Some information concerning Tonquin--Haïphong--Phulang-Thuong--The 2nd
Battalion--The Yen-Thé Rebellion--General Godin's column--A surprise
at Cao-Thuong--Colonel Frey's column--Nha-Nam--The building of a
fort--Reconnaissance--Night attacks--Native troops.
France possesses an empire of no small importance in the East, the
total area of which, some 256,000 square miles, is more than three
times greater than her home territory. French Indo-China, which
includes Cochin-China, Cambodia, the Laos country, Annam and Tonquin,
consists, roughly speaking, of the basins of the two great rivers, the
Mekong and the Song-Koï (Red River), and is situated between 8 deg. 30
min. and 23 deg. 23 min. N. lat., and 97 deg. 40 min. and 108 deg. 30
min. E. long. The total population is about 24,000,000.
Tonquin forms the north-eastern extremity of French Indo-China. It is
bounded on the north by the Chinese provinces of Yunan and Kwang-si,
on the west by the Laos provinces, on the south by Annam and the Gulf
of Tonquin, and on the east by the Chinese province of Kwang-tung. Its
total area is about 35,000 square miles, and it contains a population
of over 12,000,000.
Near the sea the country consists of a rich alluvial plain intersected
by numerous waterways, the principal one being the Red River, which
rises in Yunan, and empties itself into the Gulf of Tonquin. From about
100 miles inland the ground rises gradually, and the whole country
breaks up into a confusing jumble of hills and rocky pinnacles, which
as one proceeds further north and east become mountain ranges, some of
the peaks on the Tonquin-Yunan frontier attaining a height of about
9,700 feet. Along the Kwang-si frontier there are also altitudes of
some importance. Attached to the great mountain chains of north and
middle Tonquin, there are numerous series of lesser heights, which
diminish as they come towards the south. The hills are covered with a
dense grass higher than a man's shoulders; the mountains with thick,
impenetrable forests. The rich alluvial plain or Delta, which extends
from the sea, is densely populated, and produces yearly two very
important rice crops.
The country was originally inhabited by a race known as the Kmers, who,
if one can judge by the rare specimens of their architecture which
exist along the coast of Annam, attained a comparatively high standard
of civilisation.
At an epoch which it is impossible to designate with any exactitude,
but which can be placed with some probability about 2,500 B.C., the
Kmers were overwhelmed by an Annamese invasion, and almost exterminated.
The survivors fled northwards towards the mountains and high tablelands
difficult of access, leaving the rich Delta plains in the hands of
their conquerors. The numerous mountain tribes of to-day, known as the
Muongs, Mans and Thos, which are to be found in the highlands of Annam
and Tonquin, are most probably the descendants of the former owners of
the country.
As a race they are superior both in physique and courage to the
Annamese, although they do not possess the cunning and craftiness of
this race.
It was probably owing to a want of cohesion and organisation, or
to the fact that the invaders possessed better weapons and superior
methods of warfare, that they were driven from their homes. In speech,
appearance, dress and customs, these aborigines bear a striking
resemblance to the mountain tribes who inhabit the interior of the
islands of Hainan and Formosa, and it is probable that they belong to a
once-powerful race which existed at a distant period along the littoral
of Eastern Asia. Their skin is of a very light yellow tint; some of the
women are almost white.
Their features are small and regular, and they do not possess the
narrow eyes, flat noses, prominent cheek bones and enormous mouths
of the Annamese. They are also taller, stronger, and present a much
healthier appearance.
Their costume consists of a cotton blouse and short trousers reaching
just below the knee, the uniform colour being a deep blue.
[Illustration: TONQUINESE NATIVE TYPES.]
These people wear their hair very long, and it is wound round the top
of the head and enclosed in a turban of similar colour and texture to
their costume. Like some of the natives of the Laos provinces and the
Yunan, the Muongs always wear a sort of puttie, made of blue cotton
cloth, which is wound round the leg from ankle to knee.
They are expert mountaineers and hunters, and will not hesitate in
attacking a tiger or panther with no better weapons than poisoned
arrows, or a matchlock gun.
The origin of the Annamese or Tonquinese--for they are one and the same
race--is very obscure, since they possess no reliable records going
back for more than eight centuries, which is considerably posterior to
the epoch at which their ancestors must have invaded Indo-China.
Some writers declare them to be of Mongolian origin, though this is
hardly probable, for, if one can judge by the territory the race
actually occupies, they probably came from the south-west. Others have
declared them to be a branch of the Malay family.
In physique they resemble the Siamese, and are not so sturdy as the
Malay. Their skin is of a deep copper colour. They are very small,
their average height being about 4 feet 10 inches. Their lower members
are strong and well formed, but the bust is long, thin and weak.
The everyday costume of the men consists of a kind of jacket and
trousers of cotton cloth reaching almost to the ankles, the colour of
which is generally a dark brown. The garments of the women are somewhat
similar, but over those already mentioned they wear a sort of long
stole which falls almost to the feet.
Both sexes wear their hair very long; it is rolled up in a strip of
silk or cotton cloth, and wound round the head like a turban.
Their features are far from pleasing--indeed, one might qualify them as
almost repulsive; flat noses with distended nostrils, high, receding
foreheads, prominent cheek bones, narrow eyes and an enormous mouth
being their principal traits.
Their character also presents few good points. That they are
intelligent and possess a wonderful power of assimilation there can
be no doubt, but these good traits are negatively qualified by the
enormous amount of vanity, laziness, cruelty and cunning with which
they are gifted.
Buddhism and ancestor-worship form the base of their religion, which
is as strongly impregnated with Chinese ideas as is their language
with words of the same origin, this being the natural result of their
conquest by that race in the year 116 B.C., from which epoch to the
arrival of the French the kingdom of Tonquin formed a fief of the
Celestial Empire.
The influence of France in Indo-China dates back to 1585 when a Jesuit
Father, Georges de la Mothe, established several missions, homes and
schools at different points in the Mekong Delta.
Owing to the activity of the French Fathers the influence of that
country increased enormously; and in November, 1787, thanks to Bishop
Pigneau de Béhaine, who was at that time the trusted friend and
counsellor of the Emperor Gia-Long at Hué, a treaty was signed at
Versailles by Louis XVI. and Cang-Dzue, son of the above-mentioned
sovereign. By this treaty the French king placed at the disposal of
his Eastern ally a naval squadron composed of twenty men-of-war,
five European regiments and two native ones; also a sum of 1,000,000
dollars, of which 500,000 were in specie, and the remainder in arms and
munitions of war. In return for these favours the Emperor of Annam made
territorial concessions in the Island of Poula Condor and at Tourane
to the French nation.
On his death in 1820 Gia-Long was succeeded by his son Tu-Duc, who
detested the Europeans. The French settlers were driven from their
concessions, and the missionaries persecuted and massacred.
Being at this epoch engrossed by the political situation in Europe, it
was not until the end of 1858 that the French Government was able to
undertake active measures for the protection of her interests.
In that year the port of Tourane was captured, and in February, 1859,
Saigon, the capital of Cochin-China, was also taken.
From the occupation of these two ports may be said to begin the era of
French conquest in Indo-China, of which the principal events are the
following:
1867. Capture of Finh-Larg, Sa-dec, Cho-doc and Hatien (Cochin-China).
1873. Capture of Hanoï (capital of Tonquin) by Francis Garnier.
1879. Cochin-China declared a French colony, with Saigon as the
capital.
1883. Insurrection of the Black Flags in Tonquin, which was secretly
encouraged by the Emperor Tu-Duc. Massacre of Francis Garnier and
Commandant Rivière near Hanoï. Death of Tu-Duc. Treaty signed at Hué
by the Regent Hiep-Hoa, acknowledging the French Protectorate over
Annam and Tonquin.
