La Soeur Agnes--Exeat--Nha-Nam again--Picking up the
threads--Bo-ha--Preparations for the campaign--With General Voyron's
column--An error in the art of war--A big butcher's bill--Collapse of
the rebellion--Stamping out the embers.
The town of Quang-Yen, capital of the province of the same name, is
situated about 10 miles to the south-east of Haïphong, and close to the
sea. Thanks to its position on a series of small hills, it is swept by
the sea-breeze, and enjoys a well-merited reputation for its healthy
climate.
A fine hospital was erected here by the French in 1888; this has since
been enlarged, and now affords accommodation for three hundred patients.
On my arrival I was placed in one of the big fever wards, each of
which contained twenty-four beds, and the comfort and quiet of my new
quarters, the skill and care of the doctors and Sisters, and the pure
air of the region, soon produced most beneficial results.
The attacks of malaria decreased in frequency and intensity, and my
strength augmented each day.
There was something delightfully fresh and reposeful in the sensation
of finding oneself again in a comfortable bed, between spotless
sheets; and the vista of the long room, with its polished wood floor,
the neat cots of black-enamelled iron and shining brass, the white
mosquito-curtains and the sound of the crackling log-fire, which burned
in the open hearth during the early cool of the November mornings,
reminded one of the cleanliness and ease of Europe--of home. It was
pleasant, too, to watch the Sisters as they glided from bed to bed,
attending with untiring patience and gentleness to the wants of the
sufferers. It was both pathetic and droll to see one of these good
women as, with the tender care of a mother, she washed the face and
hands of some big and bearded Legionary who was too debilitated to
do anything for himself, but who kept his eyes open, notwithstanding
their smarting, so as not to lose a single movement of his ministering
angel; continually expressing his thanks the while, at the risk of
receiving a mouthful of soap and water. Neither could one watch
without emotion a Sister who had to deal with a patient who had lost
all desire for food, as was often the case with victims to persistent
fever. Insisting on the sufferer partaking of a cup of beef-tea, she
would administer it spoonful by spoonful, accompanying each of these
with gentle words of encouragement, so that the rough mercenary could
not do otherwise than gulp down the helpings--trying, meanwhile, to
look pleasant and grateful. There was a little chapel attached to the
hospital, wherein a Spanish missionary from a neighbouring village of
Roman Catholic converts officiated; and when the men were convalescent
and able to get about, they would manifest their gratitude to, and
respect for, their nurses by attending mass on Sundays, notwithstanding
the fact that many of them were Protestants, and that most of them
possessed little or no religion at all under ordinary circumstances.
The Sister who attended to me was a small and cheerful little person,
who seemed to be about at all hours of the day and night, and her
activity and ceaseless surveillance were the terror of the native
servants who worked in the ward. She was a merry soul, who never missed
an occasion for drawing a laugh from her patients. Should I hesitate
and grimace before swallowing my dose of quinine--it was administered
in solution in those days--she would assure me that to _connaisseurs_
its taste was as agreeable as that of _fin champagne_, and declare
that it was only a question of time and habit for me to be able to
appreciate its delicate flavour.
I owe much to this Sister for the care and attention she gave me during
my stay in Quang-Yen hospital--these were, of course, equally bestowed
on all the sufferers under her charge--and it was my good fortune, five
years later, to meet her under entirely different circumstances, when
I recalled myself to her memory and expressed my gratitude. To-day,
as I write, there comes back to me a vision of the ward at night,
when, having fallen asleep after blinking at the reflection of the
firelight on the polished _parquet_ and brass knobs on the bedposts of
the neighbouring cots, a gentle touch would awaken me from my first
slumber, and I could see, under the white _cornette_, the smiling
face of my nurse--_en religion_, _Soeur Agnes_--as, after lifting the
mosquito-curtain, she presented to my lips a small glass containing
the nightly dose of the bitter drug, while she whispered: "_Tenez, mon
petit St Jean--Voici votre grog._"
After attending to the wants of each, and seeing that all are
comfortable, Soeur Agnes would kneel down in the ward, and, with bent
head and clasped hands, repeat in a soft but distinct voice the prayers
for the night. Every soldier who was able to sit up in bed would do so,
and nearly all those who could, murmured with her the Lord's Prayer,
each in his own language. Probably most of them did so simply to please
the patient _religieuse_, who soothed their sufferings and attended
to their needs; but, be that as it may, there existed no regulation
which obliged them so to do, therefore their action was spontaneous and
impressive.
When the Sister had left the room, after bidding a general "good-night"
to its occupants, it was very seldom that any conversation would
take place. It seemed as if the majority of the men were anxious to
court sleep while still under the impression left them by the saintly,
self-sacrificing woman to whom they had just listened, desiring,
perhaps, that it should bring to them dreams of those they loved, but
of whom they never spoke. Now and again a new patient, proud of his
cynicism, would scoff at his comrades, curse them for knock-kneed
_calotins_, or go so far as to laugh aloud, or even whistle a ribald
regimental ditty, during the evening prayer. They never did this
twice, however, for a straight-spoken, though perhaps somewhat lurid,
warning from their room-mates always sufficed to quell any desire for
persistence in this breach of the etiquette of the ward. Had it been
otherwise, it is certain that their suppression would have been both
rapid and awesome.
On the 12th December I was called before the Repatriation
Committee (_Conseil de Rapatriement_), the members of which--three
doctors--seeing the progress I had made, decided to keep me in the
hospital for another fortnight, at the end of which period, if no
relapse had occurred, I could return to my corps. It is hardly
necessary to state that this decision was very agreeable to me, for
I had feared that these officers would order my return to Algeria;
and once assured of the realisation of my desires, I improved rapidly
in health and strength. Sometimes, when I suspected a slight attack
of fever, I "faked" my temperature, lest the doctor who examined my
"chart" each day should take another view of my case, and send me up
again before the Committee. I trust, however, that this confession of
my fault will bring with it forgiveness for the trick played upon my
kind and trusting nurse.
