The German organisation—perfect, perhaps, for Europe, where each country is a network of roads and railways—was not so successful in China. For the first time the leading military nation was brought face to face with the difficulties involved in the despatch of an expedition across the sea and far from the home base. And its mistakes were not few. Their contingent found themselves at first devoid of transport and dependent on the kindness of the other armies for means to move from the railway. One projected expedition had to be long delayed because the German troops could not advance for this reason, until the English at length furnished them with the necessary transport. The enormous waggons they brought with them were useless in a country where barrows are generally the only form of wheeled transport possible on the very narrow roads. Their knowledge of horse‐mastership was not impressive, their animals always looking badly kept and ill‐fed.

The first German troops despatched to China were curiously clothed. Their uniform consisted of ill‐fitting tunics and trousers made of what looked like coarse, bright yellow sacking, with black leather belts and straw hats shaped like those worn by our Colonials, the broad brim caught up on one side and fastened by a metal rosette of the German colours. Later on all were clothed in regular khaki, and wore helmets somewhat similar to the British pattern, but with wider brims. The square portion covering the back of the neck was fastened by hinges, so that the helmet was not tilted over the wearer’s eyes when he lay down to fire, which is the great disadvantage of our style of headgear. Some of the officers wore silver sashes and belts which looked out of place on khaki, the embodiment of severe simplicity in campaigning dress.

The physique of the German soldiers was very good, but they were members of a comparatively small contingent picked from an enormous army. To those used to the smart and upright bearing of the British private their careless and slouching gait seemed slovenly. But on parade they moved like automatons. A curious phase in the relations of the Allies was the intimacy which prevailed between the men of the French and German troops. In the French Concession numbers of them were to be constantly seen fraternising together, strolling arm‐in‐arm in the streets, or drinking in the cafés. This was chiefly owing to the fact that many in either army could speak the language of the other. But this intimacy did not extend to the commissioned ranks.

The vast increase in their mercantile marine of late years enabled the Germans to transport their troops in their own vessels. The Russians, on the other hand, were frequently forced to employ British ships, although the bulk of their forces in North China did not come from Europe by sea, but was furnished by the Siberian Army.

The German Navy took a prominent part in the China imbroglio. The Iltis was well to the fore in the bombardment of the Taku forts by the gunboats in the Peiho. In the assault by the storming parties from the Allied Fleet 130 German sailors shared, and lost 6 killed and 15 wounded; 200 more accompanied Seymour’s column on the advance to Pekin. The Navy of the Fatherland possesses the immense advantage of being very modern and homogeneous, and is consequently quite up to date. Even at its present strength it is a formidable fighting machine. If the Kaiser’s plans are realised, and it is increased to the size he aims at, Germany will play a prominent rôle in any future naval complications.

English officers are frequently accused of a lack of interest in their profession from not acquainting themselves with the problems which arise in contemporary campaigns, the course of which many persons believe that they do not follow. But we found a singular want of knowledge of the history and events of the South African campaign among the commissioned grades of the Allied Armies. I understood the crass ignorance of Continental peoples with regard to the Boer War after a conversation with a foreign staff officer. I had asked him what he thought had been the probable strength of the Republican forces at the beginning of the campaign.

“Ah, that I know precisely,” he replied. “I have heard it from an officer in our army, now in China, who served with the Boers. I can state positively on his authority that your antagonists were never able to put into the field, either at the beginning of the war or at any other time, more than 30,000 men. The total populations of both States could not produce any greater number capable of carrying a rifle.”

“And how many do you think they have in the field now?” I asked. This was in August, 1901.

“About 25,000.”

“But surely,” I argued, “after nearly two years of fighting their losses must amount to more than 5,000 between killed, wounded, and captured.”

“Not at all. Perhaps not even that.”

“Then you apparently do not know,” I said, “that we have about 30,000 or 40,000 prisoners or surrendered men in St. Helena, South Africa, Ceylon, and India.”

“Oh, but you have not,” he said, with a politely incredulous smile; “two or three thousand at most. In our army we are not ignorant of the course of the campaign. We read our newspapers carefully.”

I ceased to wonder at the ignorance of his nation when he, a Staff and Special Service Officer, was so ill‐informed.

