this assaulting column was pressing on under the heavy shower of shells and bullets, the sight was stirring beyond words; the men moved on like light gray shadows enshrouded in volumes of smoke. Some of them were seen flying high up in the air, hurled by the big shells. When their bodies were picked up, some had no wound at all, but the skin had turned purplish all over. This was caused by the throwing up and consequent heavy fall on the ground.
The enemy’s resistance was so stubborn that our fire seemed as powerless as beating a big temple-bell with a pin. If we had gone on in this way, we might have failed entirely. We had to attempt a final charge at the risk of annihilation. Soon the following order was given by the brigadier-general:—
“The courageous behavior of our officers and men since the beginning of the battle is worthy of all admiration. Our brigade is to attack the enemy along the eastern side of Taipo-shan at 5 P. M. to-day, to bombard with the entire force of the artillery, and the left wing to charge when our bombardment opens to them an opportunity, and thus to overwhelm and defeat the enemy. Your regiment must strive with the utmost effort to improve this opportunity and occupy the enemy’s position at your front.”
Yes, we were anxious to defeat the enemy with our utmost and most desperate effort! This was the day for us to unfurl our colors high above the enemy’s fortress and to comfort the spirits of those who during the past few days had died without hearing a triumphant Banzai.
A group of officers, while waiting for a proper opportunity to strike, were talking about the condition of affairs since the previous morning.
“The enemy is certainly brave! I noticed a Russian officer commanding his men from the top of a breastwork.”
“Yes, they are fighting hard; but we must carry their position to-day!”
We were beginning to feel that the Russian strength came not only from their mechanical defenses, but also from their intrepid behavior; but all were agreed in their ardent resolve to defeat the enemy and avenge their unfortunate comrades. Presently a young officer came along with a bottle of beer. Since the previous day we had been almost without food or drink, and this bottle of beer seemed a strange sight on the battle-field. We all wondered who he might be, and as he drew nearer we recognized Lieutenant Kwan, adjutant of the battalion.
“Isn’t it a rare treat, this beer? I have been carrying this bottle in my belt since yesterday, to drink a Banzai in the enemy’s position. But now let us drink it together as a farewell cup. You have all been very kind to me—I have made up my mind to die beautifully to-day.”
The young officer talked very cheerily and yet in real earnest, and filled his aluminum cup with the golden beverage. The cup went round among the group, and we smiled a melancholy smile over the drink. This ceremony over, Lieutenant Kwan raised the empty bottle high in the air and shouted, “I pray for your health!” and ran away to bury the dead. How could we know that this was his true farewell? Soon afterwards, without waiting for the happy moment of shouting Banzai in the enemy’s position, he joined the ranks of the illustrious dead. He and I came from the same province and we were very old and intimate friends; he loved me as his younger brother. So, every time we met on the battle-field, we used to grasp each other’s hand with fervor and say, “Are you all right?” Even such an exchange of words was an occasion of great pleasure to us. At this meeting, not knowing of course that it was the last time I was to see him, I failed to thank him for all his past friendship toward me. We had such a hurried, unsatisfactory, eternal good-by, as is usual on the battle-field. I learned afterward that the lieutenant, while superintending the burial of the dead, said to his men: “Please cover them carefully with earth, because I myself am to be treated in the same way very soon.”
Was he really conscious of his impending death? Lieutenant Yatsuda also, who died earlier than Kwan, suddenly pulled out a packet of dry chestnuts[48] from his pocket during his advance and said to his servant: “This was offered to the gods by my mother, and she told me to eat this without fail before fighting. I will eat one and you also eat one. This may be our last farewell!”
They bowed politely and munched the hard nuts together! Of course we were all ready for death, and each time we met we thought was the last. But when the true moment comes, some mysterious, invisible wire seems to bring the sad message to the heart.