1884. Defeat of the Black Flags by Admiral Courbet at Nam-Dinh,
Bac-Ninh and Son-Tay. Rupture with China, who refused to renounce her
feudal rights.
1885. Signature of the treaty with China, by which that country
renounces all sovereignty over Tonquin. Rebellion at Hué suppressed
by the General de Courcy. Capture of the young Emperor Ham-Nghi, who
was exiled to Algeria, the French Government placing his half-brother
Than-Thai on the throne.
In 1886 M. Paul Bert was appointed first Governor of Indo-China.
The kingdom of Annam and the Tonquin Delta were placed under the
administration of Residents with a Civil staff.
From this it must not be imagined that the pacification of the country
was complete. The treaty of 1885, which secured the evacuation by
the Chinese army of the provinces of Lao-Kay, Ha-Giang, Cao-Bang and
Lang-son, had put a stop to any organised warfare; and the exile of
the young Emperor Ham-Nghi to Algeria in the same year had crushed
the open resistance of the court of Hué. However, thousands of Black
Flag soldiers and Hunan braves had remained in Tonquin, and these
occupied the mountainous regions in the north and east of that country,
from which they descended at intervals to prey on the rich villages
and towns in the plains, and to harass or capture the outlying French
garrisons.
In Hué also there were many mandarins, who, though they openly
professed friendship to France and acknowledged the sovereignty
of Than-Thai, were partisans of the exiled monarch, and secretly
subventioned and organised insurrections in the provinces of Than Hoa
(Annam), Son-Tay, Bac-Ninh, Thaï-Nguyen and the Yen-Thé (Tonquin).
These officials were also in communication with the Chinese bands,
three of whose principal leaders, Ba-Ky, Luong-Tam-Ky and Luu-Ky, were
former lieutenants of the old Black Flag General, Lieu-Vinh-Phuoc.
In 1891, when I arrived in Tonquin, the political situation of the
colony was little better than in 1885, so far as the question of
general pacification was concerned. The Delta provinces had accepted
the French rule, and the principal towns were growing in importance and
prosperity under a wise system of administration, but the neighbouring
provinces were rampant with brigandage and open revolt. Organised
resistance to the new order of things existed within a few miles of
Hanoï the capital, and Haïphong the seaport, of the colony.
Indeed, as late as in 1892 the suburbs of the first-mentioned were on
several occasions attacked, looted and partially burnt; and in 1891 the
Chinese bands who occupied the mountainous region known as the Bao-Day
would raid the villages on the left bank of the Cua-Cam, and out of
sheer bravado fire a volley or two over the river into Haïphong.
Military columns were sent out each winter, but with small results.
Before these forces the bands would retire to their rocky highland
fortresses, and to reach them the troops had to pass through many miles
of most difficult country, covered with dense forest and jungle, and
traversed by few paths, the whereabouts of which were kept secret by
the enemy.
Information was most difficult to obtain, the fear of the Chinese being
so great that even their victims refused to give the officers any aid
in the matter, knowing full well that reprisals would follow.
Frequently disasters would occur, and a reconnoitring party would
be cut up in a narrow defile, or a convoy ambuscaded and captured.
From 1887 to 1891 each successive General commanding the troops in
the colony had urged on the Government the necessity of undertaking
operations on a more extensive scale than heretofore; and had these
officers been allowed a free hand in the matter, there is little doubt
that this chronic state of insurrection and anarchy would have been
brought to a speedy end.
But the Ministry in Paris would not hear of such a thing. In France
the mere mention of the word "Tonquin" raised a babble of excited
recriminations. The public would have none of it.
In 1883, 1884 and 1885 nearly fifteen thousand of the flower of the
French army had perished of disease, or had been slain by a merciless
enemy.
The expedition had cost hundreds of millions of francs, and the large
army of soldiers it was still necessary to maintain in the colony was
of great expense each year to the metropolis. The majority of Frenchmen
who had never at any time possessed serious cravings for a Colonial
Empire, were tired of the whole business.
[Illustration: RIVER SCENE AT HAÏPHONG.]
Right up to 1890 it was seriously debated in the Chamber, on different
occasions, whether it would not be better to abandon this new colony.
Fortunately for France she retained her rich prize.
The Tonquin question had caused a hetacomb of Ministries.
Jules Ferry, France's greatest politician since Gambetta, owed his
downfall to Général de Négriers reverse at Ky-Lua, and the subsequent
retreat of the army from Lang-son. Notwithstanding his undoubted
talents he was never able to recover his former influence in State
affairs.
In 1885 the excited Parisian mob would have torn him to pieces had he
fallen into their hands.
"À bas Ferry!" "À bas le Tonkinois!" was their cry.
To-day every serious Frenchman acknowledges his respect for this great
statesman, who was undoubtedly the founder of the splendid Colonial
Empire his country possesses.
From 1887 to 1891, owing to the state of public opinion, it became
absolutely necessary for succeeding Ministers, who had any respect for
the stability of their portfolios, to adopt a special line of conduct
in regard to Tonquin, which might be defined as a policy of mild
procrastination.
Instructions were given to the Governors of the unhappy colony which
might be summed up as, "Don't ask for more men; don't ask for more
money. Do the best you can with what you have, and make no noise over
it."
In consequence, the Governors were obliged to repress the legitimate
aspirations of the military officers, and refused to sanction
operations on an extensive scale, which, though necessary, would most
probably attract public attention in France. The natural result of
this situation was that during the whole of this period the relations
between the civil and military powers in the colony were of the worst.
In the French Chamber the Ministry would announce from time to time
that the work of pacification was making rapid strides, that organised
resistance was at an end, and that the occasional depredations which
occurred--the importance of which, they stated, was magnified by the
sensational press of the metropolis--were the acts of a few stray
Chinese brigands (_Voleurs de Vaches_), whom the local militia and
gendarmes were quite able to bring to order. In the meanwhile, the
bands aforementioned, secure in the comparative inactivity of the
French, continued to plunder the villages and capture the native
authorities, who were liberated after payment of a ransom. In 1889 the
famous Luu-Ky succeeded in carrying off three French colonists, the two
brothers Rocque and Baptiste Costa. They were surprised whilst on a
shooting expedition a few miles from Haïphong. They remained prisoners
of the band for upwards of two months, and suffered every possible
indignity and great privations. They were finally liberated on the
payment of 80,000 dollars.
Encouraged by the success of their compatriots, the Chinese soldiers,
who garrisoned the blockhouses and forts along the Kwang-si and
Kwang-tung frontiers, would leave their uniforms behind them and pass
into the provinces of Lang-son and Cao-Bang, where they would raid the
rich valleys, burn the villages, drive away the cattle, slaughter the
male inhabitants, and carry back the women into captivity.
In the Yen-Thé the partisans of Ham-Nghi, who were secretly encouraged
by the mandarins in Hué, had raised the standard of revolt.
They occupied strong and well-fortified positions, possessed an
abundance of arms and ammunition, and were ably generalled by De-Nam,
a former military mandarin of the exiled Emperor, who received tribute
in money or rice from the majority of the rich villages in the Upper
Delta, the inhabitants of which undoubtedly sympathised with the
rebels, and aided them by every means in their power.
Such was the position of affairs in the Tonquin in April, 1891.
On the morning of the 22nd April our detachment was taken on board one
of the small but well-built river steamers which resemble in form the
boats running on the Mississippi.
