the left wing. It was the signal for commencing attack on the enemy
along Laotso-shan and Taipo-shan. For the last twenty days, we had not
discharged a single shot, so this cannon report must have taken the
enemy unawares, and their hurried response sounded dull and sleepy and
went high above our heads. Our plan was that the left wing should first
attack and defeat the enemy on Laotso-shan, and then our detachment was
to reinforce it. So we had to remain idle for some time and watch the
progress of their attack on Laotso-shan. After a while, our naval guns
began to make such a tremendous noise, that we hoped the enemy would
soon be scared to death and give up their advance posts as our easy
prey. But they proved stronger than we thought and did not disperse
themselves like baby-spiders before our assault.
The fight increased in severity as time went on; our whole artillery
was concentrated upon the heavy artillery on the northern slope of
Laotso-shan and endeavored with might and main to silence them. After
some time, when the enemy’s fire had slackened a little, our infantry
of the left wing began to march forward under the protecting fire of
our artillery. At once they captured a crescent-shaped height, about
two thousand metres ahead of us; immediately afterward they turned
to the left and occupied the northern shoulder of Laotso-shan at ten
o’clock. It seemed that the Russians had not fortified these places
very strongly, for, after some resistance, they gave up the large fort
on the important spot of Laotso-shan. Still their resistance was quite
stubborn, and even when our infantry occupied the top of the hill,
a portion of the enemy still stuck to the southern slope and stood
fearlessly and desperately under our concentrated downward fire. This
was the cause of the long duration of this attack. Eventually our
left wing succeeded in routing and driving them away from this spot;
but they had the inlet of Lungwang-tang at their back and could not
retreat in that direction. Soon they were hard pressed and obliged to
leave many dead and wounded behind; the remainder jumped into junks and
concealed themselves on the opposite side of the inlet.
The work assigned to the left wing being thus finished, our regiment
now had the great opportunity of attacking the enemy. Whereupon
Colonel Aoki ordered all his captains, “Whole line begin firing from
the right.” All at once the whole line thrust out its head, the first
and second battalions on the right and the third on the left. Their
firing sounded like popping corn. As soon as we began, the Russian
bullets began to fall in large drops about us, stirring up sand,
kicking stones, and felling men. Those that passed near our ears made
a whistling sound, and those going high through the air, a trembling
boom. Our skirmish-line, forming a long chain, lost its links here and
there; the carriers of stretchers ran hither and thither conveying
the dead and wounded to the first aids. There was not only the hail
of rifle-shot, but large projectiles began to burst over our heads
and emit white smoke. The fragments of shell fell on the ground with
a thud and made holes, or pierced the skirmishers’ heads from above.
Sometimes the empty case of a shell would go past the hill and fall in
the midst of our reserve. While I was still with the reserve I actually
saw a soldier, who was struck by such an empty shell, lose his right
arm and die on the spot. When we examined an empty shell later on, we
discovered inside it, first a piece of overcoat, then a piece of coat,
then a piece of undershirt, then flesh and bone, then again underwear,
coat, and overcoat, together with grass and pebbles stained with blood.
This struggle lasted for several hours; the enemy’s artillery was
very strong and we could not find a chance to go forward. Our dead
and wounded increased so fast that the stretchers prepared were not
sufficient. The fire reached even the first aid stations far in the
rear. Some wounded soldiers there were injured again or killed. It was
a desperate fight. The reserves were brought about to the left of the
artillery’s position, so that they could form an assaulting column at a
moment’s notice and rush upon the enemy when the opportunity came. At
this time I was with them, carrying the regimental flag. Because our
position was with the artillery and because the flag was a great target
for the enemy, the Russians in Wangchia-tun began at once a fierce
fire on us. Their concentrated fire was well aimed, and their shells
came like rain, falling sideways in the wind. When the smoke cleared
away for a minute, we found a lieutenant who had, just a moment before,
been bravely ordering his men, lying dead covered with blood. The chief
of the gun detachment and also the gunners were torn to pieces, their
brains gushing out and their bowels mixing with mud and blood. When the
reserve gunners went to take their places, they also were killed. Such
a bloody scene can never be realized without an actual sight; my pen is
powerless to describe it.