During my stay at Quang-Yen I saw that the majority of the patients
were men from the _Infanterie de Marine_. These regiments passed
into the domain of the Minister of War in 1901, and are now known as
_L'Infanterie Coloniale_. I was very surprised at their youthfulness
and evident want of stamina. This corps was originally formed, like our
Royal Marines, for service afloat. Since 1860 their place on board the
men-of-war has been taken by sailors (_fusiliers marins_) who undergo
a special course of training in musketry and infantry drill; and the
_Infanterie de Marine_ was formed into twelve regiments, which now
garrison the naval ports on the French coast, the principal towns in
the Colonies, and take part in all expeditions overseas. Before the
reorganisation of the army, carried out after the Franco-German War,
the men of this fine corps had won a grand reputation for courage and
endurance, and the defence of the village of Bazeilles by a brigade of
French marines against a division of Bavarian troops, in 1870, will
ever remain one of the finest pages in the history of the struggle.
General conscription and the short service system have done much to
reduce the fighting value of these regiments, which were formerly
composed of men who had been submitted to a most searching medical
examination, and consequently stood a good chance of resisting the
insalubrious climate of the Colonies, and who volunteered for a
long period with the flag. To-day, the majority of these troops are
town-bred, beardless boys, of from eighteen to twenty years of age,
who are in these regiments because they have been unfortunate enough
to draw a low number from the conscription-urn. Like all France's
sons, they are brave and enthusiastic, but owing to their youth,
inexperience and hurried and incomplete military training they have
sometimes proved victims to sudden panic, and their but half-formed
constitutions and still growing physique make them prompt sufferers to
malady, fatigue and discouragement during the hardships of a tropical
campaign. Several French authorities on military matters have expressed
the opinion that the Government would do well to employ more seasoned
material for their colonial garrisons and expeditions, and reserve
these brave youths for the future battlefields of Europe, whereon may
be decided the destiny of their fatherland.
Those of us who were able to get about attended the midnight mass
on Christmas Eve, and the little chapel, with its interior prettily
decorated by the willing efforts of the convalescent soldiers, was
full to overflowing; and, though probably the thoughts of the majority
present wandered away to the homeland, we joined vigorously in the
joyful anthem, "Noel! Noel! Voici le Redempteur!" to the visible
satisfaction of the beaming, buxom _soeur supérieure_ and the smiling
Sisters. On the 30th I found myself "Exeat"--_i.e._, discharged from
the hospital as cured--on the deck of a little river steamer which was
churning her way through the red, muddy waters of the Cua-Cam, past
miles of mangrove swamp, towards Haïphong.
The weather was bright, dry and cold--a typical winter's day of this
part of the world--and the pure, crisp air, reminding me of home,
seemed delightfully invigorating after the stifling, damp heat of the
past summer months. At Haïphong I boarded another boat, which landed me
in Phulang-Thuong the next morning.
Here I found signs of the coming campaign, for several little
river-steamers were discharging their cargoes of stores, ammunition
and material, and hundreds of coolies were employed in transporting
the goods to the big Government go-downs in the little town, where
they were stored for the time being. From here large quantities of
flour, tinned beef and other stores were forwarded to Nha-Nam and
Bo-Ha, these forts in turn serving as bases, from which the different
columns were revictualed. On my arrival, I reported at the office of
the garrison major, expecting to receive orders to leave by the first
opportunity for Nha-Nam, _via_ Cao-Thuong--that is, by the same route
which our detachment, just landed from the _Bien-Hoa_, had taken eight
months previously--but information was given me by one of the military
secretaries to the effect that I would have to wait a few days, pending
the formation of a convoy which was to proceed in _sampans_, up the
Song-Thuong river, to Bo-Ha, and that I would form one of the escort,
to be composed of several Legionaries and a few _tirailleurs_.
As Bo-Ha is only about 7 miles from Nha-Nam, entailing a march of
hardly two hours, and a journey in a native boat would be a new and
desirable experience to me, I did not regret the delay this unexpected
development was likely to create. I had not long to wait, however, for
three days later our little fleet of twenty-five _sampans_, four of
them occupied by the escort, glided away at three in the afternoon on
its voyage up the river.
[Illustration: A _SAMPAN_ ON THE RIVER NEAR PHULANG-THUONG.]
These _sampans_ are about 20 feet long, and in form somewhat resemble
a house-boat, though they are smaller and possess finer lines than
the floating villas one meets with on the reaches of our English
rivers during the summer months. The little house, or cabin, which is
placed amidships in each of these boats, is usually about 6 feet by 5,
and is so low that one can only sit or lie down inside it. Forward of
this cabin is a deck from which two natives work the long sweeps of
hardwood. These boatmen row in a standing position, with their faces
towards the bow of the boat. Aft of the cabin is a strip of deck about
3 feet long, and from that the stern rises up in much the same way as
one sees them pictured in the old prints of ships in the time of the
Armada. Upon this deck stands another boatman, who handles a long oar
which trails behind, and with this he both rows and steers. These boats
draw very little water--2 feet at the utmost, and that only when they
are fully laden.
The evening was a beautiful one, so that I made the most of the
journey, and lay for several hours, my loaded rifle beside me, enjoying
the varied spectacle which was quite new to me. In the boat, besides
myself and the three boatmen, were three _tirailleurs_, but these gave
me no trouble, for, having consumed a big saucepanful of rice, they
fell asleep on the deck, the cabin being nearly filled with tin cases,
each containing thirty kilos of flour. The sleepers lay close together
to obtain more warmth, for the nights were chilly at this season.
The river at this part was from 80 to a 100 yards wide; its water was
very clear, and ran over a sandy bottom, studded here and there with
large rocks, and between steep banks, from 20 to 25 feet high.
Along either side ran groves of tall bamboos, which seemed to salute
us with a graceful nod as we glided by. Sometimes there was a break,
and an old pagoda, with a quaintly-curved roof of red-brown tiles,
came into view. Now the river would run through a few miles of forest
and jungle, offering no sign of occupation by man. Enormous trees rose
superbly from the banks of the stream, and their massive branches
extended for many feet over its waters, on which their foliage threw a
pleasant and picturesque shadow. From these great limbs hung numerous
flexible creepers, some of them starred with orchid-like blooms of
white and yellow hue. Many of these streamers swayed gently to and
fro before the light breeze, while others, having grown down into the
glassy waters, were held still in their cool embrace.