These vessels are of very light draught, owing to the numerous shallows
which exist in the upper reaches of the Tonquin rivers. After dodging
around for more than an hour among the innumerable high stalactite
rocks, covered with dwarfed vegetation, which tend to make Along Bay
one of the most curious and picturesque spots in the world, our steamer
entered one of the numerous estuaries by which the Song-Thuong and
Song-Cau rivers empty themselves into the sea. The banks on either
side were of soft mud, covered as far as the eye could reach with
mangroves.
The water, which in the bay had been of a green tint, was now of a dark
red-brown, and presented a consistency of good pea-soup.
Far away to the north-east could be discerned the high spurs of the
mountain range increasing in altitude, and extending towards the
Kwang-si and Kwang-tung frontiers. But the sight of these was soon
lost, as from one estuary we passed into another, and the landscape
became one monotonous stretch of mangrove swamp over which the damp
atmosphere seemed to dance in the bright sunlight. At last, after
rounding a sudden curve, we caught our first glimpse of Haïphong,
which, owing probably to the continued and depressing vista we had just
been subjected to, had the appearance of quite a big town.
At the time of which I am writing this city had emerged from its
chrysalis state of a town built of mud upon mud, and a considerable
transformation was taking place.
Whatever may have been the errors made by France with regard to the
economical and political administration of her colonies in the past,
she was, and still is, undoubtedly our superior as a builder of towns;
and the case in point may well serve as a demonstration of the fact.
In 1884, Haïphong, a Sino-Tonquinese seaport, was an agglomeration of
miserable dwellings constructed for the most part of mud, bamboo and
matting, inhabited by natives, with here and there a few decent brick
buildings occupied by a small number of Europeans and Chinese merchants.
It was situated in a swamp, and certain quarters of the town were
invaded by the high tides several times each month. During the summer
the blazing tropical sun converted the place into a cesspool. It reeked
with disease, and cholera and malaria were ever rampant.
Seven years later, when I first saw the city, it presented the
appearance of a well-built European centre; possessed floating wharves,
well-laid-out streets, fine boulevards and good roads. An excellent
system of surface drainage was being laid down, and the thoroughfares
and many of the buildings were already lighted by electricity.
[Illustration: BOULEVARD PAUL PERT, HAÏPHONG.]
Since 1891 Haïphong has steadily increased in area and importance,
and is now an up-to-date, progressive city.
Our steamer only stayed here about an hour, the time required to draw a
day's rations for the detachment.
We now learnt that our destination was Phulang-Thuong, an important
town situated on the Song-Thuong, about 65 miles inland from Haïphong,
at which place the depot of the 2nd Battalion of our regiment was
stationed.
We were soon off again, and to our relief the aspect of the surrounding
country became a more hospitable one.
The flat expanse of slime, mud and mangroves had disappeared. Now the
river ran in between high artificial embankments; beyond these, on
either side, could be seen a well-cultivated plain whose only limit
was the horizon, and which was divided up by low banks of earth into
holdings of every shape and size. It had the appearance of an enormous
fantastic chess-board, on which none of the divisions were of the same
dimensions and few of them rectangular. All of them, however, were of
the same colour--green; not green of a uniform shade, for each field
seemed to possess a different _nuance_ of that colour, from the light,
nearly yellow, tint of the freshly-planted rice, to the dark, almost
brown, hue of the tobacco plant.
If the first impression one receives from the Delta landscape be a
pleasing one, this is due to the novelty of the scenery, and soon
wears off. Its place is taken by a sense of weariness, owing to the
ever-recurring sameness of the vista; and the eyes are fatigued by
the crude, garish brilliancy of the verdure, the uniform blue of an
almost cloudless sky, and the painful reflection of the bright tropical
sunshine on the water in the paddy fields.
The uniformity of the plains of the Delta provinces is broken by the
numerous hamlets surrounded by a ditch and an embankment, on the crest
of which is a dense, impenetrable thicket or hedge of live bamboo,
reaching up as high as 20 or 30 feet. In the interior of these villages
each hut possesses a garden or plantation which is a tangled mass of
luxuriant tropical vegetation, and through this from outside one can
catch but faint glimpses of the brown thatched roofs of the dwellings.
Plantains, guava, persimmon and custard-apple trees abound here.
Coming straight out of this wealth of foliage are clumps of tall,
stately areca palms, which, as they tower above the homesteads, seem to
gaze out into the plain like sentries, whose duties it might be to warn
the villagers of the approach of the _yak_ (pirates).
Close by the majority of these hamlets, situated generally on a slight
eminence, and in the shade of one or more ancient banyan trees, are
fine pagodas with quaintly-sloping, red-tiled roofs, and curved eaves,
the crests of these being ornamented with gruesome-looking dragons
and griffins. When the village is rich the temple is surrounded by
a whitewashed wall, the upper portion of which is a kind of open
trellis-work in brick, with a doorway flanked by tall, curiously-shaped
columns, each surmounted by a many-hued, hideous plaster genie.
It was easy to see that the population was very dense in this part of
the Delta. Hard at work in the fields were many natives, the majority
of whom were women. There were others winding their way along the
narrow paths which top the small banks separating each holding, or on
the rough roads upon the summit of the embankments which accompany the
sinuosities of the river.
These were in batches of from ten to thirty individuals, each carrying
upon his or her shoulder a light bamboo, 4 feet long. Suspended from
both extremities was a basket containing rice, vegetables, or some
other local product which they were conveying to the nearest market for
sale. These natives moved at a sort of jog-trot which gives a spring
to the bamboo pole they carry, thus relieving them in a measure of the
weight suspended at either end.
They can carry as much as 70 pounds during eight hours each day (that
is exclusive of occasional rests), and they go at an average pace of 3
miles an hour.
The Tonquinese of both sexes wear enormous hats made from the leaves of
the macaw palm. Those worn by the men are pointed at the top, and bear
a strong resemblance in shape to a big paper lamp-shade. The weaker sex
possess a headgear circular in form and flat on the top, around the
edge of which is an inverted brim which shields the face and neck of
the wearer from the horizontal rays of the sun. These hats have often
a diameter of as much as 30 inches.
Four hours after we left Haïphong the aspect of the country underwent a
decided change, and low hills were frequent. They increased in number
and height as we went on, and the river soon wound its way between the
first spurs of the Bao-Day range. This is a group of hills known as
the "Ninety-nine Summits," which vary considerably in height from an
altitude of 600 to 1,800 feet. All of them are covered with long grass,
affording an excellent pasture for the cattle belonging to the numerous
villages established in the valleys.
Although it was almost dusk the view from our little steamer was a
varied and pleasing one, as the river twisted and turned between these
almost cone-shaped elevations. Sometimes it seemed as if a big hill had
slipped right into the river and blocked the way; but the stream would
narrow and go right round its base, and, as we swept by, we could look
straight up the side of the slope. At such times we could not refrain
from thinking of what might happen if a few enterprising rebels took up
a position on the side of such a hill. They could have fired volleys
on to our crowded decks, and from such an angle that we could not have
replied with the machine gun fixed on the roof forward.
However, fortunately for us, nothing of the kind did happen.
We arrived at Phulang-Thuong at nine o'clock in the evening, and having
disembarked were quartered in an enormous pagoda which could easily
have accommodated another five hundred men.
Each soldier was provided with a straw mattress and a blanket, and it
was not long before silence and sleep reigned supreme. The picquet and
guard were supplied from the garrison, for we were as yet unarmed.
During the next day rifles, ammunition, and a khaki campaigning kit
were served out to us. At this time putties were not worn in the French
army; they have, however, been adopted since the 1900-01 campaign in
China.
Each man made his own cloth leggings or gaiters, which reached about
half-way up the calf of the leg, and were buttoned at the side.
