storm grew worse and the landing was suspended. The colonel, an
aide-de-camp, the interpreter, the chaplain, and myself, accompanied by
a handful of guards, crossed the wilderness and wended our way toward
Wangchia-tun, fixed as our stopping-place for that night. We busied
ourselves with the map and the compass, while the interpreter asked
question after question of the natives. I consulted a Chinese-Japanese
conversation book, and asked them in broken words, “Russian soldiers,
have they come?” to which they replied, “To Port Arthur they
have fled.” We were of course disappointed not to encounter the
long-looked-for antagonists at once!
Seven _ri_’s journey through a sand plain brought us to the
willow-covered village Wangchia-tun in the rainy and windy evening,
when strange birds were hastening to their roosts.
Stupid-looking old men and dirty-faced boys gathered round us like ants
and looked at us with curiosity. Long pipes were sticking out from the
mouths of the older men; they seemed utterly unconcerned or ignorant
of the great trouble in their own country. The filth and dirt of the
houses and their occupants were beyond description; we newcomers to the
place had to hold our noses against the fearful smells. Military camp
though it was in name, we only found shelter under the eaves of the
houses, with penetrating smells attacking us from below, and surrounded
by large and small Chinese highly scented with garlic! Before our
hungry stomachs could welcome the toasted rice-balls, our olfactory
nerves would rebel against the feast.
We who had succeeded in landing spent our first night in Liaotung in
this condition. The spirits of the deceased comrades of ten years
before must have welcomed us with outstretched arms and told us what
they expected of us. Under tents, half exposed to the cold and wet,
the men slept the good sleep of the innocent on millet straw, and
an occasional smile came to their unconscious lips. What were they
dreaming of? Some there were who sat by the smoky fire of millet straw
all the night through, buried in deep thought and munching the remnant
of their parting gifts with their lunch boxes hanging from the stone
wall.
The day was about to dawn, when suddenly thunder and lightning arose in
the western sky. Not lightning, but flames of fire; not thunder, but
roar of cannon! Furious winds added to the dreariness of the scene; the
sky was the color of blood.
The great battle of Nanshan! We could not keep still from fullness of
joy and excitement.
[Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. V.]
THE VALUE OF PORT ARTHUR
THAT glorious January 2, of the thirty-eighth year of Meiji, will never
be forgotten to the end of time. That happy day of the victorious New
Year was doubly crowned by the birth of an Imperial grandson and by the
capitulation of Port Arthur! There has never been a New Year in all our
history so auspicious and so memorable!
The fall of Port Arthur was an event that marked an epoch in the
history of the world! Do not forget, however, that this result was
achieved only through the shedding of rivers of blood. General
Kuropatkin had boasted of the invincible strength of the fortress
and had said that it could live out over a year against the fiercest
attacks imaginable. But the incessant, indefatigable rain of bullets
and shells upon the place by the invading army obliged the Russians to
surrender in less than two hundred and fifty days. Between the first
battle at Nanshan and the final capitulation of Stoessel, the bodies of
our soldiers became hills and their blood rivulets. Spectators often
doubted our success. But the spirit of Yamato, as firm as the iron
of a hundred times beating and as beautiful as the cherries blooming
on ten thousand boughs—that _tamashii_[28] proved too powerful for
the completest of mechanical defense. At the same time, we cannot
but admire the stubborn courage with which the Russian generals and
soldiers defended their posts under circumstances of extreme difficulty
and suffering. We fully endorse the remark of a foreign critic: “Well
attacked and well defended!”
Port Arthur had been attracting the keen attention of the whole world
ever since the Japan-China war. Russia had spent nearly ten years and
hundreds of millions of yen[29] in fortifying the place. It had been
considered of such strategic importance that its fall would mark the
practical termination of the Russo-Japanese struggle, just as the fall
of Plevna decided the fate of the Russo-Turkish war. The fortress of
Port Arthur embraces within its arms its town and harbor—innumerable
hills of from two to five hundred metres in height form a natural
protection to the place. To these natural advantages was added the
world-famous skill of the Russians in fortification. Every hill, every
eminence had every variety of fortification, with countless cannon,
machine-guns, and rifles, so that an attack either from the front
or from the side could easily be met. Each spot was made still more
unapproachable by ground-mines, pitfalls, wire-entanglements, etc.