It was 5 P. M. Our whole artillery opened fire at the same time, and the whole force of infantry also joined in the bombardment. Heaven and earth at once became dark with clouds of smoke, and the war of flying balls and exploding shells threatened to rend mountain and valley. This was meant to be the decisive battle, so its violence and fury were beyond description. Our infantry shot and advanced, stopped and shot, rushing on and jumping forward. The hail-storm of the enemy’s projectiles did not allow them to march straight on. Sometimes “Lieutenant” was the last faint word of gratitude from a dying man. Again “A-a!” was the only sound made by the expiring soldier. But this was not the moment to take notice of these sickening scenes; we had to press on if it were only an inch nearer the enemy. What did the brigadier-general say in his message? “I admire your bravery,” were the words. Did he not say, “strive with your utmost effort”? Forward! march! advance! and be killed! This was not the time to stop for even half a moment! Such was the thought, and such were the words of encouragement from the officers, who ran about right and left on the battle-line, brandishing their drawn swords, stirring up their men and inspiring them with invincible spirit. Two companies of reserves and reserve engineers were also sent to the first line. At last our First Battalion came within twenty metres of the enemy, but the screen-like rocky hill on which there was hardly any foothold still stood before them. Desperately anxious to climb up, yet utterly unable to do so while the shower of the enemy’s bullets swept them from the side, the Second Company facing the enemy’s front became a mere target for the Russians’ machine-guns and was mowed down in a few brief moments. One bullet went through the sword blade and slightly injured the left eye of Captain Matsumaru. Our artillery fire made a pyrotechnic display in the air, but did hardly any damage to the enemy’s defensive constructions. Shrapnel was of no avail: we had to explode spherical shells, and smash the covering of the enemy’s trenches. “Even at the risk of damage to our own infantry, fire spherical shells as rapidly as possible,” was the message repeatedly sent to the artillery, but no single orderly came back alive: all were killed before reaching their destination. The lieutenant of the engineers was ordered to send explosives, but this also could not be done in time.
Seven o’clock had passed, eight o’clock too, and it was now nine, but there was no improvement in our condition. The First Battalion was obliged to halt for a while. The commander of the Second Battalion, Major Temai, was seriously wounded; the adjutant, while reconnoitring a route for the assault, was shot through the head and died as he turned and said, “Report!” The Third Battalion came close to the enemy, but could do nothing more: its dead and wounded increased moment after moment. Our situation was just like that of a small fish about to be swallowed by a huge whale,—we could not improve it by our own efforts. However, such was the tenacity of purpose and invincible courage pervading our ranks, that our determination and resourcefulness became greater as the enemy proved more difficult to subdue. All the battalions, more particularly the First, were now breaking rocks with picks and piling up stones to make footholds. But the work was not easy, so near the enemy that both parties were like two tigers showing their teeth and threatening to tear each other to pieces. The Russians tried hard to hinder our work; the slightest sound of a pick would immediately invite a tongue of fire that licked the place around us ravenously. In the midst of this great difficulty, a sort of foothold was made at last, and now we were ready to push in with one accord!
The night was growing old; a dismal waning moon was shining dimly over the battle-ground, showing one half of our camp in a light black-and-white picture. Major Uchino, commander of the Second Battalion, sent the following message to our colonel:
“Our battalion is about to try an assault, expecting its own annihilation. I hope that you also will assume the offensive. I sincerely hope and believe that my most revered and beloved colonel will be the successful commander of the attack, and that by the time the sun rises our honored regimental flag may fly over the enemy’s parapets. I hereby offer my respects and farewell to you.”
Then we heard the solemn tune of “Kimi ga yo” sounded by trumpets far away at the left wing. The moon shone through the small sky of our valley, and the long-drawn faint echo of the national air seemed to penetrate our hearts. The music sounded to us as if His Majesty were ordering us forward in person. The officers and men straightened themselves up, leaped and bounded with overwhelming courage, all at once burst over the enemy’s breastworks with shouts and yells, braving the shower of fire and clambering over the rocks and stones. Major Matsumura, at the head of the foremost group of men, shouted with stirring and flaming eyes: “Charge! forward!” The music swelled still more inspiringly, and all the succeeding bands of men shouted Banzai with an earth-shaking voice and encouraged their onrushing comrades. At the top of the hill the clash of bayonets scattered sparks—hand-to-hand conflict at close quarters was the last effort, the impact of the human bullets, the sons of Yamato. “You haughty land-grabbers, see now the folly of your policy,” was the idea with which every man struck his blow, the consequence being a stream of blood and a hill of corpses. It was a hard struggle, but at the same time it was a great joy to defeat the enemy after repeated failures! Body after body of men rushed in like waves—the Russians found it altogether too much for them. They wavered and yet continued for some time longer to resist us in close hand-to-hand fight, while we increased in courage and strength in proportion to their diminution of power. At last, at 8 A. M. of July 28, when the eastern sky was crimson, we became the undisputed masters of the heights of Taipo-shan.
The imperial colors waved high above our new camp, and the Banzai of rejoicing arose like surges of the sea!
Ch. XVIII.