I should here remark that the French infantryman, whilst in the
Colonies, wears a white sun-helmet, similar in shape to the one served
out to our own troops, and, like the latter, it has a removable cover
of khaki cloth.
The rifles we received were of the "-74 Gras Model." These, however,
were replaced by "-86 Lebel Model" in May of the following year. The
latter is a small calibre, smokeless powder, repeating weapon.
I was included in a batch of sixty men who were to reinforce the 1st
Company of the 2nd Battalion, quartered at Nha-Nam, about 21 miles to
the north of Phulang-Thuong.
There is a good road between these two points, which is constructed on
an embankment 4 feet above the level of the surrounding paddy fields.
It has probably been in existence for several centuries, and it is
certainly one of the old mandarin routes, which were made throughout
lower Tonquin by order of the Emperor Le-Vrang-Tong, who reigned during
the latter part of the sixteenth century.
On the morning of the 24th April our detachment crossed the Song-Thuong
river by the ferry, and stepped out briskly towards our new garrison.
We were under the orders of a sergeant-major, who, owing probably to
the instructions he had received, organised the little column in a
strictly regulation manner: with vanguard, rear-guard and flankers.
These precautions led to speculations among us as to whether we should
get through our first day of service in the colony without smelling
powder. The majority would certainly have hailed with delight any
chance of a scrimmage, but we were destined to be disappointed in that
respect--for the time being, at all events. We reached Cao-Thuong about
midday, at which place we partook of a meal cooked by ourselves. On
the 6th November, 1890, an important engagement had taken place here
between the rebels--who occupied a strongly-fortified position--and a
French column of about twelve hundred men. This combat, which may be
considered the first blow struck at the partisans of the exiled Emperor
Ham-Nghi, was the opening engagement in a lengthy struggle lasting
nearly three years, and which transformed large, well-cultivated,
densely-populated plains into desolate tracts of country, overgrown
with jungle, dotted here and there with the charred and blackened
ruins of once flourishing villages.
That part of Tonquin known as the Yen-Thé region is bordered on the
south and west by the Song-Cau river, on the east by the Song-Thuong,
and on the north by a chain of rocky heights running from Thaï-Nguyen
to Vanh-Linh, which is situated a little to the north of the new
railway from Phulang-Thuong to Lang-son. The southern part of it, which
is generally designated as the Lower Yen-Thé, is an immense plain
rising gradually to the north, and studded here and there with small
isolated groups of hills, none of which exceed 500 feet in height. It
is traversed by numerous streams all running into the Song-Thuong and
Song-Cau rivers, and to these the district owes its wonderful fertility.
The soil of this region is composed of a dull-red clay, containing
innumerable small round pebbles. It does not produce such fine rice as
the black alluvial mud plains of the Delta, but it is better adapted
than these for the growing of yams, tobacco, the mulberry tree and
castor-oil plant.
About 20 miles north of Phulang-Thuong this plain terminates, and
it is succeeded by a mass of hills which here and there enclose
small marshy plains. The country is overrun by dense forests, into
which a few paths, made by charcoal burners, offer the only means of
penetration.
It would need a master-pen to produce an adequate description of
the savage wildness of this region, which teems with game. Tigers,
panthers, bears, many kinds of deer, wild pigs and boars abound;
peacocks, silver-pheasants, partridges and snipe are very numerous.
For centuries past the Tonquinese have associated the Upper Yen-Thé
with the mysterious and the supernatural. Native folk-lore declares
that a former Emperor, thanks to a powerful magic he possessed,
succeeded in driving from the lowlands a race of cruel and wicked
genii. To escape complete destruction these fled into the forests,
where, so runs the legend, they still live and guard the rich mineral
treasures which are said to exist there.
The native of the Delta possesses a real dread of this part of the
country, for, not only is the Tonquinese the most superstitious of
humans, but the lowlander who comes into these regions is speedily
attacked by a virulent form of paludo-hæmaturic fever, which in most
cases terminates fatally.
It was owing principally to these reasons that the native troops, with
the exception of the few companies recruited from the Muong tribes,
were of small service during the operations which took place there.
In this maze of hills, covered by virgin forests, rank swamp and
deep jungle, De-Nam established his headquarters in 1887. He was no
commonplace individual, this Asiatic; indeed, when one considers
his subsequent career, it is impossible to repress a sentiment of
admiration for this man, who, during the four years he led the
rebellion, proved himself to be a capable administrator, a talented
military engineer, and a clever and a daring general.
He belonged to the _literati_, or educated class, and was born near
Dap-Cau, a town on the Song-Cau river, in 1836. Like his father, he
became a mandarin, and filled successively several important posts in
the Civil Administration of his country. On the establishment of the
French Protectorate he withdrew to Hué, the capital of Annam; but
on the exile of Ham-Nghi he returned to his birth-place, and began
secretly to organise the insurrection in the province of which he was a
native, aided, as it has already been stated, by covert encouragement
and subsidies from some of the high native officials at the Court.
His choice of the Yen-Thé as a centre of resistance to the French was
in itself no small proof of the acumen the man possessed. Apart from
the difficulties which the surface configuration of the region offered
to the movements of European troops, the natives were stronger and
more courageous than those of the Delta, and it was from them that
the greater part of the old army of Tu-Duc was recruited. After the
capture of the citadels of Son-Tay and Bac-Ninh by the French, these
troops, abandoned by their Black Flag allies, returned to their homes,
concealed their arms, and, with the suppleness innate in the Asiatic,
became for the time being peaceful cultivators of their native soil.
Their minds were, however, deeply imbued with the delights of
their past career--the satisfaction based on a sense of swaggering
superiority over their unarmed compatriots, and the consequent
facilities which had existed for plundering them. The long "siestas,"
slack discipline, and numerous pipes of opium were still causes for
keen regret, and they hated the monotony and hard work attached to the
pursuit of agriculture. It is, therefore, easy to imagine with what
eager joy these former warriors received the whispered appeal of secret
propaganda--an appeal combining the glamour of patriotism with the
promise of rapine, plunder, and the other joys so dear to the majority
of Orientals--and the mysterious manner in which the message was
communicated to them was in itself a fascination owing to their belief
in the supernatural.
In 1888 the majority of the population of the Yen-Thé were fervent
partisans of De-Nam, and but few villages had refused to throw in their
lot with the insurgents. All the hamlets that abstained from joining
the revolt were Catholic centres, for numerous missions of the Roman
Church had been established in this district for more than a century.
It was at this time that the leader of the insurrection decided on
building a fortified stronghold towards the north-east of Nha-Nam.
A strong fort, rectangular in shape, with flanking bastions at each
corner, was constructed. Within it were placed substantial native
buildings capable of accommodating from six to eight hundred men. The
position chosen was in a dense forest of which just the necessary area
to be covered by the defensive work was cleared. Two narrow paths
only led to it, and these approaches could be raked by cross-fires
from the walls and bastions. The surrounding vegetation was so thick
that it was impossible to make headway outside of the two tracks; and
owing to its density, and to the fact that the position was situated
in a slight hollow, there were no means of obtaining a glimpse of
the fortifications until the first palisade, which enclosed them at
a distance of about 25 feet, was reached. There were three of these
palisades, and in the grass-covered space between them were planted
numerous pointed bamboo stakes, the whole forming a most serious
agglomeration of auxiliary defences.
[Illustration: THE FORTIFIED POSITION AT HOU-THUÉ.]
The preceding details may apply to the numerous other defensive works
subsequently erected by the rebels, all being on the same plan, and
occupying similar sites.
From Hou-Thué--for this was the name given by the natives to the
citadel--De-Nam administered the whole of the province in the name of
the exiled Emperor. The villages paid taxes into his treasury, and
furnished rice and other requisites for his army, which at this time
consisted of about two thousand five hundred men, one thousand five
hundred of whom were armed with breech-loading rifles.