There was hardly any space where even an ant could get in unmolested.
It was surely impregnable. On the other hand, our position was
extremely disadvantageous. We had to climb a steep hill, or go down
into a deep valley, or up an exposed slope to attack any Russian fort.
The position of the whole place was such that it was as easy to defend
as it was difficult to attack. Moreover, the Russians had on the spot
enough provisions and ammunition to withstand a longer siege, without
relying upon supplies from outside.
But there is no single instance in history of any fort that has
withstood siege permanently; sooner or later it must either capitulate
or else lose all its men and fall. The same will also be the case in
the future. The only question is whether a fort will fall as easily
as a castle of _amé_.[30] Sebastopol withstood the allied armies of
England and France for more than three hundred and twenty days, but
eventually fell after the docks had been destroyed, the forts blown
up, and the town utterly demolished. At _Kars_ the gallant General
Williams, with only three months’ provision and three days’ ammunition,
supported by the Turkish soldiers, withstood for seven months the
Russian army of fifty thousand men; but it fell at last. The Russian
General Muravieff admired the hero of _Kars_ and sent him this message:—
“All the world and future generations will marvel at your valor and
discipline. Let us have the glory of consulting together about the way
of satisfying the requirements of war, without doing harm to the cause
of humanity.”
Paris resisted the Prussian siege for one hundred and thirty-two
days before surrendering. These are only a few remarkable examples
in history; but all besieged places have fallen sooner or later. The
only purpose a fort can serve is to resist the besiegers as long as
possible, so as to hinder the general plan of the enemy. This principle
applied to Port Arthur; it had to detain as many as possible of the
Japanese in the south, for as many days as possible, in order to let
Kuropatkin develop his plan in North Manchuria without hindrance.
For this great object, General Stoessel held fast to the marvelously
fortified place and tried his best to keep off the besieging army.
Supposing that Port Arthur had not fallen before the great battle of
Moukden, what would it have meant to our general plan of campaign? This
supposition will make the true value of Port Arthur clear to every
mind. Therefore they tried to hold it, and we endeavored to take it;
a desperate defense on one side and a desperate attack on the other.
General Nogi bought the fortress at a tremendous price—the sacrifice
of tens of thousands of lives; but once in our possession, its value
became greater than ever.
That such an invincible and unapproachable place was taken in eight
months tells how fierce was the struggle. The siege of Port Arthur
was one of the bloodiest contests that the world has known. In modern
history, the siege of Plevna had until then been considered the most
sanguinary. The great but unfortunate artist, Vereshtchagin, who went
to the bottom of the sea outside Port Arthur with Admiral Makaroff,
painted for posterity the scenes of Plevna. If he had survived to see
the last of Port Arthur, he must have portrayed a scene even more
bloody. Mr. George Kennan, the war-correspondent of the “Outlook,”
described this siege as representing the shriek of the lowest hell on
this earthly abode of ours. And these horrible scenes were necessitated
by the strategic value of Port Arthur itself.
How was Port Arthur besieged and attacked? The answer to this question
is the centre and object of my little sketch; hence this brief
explanation of its value.
The night of our landing at Liaotung, we heard the din of battle
arising from Nanshan, the only entrance to Port Arthur. Let us now
return to that battle.
[Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. VI.]
THE BATTLE OF NANSHAN
THE thunder and lightning in the direction of Nanshan became fiercer
and fiercer as time went on. How was it being fought? With what
courage and perseverance were our comrades acquitting themselves?
Was the place already occupied, or were they still struggling on? We
must hurry forward to take part in this our first battle; it was an
opportunity too great for us to miss. How soon should we be ordered to
march? We were thus impatient and fidgeting, our minds racing toward
Nanshan. But, on the other hand, we did not know whether the battalions
to follow us had accomplished their landing in safety or not. The
messenger sent for news had not come back after a day and night. The
colonel had only five hundred men in hand. What a slender force! Would
our commander venture out with this handful of men? His anxious face
told us that he could not lead us at once into the fight. Were we
merely to watch it from a distance, as if it were a fire on the other
side of a river, without offering to help? We began to be disappointed.