Our journey between these walls of verdure, the forms and tints
of which were ever changing, was one of the most delightful of
experiences, the charm whereof is still fresh in my memory. When night
came down and blotted out all colour and outline, I turned on to my
back and watched the stars as they came out one by one. For an hour
or so I lay open-eyed, yet dreaming, till the monotonous chant of our
boatman, with its ever-recurring chorus of "Oh! Yah! Mōt-Haï-Ba!"
finally lulled me into a profound slumber. Our convoy reached Bo-Ha in
safety the following morning at nine.
This fort was constructed and garrisoned in 1889, at the request of a
rich and influential native chief, lord of an important village, called
Dao-Quan. This native was formerly a leader of a group of bandits,
and, before the invasion of the country by the French, had ravaged
the Yen-Thé and defied the mandarins in Bac-Ninh. After the capture
of that citadel by the troops under General de Négrier, he was wise
enough to throw in his lot with the invaders, and with his irregulars
he fought side by side with his new allies against the old _régime_.
In recognition of his services to the French cause, the Government
confirmed his right to administer the district he had settled in,
and made him a knight of the Legion of Honour. During the years that
followed the occupation of the country by the French, he remained
faithful to the cause he had adopted, and refused to have anything
to do with the mandarins at the court at Hué, who were, in secret,
partisans of the exiled Ham-Nghi, notwithstanding many overtures and
rich promises made to him. During the operations in the Yen-Thé he
rendered valuable service to the military authorities by supplying
coolies to the different columns, and by making use of the armed
irregulars, whom he maintained at his own expense, to guard the lines
of communication. After the campaign was terminated he successfully
negotiated the surrender of several influential minor chieftains, who,
thanks to his efforts, came in and delivered up their arms.
We left Bo-Ha at two in the afternoon, our little troop consisting of
a sergeant, three Legionaries, who were bound for Nha-Nam, with ten
_tirailleurs_ and a native corporal from the garrison we had left, the
latter having been lent to strengthen our effective.
When we had marched for about half an hour and had crossed the
Song-Soï, a little stream which runs into the Song-Thuong a few miles
below Bo-Ha, we perceived, a hundred yards ahead of us, a small
detachment, consisting of six _tirailleurs_, led by a European mounted
on a native pony. I was one of the first to catch sight of them, for
at the time I was in charge of the vanguard, which was composed of
two natives. When we were close enough to get a good look at them, my
surprise was great on recognising in the cavalier my friend Lipthay.
When our mutual greetings and congratulations were over, he told me
that he was out surveying the route with a view to determining the best
positions for the poles of a telegraph line about to be established
between Nha-Nam and the fort we had just left.
"I have done enough for to-day," said my chum, "and can easily finish
the job in a couple of hours to-morrow morning. I will go and report
to the sergeant, and come back to Nha-Nam with you."
A few minutes later he was riding beside me as I walked, and I was
asking him many questions concerning all that had happened since I
left, and as to when the operations were likely to begin; for now that
he was on the District staff I knew he was likely to be well informed
on these subjects.
"Well, things have been pretty lively during the last two months," he
answered. "Captain Plessier has been keeping the company at Nha-Nam
busy with reconnaissances and ambuscades, but there has been no serious
engagement since the little affair at Long-Thuong, at which you were
present. We made a grand _coup_ at the beginning of last month, though,
for we succeeded in finding a position rendering the enemy's big fort
visible; a position on which it will not be difficult to place a
battery of fieldguns, able to wish a better '_bonjour_' to our rebel
friends than those little toy pop-guns of the mountain artillery. What
a pity old De-Nam is dead! He would have been so surprised when the
first 90-millimètre shells came with a flop and a bang right into his
secret lair; and from quite an unexpected quarter, too. Why----"
"_Bon Dieu! mon ami_," I interrupted, "have pity on me and go slow. Do
you mean to say the old chief is dead?"
"Dead as Cæsar," answered my friend. "He was poisoned in October by
some Chinese who came down from the north to sell arms and ammunition.
They were his guests, and killed him because he won back all the money
he had paid them at _bacquang_ (a native game called _fan-tan_ in
Chinese). So the spies who came to Thaï-Nguyen told us. _Dans tous les
cas_, he is dead, and was buried inside the big fort with great state;
and De-Tam, his former lieutenant, is now commander-in-chief."
"But do you really mean to say that there is such a position as you
have described?" I asked, for from my experience of the manner in which
the rebels concealed their forts, such a thing seemed quite impossible.
"Most certainly," replied Lipthay. "I was on it, _cher ami_. But I had
better tell you the tale from the beginning, for you matter-of-fact
Englishmen are like St Thomas, and require palpable facts." He
slipped his feet out of the stirrups, so that his long legs dangled
comfortably, and, after shifting the carbine slung across his back into
an easy position, began his tale.
"Towards the end of November, Linh-Nghi, the informer, was sent
on to us at Thaï-Nguyen. You know the man, probably?" I nodded an
affirmative, and he continued: "_Et bien_, Lieutenant Deleuze, chief
of our Intelligence Department, used to pass hours at a time with
him; took him to his house, and never lost sight of the fellow for
a week. Deleuze speaks the vernacular like a native--pity there are
so few like him--and the pair were soon like _corps et chemise_. I
knew there was something brewing, and was not surprised when, on the
2nd December, orders were issued for a _reconnaissance en force_ to
proceed to Nha-Nam the following day. One company of the Legion and
one of _tirailleurs_--a column 350 strong--and, of course, Deleuze
and Linh-Nghi, were with them; so was I. Major Berard himself was in
command. We slept a night at Nha-Nam, and went on to Bo-Ha the next
day, after taking with us the mountain-gun from the former fort. At
Bo-Ha we rested, and the following morning left by a path which runs
to the north-west and passes through two ruined villages, Cho-Kai and
Long-Ngo, which were burnt by Colonel Frey's column in January last."
"Why, you must have been due north of where the enemy's new positions
are supposed to be!" I exclaimed.
"So you would think," said my friend; "but in reality we were due west.
When we had got to a point about a kilomètre beyond where Cho-Kai
used to be, the enemy's scouts, stationed on the hills to our left,
signalled our advance by firing their rifles. Upon this the column left
the path and made a general demonstration to the south-east. Our men
got in touch with the enemy, and kept them occupied for a couple of
hours by feinting an attack _en règle_. Lieutenant Deleuze and I took
Linh-Nghi with us, and slipped quietly away to the west of the path.
