THE BATTLE OF DUKOVESKOIE AND KRAEVESK
I Looked at my watch, and called the Japanese officer's attention to the
fact that the time was 1.45 A.M., and that Dukoveskoie was four miles
distant. Although he could speak perfect English, he held out his hand
and with a profound bow pretended not to understand the point of my
observation. It was in point of time simply impossible to arouse the
British, Czech, Cossack and Japanese detachments and march four miles in
the middle of the night in fifteen minutes; but I had lived long enough
in the East to know that the Oriental never sets a European impossible
tasks without a good reason from his own point of view. I dispatched
orderlies to each detachment with definite instructions to be ready to
move at once. The Japanese refused to move or even get out of their
tents. The Czechs were enjoying a much-needed rest, and refused to
budge, while Kalmakoff's Cossacks remained asleep beside their horses.
Ataman Kalmakoff was at Vladivostok, and his second in command was
dismissed on his return for refusing to obey my orders, as the Ataman
was most anxious that his men should be always in the fighting line
wherever it might be. Captain Clark, M.C., reported the 25th Middlesex
as ready to march, transport and all complete, twenty-five minutes
after receiving the order.
To make doubly sure there was no mistake, I called personally upon the
Japanese officer, who point-blank refused either to arouse or move his
men in accordance with his own Headquarters' order. I am bound to admit
that from that moment I had a suspicion that the order of General Oie
was so much Japanese camouflage, and that it was not intended that we
should take any part in the immediate operations. I also determined to
frustrate this attempt to exclude the Allies from participation, and
gave the order to my own men to move.
Our road for about two miles lay alongside the railway, after which the
soddened nature of the ground and the danger of losing direction in the
darkness forced me to take to the railway. About a mile and a half along
the track brought us to our armoured trains, where we were to pick up
our Machine-Gun Section, which was to act with us if necessary, or
remain as a reserve or rallying-point in case of need. Except for the
sentries, the train crews were asleep, and almost within rifle range of
our place of assembly. I halted my men and roused Captain Bath to
inquire if he had received instructions as to his part in the coming
battle. He informed me that he had received a telephone message from
General Oie (through Major Pichon) which he could not understand and had
asked for it to be repeated. He thereupon produced the message, which
was to the effect that a battle would commence at 3 A.M., but that the
British armoured trains and the British troops were not to be allowed
to take any part in the impending engagement. On the production of the
actual message I began to understand why the order of battle had been
given to me too late for me to be at the rendezvous with Colonel
Inagaki, and the refusal of the units of my command to march with me.
These instructions to Captain Bath from the Japanese Headquarters
explained the riddle. I gave Captain Bath instructions to move forward
in my support in case of need and to watch the proceedings generally, to
render aid to any Allied detachment which might be in difficulties, and
otherwise to obey General Oie's orders. This duty he performed with
complete satisfaction to the commanders of the French and Czech
detachments.
Having arranged my rear, the men of the 25th were ordered to move
forward in file on each side of the railway track to the point selected
for our rendezvous. The time was now 3.25 A.M., the dull light of
dawning day enabling us to distinguish moving objects four hundred yards
away. A scout came back to report the presence of cavalry on the left,
but in the early morning haze we could not make out whether it was
friendly or enemy. I moved my troops to the opposite side of the railway
embankment and prepared to receive their charge. I then dispatched my
liaison officer, Colonel Frank, forward to discover their strength and
character. He quickly returned with the information that the cavalry was
Japanese, moving into position on our extreme left. I re-formed my men
and advanced towards my position as ordered, ninety minutes behind
time. I halted and examined the ground, but saw nothing of Colonel
Inagaki or any of the detachments on the spot selected for our assembly.
Standing on the line, I saw the foremost enemy armoured train about four
hundred yards ahead, and their outpost giving the alarm. No shot had so
far been fired, but I gave the order to load. At this stage an incident
happened which put an end to the hitherto silent advance of the
attacking army. In the act of loading a rifle went off accidentally. The
soldier to whom it belonged was standing just behind me, and I ordered
Captain Browne to examine and report. In doing so the rifle again went
off; it saved the man from punishment, but it began the battle. There
was a puff of white smoke, and an instant later a 5-inch shell burst
over our heads. The men opened out into the corn and scrub, and I
dismounted while the advance continued. Taking my servant's rifle, I led
the way.