Of course the prospect of the war was long—the curtain had just risen;
this Nanshan could not be the last act. But it was tantalizing to be on
the spot and yet not to encounter the enemy, to hear the din of battle
and yet not be able to join!
All things come to him who waits. We received the following orders:—
“Proceed without delay to join the Second Army under General Oku at
Nanshan.”
This was proclaimed by our colonel, who was full of joy and
eagerness—his voice rang with energy and enthusiasm. Both men and
officers welcomed the news as they would glad tidings from heaven.
They were more than ready to start. March! tear on! We spread our legs
as wide as possible. We kicked and spurned village after village,
field after field. We did not think of how many miles we ran. With the
enemy’s visage lurking before our eyes, we did not feel any pain or
fatigue; the drops of perspiration mixed with dust formed a mask over
our faces—but what did it matter? Our water bottles were emptied ere
long, our throats were dry and parched, we were almost suffocating, but
not a single man was out of rank. We all looked toward the supposed
post of the enemy, and ran forward. The sound of roaring cannon made us
forget fatigue, difficulty, and pain.
“Is Nanshan still holding out?”
“They’re just in the thick of the fight—hurry on, men!”
Such conversations were frequently heard between the coolies coming
back from Nanshan and the men now marching to it. It sounds foolish,
but we all wished that Nanshan would not yield before our arrival.
Perhaps we were conceited enough to think that, without the help of us
fresh men, our comrades would be too exhausted to occupy the place.
When we saw on our way two or three captured officers being escorted
to our headquarters, we were half happy to have a first sight of the
defeated enemy and half afraid lest Nanshan had already been taken!
I wish to say in passing that in the army a sharp line is drawn between
the things that may be granted to the soldiers when possible and those
that must not be allowed under any circumstances. This is particularly
the case in time of a march. In a march for practice, or in a march
in time of war, but not for an actual engagement, as much rest and as
ample a supply of provisions are allowed as possible. But when we march
to a fight, we go on even without food or water, or in spite of a heavy
storm. Each soldier carries a knapsack about ten _kwan_[31] in weight,
and has only one bottleful of water to drink. When he has emptied it,
he cannot get one drop more. Day after day, he rests and sleeps in a
field-encampment; in pouring rain or howling storm, he is not allowed
to take shelter even under the eaves of a house. Exhaustion or pain
is no reason for an exception. He has no time to wipe the perspiration
from his face, which soon becomes white with dried-up salt. Panting
and suffocating, he struggles on. It seems cruelty to subject men to
this ordeal, but they must sacrifice everything to duty. Even one
single soldier must not be missing, even one single rifle must not
be lacking from the skirmish line. And after such a hard march, they
engage in a severe fight at once; so, therefore, the success or failure
of the battle is practically settled during the march. Hence the great
importance of training men in time of peace in waterless marches, night
marches, and quick marches. This practice may seem needlessly inflicted
hardship, but its true value is made clear when it comes to a real
fight.
To return to our story, we pressed on in great enthusiasm or rather
in a state of frenzy, thinking all the while of the first battle at
Nanshan. When we came near our destination, we saw cone-shaped tents
nestling under the trees or on the sides of the hills. They were our
field-hospitals. The large number of these tents made us very anxious
about the issue of the struggle. Stretcher after stretcher would bring
fresh patients and hurry back to the line of battle to fetch more. The
wounded who could walk accompanied the stretchers on foot in large
numbers and panting all the way. Both those on foot and those on
stretchers were covered with blood and mud, which told more eloquently
than words the story of their valiant fight and hard struggle. Their
white bandages, stained with red, covered wounds of honor; the drops of
blood falling through the stretchers seemed to hallow the ground. They
impressed us with an inexpressible dignity—we could not help sighing
with reverence and gratitude.