BEFORE we at last secured the enemy’s position along the heights of Taipo-shan, all of us, from the division commander to the lowest soldier, had exerted our perseverance and bravery to the uttermost. We had fought against an enemy having a position naturally advantageous and strongly fortified; we had fought for fifty-eight hours without food, drink, or sleep, against a desperately stubborn foe. Our final success was pregnant of many important results to the subsequent plan of campaign. The battle of Nanshan, with more than four thousand casualties, had been considered the hardest of struggles so far; but, compared with Taipo-shan, Nanshan was won at a low cost. At Nanshan the enemy had an extended slope before them, where they swept away our attacking forces from a secure position. The nature of the ground along Taipo-shan was totally different, built up with perpendicular hills and deep valleys. We could defend ourselves in a dead angle, or could conceal and cover ourselves easily. And yet our casualties here amounted to the same number as at Nanshan. You can judge from this fact how severe was the battle.
For three days we contended for a small space of ground; no food at all could be conveyed from the rear. We only munched hard biscuits, our “iron rations,” could not dip with one hand a drop of water to drink, and did not sleep even a moment. But because we were so excited and anxious and determined, no thought occurred to us of being sleepy or hungry. The Russians also were in a similar condition. When we examined their skirmish-trenches, after our occupation of the place, we found them full of nastiness; the men must have remained there without moving one step for the long fifty-eight hours. The only difference was that they had no difficulty in the way of provisions, for our men were made happy with the black bread, lump-sugar, etc., that the enemy had left behind.
The first thing we felt when our work was done was sleepiness! We desired nothing but sleep. Groups here and there, talking about their dead comrades and their experiences, soon began to nod, one man after another, and would lie down under the coverings of the enemy’s trenches in a most innocent, childlike manner. The Russian dead scattered all about, weltering in blood, did not disturb their profound sleep. Neither did they think of eating or drinking; their snores sounded like distant thunder. Occasional bullets of the enemy did not disturb them even as much as the humming of mosquitoes.
The sublimity of a battle can only be seen in the midst of showers of bullet and shell, but the dismal horror of it can best be observed when the actual struggle is over. The shadow of impartial Death visits friend and foe alike. When the shocking massacre is over, countless corpses covered with blood lie long and flat in the grass and between stones. What a deep philosophy their cold faces tell! When we saw the dead at Nanshan, we could not help covering our eyes in horror and disgust. But the scene here, though equally shocking, did not make us shudder half so much. Some were crushed in head and face, their brains mixing with dust and earth. The intestines of others were torn out and blood was trickling from them. The sight of these things, however, did not horrify us very much. At Nanshan we did not actually fight, but only visited the scene afterward. This time we were accustomed to these sights through the long hours of suffering and desperate struggle.
At Nanshan, with the enemy’s dead in front of us, we could not but sympathize with and pity them; but here we hated and loathed them. How were they to blame? Were not they also warriors who died in the discharge of their duty? But after a hard struggle with them, in which we had had to sacrifice the lives of so many of our beloved men, our hearts involuntarily hated our opponents, who we wished had yielded to us more easily, but who resisted us to their utmost—and butchered our men from their secure trenches, thrusting out their guns from the holes. Of course our reason does not sanction it, but those who have had experience in actual fighting will easily sympathize with this sense of hatred and indignation at the sight of the dead of a brave but stubborn foe. Of course it is a silly thing, and we do all admire without stint their valor and perseverance. Their success in keeping us at bay for fifty-eight hours, under our overwhelming attack, is certainly worthy of a great military power. One Russian was found dead in a skirmish-trench with his head bandaged. Probably he fought on bravely in spite of his first wound until a second shot from our side gave him his death-blow. Those Russian dead, scattered in front of their breastworks, must have been the brave ones who rushed out of their trenches when we burst in, and fought us with their bayonets and fists. Some had photographs of their wives and children in their bosoms, and these pictures were bespattered with blood. One inclined so to do may condemn it as effeminate and weak to carry such things into battle; but thousands of miles away from home, at the dismal and bloody seat of war, where they could not hear from their beloved ones, was it not natural for them to yearn after them deep down in their hearts and console themselves with the sight of these pictures? It is human nature that every new landscape, every new phase of the moon, makes one think of home and friends—and brave fighters are also human, are they not?
“The bravest is the tenderest,
The loving are the daring.”
Are not these the poet’s words? Those poor Russian soldiers, hunted out to the battle-field by the fury of oppression, had to suffer and die far away from home. Their situation deserves nothing but commiseration and sympathy!