The French Army in China suffered some loss of prestige in the beginning through their first contingent, composed of Infanterie Coloniale and others sent up from l’Indo‐Chine. Long service in unhealthy tropical climates had rendered the men debilitated and fever‐stricken. They were by no means fair samples of the French soldier, and certainly not up to the standard of the troops which came out later from France. The Zouaves and Chasseurs d’Afrique, particularly, were excellent. Both are crack corps, and were much admired, the physique of the men being very good. The latter were fine specimens of European cavalry, good riders, well mounted; but their horses seemed too heavily weighted, especially for service in hot climates.

The infantry were weighed down by an extraordinarily heavy pack, which they carried on nearly all duties—mounting guard, marching, even in garrison. They were trained in the same obsolete close formations as the Germans; but, with the traditional aptitude for loose fighting which dates from the days of Napoleon’s tirailleurs, they can adapt themselves much more rapidly to extended order.

The French officers, though not so well turned out as the Germans, were much more friendly and agreeable. There was a good deal of intercourse between them and the Britishers. Their manner of maintaining discipline was very different to our ideas on the subject. I have seen one of them box the ears of his drunken orderly who had assaulted the Indian servant of an English officer, and who, considering himself aggrieved at being reprimanded by his master, had staggered up to him to tell him so.

The training and organisation of the French Army has immensely improved since the disastrous campaign of 1870. A soldier serves first in the Active Army, then in the Reserve of the Active Army, where he is called up for training somewhat on the lines of our Militia. He is then passed into the Territorial Army, where he is not allowed to forget what he has learned with the colours. Finally he is enrolled in the Reserve of the Territorial Army, and is still liable to be summoned to defend his country in emergency. A regiment has all its equipment and stores in its own keeping; so that, when suddenly ordered on active service, there is no rush to indent upon the Commissariat or Ordnance Departments. Its reservists join at regimental headquarters, where they find everything ready for them, and take their places as though they had never quitted the colours. In marching powers, at least, no troops in Europe surpass the French; and legs are almost as useful as arms in modern warfare, where wide flanking détours and extended movements will be the rule in future.

France’s long experience of colonies and wars beyond the sea rendered the organisation and fitting out of her expeditionary force an easier task than some other nations found it. The men were always cheerful; and the French soldier is particularly handy at bivouacking and fending for himself on service.

The Russian troops were composed of big, heavy, rather fleshy men. Unintelligent and slow, for the most part, they were determined fighters, but seemed devoid of the power of initiative or of thinking for themselves. I doubt if the Muscovite soldier is much more advanced than his Crimean predecessor. The men of the Siberian army may be best described as cheerful savages, obedient under an iron discipline, but not averse to excesses when not under the stern hand of authority, especially when their blood has been heated by fighting. The great power of the Russian soldier lies in his wonderful endurance under privations that few other European troops could support. I should be sorry to offer Englishmen the meagre fare on which he manages to exist. His commissariat rations were anything but lavish in China, and had to be supplemented by the men themselves by foraging. Yet those whom I saw in North China and Manchuria looked well fed and almost fat.

Their respect for, and faith in, their officers is admirable. Their religion is a living force to their simple natures. Once, in Newchwang, in Manchuria, I passed a small Russian church in which a number of their troops were attending a Mass of the gorgeous Greek ritual. Their rifles were piled outside under the charge of a sentry. Helmet in hand he was devoutly following the service through the open window, crossing himself repeatedly and joining in the prayers of the congregation inside. I am afraid that such a sight would be very rarely seen at a church parade in our army.

Of the courage of the Russians there can be no doubt. Their behaviour during the stern fighting around Tientsin was admirable. The European settlements owed their preservation largely to the timely reinforcements which arrived from Port Arthur at a time of deadly peril. When Admiral Seymour started on his desperate attempt to relieve the Legations, he left behind at Tientsin a small number of British sailors and marines under Captain Bayly, H.M.S. Aurora, with orders to hold the town, so that his column, if defeated, might have some place to fall back on. When, after his departure, the Concessions were suddenly assailed, the commanding officers of the other Allies were of opinion that the defence of the settlements was hopeless, and advocated a retirement on Taku. Captain Bayly pointed out the peril to which the Relieving Column would be exposed if repulsed and forced to fall back only to find Tientsin in the hands of the Chinese. His remonstrances had no effect. Then the dauntless sailor, with true British grit, declared that the others might go if they wished. He had been ordered to remain in Tientsin, and remain he would. He would not desert his admiral even if left alone to hold the town with his handful of Britishers. I have it on his own authority that the Russian commander was the first to applaud his resolution and declare that he and his men would stay with the English to the end. His action turned the scale, and all remained to defend Tientsin and save Seymour’s gallant but unfortunate column.