Our reserve having suffered no small loss before the strong fire of
the enemy, we had no resource left but to try a desperate assault upon
them. Every moment longer that we remained in this position meant the
loss of so many more men. Clouds had been gathering and lowering in
the sky for some time; it was dark and dreary. Soon the swift wind ran
side by side with powder and smoke, and muddy rain fell obliquely with
the shot and shell. At this dismal stage of affairs we, the reserves,
were ordered to join the colonel. We at once left the artillery and
began to march to the left, clambering over the rocks. The sharp wind
flapped the colors violently, and I feared that they might be torn to
pieces any moment. At this juncture a shell burst over my head and its
fragments rent the air; a part of the flag was blown away, a man was
killed, and a piece of the shell fell into a valley far behind us.
As was said before, the colonel was on the top of Iwayama; the enemy
was sure that our strength was concentrated there and showered upon it
a hail-storm of shrapnel. Colonel Aoki stood in the midst of that as
firm and unflinching as Ni-ō or Fudō,[47] staring at the enemy with
steady gaze. When I approached him and reported the tearing of the
flag, he simply remarked, “So!” After a while he said, “Isn’t this just
like a manœuvre?”
He was so full of courage and strength, his fearless and composed
attitude was such an inspiration to his subordinates, that the somewhat
despondent soldiers at once recovered their spirits and energy on
looking up at his face.
It was already 2 P.M., and yet the fighting had not come to any
decisive result. Our casualties increased in number hour after hour.
At this moment a portion of our left wing began to move forward. Our
detachment was also ordered forward, whereupon the whole line of men
rose like a dark fence, and pushed on right to the muzzles of the
enemy’s guns. The Russians seized this opportunity to increase the
intensity of their fire; those of us who went forward were mowed down,
and those who did not press on were already dead! Lieutenant Yatsuda
was shot through the chest, yet he continued to shout, “Forward!
Forward!” paying no attention to the gushing blood and without letting
his men know of his wound. He pressed on furiously about a thousand
metres toward the enemy, and when he approached the line to be occupied
he shouted Banzai faintly and died.
A brave commander’s men are always brave! One of Yatsuda’s men had his
right arm shattered before his lieutenant was shot, but he would not
stay behind. When the lieutenant told him to go to the first aid, he
said, “Why, such a tiny wound! I can still fight very well, sir.” He
poured out water from his bottle and washed his wound, bound it up with
a Japanese towel, and pressed on panting with the skirmishers, his gun
in his left hand. When he came near the enemy’s line, he was killed by
the side of Lieutenant Yatsuda, whom the brave fellow considered his
elder brother. Even in his death he grasped his gun firmly. Both of
them showed the true spirit of Japanese warriors, doing their duty till
the last moment and even after death.
At last the reserve in the hands of Colonel Aoki was reduced to two
companies of infantry and one of engineers. What a disastrous struggle
this had been! Ever since morning our artillery had been trying hard
to silence the powerful guns of the enemy. Their desperate efforts
were all in vain, and the strong posts of the enemy remained without
damage. What a disappointment! Our infantry were already only five or
six hundred metres from the enemy, but until our artillery should have
destroyed the offensive and defensive works of the Russian forts, an
assault would have resulted only in complete annihilation. So these
infantry men were patiently waiting quite close to the enemy for the
right moment to come. The long summer day at last came to its close,
and the dreary curtain of darkness enveloped the scene of battle.
The rain ceased for awhile, but the night was dismal. Hundreds of dead
bodies were strewn on hill and in valley, while the enemy’s forts
towered high against the dark sky as if challenging us to a fruitless
attack. But our morale was not at all impaired; on the contrary,
this day’s failure added to our firm resolve to storm and defeat the
Russians on the next. During the night the firing of guns and rifles
went on unceasingly, and in carrying the dead we had to use tents to
supply the deficiency of stretchers. The wounded were also picked up
and carried to the rear by the ambulance men. And we who had escaped
injury sat by the side of our silent dead and without sleep waited
impatiently for a better day to break.
[Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. XVII.]
THE OCCUPATION OF TAIPO-SHAN
ON the next day, the 27th, fully determined to drive out the enemy, our
entire artillery began firing at early dawn, striving to open a passage
for our infantry. Our bombardment was more violent than on the previous
day, and the enemy’s response was also proportionately fiercer. Why was
it that the Russian forts were so strangely impregnable? On the line
connecting the heights their trenches were faced with rocks and covered
with timber roofs, and they could fire at us through portholes, safely
concealed and protected from our bursting shells. They had quick-firing
guns and machine-guns arranged in different places so that they could
fire at us from all points and directions, and these formidable guns
were well protected with strong works built of strong material. Added
to all this, the side of our hill and the opposite side of their hill
formed a rocky valley with almost perpendicular walls, so that we
could not climb down or up without superhuman efforts. To attack such
a strongly armed enemy in a place of such natural advantage meant a
great amount of sacrifice on our part.
So long as our artillery remained unsuccessful, our rifle fire was of
course of no use. Somehow we must damage the enemy’s machine-guns,
otherwise all our efforts would end only in adding to our already long
list of dead and wounded. This we well understood, but if we could
not utilize our firearms, our only and last resource was to shoot
off human beings, to attack with bullets of human flesh. With such
unique weapons,—human bullets, the consolidated essence of Yamato
Damashii,—how could we fail to rout the enemy? Orders were soon given.
The fifth, seventh, and tenth companies of our regiment precipitated
themselves down into the valley and began a furious assault on the
enemy; whereupon the Russian artillery, who had hitherto been aiming at
our artillery, directed their guns upon this forlorn hope, this rushing
column. Simultaneously all the machine-guns and all the infantry in the
forts concentrated their fire upon this desperate body, who pressed on
like a swift wind with shouts and yells, not a whit daunted by this
devilish fire. Their shrieks and the cannon-roar combined sounded like
a hundred thunders thundering at the same moment. Press on! rush in!
They fought like so many furies, wounded officers unheeded and fallen
comrades ignored! Stepping on and jumping over the dead and dying, the
survivors came at last within a dozen metres or so of the enemy. But
they could not overcome nature—the rocky precipice stood like a screen
before them, and half their comrades were strewn dead on the side of
the hill at their backs; they could do nothing but stand there facing
and staring at the enemy. While this assaulting column was pressing on
under the heavy shower of shells and bullets, the sight was stirring
beyond words; the men moved on like light gray shadows enshrouded in
volumes of smoke. Some of them were seen flying high up in the air,
hurled by the big shells. When their bodies were picked up, some had
no wound at all, but the skin had turned purplish all over. This was
caused by the throwing up and consequent heavy fall on the ground.
The enemy’s resistance was so stubborn that our fire seemed as
powerless as beating a big temple-bell with a pin. If we had gone on
in this way, we might have failed entirely. We had to attempt a final
charge at the risk of annihilation. Soon the following order was given
by the brigadier-general:—
“The courageous behavior of our officers and men since the beginning
of the battle is worthy of all admiration. Our brigade is to attack
the enemy along the eastern side of Taipo-shan at 5 P. M. to-day, to
bombard with the entire force of the artillery, and the left wing to
charge when our bombardment opens to them an opportunity, and thus
to overwhelm and defeat the enemy. Your regiment must strive with
the utmost effort to improve this opportunity and occupy the enemy’s
position at your front.”
Yes, we were anxious to defeat the enemy with our utmost and most
desperate effort! This was the day for us to unfurl our colors high
above the enemy’s fortress and to comfort the spirits of those who
during the past few days had died without hearing a triumphant Banzai.
A group of officers, while waiting for a proper opportunity to strike,
were talking about the condition of affairs since the previous morning.
“The enemy is certainly brave! I noticed a Russian officer commanding
his men from the top of a breastwork.”
