when the enemy began a counter-attack, at mid-day of the 3d of July.
They seemed to be trying to recover Kenzan with an overwhelming force.
About eight or nine hundred of their infantry pressed straight on from
Wangchia-tun; their artillery took up their position in and about
Tashik-tung and began to fire at us with great energy. We had been
expecting this all the time and were not surprised. All our guns and
rifles were concentrated on their front; they were brave enough to
rush on in spite of this shower of shot. But our fire was too much for
them; they “fell like a row of ninepins.” The officer at their head
flourished his long sword high in the air and furiously rushed toward
us; but he too fell. At each volley they fell like autumn leaves in
the wind. The remnant of the enemy thought it impossible to face us;
they ran back into the valleys in complete disorder. Their infantry had
thus retreated, but the battery was not silenced so easily. For some
time longer it held on and fired at our centre vigorously. Perhaps the
sight of the retreating infantry made the artillerymen lose courage;
the noise of their firing became less and less; soon the whole line of
battle became as quiet as a dream. We shouted Banzai again and again.
The enemy’s first effort to regain Kenzan had failed!
The Russians were so persistent in their attempt at recovering the lost
position, that, soon after this severe defeat, about the same number
of infantry as before made their appearance on Taiko-shan. Their band
playing vigorously, they approached our first line. When the distance
between the two parties became only seven or eight hundred metres,
they deployed, shouted “Woola!” very loud, and rushed on us bravely,
encouraged by the sound of fife and drum. We met them with a violent,
rapid fire, killing both those who advanced and those who retreated.
One of our detachments also took the offensive. This again was too
much for the enemy; they took to their heels and went back toward
Taiko-shan. In spite of the clear fact that it was impossible for them
to defeat us, they repeated one attack after another, making a fresh
sacrifice of men each time, fully determined to recover Kenzan. This
tenacity of purpose was truly worthy of a great Power and deserves our
admiration. Just as we have our loyal and brave “Yamato-damashii,”
they have their own undaunted courage peculiar to the Slav race. “The
tiger’s roar causes storms to rise and the dragon’s breath gathers
clouds in the sky.” Each of the contending parties had a worthy foe
with which to compare its strength.
At one o’clock on the morning of the following day (the 4th), the enemy
broke through the darkness of midnight and surprised us on Kenzan with
a forlorn-hope detachment. This movement was so quick and so clever!
not a blade of grass, not a stone was disturbed—they clambered up
the steep ascent without a noise, and quite suddenly they killed our
sentries and rushed into our camp in a dense crowd, with loud shouts,
flourishing their swords and brandishing their rifles. A scene of great
confusion and desperate struggle ensued; it was pitch dark and we could
not tell friend from foe—the only thing we could do was to cut and
thrust as much as possible without knowing at whom. We could not see
anything, but each could hear and feel the heavy fall to the ground
of his own antagonist. Once again our defense was too strong even for
this assaulting party, who went down the hill in disappointment,
though without confusion. We were all astonished at their valor and
perseverance. Even those who were left behind wounded would try and
resist us with rifle or sword. One of them, in particular, who was
seriously wounded and on the brink of death, raised his drooping head
and smiled a ghastly smile of defiance and determination.
Such a clever, well-planned surprise having failed, we thought that
probably they had given up any idea of further attack on us. Contrary
to our expectation, however, they still clung to the object of
recovering Kenzan by some means. At the dawn of the same morning, they
tried an open attack with a large force. This assault was particularly
fierce. This time they showed even more determination than before;
their artillery kept up a continuous fire, while the infantry made
their advance under its cover. The number of men on their first line
was constantly increased, and they seemed determined to wrest Kenzan
from us at any cost. In spite of our advantageous position, in spite
of our experience in repeated repulse of the enemy, the assault of
this large body of Russians was far from easy for us to break. But we
too had increased our numbers and had improved our defenses as much as
possible, in expectation of just such an attack. Consequently this was
almost as severe a fight as our attack on Kenzan.
The artillery of the enemy increased in strength hour after hour and
occupied the heights connecting Wangchia-tun, Mautao-kou, Antsu-ling,
and so on; their main strength was directed to Kenzan, and also to our
infantry position in general. Their way of pouring shrapnel on us was
most energetic, and they proved themselves better marksmen than ever.
Without the intermission of even a minute or a second, their shot and
shells rained on us in a heavy shower. From early morning both our
artillery and infantry kept up a rapid fire and tried hard to prevent
the enemy from coming nearer, fully determined not to allow them to
enter, even one step, into the place we had once taken with our blood.