For an hour we scrambled along through the long grass, Nghi acting
as guide. Then we went off to the north, walking all the time in the
valleys, and keeping to the jungle so as to escape all chance of
observation. At last we reached the foot of a hill somewhat taller than
the surrounding ones--it was about 800 feet high--which had neither a
bush nor a tree on its steep sides, but was covered all over with high,
yellow grass. Nghi whispered that we must go cautiously to the top,
so up we crawled on our hands and knees and lay flat on our stomachs
when we reached the summit. Then we crept along until the opposite
crest was gained. We had all brought big native hats with us, which
we were careful to wear. When I looked down I was surprised to see
that the path to Bo-Ha ran round the foot of this hill, and our column
might have come here with ease, had it not been that this would have
given the enemy some idea of what we were looking for. The view was a
splendid one. First about 500 mètres of tall grass and jungle, then a
kilomètre of forest which ran down to the Song-Soï, for we could catch
here and there the gleam of its waters; beyond this a mass of hills
thickly wooded, then more hills covered with grass, and beyond, bright
green blotches of cultivated land.
"The weather was so clear that I caught sight of the flag at Nha-Nam,
though it was quite 12 kilomètres away, and I pointed it out to
Deleuze. Linh-Nghi stretched out his hand towards the forest, and,
indicating a spot close to a bend in the little river, exclaimed
excitedly: 'Look! look!' As I turned to him it seemed to me that his
face was drawn and yellow, and his eyes were much brighter than usual.
I could see nothing in the direction he pointed to but trees; but the
lieutenant, after looking through his field-glasses for more than a
minute, suddenly exclaimed: '_Sapristi! oui_--I see roofs!' I turned to
ask Nghi a question, but refrained from speaking, for he lay with his
head on his arms, his face to the earth. He was sobbing like a child,
and his heaving shoulders betokened the depth of his emotion."
"Poor devil!" I interrupted.
"Yes--poor devil," repeated Lipthay; then he continued: "Deleuze passed
me his glasses, and after careful searching I caught glimpses of brown
thatched roofs between the trees. These belonged to the houses within
the big fortified village which has been in existence for three years
at least. It is situated in the dense forest at a point where the
Song-Soï forms a loop. So well is it concealed that had not Linh-Nghi
been with us, I am convinced we should have failed to make it out.
After a few minutes our native friend got the better of his emotion,
and he started giving more explanations to the lieutenant concerning
the position. While he was doing so I got out my _peigne_ (a military
surveying compass), sighted the flag at Nha-Nam, and got a bearing;
then I obtained an angle on the Nuï-Dot--you know, the hill to the
south-west of Nha-Nam, where they have fixed up a heliographic station.
Time was getting on, and there was a danger of being sighted at any
moment, so we crawled down the way we had come, hurried back to the
column and reported. I fancy the Major was very glad to see us again,
and I am sure he must have been pleased with the information Deleuze
gave him.
"The troops were called in, and the column formed up on the path and
marched back to Bo-Ha. I don't think the enemy had an inkling of what
we were after, and they were probably disappointed at not having
succeeded in drawing our troops on into the forest, where they could
have adopted their favourite tactics.
"Comments were rife among our men, for they had counted on an
engagement, and, as they expressed it: 'On a arrêté la danse au moment
où les violons étaient accordés.' As we were marching away I heard one
fellow say: '_Bon Dieu! bon Dieu!_ I don't believe the old fossil knows
himself what we did go out for. They might just as well have sent a
few recruits from the _biff_ (the line regiments). Why, for three long
hours we did nothing but waste our ammunition on half a dozen skinny
natives who were dodging about among the trees.' _Quel malheur!_ If
they had known the result obtained, they would have sung another song;
but it must be kept secret, of course, until the campaign is opened,
and that will not be before the beginning of March."
"Rather late, isn't it?" I asked.
"Well, you see, it will be fine and cold then," answered my friend;
"and with the information we now possess I don't think the expedition
ought to last more than a fortnight." He now gave me more details
concerning the defensive organisation of the rebels.
Besides the big fortified village already mentioned, about 4 miles
to the north of Hou-Thué (demolished by Colonel Frey's column a year
before), there were numerous positions, forts and entrenchments built
to defend the paths leading to it. All these obstacles were accumulated
to the south and east of the main position, from which it was evident
that the rebels were confident that all future attacks would come from
the same direction as the preceding ones.
De-Tam possessed a force of about two thousand men, twelve hundred of
whom were armed with breech loading rifles of various patterns.
It was also probable that this chief was aware that the French would
commence operations against him, as soon as the weather was cool enough
to allow of large bodies of European troops being moved about the
country, and that in consequence he had come to some understanding with
the powerful leaders of the Chinese bands in North and West Tonquin, so
as to secure their assistance in case of need. Of these, the two most
important were Ba-Ky and Luong-Tam-Ky, who occupied vast tracts of
mountainous country to the north of the Yen-Thé, into which the French
had, as yet, made no serious effort to penetrate. Both of these brigand
chieftains had established their domination in these districts some
time before the arrival of the Western foreigners in Tonquin.
Colonel--now General--Frey in his admirable work on the subject,
compares them to the feudal lords of the Middle Ages, since they
administered the territory occupied as a fief, all the inhabitants
being subjected to regular taxation, wisely calculated so as not to
excite discontent, and their authority was undisputed. These two
leaders could dispose of from two to three thousand Chinese, armed
with rifles, part of which force they would certainly be willing
to place at the service of De-Tam on the payment of a stipulated
sum of money. In fact, this is what actually did happen. Ba-Ky and
Luong-Tam-Ky submitted to French rule in 1895, but their territory has
not been occupied by the troops, for two very good reasons: first,
because the district is so poor that the expense entailed would hardly
be justifiable, and also owing to the fact that the region is so
unhealthy that Europeans cannot remain there any length of time without
falling victims to fever and dysentery.
When we reached Nha-Nam, I received a hearty greeting from my comrades,
some of whom, owing to my prolonged absence, were under the impression
that I had also fallen a victim to the Cho-Trang fever, as they called
it. It was comforting to find myself back in my former quarters, to
fall once more into the jargon of the corps and take part in the daily
routine of the garrison.