The unfortunate hamlets which refused their support were mercilessly
pillaged and burnt, and their inhabitants massacred as an example
to other recalcitrants. It must, however, be stated, in justice to
the rebel chief, that he protected those who were faithful to his
rule, for, on several occasions, in 1889-90, he defeated detachments
of native militia sent by the Resident in Bac-Ninh to collect taxes
from the peasants. During this period the attention of the French
authorities was so actively engrossed by the movements of the Chinese
bands in the provinces of Lang-son and Cao-Bang on the Song-Koï and
Black rivers, that action in the Yen-Thé was put off until the end of
1890.
As a natural result of this policy of tergiversation, the power and
prestige of De-Nam increased considerably; and so great was his
confidence in the ultimate success of the insurrection, that he
established a strongly-fortified position at Cao-Thuong, in which he
placed a garrison under the orders of De-Tam, the most trusted and
capable of his lieutenants.
This subordinate not only administered the surrounding country, and
levied toll in the name of his chief, but by night he often crossed
the Song-Thuong and raided the rich villages around Phulang-Thuong,
the inhabitants of which had been living in security and growing rich,
thanks to the close proximity of the French troops garrisoned in that
town. It was frequently the lot of the unhappy Resident to watch,
through the night, from his verandah, the burning houses of these
unfortunates.
Patrols would be sent out, but their departure was at once signalled,
and they would arrive on the scene only to find that the raiders had
decamped with their spoil; and sometimes these detachments, being at
a disadvantage in the gathering darkness, would be ambuscaded by the
rear-guard of the enemy, and suffer severe losses.
At last, something had to be done, and a column under General Godin
was sent against the rebel position at Cao-Thuong. It was with some
difficulty that the fort was located, owing to it being concealed in
the midst of a dense thicket. Part of the expedition was surprised,
and suffered losses. Eventually, thanks to the fire of half a battery
of mountain guns, the position was evacuated, and the enemy, after
breaking up into small groups, succeeded in escaping northwards. No
dead or wounded Tonquinese were found in the fort, but its solid
construction and the judicious selection of its site was cause for
great surprise to all the officers present. There can be no doubt
that in this, and also during the subsequent operations against Hou
Thué, the French considerably underrated the strength and military
capabilities of the enemy. It would not, however, be wise for us to
criticise too severely, since we have committed similar errors in most
of our own colonial expeditions.
A fine village close to the enemy's fort, was found to be abandoned,
and was burned. With this the operations terminated, which fact
demonstrates the ignorance of the French officials concerning the
extent of the rising, for they now concluded, somewhat hastily, that
the centre of resistance had been destroyed.
In reality the garrison of a small outpost only had been dislodged,
and the enemy returned to the position as soon as the troops had gone.
They did not, however, remain there long, for shortly afterwards the
authorities constructed a strong fortification on the crest of a hill
which overlooked all the surrounding country, and this was occupied by
a detachment of native militia, under the orders of a French officer.
Elated with the knowledge that they had slain several French and native
soldiers, the rebels most probably concluded that the victory had been
theirs. Certain it is that for long afterwards every minstrel in the
province sang of the prowess exhibited by De-Tam's troops on that day.
[Illustration: SECTIONAL SKETCH OF THE REBEL DEFENCES AT HOU-THUÉ.]
Before General Godin's column was broken up, the civil authorities
decided on one wise measure. To ensure the tranquillity of the region
after the taking of Cao-Thuong, a position was chosen at Nha-Nam,
about 8 miles further north, and a fort was built there. A company of
the Foreign Legion, one of native infantry with a mountain gun, and a
few artillerymen were left behind to construct the fort.
Encouraged, no doubt, by the non-discovery of their strong positions
in the north, and by the trifling loss they had sustained, the rebels
became more venturesome than ever. Placards declaring war on the
French Government, and threatening with death all natives who remained
loyal to the foreigners, were posted up in the roads, by-ways and
market-places of the province. Rich villages, situated but a mile or
so from the garrison towns of Dap-Cau, Bac-Ninh and Phulang-Thuong,
were pillaged, burnt, and many of the inhabitants slaughtered. Almost
each night would see the troops under arms, and the sky reddened with a
conflagration.
The civil authorities were supposed to supply intelligence to the
military, and they had secret service funds at their disposal to pay
for the work, but there was never any forthcoming. The enemy, however,
were better served, and not an ambuscade could be planned or a patrol
sent out but they were immediately informed of the fact. Towards the
end of November a perfect state of anarchy, a veritable reign of
terror, existed throughout the province; and, as a last resource, the
Yen-Thé was placed under martial law, and the administration of the
district entrusted to the Brigadier-General in command of the 2nd
Brigade at Bac-Ninh.
To such as are cognisant with the French methods of recruiting the
_personnel_ of that country's colonial civil service, there is little
cause for surprise at the maladministration of Tonquin at this period
of its history. To have a parent in the Ministry, a relation who was
a deputy, or an electioneering agent, or to possess a friend with
political influence--these were the surest means of obtaining a soft,
well-paid billet under the tropics. Few, if any, of the candidates
nominated knew anything about the country, its people, their customs
or language prior to their arrival in it; and even to-day, when some
apology for a competitive examination has become necessary--though this
is not always the case--not one in fifty of France's public servants
in Indo-China possesses a sound knowledge of the vernacular.
Very shortly after matters had been taken in hand by the military
authorities things began to take a turn for the better, thanks to
sterner measures and a better organised system of _espionnage_.
When information had been obtained disclosing the existence of a strong
main position at Hou-Thué, a reconnaissance was sent out from Nha-Nam
on the 9th December to locate the route. This action led to a vague
knowledge of the whereabouts of the enemy being obtained, and a small
column, under Major Fane, marched against the rebels on the 11th.
After a good deal of skirmishing and groping about in the dense forest,
the detachment, which had blundered blindly on the fortifications, was
very severely handled and forced to retreat.
A new expedition, a thousand strong, under the command of
Lieut.-Colonel Winckel-Meyer, attacked the rebels on the 22nd December.
An attempt was made to assault the stronghold.
Owing to the fact that the enemy's works were only visible at a
distance of a few yards, and also to the impracticability of clearing
a road for the guns through the trees and undergrowth, it was found
impossible to aid the attack by a preparatory action by the artillery.
For a similar reason the assaulting party were obliged to move in
Indian file along two narrow paths, exposed all the time to a severe
cross-fire. Under such conditions the impetus so necessary to success
was impossible, progress was slow, and casualties numerous.
The foliage was so dense that the few rays of the sun which pierced
through it produced an effect of dim twilight. Through this
semi-obscurity, which was intensified by the clouds of powder smoke
which clung to the damp vegetation, could be distinguished the
countless red flashes from the enemy's rifles. The continuous rattle of
the musketry, the crashing clatter of the branches and twigs severed
by the hail of lead, the insulting yells of the rebels, the monotonous
boom of their war-drum, the complaints of the wounded and dying,
produced a sensation of fearsome nightmare.
The European troops behaved splendidly. Those who escaped the zone
of fire on the paths tried their best to break through the first
bamboo fence, but were shot down almost as soon as they reached it. At
one point a hole was made in the enclosure, and two Legionaries got
through. They made a rush for the second palisade, but before they
could reach it one of them fell, and his thigh was pierced by a pointed
stake. Fortunately, his comrade succeeded in carrying him back the way
they had come, and escaped himself without a scratch.