In particular, those who were stationed at Kenzan had the hardest of
times; they stood firm under the enemy’s fierce fire and checked with
great difficulty an attempt to rush their position. Sometimes they were
hard pressed and in danger of giving way; at such times the officers in
front would stir them up and cry, “Shoot! Shoot!” staring at the enemy
with angry eyes and spitting foam from their mouths! The men kept their
eyes fixed steadily on the enemy, their hands at work incessantly with
magazine and trigger. They strained all their energy and power and did
not economize powder, of which they are so careful at other times.
The firing from both sides became more and more violent and quick,
so that birds could not have found space to fly, or animals places
for hiding. Thousands and thousands of shot and shell crossed in the
air and made a dull sound in the heavy-laden atmosphere; the whole
heaven and earth seemed the scene of the frantic rage of demons,
and we could not prophesy when this scene would come to an end. The
enemy’s artillery fire was very strong; their _time_ shells would fly
to us in bundles, explode over our heads, and kill and wound our men
mercilessly. The explosion of their spherical shells would hurl up
earth and sand before and behind our skirmish line, raising a thick
black and white smoke at the spot. The struggle of our artillery to
resist such a violent, incessant attack was beyond description. They
were sometimes obliged to change their position for a while. The issue
of the day was still hanging in the balance; the enemy’s forces were
reinforced from time to time by fresh men—they renewed the attack
again and again. On our side, too, a part of our general reserve was
placed on the line of battle; moreover, several companies of heavy
artillery were sent out from Pantao to Hwangni-chuan, Tashang-tun, and
their vicinity. Also, the marine heavy artillery corps was stationed
at Shakako in the south. With this increase of strength on both sides,
each party threatened to annihilate the other. The fight of the day
became more and more desperate; the boom of cannon and rifle lasted
from dawn till dusk—still it did not lessen in its volume. The enemy
seemed anxious to take advantage of the good effect of their fire to
make an assault on us under its cover. The sharper their attack, the
more watchful we became, and each time we dealt a correspondingly
severe counter-attack.
The melancholy rays of the setting sun shone upon the dismal scene of
the battle-field, with a background of dark gray which added to the
sadness of the sight. This sadness, of course, was associated with our
anxiety about the issue of the struggle. Was the battle of this day to
cease without any result? Nay, the enemy would not give up the attack
with the arrival of night; on the contrary, because they had a plan for
a great night assault on us, they continued their firing from morning
till evening, in order to exhaust us both in body and resources. We
were sure that this was their plan, and so at night we waited for their
coming with more vigilance and watchfulness. As was expected, the
enemy’s whole line began to move late at night and attempted to storm
Kenzan and recover the place with one tremendous stroke. They came upon
us in rage and fury: their bayonets glittered in the dark like the
reflection of the sun on ice and frost; their “Woola” sounded like the
roar of hundreds of wild beasts. “Now is the time for us to show them
what we’re made of!” With this idea in all our minds, we began with one
accord to shower on them an accurate fire; nearly all the shot told.
We were almost certain that the enemy would be defeated before so sure
a fire. Their cry of “Woola” became less and less loud; the flowers
of their swords also faded away in the dark. At last the whole place
became perfectly quiet, so that we could hear the melancholy note of
summer insects singing in the grass, and the groaning of the wounded
Russians left on the field. Up in the sky, thick clouds hung heavy and
low, threatening to begin to rain at any moment. Our eyes rained first
a drop or two in spite of ourselves—for our comrades who had died in
this battle.
Later, when all the information was gathered, we found that the number
of the Russians that began the attack early in the morning was about
one thousand; it was gradually reinforced and became five thousand, and
at last it was more than ten thousand. Added to this, some gunboats of
the enemy appeared off the coast of Lungwang-tang and fired vehemently
on our centre and left wing. Even this large, combined force of the
army and navy could not accomplish their cherished object—all their
stratagems and tricks were of no avail against us. After this fourth
and hardest assault, they seemed to lose courage and hope; no further
attack was made on Kenzan; the only thing they continued to do was to
reconnoitre our camp, and to direct slow firing on us both day and
night, accompanied by an occasional night assault on a small scale,
which seemed intended to cover and protect the defensive works which
they were putting up in great hurry along the heights of Taipo-shan.
[Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. XIII.]
ON THE DEFENSIVE
WHAT an irksome, tantalizing business is defense! We may be quite
ready to march and fight, both in morale and in material preparations,
and yet we must wait until the right opportunity arrives. The sword
hanging from the belt may moan from idleness, the muscles of the arm
sigh from inactivity, and yet we have to wait till the proper time
comes. But defense is the first step toward offense. We must first try
every possible means, on this line of vigilant defense, to ascertain
minutely and accurately the condition of the enemy, and to find out the
arrangement of their men, before we lay our plans and begin a march and
attack. So, therefore, our defense is like the dragon concealing itself
in a pond for a while, and our march its gathering clouds and fogs
around itself and ascending to heaven. So, then, I propose here to tell
you a little about the actual condition of our line of defense after
the battle of Kenzan.