Two days later Lipthay left for Thaï-Nguyen with Lieutenant Deleuze.
I saw this smart intelligence officer. He was a small, brown-faced,
wiry man, whose most remarkable trait was the quiet, low toned voice in
which he spoke to those under him. The men told wild tales concerning
his wonderful knowledge of the language and customs of the natives,
whereby, it was said, he had on several occasions been able to adopt a
disguise, and accompany some of the native spies on their expeditions.
Whether this was exact or not I should not like to declare, but it
is certain that this officer possessed a wonderful knowledge of the
vernacular, and was a topographical expert of no small merit.
I had hardly time to settle down in my old quarters again, for a week
after my arrival my section was sent off to Bo-Ha to strengthen the
garrison in that part, which at the time consisted of a company of
native troops under the orders of Captain Perrin.
One night, shortly after our arrival there--it was the 16th January,
1892--the section was suddenly called out, orders being given for
each man to take with him a flannel suit, rolled up in his waterproof
blanket--which was slung across the chest--and provisions for two days.
We soon learned that a long night's march lay before us; for a wire
had been received from the Brigade, to the effect that a portion of
Ba-Ky's band was marching on Cho-Trang with the intention of rushing
that outpost, and our orders were to get there as soon as possible by
the nearest way. A guide was supplied by the headman of Dao-Quan, who
led us away by a track slanting off to the north-east of Bo-Ha, across
a wild, uncultivated region, hitherto little explored, and generally
considered impracticable.
We started off at eleven, and it was easy walking for the first mile or
so, but once we had left behind us the cultivated district surrounding
our fort, the path went from bad to worse. We passed for several miles
over a plain covered with jungle, after which the track went into the
hills, and, though we kept up the pace, it was terrible work as we went
now up, now down, then splashing through the icy cold water of the
little streams coursing down each valley. Though the night was fairly
clear it was dark, and difficult to see ahead in the gullies and dips,
and we had to trust to luck sometimes when putting our foot forward.
We reached Cho-Phang, a Muong village, at a quarter past three in the
morning, and a pedometer which I carried registered 18-1/2 miles. We
had now gained the rocky chain of the Nui-Dong-Nai, and thence the path
ran along at the foot of these heights. We rested a quarter of an hour,
and then continued our hurried tramp till we reached the Deo-Mou-Phieu
pass, concerning which I have already written when describing my first
journey to Cho-Trang. We passed through the cleft, going due north, and
reached our destination at a few minutes past seven.
This was the hardest march it has ever been my lot to undertake, and,
as already stated, we covered close upon 32 miles in about eight hours.
The garrison--they were _tirailleurs_, for the detachment of the Legion
had left more than a month before--was on the alert when we arrived,
but had seen no sign of brigands. We were all glad to get inside the
fort and take a few hours' rest. During the morning a telegram was
received, stating that the band had taken another direction, and that
all danger was passed. Desiring, no doubt, that we should not pass
the night in so unhealthy a region, Captain Perrin, who had come with
us, started us on our way back at two in the afternoon. We went at a
moderate speed, passing the night at Cho-Thuong, where there are some
wonderful caves, the entrance to which is some 60 feet from the ground.
In these some of us tried to sleep, but were driven away by a host of
parasites. Access was gained to these caverns by means of long bamboo
ladders. When their village, which is situated at the base of the rock,
is attacked by bandits, the Muongs take refuge with their women and
children in these caves, where, after hoisting up the ladders, they are
absolutely secure from attack. Strange to say, they succeed in getting
their cattle into these shelters in time of danger, but whether they do
so by the aid of ropes, or through some lower entrance known only to
themselves, I was unable to ascertain.
We reached Bo-Ha at three in the afternoon on the following day.
During the next few weeks our detachment was kept very busy preparing
things for the troops, which were soon to be concentrated at this
point; and we spent a considerable part of our time working at the
road from the landing-stage on the Song-Thuong up to the fort. This
had to be widened and levelled so as to allow of the passage of field
artillery.
It was very evident that the rebels were alive to the fact that
operations against them were intended, for their vedettes were
continually in evidence round Bo-Ha and Nha-Nam, and along the road
between these forts. No movement could be made by the troops of these
two garrisons without it being at once signalled by the enemy's scouts.
Their methods for communicating information at a distance were really
ingenious. By day they made use of a code of smoke signals, to obtain
which torches composed of chopped straw, resin and gunpowder were used;
at night oil lanterns with a sliding shutter attachment, or paper
balloons carrying a burning rag soaked in petroleum, served the same
purpose.
Stores and ammunition continued to arrive, so that temporary sheds had
to be erected outside the fort, for the go-downs inside were filled to
overflowing.
On the 5th and 6th March a company of the Legion from Lang-son, a
battalion of _Infanterie de Marine_, one of _Tirailleurs Tonkinois_,
a company of engineers, a battery of field artillery, one of
mountain-guns (in all, two thousand five hundred men and twelve guns),
and two thousand coolies arrived at Bo-Ha. These men, who were lodged
in huts constructed of bamboo and macaw-palm, composed the first
column, destined to march to the north-east and seize the hill, which
had been the subject of Lipthay's discourse to me on my return from
Quang-Yen, whence they would be able to attack the enemy from quite
an unexpected quarter. At Nha-Nam a second column, composed of five
companies of the Legion, a battalion of _Infanterie de Marine_, three
companies of native troops, a battery of mountain guns and two mortars
(two thousand eight hundred men and eight guns), was concentrated,
preparatory to advancing in two groups, from the south-west, along
the paths already thoroughly explored by the troops operating against
Hou-Thué in the preceding year.
From Thaï-Nguyen a third force, consisting of two companies of the
Legion, three of _tirailleurs_ (one thousand and fifty men), and two
mountain-guns, was to march from the west, thus striking the rebels'
right flank, and joining hands with the column from Bo-Ha.
The loyal Delta provinces supplied about one thousand irregulars armed
with rifles, and these, officered by their local military mandarins,
had orders to cover the flanks of the different columns, and, whenever
possible, maintain communication between them. A French officer was
detached to control their movements.