The enemy must have anticipated our rendezvous, for the place was
ploughed with shells from end to end. The first pitched just under the
centre of a peasant's cottage, and in a moment cottage and peasant were
no more. The heavy purple pall hung on the ground, and had we been on
the spot selected, this description would have been written by other
hands than mine. By the increasing light and the aid of my glasses I was
able to make out the entire scheme of the advance, which was a
continuous line from one mile on the left of the railway, extending to
about ten miles on our right. A space of about one hundred yards on each
side of the line was unoccupied--for the reason, as I afterwards
learnt, that it was considered too exposed and dangerous for the purpose
of an advance. Unable to find anyone to direct my movements, on my own
initiative I decided to fill this vacant space, so making the line
continuous, and move forward with the Japanese to the attack. Disposing
my men in the shelter of the scrub on either side of the railway, I
directed their movements from the centre of the track. There was an ugly
moment when a maxim situated in a cornfield began to fire point-blank at
a range of one hundred yards, but a Czech outpost entrenched quite near
made it so hot for the gunner that after firing about 150 rounds he
scooted, leaving a well-placed gun and 5,000 rounds, all belted, behind.
We now advanced over the Czech and French trenches, for these forces,
like our armoured trains, had been ordered to take no part in the
advance. It was while near these trenches that a grey-coated Magyar,
four hundred yards away, took deliberate standing aim at myself. It was
a most difficult shot, and I felt quite safe, but though the Magyar
missed me, he killed a Czech soldier five yards to the left, the bullet
entering the centre of his forehead just over the nose. About sixty
shots answered his, and he sank across the rails. When we reached him he
lay, with many others, quite dead. Captain Clark picked up his rifle and
bandolier, and used it with good effect upon the retreating enemy.
There is no doubt that if we had failed to get into position under the
cover of darkness we should have had the greatest difficulty in making
any headway along the railway except with very heavy casualties. As I
have stated previously, the end car of the enemy armoured train had a
6-inch gun, but it was mounted so high that the whole platform could be
swept with rifle-fire. The reason for the high mounting was to enable
two machine guns to be worked along the track from the bed of the car
under the heavy gun. If our advance had been observed the enemy would
easily have smashed it, but we got within 400 yards before they knew we
were there. By concentrating all our fire on the end of the car we swept
the platform clear, perforated the body underneath with a hail of
bullets so that nothing could live, and put every gun which could be
brought to bear along the track out of action. By this means the
apparently most dangerous point of our advancing line became the safest,
and we accomplished our purpose without a single casualty. Five enemy
armoured trains were on the line disputing every inch of the way, but
their shrapnel was either too high or exploded so far behind the front
line that, though it made havoc amongst the laggards, it had but little
effect upon those who kept well to the front. The battle was now joined
at all points and reaching the decisive moment.
In the centre by skilful manoeuvring, a Japanese 5-inch battery had
taken up a position actually in front of the general infantry advance.
Such daring deserved to succeed, and in this case it did so beyond all
expectations. The point selected was a thin group of trees, which gave a
view of the railway from the left, across the plain to Kraevesk, and
enabled the leading enemy trains to be shelled almost from the flank.
The infantry, while still going methodically forward, were receiving far
too much attention to feel comfortable, and Japanese soldiers were
putting tufts of grass and leaves in front of their caps to hide the red
band, which made an excellent target for riflemen and machine-gunners.
Occasionally one would rub a handful of mud around the tell-tale band;
experience soon taught the Japanese soldiers the dangers of a little
colour. It was just ding-dong open fighting, wonderfully spectacular in
character. Then a shell burst plunk under the line behind the two
foremost enemy trains, which made retreat for them impossible. Desperate
efforts were made to repair the line, but well-directed rifle and light
machine-gun fire made this impracticable. Another well-placed shell
dropped just under the gunners' quarters on the front train, and
instantly the car was enveloped in flames. In turn the fire spread to
the gun-carriage, which had become untenable from rifle-fire. This
proved a complete catastrophe for the enemy, who from positions on our
extreme left and centre had a full view of the slaughter around the
doomed trains. Their nerves were completely shattered, their fire became
spasmodic and erratic, and then among the trees on a hill to the left
appeared a white flag.
That flag was too late. The Japanese cavalry shot out in file as a
straight extension of our left. Having come parallel with the farthest
group of resistance, they right turned, and instantly swept up the slope
in a beautiful line and forward over all resistance, white flag and
all. They took no prisoners.