A strong army of fourteen battalions and twenty-four guns had tried
a hard and desperate assault on our position, to recover Kenzan
“at whatever cost,” to use General Stoessel’s expression. But their
scheme of reprisals was of no use. They retreated far back toward
Shwangtai-kou and Antsu-ling on the north, and Taipo-shan and
Laotso-shan on the south, and there along the heights they put up
strong works of defense, planning to make a firmer stand there than
at Kenzan. And we remained in exactly the same position as before,
not even an inch of ground was given back to the enemy; our line
stretched from Antsu-ling in the north, with Lwanni-chiao, Kenzan,
Hwangni-chuan, and Tashang-tun in the middle, to Shuangting-shan in
the south. Our regiment was to watch over the heights to the northeast
of Hwangni-chuan and Tashang-tun, and on the very first day we began
to dig with picks and shovels. As compared with our experience in
Changchia-tun, we were much nearer the enemy, and, moreover, we had to
make our works much stronger, knowing that the enemy would be sure to
try an occasional assault on us, notwithstanding their repeated defeats
in the attempt to recover Kenzan. We had no time to give our men rest
after their hard, continuous fighting. We could not leave our gateway
wide open for thieves and burglars, however anxious we were to rest
our men. The urgent necessity of the case did not allow sympathetic
consideration for their exhaustion. The brave soldiers themselves did
not think of any repose; day and night they carried the sand-bags,
and wire-entanglement left at Changchia-tun, along the rocky steep
path, or with no path at all, catching hold of grass-roots or points of
rock. They devoted every available minute to putting up strong works as
quickly as possible.
Our position was on a steep, rocky, skeleton-like mountain, over
valleys with sides almost perpendicular. There were no trees to shield
us from the sun, no streams of water to moisten our parched lips.
Our only comfort was that we could see through the mist the forts on
far-away Lautieh-shan and ramparts on nearer hills and peaks, and
imagine that soon the curtain would be raised and a great living
drama again be presented on the stage. We pictured to ourselves the
joy of another valiant struggle and wished that we might be allowed
to sacrifice ourselves so completely that not a piece of our flesh be
left behind. Days passed in hard work and vain imaginings. When the
curtain of night covered the scene, a body of black forms would climb
the hill. What were they? They were fresh men to take the places of
those exhausted by the day’s hard work. Had they to work even at night?
Yes, on the line of defense this night work was the more important.
In the daytime the enemy’s artillery would fire and try to find out
where we were working, and therefore steady progress was impossible.
To make up the time lost we had to work at night. Looking at the
distant smoke rising from the camp-fires of the enemy, our men dug
earth, piled up stones, carried sand, filled sacks, and planted stakes
for wire-entanglements. In doing this we had to try to make as little
noise as possible, and of course could not smoke. Even the lighting of
a cigarette might give occasion for the enemy to fire at us. At two or
three o’clock in the morning, we were still working hard, in spite of
heavy rain or furious storm. The men did all this without complaining,
ungrudgingly; they only thought of doing their very best for their
country, and for their sovereign. They truly deserve the heartfelt
thanks and praises of the nation.
In the small hours of the morning the body of pioneers would rest their
arms awhile. Even then there were some who stood straight like statues
with their guns on their shoulders, straining their eyes toward the
enemy. The duty of the sentinels was also far from easy. Exposed to the
night wind of the peninsula they would smile and say: “It’s very cool
to-night! Shall we have another night assault as usual?”
We did not know certainly where the enemy’s artillery was stationed,
but they would fire into the valley where the staff officers had
pitched their tents, as if in search of us. It was on the 15th of
July, if I remember correctly, that a big ball came flying, exploded
with a tremendous noise, shattered rocks, threw up stones, raised
dark yellow smoke, and shook the earth. We had been accustomed only to
field-gun balls: this was our first experience of such a huge one. We
were greatly astonished. Probably the enemy had hauled a navy gun up
to Lungwang-tang and fired at us with that. They still seemed anxious
to find a chance of recovering Kenzan, and sent us long-distance balls
diligently. All our battalions, therefore, agreed to take careful
statistics, and report how many balls were sent and to what part of our
line, between what and what hours. The enemy tried in vain to frighten
us by shattering the rocks of Kenzan with long-distance shot. Seen from
a distance, the explosion of shrapnel looks like fireworks, but to be
under such a shower of fire is not particularly pleasant.
There was one thing that puzzled us very much. Every day, almost at
the same hour, they would fire at us with special zeal; their aim was
always directed to our headquarters and sometimes they would inflict
upon us unexpected damage. We thought, of course, there must be some
secret in this mysterious act of the enemy’s, but it was not at all
easy to find out that secret. After a long and careful investigation,
the following wonderful and detestable fact came to light.