“Yes, they are fighting hard; but we must carry their position
_to-day_!”
We were beginning to feel that the Russian strength came not only from
their mechanical defenses, but also from their intrepid behavior; but
all were agreed in their ardent resolve to defeat the enemy and avenge
their unfortunate comrades. Presently a young officer came along with
a bottle of beer. Since the previous day we had been almost without
food or drink, and this bottle of beer seemed a strange sight on the
battle-field. We all wondered who he might be, and as he drew nearer we
recognized Lieutenant Kwan, adjutant of the battalion.
“Isn’t it a rare treat, this beer? I have been carrying this bottle in
my belt since yesterday, to drink a Banzai in the enemy’s position. But
now let us drink it together as a farewell cup. You have all been very
kind to me—I have made up my mind to die beautifully to-day.”
The young officer talked very cheerily and yet in real earnest, and
filled his aluminum cup with the golden beverage. The cup went round
among the group, and we smiled a melancholy smile over the drink. This
ceremony over, Lieutenant Kwan raised the empty bottle high in the air
and shouted, “I pray for your health!” and ran away to bury the dead.
How could we know that this was his true farewell? Soon afterwards,
without waiting for the happy moment of shouting Banzai in the enemy’s
position, he joined the ranks of the illustrious dead. He and I came
from the same province and we were very old and intimate friends;
he loved me as his younger brother. So, every time we met on the
battle-field, we used to grasp each other’s hand with fervor and say,
“Are you all right?” Even such an exchange of words was an occasion
of great pleasure to us. At this meeting, not knowing of course that
it was the last time I was to see him, I failed to thank him for all
his past friendship toward me. We had such a hurried, unsatisfactory,
eternal good-by, as is usual on the battle-field. I learned afterward
that the lieutenant, while superintending the burial of the dead, said
to his men: “Please cover them carefully with earth, because I myself
am to be treated in the same way very soon.”
Was he really conscious of his impending death? Lieutenant Yatsuda
also, who died earlier than Kwan, suddenly pulled out a packet of
dry chestnuts[48] from his pocket during his advance and said to his
servant: “This was offered to the gods by my mother, and she told me to
eat this without fail before fighting. I will eat one and you also eat
one. This may be our last farewell!”
They bowed politely and munched the hard nuts together! Of course we
were all ready for death, and each time we met we thought was the last.
But when the true moment comes, some mysterious, invisible wire seems
to bring the sad message to the heart.
It was 5 P. M. Our whole artillery opened fire at the same time, and
the whole force of infantry also joined in the bombardment. Heaven
and earth at once became dark with clouds of smoke, and the war of
flying balls and exploding shells threatened to rend mountain and
valley. This was meant to be the decisive battle, so its violence and
fury were beyond description. Our infantry shot and advanced, stopped
and shot, rushing on and jumping forward. The hail-storm of the
enemy’s projectiles did not allow them to march straight on. Sometimes
“Lieutenant” was the last faint word of gratitude from a dying man.
Again “A-a!” was the only sound made by the expiring soldier. But this
was not the moment to take notice of these sickening scenes; we had
to press on if it were only an inch nearer the enemy. What did the
brigadier-general say in his message? “I admire your bravery,” were
the words. Did he not say, “strive with your utmost effort”? Forward!
march! advance! and be killed! This was not the time to stop for
even half a moment! Such was the thought, and such were the words of
encouragement from the officers, who ran about right and left on the
battle-line, brandishing their drawn swords, stirring up their men and
inspiring them with invincible spirit. Two companies of reserves and
reserve engineers were also sent to the first line. At last our First
Battalion came within twenty metres of the enemy, but the screen-like
rocky hill on which there was hardly any foothold still stood before
them. Desperately anxious to climb up, yet utterly unable to do so
while the shower of the enemy’s bullets swept them from the side, the
Second Company facing the enemy’s front became a mere target for the
Russians’ machine-guns and was mowed down in a few brief moments.