On the 8th March General Voyron arrived at Bo-Ha with his staff, and
a council-of-war was held at which all the commanders of columns
and groups were present. When the General had exposed his plan of
campaign, each of the officers present was provided with printed
instructions concerning the tactics to be adopted, particular stress
being laid on the recommendation to abstain from delivering attacks
on fortified positions, unless a careful preparation for the assault
had been made by artillery fire. Great enthusiasm prevailed among the
soldiers of the Legion, and all were burning with a desire to be in at
the finish, the men of my company being particularly keen, which is
easily comprehensible, since for more than a year this unit had been
continually _aux prises_ with the enemy, and there were comrades to
avenge, and sleepless nights and long marches to make good. The old
soldiers were impressed by the elaborate preparations that had been
made and the strength of the force employed, and they were unanimous in
the opinion that _this time_ the "Valorous and Invincible Battalions,"
as De-Tam pompously styled his troops, would be scattered to the
four corners of Tonquin, and their lairs would become the haunt of
the tiger, the panther and the bear. It is also probable that a good
many of the Legionaries secretly cherished the hope of doing a little
looting "on their own," for wild tales had been circulated concerning
vast treasures secreted somewhere within the precincts of De-Nam's
house, now occupied by his successor.
[Illustration: REBEL RAMPARTS FACING POINT A.]
Next day two battalions of infantry and the battery of mountain-guns
left Bo-Ha, and, after a forced march, occupied the hill already
mentioned, which to facilitate orders was designated as Point A. As
soon as this position was securely held the engineers got to work,
prepared the track leading to it and cut a zigzag road up the flank
of the hill to its summit, so as to permit of the heavier artillery
being brought up. A thousand coolies worked with the sappers, and
the task of preparing about 6 miles of road and cutting a path up the
sugar-loafed hill was completed in a little over forty-eight hours; so
that on the evening of the 13th a battery of six guns was established
on the top of Point A, and the whole of the column, with its reserve
of stores and ammunition, was entrenched at its base. The light field
fortifications necessary to shelter this force were made by the
infantry with the aid of the entrenching tools each soldier carried.
During these four days the enemy had not been idle, for their
skirmishers maintained a constant fire on the column, the workers on
the road and the passing convoys, and we suffered some casualties in
consequence. At night their snipers claimed a few victims, but up to
this phase of the operations the losses on our side were few.
At this time my section was chiefly employed in escorting the convoys
from Bo-Ha to Point A, or in covering the working parties on the road.
We sometimes slept in the fort, and sometimes in the camp with the
column: this depending on which of these two places was nearest to us
at the end of the day. We had several slight brushes with the enemy's
scouts, none of which, however, were of any importance.
In the camp, when not on duty, I was glad to wander around from one
bivouac to another. In the French infantry lines things were generally
quiet, and these young soldiers, who had passed most of their time in
the colony, in the garrison towns, were evidently out of their element.
Most of them, when questioned on the subject, openly expressed their
desire that the operations might be of very short duration, though
these troops were undoubtedly as brave as their ancestors who fought
at Fontenoy, Jemappes or Jena, and had the call on their patriotism
been made for a supreme effort in Europe, they would have hailed the
chance with enthusiasm. As it was, the prospect was one of a violent
end, by the hand of an unseen foe, in some dark corner of the tropical
jungle, and this to further a colonial policy in which few of them
felt either interest or confidence. The ever-existing danger from the
deadly malaria, the distance separating them from their _patrie_ and
their homes, and the thought that their presence was due to the brutal
hazard and ill-luck attached to conscription: these were reasons hardly
conducive to a liking for the hardships and risks of the campaign. Not
that the _morale_ or courage of these troops was in the least affected
by this state of things, but their dislike for the expedition was
evident and outspoken.
With the Legionaries it was different, and their bivouac echoed with
the rollicking choruses sung by the men as they sat around the fires.
Between songs they would crack jokes at each other's expense, and enter
into friendly discussions as to who would be the next to "eat bananas
by the roots," which was their playful way of suggesting a hurried
burial in soft soil. These were grown men, vigorous and hardened, and
therefore better able to resist fever, fatigue and privation than the
youthful conscripts, their neighbours, who sat by the blaze and talked
in subdued tones of "la chaumière et les vieux" in sunny France. The
Legionary possesses a rude but kindly nature, and, like the soldier
of fortune that he is, he revels in the adventurous existence he has
adopted, the hazards and dangers of it being the wine of life to
him. Without desire for honour or reward, without even the wish that
their deeds should receive public attention, these _condotieri_ of
to-day perform incredible feats of daring and devotion. Professional
soldiers they are, and they will remain unmoved by brilliant discourses
concerning the glory and honour of war, except that they will express
their contempt for such speeches by an occasional wink and a smile at
their neighbour in the ranks. For they love deeds, not words, and, when
led by an officer who possesses their confidence and whose courage is
undisputed, they will be generously, almost foolishly, heroic, going to
meet death with light-hearted gaiety, laying down their lives for him
without a murmur.
The native troops were not unworthy of interest. Squatting round their
fires on various pieces of matting they had procured from no one
knew where, their turbans removed and their long hair falling almost
to their waists, they agitated the paper fans, which each of them
usually carried thrust in his belt, thus driving away the mosquitoes
swarming around. Their small hands, beardless faces, and rolling
walk as they moved about, and the quiet, singing drawl in which they
spoke, left on the observer an impression that they were effeminate.
It was hard to realise that under this gentle exterior these natives
possessed a talent for cruelty and cunning to a degree attained by few
other races. The causes and probable results of the campaign were of
small importance to them, if one could judge by the mask of Oriental
indifference they wore, though it was hard indeed to learn their real
sentiments on any subject, for it was rarely that they betrayed their
inner thoughts to a European, even though he knew their language and
could converse with them. The value of these troops as a military unit
is a question that has been treated in a preceding chapter.
At 6 A.M. on the 14th the battery on the hill opened a hot fire with a
salvo of shrapnel aimed at what was supposed to be the centre of the
fortified village; the distance given by the range-finders being 2800
mètres. The bombardment was kept up, the guns being trained at various
distances so as to sweep the position and its surroundings, till nine
that morning, when a dense mist rose from the intervening forest and
obscured the target.
