THE FALL OF PORT ARTHUR.
At about the date of the miscarriage of Commander Oto Owari's plans in
the North Sea, the regiment in which his old friend Oshima[5] commanded
a company was detached from Oyama's army of invasion and added to the
forces under General Nogi, besieging Port Arthur.
It will be remembered that Port Arthur was completely isolated on land
when the Second Japanese Army, under General Oku, captured Nanshan Hill,
in the latter part of May, 1904. On August 9th the Russians were driven
into their permanent works, the real siege beginning three days later,
when shells fell in the streets of the city for the first time.
The task before the small brown men of Nippon seemed an impossible one.
There were seventeen permanent forts to be taken, forty-two
semi-permanent improvised fortifications, two miles of fortified
Chinese wall, and a triple line of trenches over eight miles long. The
forts were so arranged that each was commanded by several others; and
the whole were manned and defended by some of the bravest soldiers the
world has ever seen.
"You are expected to do the impossible things," was the first order from
the Mikado to his troops in the field. The expectation was fulfilled;
the imperial edict was obeyed. Ten thousand men, in the face of a deadly
fire of shot and shell, trampled the word "impossible" under foot,
buried it beneath their torn and mangled bodies; and over them the
soldiers of Japan marched to victory.
Baron Nogi did not assume command in person until the siege had fairly
begun. He had two sons, Hoten and Shoten. Shoten fell on Nanshan Hill,
and his body arrived in Tokio on the day when his father was to sail for
Manchuria. "Delay the funeral," said the General to his wife, "until
Hoten and I are brought home to lie with Shoten." Hoten gave up his life
on the deadly ramparts of "203-Metre"; Nogi still lives--a man "with
face parchment-crinkled, brown like chocolate, with beard grey shaded
back to brown, eyes small and wide apart, perfect teeth, tiny, regular
nose and a beautiful dome of a head." So he is described by one who has
often stood in his presence. Twice conqueror of Port Arthur, he is a
mighty force in the Japanese army.
Within the city the Russian soldiers, and what was left of the civilian
population, kept up a brave front. The long hours were passed by the
ladies in making garments for the invalids. The hospitals, under the
care of the Red Cross, were beautifully kept, the laundry work being
done by poor women and the soldiers' wives, in place of the regular
"wash men," who had left months before. Every day in the week a military
band played in one or another of the hospitals; one day in the New
Russian town and one in the New Town. Mrs. Stoessel, the kind-hearted
wife of the commander-in-chief, visited the sick men, bringing such
dainties as the lessening fare of the fortress could furnish, and
speaking encouraging words. For every thousand invalids were thirty
trained nurses, in addition to volunteer helpers. Every day came a sad
procession, bringing wounded men in litters from the outer works. Every
day the shells fell in the doomed city. The streets were full of great
gaps, where they struck and exploded. Before October the Old Town was a
wreck.
Every three days the men at the front were relieved, and as their
comrades took their places the troops came marching back, singing
cheerfully, although there were many vacant places in their ranks. When
they overtook a litter with a dying comrade the songs would cease, and
crossing himself each man walked with bared head until he had passed the
brave fellow; then he donned his cap again and continued his song. Not a
man of them would admit that the Japanese could ever take Port Arthur.
Help would come from Kouropatkin or from the sea. So the days wore on,
the leaves fell, chill winter winds began to sweep over the gulf,
October gave place to November, and still the longed-for relief was
withheld; still the terrible artillery of the foe roared from the
surrounding heights and from the mighty battle-ships; and day by day the
thunder was louder, the hospitals filled, and the heart of the gallant
general grew heavy.
After the futile assault in August the Japanese settled down to the slow
process of mining and sapping. No one realised more fully than General
Nogi the tremendous task that was before him. Batteries and forts not
only commanded one another with their guns, but were connected by meshes
of barbed wire which must be cut in the face of a devastating fire
before the assailants could advance. In places these wires were charged
with electricity. When the cutters attempted to ply their nippers they
fell in their tracks, electrocuted. The outer slopes of the fortresses
were formed of slippery concrete, or of loose sand in which the
Japanese floundered and slid backward, while the Russian marksmen
picked them off with their rifles.