As soon as the battle was over, my servant came to me with a hold-all left by the Russians. We opened it and found it full of all kinds of things, and among them a suit of Chinese clothes. This latter item was a surprise to us, and also an explanation. We had seen Russian scouts in Chinese costume who had appeared within our picket-line, and now at last we had found out their secret. They were certainly clever in the trick of quickly changing costume and character as if on the stage. During the War of American Independence, the English sentries were killed almost nightly by the enemy clad in goat-skins. Had the Russians learned the art from the Americans? They tried every trick in scouting—it was not only the real Russians who undertook this work, but even ghosts and apparitions were invited to join. We found also Japanese flags that they had left; perhaps they had even tried to deceive us with our own colors.
After this battle we captured some damaged machine-guns; this was the firearm most dreaded by us. A large iron plate serves the purpose of a shield, through which aim is taken, and the trigger can be pulled while the gun is moving upward, downward, to the left, or to the right. More than six hundred bullets are pushed out automatically in one minute, as if a long, continuous rod of balls was being thrown out of the gun. It can also be made to sprinkle its shot as roads are watered with a hose. It can cover a larger or smaller space, or fire to a greater or less distance as the gunner wills. Therefore, if one becomes the target of this terrible engine of destruction, three or four shot may go through the same place in rapid succession, making the wound very large. The bullets are of the same size as those used in rifles. A large number of these shot are inserted in a long canvas belt—and this belt is loaded into the chamber of the gun; it works like the film of the vitascope. And the sound it makes! Heard close by, it is a rapid succession of tap, tap, tap; but from a distance it sounds like a power loom heard late at night when everything else is hushed. It is a sickening, horrible sound! The Russians regarded this machine-gun as their best friend, and certainly it did very much as a means of defense. They were wonderfully clever in the use of this machine. They would wait till our men came very near them, four or five ken only, and just at the moment when we proposed to shout a triumphant Banzai, this dreadful machine would begin to sweep over us as if with the besom of destruction, the result being hills and mounds of dead. After this battle of Taipo-shan we discovered in the enemy’s position the body of one soldier called Hyodo, who had been one of the forlorn-hope scouts of the Second Company. He had no less than forty-seven shot in his body, twenty-five on the right arm only. Another soldier of a neighboring regiment received more than seventy shot. These instances prove how destructive is the machine-gun! Of course, the surgeons could not locate so many wounds in one body, and they invented a new name, “Whole body honeycombed with gun-wounds.” Whenever our army attacked the enemy’s position, it was invariably this machine-gun that made us suffer and damaged us most severely.
In this camp we found four or five of the enemy’s war-dogs dead. They were strongly built, with short brown hair and sharp clever faces. They were shot by our guns, and, though brutes, had participated in the honorable death of the battle-field. The Russians train these dogs for war purposes and make them useful in more ways than one. I am told that sometimes these dogs acted as scouts.
I carefully inspected the scene of this terrible fight and learned how strong were both the natural position and the arrangements for defense. I almost marveled at our final success, even with a terrible loss of life and blood. Our engineers dug out a number of ground-mines and destroyed wire-entanglements put up by the enemy. The Russian loss was also very severe; a large number of their dead were left in the camp or on the line of their retreat—those whom they with difficulty picked up, were piled upon ten or more ox-carts and carried away through Hanchia-tun toward Port Arthur.
Let me leave the battle-field for a while and tell you what impression our army gave the Russians, and also recount the story of one or two valiant soldiers. After this battle, our detachment picked up a note written by the commander of a Russian division. Translated, it is as follows:—
“The Japanese army knows how to march, but not how to retreat. Once they begin to attack a position, they continue most fiercely and most obstinately. That I can approve of, but when circumstances do not permit a forward march, a retreat may sometimes be made useful. But the Japanese always continue an attack irrespective of the amount of danger. Probably the Japanese books of tactics make no study at all of retreating.”
Is ours a mere “wild-boar” courage, not to know how to retreat? “Back-roving” (sakaro) was ridiculed by the old warriors of Japan—our modern fighters also despise the idea of retreating. It may be a mistake, but “to show one’s back to the enemy” has always been considered the greatest disgrace a samurai could bring upon himself. This idea is the central military principle of the people of Japan. This note of the Russian general is good testimony to the spirit pervading our ranks, “determined to death” and to fight on with strenuous perseverance. Every time we fought we won, because we did not believe in retreating. The Russians, who were taught to believe that a retreat may sometimes be made useful, and who often boasted of their “masterly retreats,” do not seem to have gained many victories by their skill in falling back.