Clouds of damp vapour hung about the trees during the remainder of the
day, so that all action of the guns was out of the question.
Profiting by the cover offered by the fog, the Commander-in-Chief sent
out several companies of infantry towards the enemy's position, in the
hope of ascertaining whether the artillery had succeeded in damaging
the fortifications. The passage of these troops through the forest
was opposed by the rebel skirmishers, who, however, retired into the
fort when the attack was pressed home. The columns pushed forward
towards the enemy's defences, the men being instructed to go slowly
and take all the cover available, and it was discovered that from
this side glimpses of the ramparts could be obtained at a distance of
a little under 100 mètres, which was considerably more advantageous
to the attacking force than had been the case at Hou-Thué, where all
forward movements were executed in the dark, since the position was not
visible until the assaulting troops were right upon it. This important
information obtained, the reconnaissance retired, without, however,
having been able to determine to what extent the fire of the guns had
been effective. That same morning the second column left Nha-Nam in
two groups, and, driving the enemy before them, proceeded slowly and
cleared the country up to Long-Thuong and Dinh-Tep, where they halted
for the night.
The force from Thaï-Nguyen also started on its way, to find itself
opposed, after a march of 18 miles, by Ba-Ky's Chinese, who were
entrenched in considerable force close to Mona-Luong. The first
position on the road was assaulted and captured by the Legion, which
suffered several losses, but inflicted severe punishment on the enemy.
This column camped on the site of its success, and passed the night
there. Thus the first day of active operations had been a successful
one, and the advance had been general along the line of attack.
On the 15th March, the weather being fine and clear, it was found
possible to renew the bombardment, and a slow, searching fire was kept
up all day. In all about two thousand shells were thrown into the
enemy's position.
The troops skirmished towards the fortifications, and, behind them,
the engineers and coolies, with the aid of axe and saw, cleared a
broad track through the forest. Dynamite was used to level the big
trees, giants of the jungle, in dealing with which ordinary methods
would have been too long and laborious. Towards evening a position was
reached, about 200 yards from the ramparts, whence a good view of the
defences could be obtained, and offering to a mountain battery a fair
chance of effecting a breach. The column from Nha-Nam made slow but
steady progress during the day, and succeeded in driving the enemy from
several forts and entrenchments.
The force from Thaï-Nguyen also effected a cautious and successful
advance, shelling and capturing trench after trench. Just before
sunset we could hear their little mountain-guns hammering away at the
retreating army. Before night fell a message was flashed from this
column stating that it had reached a point on the road leading to our
position, about 8 miles distant.
During the day the losses on our side had been small compared with the
progress made; and since the commencement of the operations the total
casualties of the expedition amounted to ten killed and thirty-two
wounded. It was certain that the enemy had suffered severely, for more
than forty of their dead had been found in and around the different
positions captured.
My section had been on camp-guard duty all day, much to the disgust of
all of us, and, to pass away the time when not on sentry-go, I climbed
up the hill and watched events. From this position the sight was a
grand one, for, as I have said, a panorama of the whole region could be
obtained.
Crossing the brush-covered plain, going to and fro between the
forest--that hid the enemy and our attacking force--and our camp
situated at the base of the hill on which I stood, was a constant
stream of humanity. Now it was a gang of coolies, under charge of a
sapper, going to relieve some of their comrades who were clearing a
way for the guns: then a string of more of these useful but ragged
and dirty auxiliaries, trotting along in couples with a long bamboo
between them, on which were suspended boxes of rifle ammunition. From
the forest came a little convoy of wounded, or dead--who could tell
from here? For the naked eye could just distinguish three crumpled,
reclining figures, each covered with a brown army blanket, lying on the
stretchers which the ambulance men carried carefully over the obstacles
in their path. One of the three groups formed by the stretchers and
their bearers suddenly stopped, and the burden was gently lowered to
the ground. I saw a man run off to the right, something at the end of
a strap swinging from his right hand, and suddenly I realised that
this balancing object was a water-bottle. A kindly artillery sergeant,
whose gun, close to where I had been standing, had just vomited a
shell, handed me his field-glasses with a smile, and with a salute I
thanked him for having guessed my eager desire. When I had adjusted the
glasses, the soldier was back by the stretcher, and kneeling beside
it was supporting his wounded friend's head with one hand, while with
the other he held to the poor fellow's lips the flask containing the
precious liquid he had been craving for. Only those who have been
wounded can form a true idea of the terrible thirst that seizes hold
of a man who has been stricken down; water is like new life to him,
for all his anatomy seems parched up, burning, and the friend who can
procure it is an angel of mercy indeed. I recognised in the wounded
man and his chum two privates from the 3rd Company of the Legion,
despatched from Lang-son to assist in the operations. The "parrakeet
brigade" we laughingly styled them, because their brave but somewhat
eccentric captain had seen fit to dress them in green drill, which he
declared made his men less visible at a distance than the conventional
khaki. One of the men, the stricken one, was a Prussian; his comrade
an Alsatian: hereditary enemies, if some political historians are to
be believed, but here there was no room for race-hatred. There was no
thought of it in the Legion, and surely no better demonstration could
be given of the fact than the little incident I have described. Now the
belated stretcher was moving on towards a big tent situated in a corner
of the camp, from the top of which floated a red-cross flag. This was
the field hospital, in which the head surgeon, M. de Camprieu, and his
staff of doctors and orderlies were very busy; for besides the wounded
there were numerous cases of fever and dysentery to be attended to.
With the glasses I tried to pierce the shadows of the forest, but
the foliage was too thick, and the only indications of the struggle
that was going on there under its vast roof of leaves, and between
its serried tree-trunks, were the occasional puffs of smoke filtering
through the verdure, the distant rat! tat! tat! of the rifles,
punctuated now and again by a sharp crack of an exploding dynamite
cartridge as it splintered the massive bole of a banyan or teak.
I handed back the glasses to the kindly "non-com," and watched the
artillerymen working the guns. They were firing slowly now, one
a minute. A captain, standing behind the centre of the line of
long-necked, vicious-looking field-pieces, gave the command: "_Première
pièce ... feu!_" "Bang!" howled the ugly war-dog as it skidded back a
yard on its locked wheels, and from the distant forest came back the
sharp crack of the bursting shell, easily distinguished from the other
reports arising from the wood.