Just at this moment, the aide-de-camp who had gone forward to receive
instructions came back and reported that Nanshan had fallen, and that
all the reserves were to lodge in the neighborhood of Chungchia-tun
to await further orders. What a disappointment! From the commander
down to the grooms all felt dispirited and disheartened—stroked their
hard-strained arms and stamped on the ground with regret. It is true,
this early fall of Nanshan, which the enemy had considered the key to
Port Arthur, would be a great advantage to our future plan of campaign.
We ought to have rejoiced over the news, and we did of course rejoice;
but at the same time you cannot blame us for being thus disappointed
when you think how we had hurried and pressed on from the point of our
landing, without stopping to recover our breath, only to learn at our
destination that the object of our efforts had been attained by other
people.
Only one more hill in front of us! Beyond it were blood-streams and
corpse-hills. When we reached this spot the deafening cannon roar
suddenly ceased, the mountains and valleys recovered their ancient
silence. The only thing we saw was the continuous sending back of the
wounded. Whenever we met them, we comforted them and thanked them for
their work. We had a rest at the bottom of the hill, where a groom,
who had been in the battle, recounted to us the story with great
pride. Shaking his head and flourishing his arms, he talked like a
professional story-teller—his story was a great excitement for us then.
He showed us a water bottle that had belonged to a Russian soldier.
Altogether he talked as if he had vanquished the enemy all by himself.
We who had not yet loaded our guns, we who had not yet unsheathed our
swords, felt shamefaced and crestfallen; even this non-combatant groom
seemed like a hero to us. We praised him, and piled question after
question on him, and eagerly devoured his triumphant accounts.
We, all the reserves under the direct command of General Oku,
Commander-in-chief of the Second Army, were ordered to spend the night
at Chungchia-tun. We had to go back a _ri_ and a half over the same
road to that place. How lacking in spirit was that backward march!
Both men and horses hung their heads and walked on dejectedly. The
yellow dust rising from the ground made us look like dumplings covered
with yellow bean-flour. In our forced march by day and night, we
had thought only of Nanshan and had not felt any pain in our legs.
Everything was reversed on our return! Even in a manœuvre in time of
peace, the sound of cannon and rifles makes us forget the pain in
our feet and the exhaustion of our bodies, changes our walking into
running, and incites us to assault the enemy with a frantic zeal; but
once we begin to retrace our steps, our feet grow heavy at once, every
rut and every pebble tries our temper, and we are entirely without
energy or spirit. This may come from the Japanese characteristic
that thinks only of going forward and not at all of retreating. The
Russian soldiers are masterly in retreat, whilst the Japanese are very
unskilled in it. But once they begin to advance, the Japanese are never
defeated by the Russians. We have inherited a temperament which knows
no retreating even before sure death, and that inheritance has been
made stronger by discipline. Our constant victory over the fierce enemy
must largely be due to this characteristic of ours.
At last we reached Chungchia-tun. It was a desolate village with a
small stream running through it. The moon looked dismal that night and
the stars were few. Nature seemed to sympathize with the disappointed,
worn-out men and officers, sleeping on millet straw and mourning over
those who had died in the battle of that day. Here and there we saw
men unable to go to sleep till late at night—their hearts must have
been full of new emotions. The cuckoo[32] hurrying through the sky,
with one brief note or two—a few bars of a _biwa_-song[33] crooned by a
sleepless man—Ah, what a lonesome, touching evening it was!
Thus I failed to take part in the battle of Nanshan, and I have no
right to recount the story of that severe struggle, although the title
of this chapter may suggest a full recital. The only thing I can do is
to tell you in the next chapter what I saw on the scene of the battle
immediately after its actual occurrence. This will be followed up later
by my own story of the siege of Port Arthur. Before concluding this
chapter, however, I wish to introduce a brave soldier to my readers.