Unable to stand the continued strain, a company of native
troops--_tirailleurs Tonkinois_--retreated in disorder. Some of them
actually threw away their arms, and, with turbans gone, their long hair
falling in confusion over their face and shoulders, fled shrieking and
panic-stricken.
Seeing that success was not possible under the circumstances, the
commander of the expedition wisely ordered a retreat. The engagement
had lasted barely an hour, and over a hundred of the rank and file had
been killed or wounded.
When the troops retired a good many of the slain, together with their
arms and ammunition, fell into the hands of the rebels.
The column withdrew to Nha-Nam, and reinforcements of men, guns and
mortars were sent from Bac-Ninh. Colonel Frey, who commanded the
brigade, arrived, and took over the direction of the operations, which
lasted from the 30th December to the 11th January, 1891.
Trenches were opened, but progress was very slow. Eventually, a
position was reached about 100 yards from the first palisade, from
which a glimpse of the interior of the fort could be obtained. A
battery composed of two mountain guns and as many small mortars was
established, and the shells thrown from them soon caused serious
loss to the enemy, and set fire to one of the thatched roofs of the
numerous buildings it contained. Most of these constructions were
built of bamboo and plaster, so that the conflagration spread rapidly;
and towards evening the interior of the citadel was a mass of flames.
The rebels displayed striking courage, for they clung to the walls,
and fired incessant volleys at the guns until late into the night.
Profiting by the darkness, they then evacuated the fort, after burying
their dead, and retired with their wounded to positions a few miles
further north.
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF THE FORT AT HOU-THUÉ.]
These positions were stronger than at Hou-Thué, and consisted of a big
entrenched village, the approaches being covered by several forts and
numerous rifle-pits, the importance of which was unknown to the French,
so well had the secret of their construction been guarded.
On the following morning an assaulting column found the position
at Hou-Thué empty, and the defences were partially destroyed by
dynamite.[1] After a few reconnoitring parties had been sent out, and
no trace of the enemy discovered, the civil authorities concluded that
the rebellion had been squashed, and the Governor gave orders for the
column to be broken up.
[Footnote 1: A most excellent and detailed account of the operations
against Hou-Thué is to be found in "Pirates et Rebelles au Tonkin," by
General Frey, published in 1892 by Messrs Hachette et Cie, Paris. The
maps of the region and sketches of the position are reproduced from
that work by the kind permission of the author and publishers.]
However, to ensure tranquillity, it was decided to maintain the
garrison, and strengthen the position at Nha-Nam, situate about 3
miles south-west of Hou-Thué, on a small elevation dominating to the
south, east, and west the plain which extends towards the Song-Cau
and Song-Thuong rivers, and northwards of which is the mass of
forest-covered hills already described.
The garrison consisted of a company of the Legion, one of native
infantry, and a mountain gun. The construction of the position went
on very slowly, for the military authorities were able to obtain but
few coolies, and the greater part of the labour had to be performed
by troops who were continually harassed by night attacks; for the
rebels, encouraged, no doubt, by the failure of the French to discover
their new stronghold, were soon as active as before. Fortunately, the
garrison experienced small loss, for the enemy contented themselves by
firing into the place at night from a distance of about 300 yards.
The strain on the men was very great, however, as three or four nights
a week they were under arms in expectation of an attempt to rush the
position. This was the state of affairs when our detachment arrived at
Nha-Nam on the evening of the 24th April.
Our arrival at the fort caused some little excitement, and numerous
were the questions asked us concerning friends in Algeria.
We were at once distributed over the company, and I found myself placed
in the second squad of the first section, which was lodged in a small
pagoda, situated about 10 yards inside the fort gate, and almost facing
it. This building was in very good condition, and faced the south. A
vacant bed was given me, the former occupant of which, having been
rather severely wounded in a skirmish about a fortnight previously,
was in the hospital at Phulang-Thuong. I say bed, but in reality it
was an apology for the comfortable cots used in Algeria. The trestles
were of wood, and placed upon these was a plank about 2 feet broad. A
regulation blanket folded in two served as a mattress. A good meal was
awaiting us, and, after partaking of it, I arranged my kit, and in a
quiet spot, with the help of a comrade, "washed down" with a bucketful
of water.
Our long tramp, and the heat, had made us comfortably tired, so we
turned in early and were soon sound asleep, notwithstanding the
restricted dimensions of our couches. Our slumbers were undisturbed,
and the night passed without incident.
On the morrow the men who had composed our relief detachment were
paraded for inspection by our company commander, Captain Plessier. He
addressed us with a few words of welcome, adding some sensible advice
concerning the great dangers which existed from sunstroke, fever, and
the abuse of alcoholic liquors, and the best way to avoid them. After
that he questioned us individually concerning our previous knowledge
of building and engineering. Before he interrogated a man, the
sergeant-major who stood near him reading from a list he held, would
inform our commander of the name and nationality of each in turn. To my
surprise he addressed me in very good English, saying:
"What was your profession before you enlisted?"
"I had not yet adopted one, sir," I answered.
"Hum! You evidently possess a good education, and we are in want of
intelligent work." Then, turning to the non-commissioned officer behind
him, he continued in French: "Sergeant-major! Make a note of it: this
man to be put on the brick-making gang in his spare time." As he
passed on to the next private he threw a quick glance at me, in which I
read a kindly sense of the humour of the situation.
To another who told him he was formerly an artist, he said:
"Excellent! excellent! the very man I want. My hut and the new kitchen
will be finished to-morrow, so you can set about whitewashing at once."
This officer was a man of medium height, about thirty-five years of
age. He was dark, and wore a small moustache. He was well-built, very
active, and seemed to be about at all hours of the day and night.
Though a strict disciplinarian he was extremely just, and never
inflicted a punishment unless it was merited. Owing to this, and also
to his cool courage under fire, his men were devoted to him, and would
have followed him anywhere.
The morning was given to us, so as to permit of our settling down in
our new quarters.
That afternoon I was initiated into the rudiments of brick-making.
The clay pit and yard were at the bottom of the western slope of
our position, on the top of which was the _réduit_ or citadel of our
little fort. Eight Legionaries were employed at modelling the bricks
and stacking them in the kiln (I was one of the gang), and ten native
_tirailleurs_ brought water from the well, chopped up the rice straw,
and brought in wood for the fire. A picquet of ten men and a corporal,
on the watch for snipers, protected us.
We stopped work at 5 P.M., and went up to the fort to take our evening
meal, after which I hurried round our positions to take things in,
and see all I could before the sun disappeared with that swiftness so
startling to the newcomer in the East. In this part of the world there
is no twilight.
Again we were favoured with a quiet night. At five o'clock the next
morning, just before the bugle sounded the _réveil_, a sergeant-major
came into our abode and gave us the orders for the day. My section,
and another from the native regiment, were to start on a morning
reconnaissance at six o'clock under the orders of our Captain; the
remainder of the garrison was to continue work at the fortifications
and buildings in construction. I soon learnt that this was the daily
routine, each unit taking alternate turns at reconnoitring or building.
A quarter before the hour indicated the section was lined up, outside
our pagoda, facing the south gate of the fort.