My men were only "B one-ers," and the pace was beginning to tell; still
they were leading, owing to the fact that our advance was along the
railway and the usual tracks at the side, while the Japanese had to
contend with the marshes and woods farther away. I therefore ordered a
rally, and advanced only with such troops as could be reasonably
expected to keep the line. This party numbered about sixty, and included
Captain Clark, the Padre (Captain Roberts), Lieutenant Buckley, my Czech
interpreter (Vladimir), Regimental Sergt.-Major Gordon, Sergeant Webb
(who, I am sorry to say, died a few days later at Spascoe), Colonel
Frank (my liaison officer), and rank and file. With this party we
advanced within fifty yards of part of the burning train, amid a shower
of debris from the exploding shells stored in its magazine. The second
train looked quite deserted, and therefore, beyond examining the
ammunition cart of a 5-inch gun left derelict on the road and counting
ten rounds of unfired ammunition, we passed without molestation up the
railway embankment on the way to Kraevesk.
We had passed the trains and left them about two hundred yards in our
rear when we were startled by rapid rifle-fire behind us. On looking
round, we were astonished to see spiteful jets of rifle-fire issuing
from both sides of the uninjured train directed against thick bunches of
Japanese troops who were passing along the track over which we had just
advanced. Even the Eastern temperament has limits to its serenity. For
a moment the Japs were completely off their guard, but they soon
recovered, and dropping flat in the grass, they opened a brisk
fusillade. The Magyars were protected by the plated sides of their
wagons, and were making sad havoc amongst the soldiers of the Rising
Sun. Taking in the situation at a glance, a Japanese officer gave the
order to charge. Every man instantly bounded forward, and, like a
disturbed nest of ants, they swarmed all over the train, stabbing,
clubbing and bayoneting every Bolshevik they could get at, tossing their
dead enemies out of the carriages off their bayonets with the same
motion as if they were shovelling coal. Then they posted a sentry on the
highest part of each train, and the gun in the road, and called them
their "trophies of war." My great regret was that no Bolshevik was left
alive to tell us the reason why they allowed about sixty English
officers and soldiers to pass unmolested at point-blank range of about
forty yards, and only began to fire when the Japanese soldiers came
under their rifles. Many explanations were given at the time, none of
which seemed to be quite satisfactory, so the mystery remains.
It was here that a polite request was made that the British detachment
should not keep so far ahead of the other troops, but I was anxious to
keep well ahead for an important reason. The Bolsheviks had ravaged and
tortured both young and old, rich and poor, male and female throughout
the country till their very name stank in the nostrils of the common
people. Their blood lust had been so great that when they had no
Russian peasant to torture they fell back on the poor unfortunate Czech
soldiers who had fallen into their hands as prisoners of war. Many
authentic cases of this kind are so revolting in character that it is
better to keep them in the dark rather than advertise how fiendishly
cruel men can be to one another. I knew that the Czechs had threatened
to retaliate. The incident of the white flag previously recorded may
have had something to do with the same sentiment, though I can scarcely
think it had. I decided, however, that the more humane rules of war
should apply so far as I was concerned, and I soon had a chance of
making a demonstration of my views before the whole army. A fugitive
Bolshevik soldier had escaped from the Japanese cavalry, and started to
make his way across our left front in an attempt to join the retreating
Bolshevik trains. Exhausted by the heavy going of the marsh, he had
dropped for cover and rest. The Japanese line was fast approaching the
spot where he had taken shelter, so he raised himself from the grass and
began to run. I levelled my servant's rifle, but misjudged the distance,
and he took no notice. I took aim at a point over his head, and he
dropped in the grass so suddenly that Colonel Frank thought I had killed
him. As we approached the spot his black hair showed up above the green,
and I took aim again, but did not fire. I informed Colonel Frank I
wanted the man, if he would surrender, to be an example of how a
prisoner of war should be treated. Colonel Frank shouted to the man to
surrender. The man shouted back that the Japanese killed all prisoners.
He was then informed that I was an English officer, and if he would
surrender I guaranteed his life unless he had committed some greater
crime than merely fighting as a Bolshevik soldier. He made no further
parley, but almost ran to me as for protection. I was standing on the
embankment, in full view for miles, and it was easy for the whole
incident to be seen. I took his rifle, with fixed bayonet, and bandolier
and fifty rounds from him. His papers showed him to be a demobilised
Russian soldier. I placed him under a guard of two men with orders to
see him safely to the rear. Time after time demands were made to his
guards to allow the murder of the prisoner. But those two British
bayonets made his life as safe as though he had been in Trafalgar
Square. I could tell by the atmosphere which the incident created that
our Allies thought this regular conduct wholly out of place on a
battlefield, but it fulfilled its purpose, and surrenders were accepted
during the further operations.
