Selection of camps--Corn-fields--Maps--The way to Pekin--A
picturesque temple--The red and the black-faced God of
War--A pale-faced god--Stifling heat--Japanese and the
water-melons--British--Indian--The Russian soldier--Kitchen on
wheels--Prayers.
In my moments of leisure, if one may call them so, and when there was
no fighting going on, I took special delight in going to visit the
various camps of the Allies, or in riding backwards and forwards to see
how the different troops were marching.
I was particularly impressed by seeing how clever and sensible the
British, the Russians and the Japanese were in selecting their
resting-grounds, and how shockingly unhappy was the American General in
the selection of a suitable camp for his men. In a suffocating climate
like the one in which we were, the main point in selecting a camp was
to get as much air as possible, besides, of course, water. The more
open the better, a hill being preferable to a hollow.
Whether by carelessness or otherwise, the poor American fellows,
who suffered terribly on the road to begin with, were invariably
made to settle down at night in fields of thick Indian corn, which
varied in height from four to six feet. Now, if there is one place
where no sensible person would ever settle for a night’s sleep, it
is a corn-field, for, besides the want of air, there are myriads of
mosquitoes, midges, and every other possible kind of plague such as one
generally tries to avoid.
[Illustration: From Tientsin to Tungchow]
From the time the Americans left Tientsin till they were in Pekin,
they were invariably given a camp of this kind, their General seeming
to have a great liking for Indian corn. On one or two occasions, when
there was unused, excellent camping ground only a few yards away, they
were made to settle in these places, and no end of discontent naturally
arose among the soldiers and officers.
The Americans, like the British, possessed inadequate maps, but somehow
or other the British seemed to have a knack of finding their way about
and taking care of themselves; whereas the Americans were constantly
losing their way, and, exhausted as they were, had often to march
several miles more than was necessary. When the soldiers did not lose
their way the mule teams did, and occasioned uncomfortable delays in
the feeding department.
All this could have been avoided with the greatest ease, and if I
mention it at all it is because of the great interest I take in the
American soldier. He is a splendid soldier, and there is no reason why
he should be made to suffer unnecessarily. The number that fell out
of the ranks on the march was appalling, and it was a common saying
that if you wanted to find your way--not the shortest--from Tientsin
to Pekin, all you had to do was to follow the trail of blankets,
water-bottles, haversacks, and other articles that the American boys
had thrown away on the march, as they had not sufficient strength to
carry them.
[Sidenote: RED-FACED GOD OF WAR]
One day, when everything seemed pretty quiet, I stopped at a
picturesque temple, in which was the red-faced god of war--the Boxer
god--with his luxuriant black moustache and whiskers, and his chest in
shining gold cuirasse, his legs wide apart, and his right arm raised in
a threatening attitude. The god of war was garbed in his long coat of
green, yellow and red, with sleeves and front adorned by dragons; his
complexion, as befits his name, was of the reddest red, and he wore a
helmet of gold, red and blue, with two horn-like arrangements behind.
To his right stood the black-faced god of war, with a fierce expression
on his features, holding a spear in a menacing way in his hand, while
the other hand rested defiantly on his hip. He too had a gold cuirasse
and over it a short, tight-fitting flowered coat, while a dragon in all
its length descended from his waist to his feet. The black-faced god
had a gold sash, and gold and green leggings. His headgear consisted of
a three-pointed hat.
On the left of these highly-coloured deities stood a pale-faced god, in
a well-cut red jacket that fitted like a glove, and a handsome cloak,
white, green and red. Although his expression was not pleasing--for he
had a snarling nose, bovine eyes, and Mephistophelean eyebrows--he
seemed less fierce in his manner than his companions, and carried with
great caution a box in a yellow wrapper. His boots were gaudy--all
gold--but simple in design.
The red-faced god was evidently the most worshipped of the three, for,
besides occupying the central position, an altar was placed before him
with burners for joss-sticks. The remains of hundreds of these lay at
his feet.
Some soldiers came in, and took special delight in punching the heads
of these fearsome images; and while their beards were pulled off,
and they were being knocked to pieces, I went out to see the troops
marching past.
It was an unbearably hot day, and the dust was choking. The Japanese
went steadily and well, but looked very much worn and overladen. They
had come across some water-melon patches, and were all biting away at
huge slices of melon. Some men dropped off every now and then, but the
little fellows had such indomitable wills that when their physical
strength failed their pride made them keep up with the rest.
The Britishers were taking things in a calm fashion, sprawling along in
a pretty easy way; they were well fed and properly looked after, and
did not seem to suffer quite so much as some of the other troops. They
generally marched in the cool of the morning and evening, which saved
the men considerably, instead of doing like the Americans, who marched
in the hottest hours of the day.
The thin-legged Indian troops stood the march very well. There was,
however, some fever and dysentery among them, and even more among the
British white troops. With the Americans, those who had not something
of the kind were the exceptions.
[Sidenote: THE STURDIEST SOLDIERS]
The Russians were the only soldiers who stood the march in a
magnificent manner. I never saw one single man fall out of the ranks,
and although, of course, they felt the heat, they undoubtedly proved
themselves to be, physically, by far the sturdiest soldiers of the
Allies.
[Illustration: A RUSSIAN KITCHEN ON WHEELS]
Their kitchens on wheels were very interesting, and proved of the
greatest use. The Russian soldier was a born musician and singer. Music
was his best friend, and he used it on every possible occasion. He
sang when he marched, which made the road seem short and light to him;
he sang when he was sad, when he was happy, when he was cooking, when
he was praying. Indeed, one of the most impressive scenes one could
imagine was presented on visiting a Russian camp in the evening.
Everything was bustle and noise; soldiers moving here and there; others
lying flat, half asleep. At a bugle-signal, all stopped, and every man
present sprang to his feet and humbly removed his cap. Then a chorus
of musical voices rose from the deep-sounding chests of the sturdy
Cossacks in a fervent prayer to the Father Almighty, the Saviour, and
the Virgin Mary. With the last appealing sound waves of the “Amen”
fading away, down went the soldiers to the ground, and in a few
moments, barring the sentries, the camp was asleep.
[Illustration: RUSSIAN INFANTRY ON THE MARCH TO PEKIN]