We were in our khaki kit of cotton drill, and carried our rifles, side
arms, 120 rounds of ammunition, water-bottles filled with very weak
coffee, and a sort of heavy-bladed half chopper, half knife, which was
in a wooden sheath suspended from the belt on the right side. This
tool, which is a cross between a Gurkha _kookerie_ and a Manila _bolo_,
is about 18 inches long, and has a blade which is broader and heavier
at the end than at the shaft. It is used to cut away the creepers,
bamboos, and undergrowth, although at a pinch it makes a formidable
weapon. A few minutes later the detachment of native troops who were
to take part in the expedition, came from their quarters and formed
up behind us. Their uniform, which was of similar texture and shade
to ours, consisted of a vest, short trousers, and putties of the same
pattern as those worn by the Muong tribes. The men were unshod, and
as a head-dress wore a round, flat hat made of bamboo, which is known
as a _sakalo_. This has a diameter of about 8 inches, is painted with
red lacquer, and has a small brass spike in the centre. In shape it
somewhat resembles an inverted soup-plate. This hat is placed on the
top of the chignon-turban worn by the Tonquinese, and secured to it by
red cotton streamers. On occasions like the present one, the head-dress
was covered by a khaki _coiffre_, which not only hid the sakalo, but
also fell over the neck of each soldier at the back, as a protection
from the sun. They were armed with the cavalry musket and bayonet. This
weapon was of the same model and calibre as the one we were then using,
but it was shorter and lighter. In addition to the native "non-coms" in
these regiments each section possessed two French sergeants. These, of
course, wore a uniform very much the same as ours.
As I stood in the ranks curiously watching through the trellis-like
palisade the red ball of the tropical sun as it rose swiftly above
the horizon and lit up the plain before me with colours so brilliant
that their glare seemed to burn the eyeball, I overheard the following
remarks made by two comrades in proximity to me:
"_Himmel!_ Sidi Mahomet (the sun) promises well to-day. We shall lose
some fat before we get back, Bauer."
"Fat! I've none to lose," was the reply. "I found the last of mine in
my boots yesterday, when we got back from Yen-Lé (a native village five
miles south). That load of bamboo did it. I shall sweat my flesh away
now. _Pauvre Légion!_ Have you got a _cibiche_ (cigarette)?"
"That load of bamboo!" said the first speaker, as he handed his chum
his pouch. "Do you think I carried back the _buthuong's_ (native
headman) feather mattress? _Schafskopf!_ An ironwood pagoda beam,
my boy. Eighty kilos, if it weighed a gramme! I heard the _Capitän_
(captain) say, 'This would make splendid doorposts, but it's too
heavy,' so I tried it. _Sacré nom!_ It was a blow. When we got here I
was nearly dead. _Kaput!_ Sweat? Why, when I went to the kitchen to
get a drink of tea, Schmidt stared at me, and asked if it had been
raining. _Dummer Kerl!_ The cartridges in my pouch were quite wet. I
believe the powder in them must be damp, too."
I joined in the laugh at this sally, and asked:
"Do you know which way we shall go this morning, Bauer?"
"No, I don't," he replied; "and neither does any one else. The 'old
man' (_le vieux_) arranges such matters with himself as he takes his
coffee in the morning. All I do know is that if we go south, east or
west we shall each bring back a load of bamboo. _Mein Gott!_ It does
take a lot to build this place. If we go north we shall have some fun,
and some one will probably get hurt."
"No such luck," said the corporal on my right; "there will be no
vacancies in the _cadre_ to-day."
As he spoke our Captain came walking down from the _réduit_, and a few
paces behind him one of the buglers leading his mount, a small white
native pony, not much bigger than a Shetland, but as beautifully formed
as an Arab. Our commander carried no arms; a pair of field glasses
slung over his shoulder, and a small malacca cane, constituted all his
impedimenta.
He glanced at the detachment, and then said to our lieutenant:
"Monsieur Meyer, the reconnaissance will proceed in the direction
of Yen-Lé." (I heard a suppressed groan from the men near me.) "The
Tirailleurs will supply the vanguard."
At the word of command one of the native infantrymen left the ranks
and went out of the gate at a jog-trot. Once outside, he brought
down his rifle from the shoulder, slipped in a cartridge, closed the
breech-bolt, and carried his arm at the slope. This man was what is
known as the "point" of the column.
When he had proceeded about 40 yards, the "cover-point," composed
of a corporal and four men, followed, and behind these, at an equal
distance, came the vanguard; which in this case consisted of half a
section under the orders of a sergeant. When another interval of 40
yards had been established, the remainder of the column proceeded, with
the exception of a small rear-guard of ten men and a corporal, who
followed about 100 yards behind us. As we went through the gate, Bauer
said to me: "We can be thankful the _demoiselles_--he meant the native
troops--are in front to-day; we shan't have to stretch our skittles
(legs)."
Once outside the fort we slung our rifles and marched at ease.
Our road was on a narrow embankment which wound snake-like over the
rice fields, and we could only proceed in Indian file.
The country here was very much like that of the Delta, which I have
already described. A well-cultivated plain, studded over with villages
hidden in clumps of verdure, and surrounded by tall, graceful bamboos,
which bent and creaked, and whose delicate foliage rustled under the
slightest breeze. The only difference was that here and there were
small hills, some covered with long grass, others with a dense and
luxuriant vegetation, the pleasant aspect of which broke the monotony
of the landscape.
Many of the villages were occupied, and from some of them, as our
little column passed by, the notabilities would come out and make
obeisance, and offer refreshments to our commander. They had accepted
the protection of the French authorities, and paid taxes into the
treasury at Phulang-Thuong; but the mere fact that their village was
not a mass of charred ruins was the best proof that they must also
have been paying toll to De-Nam, and most probably supplying him with
rice. Others of these hamlets openly gave proof of their hostility by
barring the gates before we arrived. An order would be given and a
few men would make a rush for the entrance, pull back the heavy beams
placed one above the other, the ends of which fitted in slots cut in
two massive posts, and break in the ironwood doors beyond.
No one was found in the place, all the inhabitants having escaped
through some exit at the back of the village, generally leading into a
dense jungle, where they hid with all the cattle they had time to drive
before them.
The defences of these hamlets are much stronger and more elaborate than
those of the Delta provinces. A double and sometimes triple embankment
and bamboo hedge surrounds them. Between the first two of these are
numerous deep ponds of stagnant water. Twisting, narrow lanes, just
large enough to allow of the passage of the tame buffalo, divide up the
interior, and make of each thick clay-walled house a veritable citadel.
Leading up to each of the two or three doors, which must be passed to
gain an entrance, are narrow passages through which only one man can
go at a time, and these can be raked from end to end by the fire from
well-placed loopholes.
I was greatly interested by what I saw that morning, and by the really
clever system of defence adopted for their houses by these Asiatics.
It is certain that had they offered us any serious resistance we would
have suffered severe loss. That they did not, I attribute to the fact
that they were fully cognisant that in such a case a gun could be
brought from Nha-Nam, against which their fortifications would have
stood but a poor chance. As Bauer had predicted, we ended up our
morning by bringing back from Yen-Lé a load of bamboo. This we cut from
the hedge of that village, which was not inhabited, for it had been
burnt about two months previously, because its occupants had fired upon
a passing detachment of troops. The task of carrying our load back to
Nha-Nam was no light one, and much bad language was used by the way. We
reached our position about midday.
Had it been possible to obtain sufficient coolies, the troops would
have been spared this labour. However, it did none of us any harm, for
we were well fed, and drew a daily ration of a pint of good wine and a
lot of rum, so that we could stand a little extra work.
Owing to the extreme heat, unless there was urgent need of their
services, the troops were kept under cover each day from 10 A.M. to 2
P.M. From then until near sunset work would be resumed on the buildings
and fortifications.
On the 5th May, at 1 A.M., I had my first experience of a night attack.
My squad had come off guard-duty on the evening of the 4th, and we had
turned in at nine, and were soon fast asleep. White duck pants and
a soft linen shirt constituted our usual sleeping costume; each man
placing the end of a sheet over his bare feet to protect them from
the mosquitoes. In the event of an alarm it was easy for the men to
slip on their boots, buckle on their belts, seize their arms and hurry
to their posts, of which each was already cognisant. A few seconds
sufficed for our little garrison to be prepared to repel any attack on
their position. A small light, screened from the outside, burnt in each
room, and this prevented the confusion which complete obscurity would
have created.