The Chinese natives were in the habit of driving cows or sheep up to
the hills at the back of our line of vigilance and giving signals to
the Russians from this great distance. Their code was to indicate
the direction or village to be fired at by a black cow, a flock of
sheep, etc. Our experience at Changchia-tun had fully warned us of the
dangerous quality of the Chinese, who would give up even their lives
for money. But this time they did not even attempt to pass through
our line, but simply drove their animals slowly up the mountain path.
How could we dream that such an innocent-looking act was betraying
us to the enemy! They are ignorant and greedy survivors of a fallen
dynasty; they know only the value of gold and silver and do not think
of national or international interests. It has never occurred to them
to try to think why it was that Japan and Russia were fighting on their
own farms; they were only anxious to make good the damage done to
their farms and crops. Of course we had to punish these offenders very
severely, though they deserved our pity, rather than our hatred. Money
is the only god they worship.
It was somewhere about the 20th of this same month that some of our
scouting officers went deep through the picket line of the enemy and
gave a great surprise to some of their non-commissioned officers. The
Japanese accomplished their object with success, and on their way back
they came across three or four of the enemy’s scouts. They chased the
Russians about and tried to capture them, but the Russians fired at the
Japanese officers in a desperate effort to make good their escape.
Only one of them was left behind and captured, and our officers came
back in triumph with their captive. As usual, we cross-examined the
Russian, who was an infantry corporal. He bowed frequently and begged
that his life might be spared, promising to tell us everything he knew.
What a wretch! We wished we could give him one small dose of Japanese
patriotism, which considers “duty heavier than a mountain and death
lighter than a feather.”[43] We hear that a Japanese soldier, who
had the misfortune of being captured by the Russians at Port Arthur,
rebuked and reviled, with his face flushed with anger, the Russian
general before whom he was driven. On the contrary, this Russian told
us every military secret he knew, in order to keep his body and soul
together. When he was led on to the line of observation and told to
tell us the arrangement of the Russian soldiers, he pointed out and
explained it with no scruple whatever, saying to the right there was
the Twenty-sixth Regiment of Infantry sharpshooters, the Twenty-eighth
Regiment of the same in the middle, and what regiment on the left hand,
and so on. The correspondence between his answers and the reports from
scouts testified to the correctness of each. He told us all the truth
he knew and we were greatly helped by him. But all the same we despise
him as a coward unworthy of a true soldier’s society.
Let me take this opportunity of telling you about our examination of a
Russian soldier captured the night after our attack on Kenzan, under a
huge rock, where he was hiding himself. Our dialogue was something like
this:—
“What did you expect from our attack?”
“We were afraid, and thought that the Japanese attack would be very
fierce.”
“Do your commanders take good care of you?”
“When we first arrived in Port Arthur they were kind and considerate to
us, but recently they have not been so. For the last three months or so
we have received only one third of our pay. Our rations also have been
reduced one half; all the rest goes into their private pockets.”
“Have those who were defeated at Nanshan gone back to Port Arthur?”
“They were not allowed to enter the great fortress; they were ordered
to work on the entrenchments and live off the country, on the ground
that there was no spare food to give them.”
“Do you know that many of your countrymen have been sent to Japan as
captives?”
“Yes, I know. Just the other day a friend of mine went to Japan as a
captive.”
How could the officers and commanders secure respect and obedience
and faithful service from subordinates whom they did not love and
take care of? Other kinds of service may be secured in other ways,
but the faithful discharge of military duties, in the moment of life
and death on the battle-field, can only come through the officers’
loving their men as their own children, and the men’s respecting their
officers as their own parents. When one party is pocketing the salary
and reducing the rations of the other, mercilessly involving them in
unnecessary privation and hardship, how can they be respected, and how
can men be expected to die for such unkind officers? The fact that the
Russian soldiers pillaged the innocent natives everywhere, looting
their valuables, stealing their food, and insulting their wives and
daughters, finds a partial explanation in the above statement of the
Russian captive.
Day after day our works on the line of defense increased in strength.
All the while the Russians continued their tiresome shell assaults
under cover of night, and each time they were repulsed by our men.
Cannon-balls rent the air without intermission; but they were so badly
aimed that we were anxious lest they might exhaust their ammunition in
fruitless efforts. But aimless bullets occasionally killed or wounded
our men. It is no cause of regret to die in a glorious battle, but to
be wounded and killed while engaged in duties of defense, and lose the
desired opportunity of joining the great fight soon to take place, was
something that we did not relish. “I shall never go to the rear.” “I
will not be sent to the bandage-place!” These words from the lips of
wounded soldiers well expressed their disappointment and regret. We can
fully sympathize with their feelings.
[Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. XIV.]
LIFE IN CAMP