Buried in these formidable slopes were mines and torpedoes, some to be
exploded by the touch of an electric button, some by mere contact. These
hurled hundreds of the assailing troops into the air, torn and mangled.
Deep moats surrounded the earthworks, and were so constructed that they
could be raked by machine-guns. In at least one instance the moat was
filled with combustibles which were fired as soon as hundreds of
Japanese had leaped down into it. They were burned alive.
But every stratagem, every defence, every death-dealing manoeuvre of the
besieged was met and overcome by the relentless besiegers. To approach
the fortifications across the zone of fire they dug zig-zag trenches at
night, through which the troops, after great sacrifice of life, could
get within striking distance and carry this or that battery by sudden
assault. They tunnelled like moles, under the moats and through the
earthworks. It might take two days or two months to advance a hundred
feet, but the advance was effected.
When the soldiers of the two nations actually met, the scene was
terrible. As the opposing ranks drew near, the men tossed balls of
gun-cotton--an explosive to which powder is as a toy-cracker to a
twelve-inch turret gun--among the enemy. They screamed defiance. They
fought with swords, with bayonets, and finally, like wild beasts, with
claws and teeth. No savage tribes of Darkest Africa ever grappled in
more frightful conflict.
[Illustration: THE OSAKA BABIES.]
The Japanese set their hearts upon taking Port Arthur on the birthday of
their Emperor, October 29th, and the fiercest assault of the siege took
place that day. On the evening before, Captain Oshima rested with his
company in a trench which paralleled the defences of one of the
strongest of the Russian forts. Until late at night his men were busy
cleaning themselves as best they could, and changing their linen. They
were preparing for death. The Japanese must die spotless in body as well
as soul, to inherit eternal happiness. Oshima sat under a "bomb-proof"
prepared by placing timbers across the trench and covering them with
earth. He talked calmly with his line officers, and explained the plan
of the coming attack, as he had received it from headquarters.
At intervals came the sound of the heavy siege mortars, two miles away,
firing over their heads into Port Arthur. These huge eleven-inch guns
were affectionately dubbed "Osaka Babies," because they were built at
the Osaka arsenal in Japan. There were eighteen of them distributed
about Port Arthur. Each gun was emplaced on a concrete foundation eight
feet deep, which required three weeks to build. The shells used weighed
a quarter of a ton and each discharge cost Japan $400. The expense of a
six-hour bombardment was something over three hundred thousand dollars.
"The 'babies' are crying," observed Oshima drily, as he paused a moment
in his instructions. "To-morrow night--who of us will hear them?"
"To-morrow night," exclaimed a young lieutenant with enthusiasm, "they
will cry no more, unless it be for joy. The fortress will be ours!"
Oshima glanced at his junior officer from beneath his dark eyebrows, but
said nothing.
The night passed, and the morning of the Mikado's birthday dawned upon
the beleaguered city, upon the fair hill-tops and the rippling sea, upon
the stern, bearded faces of the defenders and the eager brown hordes
crouching in the trenches outside the fort.
Slowly the hours dragged past, the siege-guns dropping their shells into
the sand-slopes and tearing open great craters. Then shrapnel was hurled
at the parapets, a hundred shots a minute. Not a fort replied. As
silently as the Continental troops at Bunker Hill, the Russians awaited
the approach of their foe.
At last the signal was given. The little brown men swarmed out of their
trenches and up the fatal slope. Then at last the answer came, in a
blinding flash and stunning roar from the embrasures. When the smoke
cleared away not a living man was left in sight, save a few whose wounds
were not immediately fatal, and who lay in the hot sun helplessly
awaiting death.
Another onrush of the diminutive assailants, another crashing discharge
of artillery and rifle fire. A few survived, this time, and sheltered
themselves in the gaps made by bursting shells. Again a host of
assailants springing upward over the bodies of the fallen. Among them
were the men commanded by Oshima. The young lieutenant, escaping the
first fire and forgetting all caution, sprang ahead of the line, waving
his sword and shouting "_Banzai!_" He reached the ramparts and for an
instant stood erect upon them, a brave young figure against the blue
sky. Then he toppled over into the fort and was never seen again by his
comrades. Once more those who had not fallen burrowed in the sand-holes
until the final charge was ordered.