To illustrate the truth of the Russian general’s statement as to the spirit and determination of our men, I will recount here one or two instances. On the 27th one Sukeichi Matsumoto, assigned to the duty of a scout, braved the storm of fire and encouraged his comrades, always at the head of the little group and pressing on hard. Just after the dawn of that day he noticed blood trickling down his face, upon which he cried, “I’m done for!” He repeated the exclamation several times in succession and then fell. His corporal ran to the spot, raised him, and cried: “Keep up your spirits, my man!” Upon which Sukeichi opened his eyes, grasped the corporal’s hand, and said, with a smile: “Why! I’m all right! Please march on!” Scarcely had the words escaped from his lips when he breathed his last.
There was a particularly brave sergeant called Semba in the Eighth Company. In the battle of Kenzan he distinguished himself by rushing in before others upon the enemy. He was used to march on, crying all the time, “I will avenge you, depend upon it!” thus comforting the dying or wounded who lay along his way. This he meant as an eternal farewell or a healing word as the case might be. So his subordinates loved him as their elder brother and thought they would be perfectly satisfied if they could die with Sergeant Semba. His lieutenant especially loved this sergeant and believed him to be better than a hundred ordinary men. For all difficult duties, he singled out this Semba, whose efforts were usually successful because of his composure and bravery. On the 27th, when the desperate march was set afoot, the sergeant held his men firmly together and pressed on headlong, crying, as usual, “I will avenge you, depend upon it!” to those falling right and left. At last he himself fell at the feet of his lieutenant, who tried to raise him and felt warm blood running over his hands. “I’m done for!” said the sergeant, faintly. “Keep up your spirits, Sergeant Semba!” The brave fellow spat out the blood that was filling his throat and with his eyes full of tears said: “Lieutenant! Port Arthur—” Without finishing his sentence he expired. Did he mean to say that he regretted dying before the final assault on Port Arthur? Or did he pray with tears that that fortress might fall into our hands as quickly as possible? Whatever it might be, one thing is certain, that this true patriot thought of nothing but Port Arthur in the moment of his death!
Ch. XIX.
SINCE the opening of hostilities on the heights to the northeast of Hwangni-chuan and Tashang-tun, I had been too excited over the fighting to think of anything else, but now I began to think of my friend, Surgeon Yasui, and to wonder whether he had passed through the struggle in safety. On the eve of the 28th, when threatening clouds were gathering in the sky, I was walking alone under the willow trees along a small stream below Taipo-shan, by which we had bivouacked. As I was thinking that he must be extremely busy taking care of the wounded, suddenly I heard the clicking sound of an officer’s boots, and he stood beside me.
“Dr. Yasui!”
“Lieutenant Sakurai!”
“Are you quite well?”
We shook hands heartily and, after commenting upon each other’s emaciated appearance, discussed the severity and horror of the recent fight. Captain Matsumaru, who had been wounded, also came along, shouldering his sword, which had been bent out of shape by the shot that had opened a round window in its blade. He too joined earnestly in our conversation about the recent battle. From Surgeon Yasui we obtained a minute description of the sad and horrible scenes at the first aid station.
During the battle the enemy’s shot fell constantly in the vicinity of the native dwellings, and in our temporary bandaging station the danger was very great. One time a big shell came through the roof and exploded in the courtyard, and a large number of the wounded men in the house were blown to pieces, the walls and pillars were spotted with blood and flesh; a shocking sight it was. On another occasion, just as the stretcher-bearers had brought in a wounded soldier from the battle-line with great difficulty, and put him down in the yard, an enemy’s shot came flying and killed the poor man on the spot. These unfortunate fellows had fought valiantly on the battle-line, and had been picked up and carried back with wounds of honor, only to be killed in such a miserable way. The enemy’s projectiles followed our brave men everywhere and killed them without mercy.
The dreary heartrending scene at the first aid is utterly beyond description. One cannot help associating it with the horrors of hell. As soon as a wounded man is carried back, be he officer or private, surgeons and hospital orderlies give him the necessary first aid. As the firing on the battle-line increases in intensity, the number of the wounded increases faster and faster, and the surgeons and others have more than they can do. While attending one man, they notice perhaps that another man begins to breathe hard and lose his color. While giving a few drops of brandy to the second man, a third man may be expiring without any medical aid. Hardly have they had time to dress one man’s wound properly, when ten or fifteen new ones are brought in. The surgeons are surrounded right and left by fatally wounded men. They work hard in their shirt sleeves, their whole attire covered with blood. Some men are bandaged, and others with broken limbs are helped by a splint. Of course all is done hurriedly and is only a temporary aid, but they are kept so busy, and the whole scene is so sad and urgent, that they feel as if they were losing their minds every moment, so much have they on their hands and so little can they actually do.