When we were starting from Wangchia-tun we dispatched a bicycle
orderly, Buichi Kusunoki by name, to our place of landing, Yenta-ao, to
establish communication between ourselves and those who landed after
we did. This man was known to be specially fitted to fulfill such
a duty; his perseverance and undaunted courage had always made him
successful. Consequently, when we started from Japan, he was singled
out from his company as an orderly attached to the headquarters of our
regiment. So, naturally, this first important duty after our landing
devolved upon Kusunoki. Late in the afternoon, he started for Yenta-ao
on his machine. We had come to Wangchia-tun through pathless plains—he
could not expect to go back to Yenta-ao without great difficulty. In
a strange land, not knowing anything of the place or the language,
he went on with the pole-star as his only guide. His duty was very
important. If he had reached his destination even one hour later, much
time would have been lost in the movement of the other detachments. Of
course he did not know that Nanshan was to fall without our help. He
only knew that our whole regiment of reserves must be near Nanshan, so
that we could join the battle-line at a moment’s notice. This Kusunoki
was the sole means of communication by which the two separate parts of
our regiment could be brought together. On starting, he was carefully
told of the tremendous responsibility he was to undertake. But eight
or nine _ri_’s journey in the pathless wilderness of Liaotung in pitch
darkness was not an easy task. His bicycle, instead of being a help,
was a burden to him; he had to carry it on his back and run. He went
astray and could not find the right place all night. Toward daybreak
he hoped to be able to find out where he was, but all in vain! With
nothing to eat or drink, he struggled on without knowing whither he was
going, but praying that he might chance to reach the right place. With
his mind in a great hurry, he crept on all fours, resting every now
and then, for his legs would carry him no further with his machine on
his back. Fortunately, however, he came across a sentinel, who showed
him the right way and gave him something to eat. He was thus enabled
to accomplish his object in time,—though delayed. The orderly, and the
aide-de-camp as well, bears a responsibility much greater than that of
an ordinary soldier. The commander must rely upon them if he would move
tens of thousands of men as easily as he moves his own fingers. The
success or failure of a whole army often depends upon the efficiency
of the aide-de-camp. Therefore he must possess the four important
qualities of courage, perseverance, judgment, and prompt decision.
And this Buichi Kusunoki was a true aide-de-camp, with bravery and
faithfulness worthy of our profound respect.
[Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. VII.]
NANSHAN AFTER THE BATTLE
NANSHAN guards Chin-chou at the entrance to the Liaotung Peninsula.
Though its hills are not steep or rugged, they go far back in
great waves. The place is convenient for defensive purposes, but
it is inferior in this respect to Nankwanling, farther back. In
the China-Japan War, the Chinese resisted us for a while at this
Nankwanling. The reason why the Russians preferred to fortify Nanshan
rather than Nankwanling was because the former was near Dalny, their
only non-freezing port. They had chosen a spot on the opposite shore
from Lin Shin Ton, the railway terminus at the head of Talie Bay,
and had built there the large city of Dalny, making it their only
commercial port in Liaotung and the starting-point of the Eastern China
Railway. In order to protect this port, they had chosen Nanshan at its
back and built there a fortification of a semi-permanent character. For
ten years they had been spending hundreds of millions in building this
city and fortifying Port Arthur, and at the same time in strengthening
this important outpost of Nanshan. We were told by a captured Russian
staff-officer that the Russians had believed that Nanshan could stand
the fiercest attacks of the Japanese for more than half a year.
However, when our second army began to attack the place, they set at
naught every difficulty, did not grudge any amount of sacrifice, and
precipitated themselves upon the enemy so violently that Chin-chou,
Nanshan, and Dalny were all occupied in one single night and day (May
26). You can well imagine how desperate was this struggle. Even in
the China-Japan War, the taking of Nankwanling and the occupation
of Port Arthur were not quite as easy as to twist a baby’s arm. But
one Japanese officer, who fought on both occasions, said to us, when
he examined the elaborate defenses of Nanshan, that the battle of
ten years before had only been a sham fight in comparison. We had to
sacrifice over four thousand men killed and wounded in order to take
this stronghold. The scene after the battle presented a terrible sight.
True it is that this battle was very mild compared with the general
assault on Port Arthur, but at Nanshan I saw for the first time in my
life the shocking scenes after a furious fight.
We managed somehow to pass the night of the 26th at Chungchia-tun,
and on the next morning we received instructions to go out and lodge
at Yenchia-tun, a village at the foot of Nanshan. The fifth and sixth
companies of our regiment were ordered to guard Nanshan.