An Osaka shell had made a breach in the ramparts through which the
Russian rifles barked viciously. Oshima's company sprang toward the
opening, only to find it guarded by a bristling hedge of bayonets over
which the rear ranks were firing as regularly as on parade.
"Forward!" ordered Oshima, pointing to the breach with his sword.
A clump of Japanese soldiers sprang in front of the entrance and
dropped in their tracks, pierced by half a hundred bullets. Their places
were instantly taken by another squad, who reached the line of bayonets.
There was a fierce hand to hand fight for a minute. The opening was so
narrow that only a few could occupy it at the same time. These few,
overpowered, pierced by the lunging bayonets of the Russians, staggered
backward and fell, heaping the pile of slain before the redoubt. There
was an instant's hesitation--then a dozen brown men _dropped their
muskets_ and ran in directly upon the bayonets, which flashed in the
sunshine as they were driven home. Before they could be withdrawn from
the bodies of their voluntary victims the remainder of the Japanese
company sprang in over the bodies of their comrades and the Russian
defenders met the same fate. Five minutes later the flag of the sunrise
floated from two corners of the fort, and the ambulance corps spread out
over the outer _glacis_, succouring the few wounded who survived the
awful carnage.
Who were the gallant twelve who, like Arnold von Winkelried, sheathed
the bayonets in their breasts to disarm the foe and so afford an
entrance for their comrades? Generations of schoolboys have told upon
the platform how the brave Switzer fell:
"'Make way for Liberty!' he cried!
Made way for Liberty,--and died";
but few, save the keeper of the military archives of Japan, know the
names of the twelve heroes of Fort Keekwan.
The end was not yet. No sooner was the fort occupied by the Japanese
than the fire of two others was concentrated upon it. The victors were
in turn forced to evacuate that deadly enclosure, and plying their
spades busily, entrenched themselves just below the parapets.
So assault after assault was delivered, and the slain lay in heaps
inside the fortifications and without, and still Port Arthur was not
taken; but slowly and relentlessly the besiegers moved forward, a few
feet, a single earthwork, a point here and a point there being occupied,
always nearer the heart of the citadel.
The last stage of the defence began with the capture of 203-Metre Hill,
on November 20th, by which the Japanese secured a position from which
they could search out with their shells every nook and corner of the
inner harbour, where the last hope of the defenders, the remnant of
their proud "Port Arthur Squadron," had lain in comparative safety since
the actions in the earlier part of the war. The patched-up hulk of the
_Retvizan_ was sunk at her moorings. Again and again the other vessels
in the harbour were struck. The great Keekwan Mountain fort was at last
taken and held, and on December 30th the Japanese stormed the key of
the inner defences, Ehrlung fort, and put its weakened garrison of five
hundred men to the sword. The hospitals of the city were crowded and
medicines lacking.
On the last day of the year General Stoessel ordered the remaining
battle-ships and cruisers to be blown up, and the torpedo-boat
destroyers, with a transport containing eight hundred wounded, to make a
dash for Chefoo; all of which was successfully carried out.
January 1, 1905, dawned peacefully. The besiegers prepared themselves
for a final rush, before the contemplated horrors of which the civilised
world stood aghast. But it was not to be.
Early in the forenoon a man bearing a white flag was seen mounting the
parapets and approaching the Japanese lines. He was courteously received
and conducted to headquarters. An hour later cheers rent the air,
through all the trenches around Port Arthur. The city had capitulated.
General Stoessel had surrendered, to save his remaining half-starved,
emaciated, faltering but gallant troops from sure destruction. What it
cost that brave heart to speak the word, no one can tell. In the person
of her general, Russia knelt before the despised islanders and sued for
peace. It was a terrible humiliation to him, to the army, and to the
haughty Empire whose boast had been: "Russia never withdraws."
So ended the greatest siege, characterised by the highest art of warfare
and the uttermost personal bravery of line, rank and file on both sides,
that the world has ever known.
FOOTNOTE:
[5] The Captain Oshima who figures in these pages must not be mistaken
for Lieutenant-General Oshima, whose gallant services during the siege
of Port Arthur have already been chronicled in the daily newspapers of
America.