But those lying in this house or that yard are all brave soldiers. They would not grumble even if medical care were slow in coming, or insufficient when it came. They show no discontent, they have no special desires. Because the heat and excitement of the battle-field is still with them, they want to rush to the first line once more, whenever they hear the yell of fighters or the boom of guns. The surgeons try hard to pacify them and keep them still. Those made insane by wounds in the head raise faint cries of “Tenno Heika Banzai”[49] or of “Rusky,” and stagger about. If a surgeon holds them fast, they angrily rebuke him, saying, “You Rusky!” The result of these frantic movements is generally an abundant loss of blood, soon followed by fainting and death.
On the 27th there was a specially large number of wounded. The farmyard in front of the first aid station was filled with the suffering from one end to the other. While a surgeon is taking care of one, some one behind pulls him by his trousers. On looking back, he finds a man leaning against him and like an innocent baby falling into the sleep that knows no awakening. “Mine is a life that cannot be saved, please kill me at once.” So shouts a man in agony, clutching a surgeon with both hands. One sergeant crept on his hands, dragging his legs to the side of a surgeon. “Please, surgeon, the man over there is one of my company; he breathes so hard that it may be of no use, but please see him once more.” This entreaty was accompanied by tears of sympathy. This kind sergeant was seriously injured, but his love of his subordinate made him brave and gallant. There were many also who themselves were on the brink of the grave, and yet who insisted on their comrades being first attended to, saying that they could well afford to wait. What noble self-denial! The brave men, though panting and gasping, with livid faces and blood-covered bodies, kept the true spirit of Bushido, which could not be soiled with the dust of battle, nor did they lose it with their heart’s blood.
On the morning of the 27th a private came to the first aid station with a distracted, hollow countenance. A surgeon who noticed him asked, “What is the matter with you? Wounded?” No answer came from him, his lips moved in vain. The surgeon asked again, “What is it? I cannot know if you do not tell.” Still no answer was forthcoming. The surgeon thought it very strange, and while gazing at the man’s face he noticed a little blood on it. On closer examination it was found that this man had been shot through the temple from right to left, so that he had lost both sight and hearing. No sooner did the surgeon discover this than he began to attend to his case. But when he tenderly took the poor man’s hand, the soldier grated his teeth and muttered “Revenge.” His body stiffened very rapidly and he soon breathed his last. Poor brave fellow, he did not know he was dying, but was only anxious to fight again.
Here is another case. A wounded private came rushing into the station, swinging both arms as if in great haste. “It is a hot fight, extremely interesting! We shall occupy the place very soon.” The surgeon asked him, “Are you wounded?” “A little at the waist,” was the answer. As the surgeon was very anxious about the issue of the day, he asked the man: “Have you killed many of the enemy? Which side has more casualties?” The man lowered his voice and said, “Once again, there are more casualties on Japan’s side.”
Then the surgeon examined his “little wound” about the waist and was astonished at the seriousness of the case. The flesh of the right hip had been entirely swept away by a shell. He was so proud of his bravery in action and faithful discharge of duty, that he did not know that drop by drop his very life was ebbing away. He talked about the battle cheerfully and in high spirits. “All right! Your bandaging is finished. You may go.” At this word from the surgeon the man stood on his legs, but could not walk a step. The fever of war makes it possible for a man to walk and even run in such a condition. But once brought in by the bearers his nerves relax and he begins to feel the pain all at once. There have been many instances of this, and I was one of the number. I did not feel any pain at all during the two days I was lying on the field, but oh! the pain I began to feel when I was taken to the first aid and bandaged; the agony I then felt was so great that I wished I had died on the field. “To come to life from death,” was certainly my own case, but I could not at all appreciate my rare good fortune at that time. I thought that Heaven was cruel not to have killed me at once, instead of leaving me to suffer pain harder than death itself, in a state half dead and half alive.
While the fighting is yet going on the Red-Cross flags here and there beckon to those who are wounded in the field. The brave men who die on the spot receive no benefit from the great charity, but the wounded receive and monopolize its benefits, and sometimes feel as if they were stealing something from the worthy dead. As soon as a battle begins, the stretcher-carriers go about the field with stretchers on their shoulders, pick up the wounded at the front, and carry them to the first aid. These coolies—or carriers—must also be as brave and earnest as real combatants, else they could not do their work in an extremely dangerous place and moment. They are intrusted with the philanthropic and perilous business of braving sword and shot, searching out the wounded and carrying them to a safe place. They must share their scanty food and precious water with their patients, and must take every possible care of them and comfort and cheer them with loving hearts. The stretcher-bearer’s hard toil and noble work deserve our unbounded gratitude.