The rebels were not the only sufferers from the guns, for the continued
detonations had driven from their usual haunts the herds of deer which
frequented the region, and in consequence the tigers, missing their
prey, were prowling about empty and enraged. At night their weird
"cop! cop! cop!" occasional snarl, or gruesome roar would waken the
stillness of the jungle, as they roamed around our camp; and on several
occasions I experienced an uncomfortable icy feeling from the back
of the neck downwards when these sounds approached me during my two
hours of sentry-go in the dark. Our column lost two coolies and three
commissariat bullocks, both men and cattle being carried away by these
"striped devils," as the natives called them. A _tirailleur_ sentry
belonging to the Thaï-Nguyen force also fell a victim to their hunger.
On the 16th a general attack was made by all our columns, and though
the results of the day's work were favourable--for we had succeeded in
establishing a mountain battery in a sheltered position within a short
distance of the rebel ramparts, and the force from Thaï-Nguyen, after
brushing aside all resistance and capturing a big fort at Mo-Trang,
the existence of which was previously unknown, had joined hands
with us--yet this success was marred, early in the day, by a costly
disaster, overtaking one of the groups composing the southeastern
column. This unit, which was commanded by a major, only escaped
complete destruction and the loss of its artillery by little short of a
miracle. The two guns attached to the group got stuck in a swampy rice
field when coming to the assistance of the infantry, who had walked
into the close and unexpected fire of an enemy strongly entrenched
on a steep hill covered with dense vegetation. For some unknown
reason the commander ordered the surprised and somewhat disorganised
troops to assault the position. An attempt was made to execute this
order, but it was unsuccessful, and the column suffered severe loss,
two officers and twenty-six men being killed, and one officer and
thirty-two men wounded. A company of Legionaries who were scouting in
the neighbourhood fortunately created a diversion by attacking the rear
of the enemy's position, and this allowed what remained of the little
column, principally composed of French infantry and _tirailleurs_, to
retire in comparative safety with their guns. Unfortunately, a certain
number of the slain were left behind among the trees on the side of
the hill, and these, with their rifles and ammunition, fell into the
hands of the enemy. The officer responsible for this gross blunder was
sent back to Hanoï, pending an enquiry, and the incident cast a passing
gloom over the operations.
Though this partial success somewhat revived the already ebbing
courage of De-Tam's tried and devoted veterans, large numbers of his
less enthusiastic supporters were continually breaking away from his
little army, and gliding between our outposts, for it was impossible
to establish with the troops at the disposal of our leader a complete
cordon in a district so vast and offering such good cover. Some of
these small bands made their way to the south, and found refuge in the
friendly villages of the lower Yen-Thé; others went north, and obtained
security in the territories occupied by the Chinese chief.
The following day saw the downfall of the enemy's central position,
for, after a bombardment of three hours by the guns on Point A and by
the mountain batteries of the different columns, which were now on
three sides of it, the defences were rushed at two points, at three in
the afternoon. Though I took part in this final assault, it is hardly
necessary to describe in detail the fighting. Suffice it that the rout
of De-Tam's force was complete.
Once inside the fortifications one and all were struck by the
immense amount of labour and skill that had been expended on their
construction. The colonel in command of the artillery during the
operations stated in his report that it might be roughly estimated
that at least fifteen hundred coolies, working continually during
nine months, must have been employed to complete these defences. The
superficial area of the interior of the position was about one square
mile, and upon it more than a hundred constructions had been erected,
consisting of lodgings for the chiefs, barracks for the men, huts for
the women and children, two fine pagodas and a big grain-store, raised
from the ground on stone pillars, and containing more than 500 tons
of rice when the position fell into our hands. The ramparts were
splendidly constructed, and in some places three lines of marksmen,
placed one above the other, could find protection behind them, being
sheltered from the artillery fire by casemates. On three sides the
Song-Soï served as a moat to the fort, while on the fourth a canal had
been cut for the same purpose.
The enemy suffered great loss during the final development of the
attack, and numerous were the bodies strewn all over their position, or
hurriedly buried in the banana and areca-palm plantations surrounding
some of their houses.
As an example to all insurgents, and also to put a stop to the
dangerous and superstitious legends in circulation concerning the
supernatural powers of De-Nam, the body of this chief was disinterred,
and his remains scattered to the four winds. The skull of the famous
rebel is now in the possession of a military doctor of high rank.
Unfortunately De-Tam, together with a few of his most faithful
supporters, succeeded in making good his escape from the fort shortly
before the troops entered. Though this chief was never again able to
organise rebellion on such an elaborate scale, he nevertheless gave
great trouble to the French authorities, and inflicted severe losses on
the troops sent against him during the next five years.
The most important part of the operations against the Yen-Thé rebels
was now terminated. During the following week the columns, split up
into groups, made regular _battues_ through the forests and jungle of
the region, and many more of the rebels were captured or slain. There
can be no doubt that the success of the expedition, the rapid downfall
of the numerous strong positions, and the penetration by the French
troops into that mysterious region--the soil of which, the natives had
been led to believe, would never be violated by the foot of the Western
foreigner--produced a lasting and beneficial effect on the minds of the
whole of the population of Tonquin, and did more to impress on them the
fact that the domination of the country by the French was irrevocable
and definite, than thousands of printed manifestoes bearing the name of
a President, or a Governor-General whose importance was small in the
eyes of the Annamese when compared with the lustre attached to their
exiled monarch.
Several of the minor chiefs, recognising the futility of further
resistance, came in with their men and surrendered to the authorities
in Nha-Nam and Bo-Ha; in this way, during the fortnight that followed
the capture of their positions, the rebels brought in nearly two
hundred rifles.
About five hundred of the enemy, who had succeeded in getting away to
the south, established themselves in several villages near Dap-Cau,
and pillaged the surrounding country. Their success was short-lived,
however, for, though the majority of the troops were now being sent
back to their respective garrisons, two thousand men and two guns were
sent against them under the orders of Lieutenant-Colonel Geil, and a
fortnight later, owing to the skilful tactics of this officer, the
flickering embers of revolt in the lower Yen-Thé were stamped out, and
the supporters of the movement scattered or slain.