PRISONERS OF WAR
It is not my intention in these pages to describe all the numerous
skirmishes and battles which took place between the time General
Kuroki’s army crossed the Yalu and when the tremendous assault was made
upon the Russian army concentrated around Liao-Yang.
At times the enemy contested the way bitterly, while at others they
fell back without making the least show of resistance. As a matter of
fact they were too weak to engage in a regular battle, and their one
idea in harassing the Japanese was to delay the forward movement of the
Mikado’s men, and thus give General Kuropatkin additional time in which
to strengthen his position at Liao-Yang.
“This war is getting to be nothing but a series of skirmishes,” said
Gilbert one day, as he and Ben tramped along side by side.
“We’ll get it hot and heavy before long, mark my words.”
“Oh, I believe that myself. I wonder how far we are from the main body
of the Russian army?”
“I heard somebody say that Liao-Yang wasn’t more than fifty miles away.”
“Then we are bound to strike something before long.”
The next day a small body of the Japanese were ordered to advance along
a side road, to see if any Russians were in that vicinity. With this
body went some of the soldiers under Gilbert and Ben, and the Americans
with them. The detachment was under the command of a Japanese major who
also belonged to General Kuroki’s staff. He was a fine fellow, and both
Gilbert and Ben were soon on good terms with him.
A few Russians were seen on the march, but these fled before they could
be captured or shot down.
“It is too bad we could not catch them,” said the Japanese major to
Gilbert. “They may cause us a great deal of trouble.”
“You mean they may report to some other Russians?”
“Yes.”
A little later another body of Russians were discovered up the side of
a hill, in a big cornfield. At once the detachment gave chase.
It was hot work, all the more so because the ground in the cornfield
was wet and slippery. In this running fight, which lasted half an hour,
two Russians were shot dead, and two Japanese privates were slightly
wounded. Then the Russians slipped out of sight around a patch of
timber and could not be located again.
“They are slippery customers,” said Ben, after a hunt through the
woods. “Where do you think they went to, Gilbert?”
“I give it up. Perhaps they ran hard and reached that next patch of
timber before we got to this spot.”
“Could they go that far?”
“Perhaps they could—if they were scared. When a man is badly frightened
he can run like a deer, you must remember.”
“Yes, that is true—I’ve done a little running myself at times.”
The Japanese major held a consultation with the young Americans, and it
was resolved that the best thing to do would be to get back to the main
body of the army without delay.
“To follow those Russians might get us into serious trouble,” said the
Japanese officer. “There may be more of their posts near by.”
The march was taken up a short while later and led out of the woods and
back to the high cornfield. They were just entering into the cornfield
when one of the soldiers in front set up a cry of warning.
“What is it, Gishuan?” questioned the Japanese officer.
“Russians, a regiment of them!” was the startling reply.
The report was correct, a whole regiment of Russian infantry was moving
swiftly and silently across the cornfield. With them was a small
detachment of Siberian cavalry, the Cossacks looking fierce and warlike.
“We cannot give battle to such a number!” murmured the Japanese major.
“Back, all of you, and hide!”
Gilbert and Ben saw the wisdom of this move, and turned to do as
bidden, and so did the majority of the Japanese soldiers. But one
soldier, with more enthusiasm than judgment, shouted a loud war cry and
discharged his gun.
Instantly there was a commotion among the Russians, and some of the
Cossacks came riding in the direction whence the report had come.
“The Japanese!” was the cry. “The dirty sons of Nippon! Charge upon
them! Do not let them escape!”
There was intense excitement, and orders were quickly given to surround
the Japanese if it could be done. Heedless of the brushwood the
Cossacks dashed into the forest to get behind the enemy, while the
Russian infantry charged from the front.
The Japanese and Gilbert and Ben met the shock as bravely as possible.
But with such an overwhelming force against them the battle could
terminate in but one way. When nearly half of the Japanese company had
been shot down the balance were called upon to surrender.
“You must give up!” roared a burly Russian officer. “If you do not, you
will be shot down like so many dogs!”
Some of the Japanese soldiers replied to this speech by a volley from
their guns, and as a consequence three more were killed. Seeing how
hopeless was the fight the Japanese major made a signal of surrender,
and Gilbert and Ben made similar signals. Then the soldiers threw down
their arms.