The sick and wounded who are sent back to the hospitals at home are clad in white and given the kind and faithful nursing and comforting of the surgeons and women nurses. I myself am one of those who received their care with tears of gratitude. In a home hospital everything is kindness and sympathy, but how is it at the front? In the summer, when I took part in actual engagements, large armies of flies attacked the wretched patients, worms would grow in the mouth or nose, and some of them could not drive the vermin away because their arms were useless. Hospital orderlies would fain have helped these poor sufferers, but their number was so small that there was only one of them to a hundred of the wounded. And the patients were exposed to the scorching sun in the day and to the rain or dew of the night, without covering. Sometimes the patients, after lying long on the field, were in an indescribable condition, and it was necessary to soak them in a stream and scrub them with a broom before dressing their wounds. These horrors were solely due to an unexpectedly large number of casualties produced by the unforeseen severity of the fighting. Those in charge of the surgical work were eager to take care of all as quickly as possible, and send them back to be healed and made ready to rejoin the ranks of the combatants as soon as possible; but as they had to crowd more than a thousand patients into a field hospital provided for two hundred, they were powerless to give any better care to the sufferers.
Ch. XX.
WHEN the forts of Taipo-shan, made almost impregnable by nature, were at last taken by the Japanese forces, the proud Russians must have realized that they had no despicable foe in us. But because they had behind them the main line of defense surrounding the formidable fortress, they did not lose their courage with two or three defeats. So now they fell back upon the Kanta-shan Heights to construct new works of defense and try a third stand there. Because they were hurrying with this defensive construction, we too had to hurry with our attack. One day’s delay on our part would give them a day’s advantage over us. So without waiting to rest our tired backs and limbs after the long assault, we began a sustained pursuit with the force of a tidal wave, with a view to driving them to the main fortress while their defenses were as yet inadequate.
The 29th was spent in supplying the deficiency of ammunition, in the rearrangement of companies and ranks, and in a reconnaissance of the enemy’s cavalry. The following day, the 30th, was assigned for the simultaneous march of all our forces.
Our regiment put up a temporary bivouac in the valley near Hanchia-tun on the 29th. About three o’clock in the morning the brigade headquarters ordered our colonel to send for instructions at once. I was detailed for this duty and, accompanied by an orderly, ran one and one half ri along the river bank, and reached headquarters a little before four o’clock. Unless we ran still faster back to our camp, our regiment could not join the fight in time. So I took off all my clothing and handed it over to the orderly, and ran for one and one half ri perfectly naked, with a pistol in one hand and my sword in the other. It was still dark and I had to be very careful not to go in the wrong direction. I ran and ran, almost breathless, along the river bank. On my way back I happened to hear the voice of Paymaster Mishima, who was directing the conveyance of provisions. Still running, I shouted to him: “Paymaster Mishima! Provisions are of no use. We march again at once.” When I had finished the sentence Mishima’s voice was heard far behind me. Fortunately I did not lose myself nor make any mistake and reached our bivouac at ten minutes before five. The assembly was sounded at once and the order to attack was given. The orderly to whom I intrusted my clothing had not yet returned. In the early morning of a summer day it was nice and cool without anything on, but I could not well march in that state. My last duty was done satisfactorily without uniform, but the next one seemed to require it. Another orderly was dispatched in search of the first one, but still the latter was not forthcoming. The time had come for us to start. I was in a very awkward plight, when at the last moment my uniform bearer came, and I was saved the distinction of a naked fight. It is a mere joke now, but I was exceedingly anxious then.
In this way the most delightful attack and advance was begun just as had been previously planned. We saw that it was to be a regular open field battle. That is to say, the skirmishers forming the first line advanced steadily, followed by the reserve body; all was arranged like a field manœuvre in time of peace. Such a movement is almost impossible in an attack on a fortress, which requires a gradual increase of reserves according to the circumstances of every hour and the condition of the ground at each point. Hitherto we had been attacking only rocky, hilly places, so that the only thing we could do was to be as near the enemy as possible, in order to seize the right opportunity to fall upon his forces with one accord. In this mode of attack we could not of course keep to the regular formation of a drill book. However, when once our army went past Taipo-shan, from there as far as the towering Taku-shan the ground was an extensive rolling country; hence the possibility of our first open field battle. Our delight was immense. Moreover, we took full advantage of the lack of preparation of our opponent and made a sudden attack. Although the Russians offered some obstinate resistance, they were obliged to retire step by step. Our regiment held only two companies in reserve; all the rest were on the line of fire, and gradually surrounded the enemy, engaging them on both wings, with the result that when their centre was defeated they were cut in two and forced to retreat.