What it was exactly that awoke me it would be difficult to state.
Instinctively I had sprung off my cot and was groping about for my
boots, which were on the other side of it. After cursing myself for
my stupidity, I found and slipped them on. Satisfied at being shod
once more--a sense of weakness and inferiority dominates the white man
caught barefooted--I did not wait to lace them, but buckled on my belt,
took down my rifle from its peg, and hurried over to the opposite side
of our pagoda to take up my place at the window, between two other men.
But a few seconds had elapsed since my awakening, and now, as I stood
with my head and shoulders above the opening, the butt of my rifle
pressed under the arm-pit, the right hand gripping the stock with one
finger on the trigger, now only did I realise what had brought me
from my slumbers. Previously, my awakening intelligence had been able
to concentrate itself on one object only, that of arming myself, and
reaching my post as soon as possible.
There was no moon, but the night was clear, the stars ablaze. A few
yards in front of us I could see the dim outline of the palisade, and,
beyond it in the darkness, a grey streak of road which disappeared into
the night. Along a front of perhaps 400 yards the sombre background
was punctuated again and again, at a distance of about a quarter of a
mile, by lightning like red flashes. Rat! tat! tat! tat!... These were
Winchesters. Boom! boom!... Sniders or muzzle-loaders. Then Rat! tat!
tat! again in quick, continuous succession.
With a sharp whirr, or a long drone, the bullets fly overhead. A swish
and a crackle. Ah! that was lower, and has hit the palisade. Thud!
Thud! they come into our good wall. A corporal blows out the light;
wise man! A crack and a jingle of broken crockery--the tiles of our
pagoda are getting it now. Flop! a leaden messenger has come through a
window, and flattened itself against the opposite wall.
In our room all is silent. Each man stands with his finger on the
trigger; a corporal is behind each squad; we are waiting for orders.
In the trenches on the crest of the slope behind us, and in the brick
buildings scattered over our position, our comrades, like us, are
expectant, ready and confident. The enemy's fire increases, and we hear
it break out on the left. The flashes from their rifles come closer and
closer; some of them are now not more than 100 yards away.
A good many bullets are finding their way into our building. A tin
pannikin, with a hole drilled through it, falls with a clatter from the
shelf, and an earthenware jar which contained cold tea is smashed. We
can hear the soft trickle of the liquid over the tiled floor.
We take all the cover we can as we peep out into the darkness. No one
has been hurt, but it begins to be trying to the nerves.
A ball flicks the window-ledge, and fills our eyes and nostrils with
brick-dust. "_Schweine!_" exclaims my neighbour, rubbing his eyes.
"Silence!" says the corporal who stands just behind.
I have a growing desire to say something to somebody, and feel terribly
lonely. Next I swear mentally that after counting ten I will open fire
and stand all chances. I count ten; then--do nothing, and keep on
waiting--it seems for hours. The whole thing lasts about thirty minutes.
At last! We hear footsteps coming down the hill, and Lieutenant Meyer
appears walking at a quick pace, a bugler behind him. He comes into
our quarters, and looks around in the obscurity to see that all are
present. Just then some more of our tiles go to glory with a smash. He
laughs lightly, and says:
"_Ça chauffe, mes enfants_," and a titter runs through the room. Then,
turning to a "non-com": "Schmidt! go over to the guard-house" (a few
paces away to our left), "and tell the corporal that when the bugle
sounds, he will open a fire of six cartridges from the loopholes. You
can remain there and join in." Then to us: "Attention! for independent
firing! at _one_ hundred metres----"
Every man present braces himself and jubilates. The bugler, at a sign
from our officer, steps forward to the doorway and sounds the "Open
fire."
In a second we are all at it. Crash! bang! bang! The sentry at the gate
also joins in, and we can see the flash and hear the report of his
weapon as he fires from behind his shelter of sods.
All my nervous impatience is gone, and I no longer growl at fate
and speculate on my chances of being shot in the dark. I am hitting
back now, and feel joyful at it. Also I seem to possess two distinct
individualities, one watching the other; and the one knows that the
other will be pleased if I do not hurry, as I slip another cartridge
into the breech, and close the bolt with a snap. So I effect the
operation in the regulation manner, though I am craving to rush through
it with lightning speed, and would do so, were not my invisible double
watching me so attentively. My rifle is as light as a feather as I
bring it up to the shoulder. Then I peep along the barrel, and wait
a second for a flash from the enemy. It is too dark to see the top
sight, so when the flash comes, with a steady pull I loose off at it.
Now the bugle brays the "Cease fire," and the rattling din ceases
suddenly.
Within our room all is still again, except for an occasional cough, for
we are breathing powder smoke. The place is full of it, and it hangs
around like a fog.
The enemy's fire on our front is almost extinct. The little there is
comes from a long way off--500 or 600 yards, perhaps. An occasional
twinkle and a following pop! and then it ceases altogether.
On the right of our position they are still keeping it up, till we hear
the quick successive crashes of two volleys fired by our comrades from
the trenches, after which it dies away and is soon finished. So ends
the night alarm.
Awaiting orders we remained under arms until our captain came round,
accompanied by M. Joly, our surgeon, to enquire if there were any
casualties. On our lieutenant replying in the negative, we heard our
commanding officer laughingly inform him that the only patient for the
doctor was the sergeant-major's dog, which had been shot clean through
the body. Strange to say, this animal, a liver-coloured pointer,
recovered completely from its wound.
At about a quarter to two the "dismiss" was sounded, and we returned to
rest again.
For the next few weeks the work of building went on apace, and by the
end of May all the garrison was comfortably lodged and the defences
completed. The _tirailleurs_ laboured with us at this task; and it was
whilst watching them at work that I was struck by the diversity of uses
to which these natives are capable of adapting the bamboo. They used it
for almost everything. Roof-beams, doorposts, window-frames and rafters
were obtained from it for building purposes, and also beds, tables,
chairs, matting and blinds. The whole of our position was surrounded by
two barriers of bamboo, and in the space between them, about 20 feet,
thousands of small pointed stakes of the same wood, boiled in castor
oil to harden them, were planted in the ground. The native troops
were undoubtedly cunning workmen, and were of great assistance in the
construction of the fort.
They are, however, held in small respect by the Legionaries, whose
opinion of them as fighters is of the poorest.
The majority of these troops, recruited in the Delta provinces--the
population of which are good agriculturists, but possess no military
virtues--are of small value as a fighting unit.
The few companies formed of Thos and Muongs (mountain tribes of the
Tonquin) have, however, rendered great service to the army, and their
courage and _morale_ is of the best.
Unfortunately, only about one-fifth of the total strength of each
regiment is composed of these highlanders.
At the beginning of 1891 the colony possessed three regiments of
_tirailleurs Tonkinois_. Each of these corps was composed of four
battalions of one thousand men. In June, 1895, a fourth regiment of
three battalions was raised, and in 1902 a fifth of similar composition
was added to the strength of the army in Tonquin.
Each corps possesses a _cadre_ of French officers and "non-coms,"
composed as follows: a colonel and an adjutant-major for each regiment,
a major to each battalion, and a captain, two lieutenants and twelve
sergeants to each company.
There exists, however, a great defect in the organisation of these
native corps, of important significance to those acquainted with the
admirable system adopted for our Indian army, for not two per cent. of
the Frenchmen who compose the _cadres_ of the _tirailleurs_ regiments
can speak the vernacular. The disadvantages consequent on this state of
things are too evident to require explanation.