Our progress was now very rapid, and except for a few bursts of shrapnel
which continued to fly harmlessly over the front ranks and injure such
as were far behind, we approached our old station, Kraevesk, easily. As
to the method from the military point of view of approaching this place,
the less said about it the better. A single company of British troops
would have held up the whole show and inflicted losses on the attackers
out of all proportion to the object gained. The stuffing, however, was
completely knocked out of the Bolshevik army, and the advance took more
the form of beaters driving big game. Having previously reconnoitred the
whole ground, I again chose the railway for my party. The Japanese
swarmed up through the wooded slope on the right. I chose the railway
because I knew the shallow cutting had a slight curve which would give a
safe line of approach to the station, situated about three hundred yards
behind this low-lying hill. The Japs advanced through the wood in
masses, huge bunches of men without regular formation. On rounding the
curve, I saw an enemy armoured train about four hundred yards distant. A
Bolshevik officer walked leisurely out of our old headquarters and put
one foot on the step of the engine, looking straight at myself standing
on the line. I drew a bead on him with Lance-Corporal's Moorman's rifle.
I do not believe I hit him, but I was near enough to make him skip
quickly into the engine shelter. A flash from the leading gun, and a
2-inch shell passed so close to my head that I fell into the four-foot
way, and felt the top of my skull to find out if it was still there.
This shell exploded about one hundred yards behind me and mortally
wounded two Japanese and injured several others. The machine guns on the
train now swept the wood, where the Japs were advancing, with such
effect that for a few moments there was a regular stampede back over the
brow of the hill. My party had taken cover in the scrub on the left, and
I crawled on hands and knees in their direction. I found a deep dyke at
the foot of the cutting covered with high weeds, and into this I rolled.
Gradually raising my head over the thistles, I potted rapidly at the
gunner, and my party did the same.
The Japs by this time had recovered from their first shock, and began to
open fire on the train, which steamed slowly back to the far end of the
station, when it came to a standstill and pumped shrapnel along our
front. We had got far ahead of our artillery, so it became a contest of
rifle versus armoured train. On the left of the station was a thick log
store, and keeping that between ourselves and the armoured train, we
crept into the station and began to fire at close range at the gunners,
whose heads appeared above the sides of the armoured carriages. The
Japanese used a red brick cottage for a similar purpose on the other
side, while others tried to outflank the train and cut off its retreat.
The officer in charge detected this manoeuvre, and, using all his guns,
he retired behind the hill, and later was reported as steaming towards
Shmakovka. We took possession of the station, and near our old
headquarters found a hut in which was the Bolshevik officers' breakfast,
with potatoes cooked to a nicety on the fire. These were looted by
Colonel Frank and Sergeant-Major Gordon. The sun was very hot--the time
was about 8.30 A.M.--we had fought over very difficult country for
twelve miles, and as we sat on the crossing of the railway the potatoes
were very good. By some hopeless blunder the Japanese cavalry had been
ordered to close in from the flank on this station instead of the next,
so we lost the huge bag of prisoners which was waiting to be captured.
The Jap cavalry commander sat down and sampled my potatoes, but he lost
the culminating stroke of the whole movement. This small minor action
proved to be one of the most decisive of the war, as it destroyed the
whole Terrorist army east of the Urals.
I was ordered by General Otani to remain in reserve, and returned to my
base at Svagena to find the proverbial luck of my battalion had been
maintained. The Japs had over six hundred casualties, some of which
occurred close to my men, but not a man of the 25th was hit. We had many
cases of complete prostration, but, in view of the category of my unit,
not more than was to be expected considering the strenuous month's work
they had undergone. One and all behaved like Englishmen--the highest
eulogy that can be passed upon the conduct of men.
General Oie sent a letter of special thanks to the Commanding Officer of
the British unit for their great services in the engagement. At 4.25
P.M., August 28, I received the following communication from the General
Headquarters:
"1. On August 26 the Division had occupied the heights situated at the
north of Shmakovka. The inhabitants reported the enemy had left there
between nine and twelve on the night of August 24 by eleven trains,
strength of which was about 5,000 men; 2,000 men retired by road from
Uspenkie. The Division bivouacked at Shmakovka.
"2. On the 27th the enemy continued their retreat to the north of the
River Ussurie, and no enemy could be seen to the south of it, though
nine railway bridges out of ten between Shmakovka and Ussurie had been
destroyed. Damage done is some ten metres each, and a few days would be
required to repair them. The Ussurie railway bridge is not damaged, and
on the night of the 26th, after a small detachment had occupied it, one
company of infantry reinforced. Against the enemy on Lake Hanka, which
was known to have gone down the river with gunboats, one company of
infantry has been dispatched to the right bank of Ussurie east of
Shmakovka.
"3. The Division remains at the present position, and prepares to move
forward on the 28th."
This completed the Ussurie operations, for the battle was absolutely
decisive. The enemy were entirely demoralised, and never made another
stand east of Lake Baikal.