Before reaching our final position, I was running over a millet field carrying the regimental colors, when I came across Major Achino. His sharp eyes were sparkling like a hawk’s, and he was standing on a rock leaning on his sword. He and I had been together at the headquarters of our regiment at home, and I was one of those who was most influenced by his character. His clear views on tactics, his spirit of indomitable courage, his frank but dignified demeanor, compelled my admiration. This was the man who wrote that letter of farewell to our colonel in the midst of our attack on Taipo-shan, who rushed up the northeast corner of the hill with two companies of his choicest men under him, and thus opened the way for the other divisions to attack the enemy. I had not seen this gallant warrior since that time, and when I met him in the millet field, I felt as if I actually saw him fighting in that brave manner and could not repress my feeling of admiration and respect. I called out, “Major Achino!” and he gave me a glance and a word of encouragement, saying, “Add to the glory of your colors.” I involuntarily bowed my head in recognition and gratitude, but we had no time for further conversation. We soon lost sight of each other, I marching forward and thinking fondly of him.
At this moment the enemy were gradually falling back before us; eventually they forsook their last line of resistance near Lung-tu and retreated toward Taku-shan. Now was the time for a prolonged pursuit. It is a delightful business to pursue a flying enemy, when they are shot from behind and fall like leaves in the autumnal wind. Such an opportunity generally comes after a fierce hard struggle, but on this particular occasion we had only about thirty casualties during the day. Such a pleasant chase after such an easy battle was something we might never expect to have again.
At noon of this day our army was in complete possession of the position we had had in view, and our line extended from the heights of T’uchêng-tsu in the north to the eastern heights of Taku-shan in the south. Standing on this newly acquired line with field-glass in hand, what a prospect greeted our eyes!
Here for the first time we could see the main defense line of the impregnable fortress of Port Arthur. Beginning with Kikuan-shan in the south, as far north as the eye could reach forts and trenches were visible all over the country. From among them some horrible-looking things were thrusting up their heads like tigers and leopards ready to spring; these were the heavy guns. Here, there, and everywhere, eight- to tenfold wires were clustered together, dimly visible through the mist; these were wire-entanglements. The enemy’s sentinels, or “far-looking scouts,” could also be seen at different points. Men in groups of twenty or thirty were setting up wire-entanglements. This was the stage where we were to decide the points at issue, the stage on which the eyes of the world were fixed and which we actors could not forget even in sleep. Those who died prematurely, crying, “Port Arthur” or “Revenge,” how boundless their joy would have been if they had survived to see this heart-stirring prospect! From this day on we were stationed in the vicinity of Lung-tu and began to construct strong works along the heights of Kanta-shan, with a view to first storming and taking Taku-shan and Hsiaoku-shan in front of the enemy’s right wing, and then with these two hills as our base of attack to beginning an assault on their main line of defense.
I must say here with great respect that the Field-Marshal Commander-in-chief sent us the following Imperial message with regard to the battle of the 26th-30th of July, which even his humblest servant, like myself, had the honor of perusing: “The investing army having repeatedly braved the natural advantages of the advance positions of the fortress of Port Arthur, and having fought an arduous fight for several days, and having at last driven the enemy within their main line of defense, we are deeply gratified with your valor.”
The commander sent His Majesty the following reply: “Your Majesty has graciously given us a special message in regard to our victory in the battle preparatory to the attack on the fortress of Port Arthur, and we are deeply affected. We Your Majesty’s servants expect to exert ourselves still more zealously and accomplish the object of our army without failure. Respectfully submitted.”
H. I. M. the Empress also sent us the following message: “Her Majesty the Empress has heard that the investing army has braved the dangers of Port Arthur Fortress and that an arduous attack has been successful after some days’ continuance, and Her Majesty is deeply struck with the loyalty and valor of the officers and men of the army.”
Our commander made reply also to this gracious message.
Since we, then, humble subjects without any special merit were thus recognized and encouraged by Their Majesties, how could we set at ease Their Majesties’ revered hearts? It is hard to return even one thousandth part of their favor; a hot fight of a few days is nothing for us. These Imperial messages simply put us to shame and caused us to fear lest we might fail to deserve Their Majesties’ boundless love and indulgence. The spirits of those loyal and brave ones who died in battle must have shed tears of gratitude on hearing these gracious messages.
After the Imperial messages came all were stirred, and the morale of the whole army became still more satisfactory. Steep hills and strong forts before us, and the gallant enemy defending them, must all yield to faithful subjects who are so anxious to set at ease Their Majesties’ troubled hearts!