Though the Russian officers exceed even the Germans in the severity with which they treat their men, there is, nevertheless, more of a spirit of comradeship existing between the higher and lower ranks. This is truer, perhaps, of the European army than the Siberian, which was more employed in the China campaign, and is inferior to the former, especially the splendid Guards corps. The officers were fine men physically, but seemed in military training rather behind those of the other Allies.

Profiting by the experience gained in their previous campaign against China, the Japanese Army arrived well equipped in 1900. As long as road or river was available, their transport system of carts and boats was excellent; but when it came to flying columns moving across country the Indian mule train was superior. Beginning the war in white uniform, the disadvantages of such a conspicuous dress were soon evident, and khaki was substituted. The men were well clothed, and carried a horsehide knapsack containing the usual necessaries and an extra pair of boots.

The cavalry, consisting as it does of small men on undersized animals, would be of little use in shock tactics. It would be far more useful converted into mounted infantry, for their infantry earned nothing but praise. Small, sturdy, easily fed, and capable of enduring an extraordinary amount of hardship, they were ideal foot soldiers. Recruited among an agricultural population, inhabitants of a mountainous country, they were inured to toil and fatigue. Under a load that few white men could carry they tramped long distances, arriving at the end of the march apparently not in the least exhausted. Their racial respect for superiors has bred a perfect spirit of unquestioning discipline. Their high patriotism and almost fanatical courage endow them with an absolute contempt of death, and their heroic bravery extorted the admiration even of such unfriendly critics as the Russians. Trained in German methods, their army suffers from all the defects of the hide‐bound Teutonic system. In the attack on some fortified villages held by banditti, after Major Browning’s death in a preliminary skirmish, two Japanese companies advanced in line with the 4th Punjaub Infantry. Under a fierce fire from 4,000 brigands, armed with Mannlichers and ensconced behind walls, the Indian troops extended to ten or twelve paces. The Japanese came on in single rank, almost shoulder to shoulder. They lost four times as many as the Punjaubis, but never wavered for an instant, closing in mechanically as their comrades fell, and almost outstripping our sepoys in the final charge that carried the position. Though many of their officers have realised that the day of close formations is past, they have not sufficient confidence in the ability of their men to fight independently yet; while they know that no amount of slaughter will dismay them in an attack. Besides, in China they were anxious to blood them well and to show to their European critics the splendid fighting quality of their soldiers, and prove that they were worthy to combat with or against any troops in the world.

The organisation, equipment, and material of the Japanese Army leave little to be desired. Their engineers and artillery are well trained, and both rendered good service to the Allies in 1900. Their Intelligence Department had been brought to a high standard of efficiency; and its perfection astonishes those who are permitted to gain a glimpse of its working. The whole East is sown with its spies. When the Legations were threatened, Japanese who had been working at inferior trades in Pekin came in and revealed themselves as military officers who for months or years had been acquainting themselves with the plans, the methods, and the strength of China.

The discipline of Japanese soldiers in small things as well as great is admirable. I have often watched crowded troop‐trains arriving at the Shimbashi railway terminus in Tokio. The men sat quietly in their places until the order to leave the carriages was given. Then, without noise or confusion, they got out, fell in on the platforms, piled arms, fell out, and remained near their rifles without chattering; indeed, with hardly a word except in an undertone. Prompt and unquestioning obedience in everything is the motto of the Japanese soldier. Their courage at the storming of Tientsin city, on the march to the capital, and at the capture of Pekin won the admiration of all the Allies, and their behaviour and self‐restraint in the hour of victory were equalled only by their gallantry in action. No charges of cruelty to inoffensive peasants or women and children could be substantiated against them; and they treated the conquered Chinese with great kindness. They employed their prisoners to work for them and paid them liberally for their labour. Their conduct in garrison was admirable. Well armed and equipped, well officered and led, the Japanese Army is now a powerful fighting machine, and would prove a formidable enemy or a useful ally in the field.

Throughout the campaign a remarkable spirit of comradeship existed between the Japanese and the Indian troops. The Gurkhas were their especial friends. So like in appearance that it points to a common ancestry in the past, they hailed each other as relatives, and seemed quite puzzled to find no resemblance in the languages. This did not seem to slacken their friendship; and it was amusing to see a mingled group of the two races chatting together in an animated manner, neither understanding a word of the other’s tongue.