“Ha, ha! a glorious capture!” roared one of the Cossacks, as the
cavalrymen pressed closer on their horses.
“Of what use to take prisoners?” came from a half-drunken trooper. “Let
us finish them where they stand and move on.”
All of the Cossacks had been indulging freely in _vodka_, a liquor
much in use throughout Russia and Siberia, and they were consequently
reckless to the last degree. Rushing in, three seized one of the
Japanese privates who was unarmed, and slashed him around the neck with
their sabers until he fell lifeless.
It was a sickening sight and fairly made Gilbert’s hair and Ben’s stand
on end. Never had they seen such a cold-blooded proceeding before.
“Do they intend to murder us?” faltered Ben. “If so, we had better
fight to the finish!”
Another Japanese soldier was attacked, but he backed away and reached
for his gun. It was loaded and in a twinkling he raised it and shot one
of the Cossacks in the arm.
“Stop! In the name of the Holy Church I command ye to stop!” came in
the midst of the uproar, and from behind the Russian infantry came the
form of a priest, with long black gown, and with a crucifix in his hand.
At the sudden appearance of the priest the Cossacks paused and shrunk
back. The priest was an elderly man, with white hair, but his eyes were
clear and firm and his voice steady.
“Such slaughter as this is not war,” he went on, in a loud voice. “They
have surrendered, then make them prisoners.”
“Holy Father Rostosef, you are right,” came from the commander of the
Russian foot solders. “We will make them prisoners, and they shall
be treated as such.” He faced the Cossacks. “You have disgraced your
uniform. Retire to our left flank.”
The Cossacks fell back still further, and presently rode off, muttering
among themselves. They did not dare disobey their superior, and they
were afraid of the priest.
Some foot soldiers were then ordered up, and in less than quarter of
an hour all of the prisoners had been searched and their weapons taken
from them. They were then told to form in a column of twos, and were
thus marched off, with the Russian infantry formed all around them. The
wounded were left to take care of themselves, after having been given a
few rations and some water.
“Well, this is a turn of affairs I don’t like,” whispered Gilbert to
Ben, who was marching beside him.
“Looks as if we were booked for some Russian prison, doesn’t it?”
“That’s it, Ben,—or else some prisoners’ camp, which may be just as
bad.”
“Never mind, let us be thankful those drunken Cossacks didn’t have
their way and murder us all.”
“They are the toughest set of soldiers I have seen. They must be next
door to these Chinese brigands they call Chunchuses.”
“We’ve got that priest to thank for saving us. They are afraid of him
if they aren’t afraid of anybody else.”
“Yes, the church has a strong hold on all Russian subjects.”
At this point the Americans were ordered to keep silent, and as there
was nothing to do but to obey, not another word was spoken for two
hours.
At noon the regiment with its prisoners stopped at a Chinese village
for a brief rest. During this time a Russian officer came to Gilbert
and Ben and interviewed them.
“You are Americans, I am sure,” said the officer.
“We are,” answered Gilbert promptly. He saw no reason for evading the
question.
“What prompted you to join the Japanese army?”
“The love of fighting, as much as anything.”
At this the officer smiled grimly. “Have you been to war before?”
“Yes—in Cuba, in Luzon, and I was in the army that marched against
Pekin, in 1900.”
“Ha, you surprise me! Then we have caught a real pair of fighters, eh?
What service did you see during the march on Pekin?”
As well as his limited command of the Russian language would permit,
Gilbert told of his battles on Chinese soil, to which the officer
listened with keen interest. He was the hero of many a fight himself
and not very old either.
“I was in China—in some of the very fights you mention,” he said, when
the young American had finished. “I remember the American command you
speak of. Our troops met it while on the march to Tien-Tsin.”
“You did!” cried Gilbert. “Then perhaps we fought almost side by side!”
“It is possible—and we had some Japanese fighting with us too.” The
Russian officer drew a long breath. “Times have changed, have they not?”
“Yes—especially for us,” and Gilbert gave a short laugh.
“I am sorry—in a way. If I could do anything for you, I would. But I
cannot,” returned the Russian officer, and walked away.