One bullet went through the sword blade and slightly injured the
left eye of Captain Matsumaru. Our artillery fire made a pyrotechnic
display in the air, but did hardly any damage to the enemy’s defensive
constructions. Shrapnel was of no avail: we had to explode spherical
shells, and smash the covering of the enemy’s trenches. “Even at the
risk of damage to our own infantry, fire spherical shells as rapidly
as possible,” was the message repeatedly sent to the artillery, but
no single orderly came back alive: all were killed before reaching
their destination. The lieutenant of the engineers was ordered to send
explosives, but this also could not be done in time.
Seven o’clock had passed, eight o’clock too, and it was now nine, but
there was no improvement in our condition. The First Battalion was
obliged to halt for a while. The commander of the Second Battalion,
Major Temai, was seriously wounded; the adjutant, while reconnoitring
a route for the assault, was shot through the head and died as he
turned and said, “Report!” The Third Battalion came close to the enemy,
but could do nothing more: its dead and wounded increased moment
after moment. Our situation was just like that of a small fish about
to be swallowed by a huge whale,—we could not improve it by our own
efforts. However, such was the tenacity of purpose and invincible
courage pervading our ranks, that our determination and resourcefulness
became greater as the enemy proved more difficult to subdue. All the
battalions, more particularly the First, were now breaking rocks with
picks and piling up stones to make footholds. But the work was not
easy, so near the enemy that both parties were like two tigers showing
their teeth and threatening to tear each other to pieces. The Russians
tried hard to hinder our work; the slightest sound of a pick would
immediately invite a tongue of fire that licked the place around us
ravenously. In the midst of this great difficulty, a sort of foothold
was made at last, and now we were ready to push in with one accord!
The night was growing old; a dismal waning moon was shining dimly
over the battle-ground, showing one half of our camp in a light
black-and-white picture. Major Uchino, commander of the Second
Battalion, sent the following message to our colonel:
“Our battalion is about to try an assault, expecting its own
annihilation. I hope that you also will assume the offensive. I
sincerely hope and believe that my most revered and beloved colonel
will be the successful commander of the attack, and that by the time
the sun rises our honored regimental flag may fly over the enemy’s
parapets. I hereby offer my respects and farewell to you.”
Then we heard the solemn tune of “Kimi ga yo” sounded by trumpets
far away at the left wing. The moon shone through the small sky of
our valley, and the long-drawn faint echo of the national air seemed
to penetrate our hearts. The music sounded to us as if His Majesty
were ordering us forward in person. The officers and men straightened
themselves up, leaped and bounded with overwhelming courage, all at
once burst over the enemy’s breastworks with shouts and yells, braving
the shower of fire and clambering over the rocks and stones. Major
Matsumura, at the head of the foremost group of men, shouted with
stirring and flaming eyes: “Charge! forward!” The music swelled still
more inspiringly, and all the succeeding bands of men shouted Banzai
with an earth-shaking voice and encouraged their onrushing comrades. At
the top of the hill the clash of bayonets scattered sparks—hand-to-hand
conflict at close quarters was the last effort, the impact of the human
bullets, the sons of Yamato. “You haughty land-grabbers, see now the
folly of your policy,” was the idea with which every man struck his
blow, the consequence being a stream of blood and a hill of corpses. It
was a hard struggle, but at the same time it was a great joy to defeat
the enemy after repeated failures! Body after body of men rushed in
like waves—the Russians found it altogether too much for them. They
wavered and yet continued for some time longer to resist us in close
hand-to-hand fight, while we increased in courage and strength in
proportion to their diminution of power. At last, at 8 A. M. of July
28, when the eastern sky was crimson, we became the undisputed masters
of the heights of Taipo-shan.
The imperial colors waved high above our new camp, and the Banzai of
rejoicing arose like surges of the sea!
[Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. XVIII.]
THE FIELD AFTER THE BATTLE
BEFORE we at last secured the enemy’s position along the heights of
Taipo-shan, all of us, from the division commander to the lowest
soldier, had exerted our perseverance and bravery to the uttermost. We
had fought against an enemy having a position naturally advantageous
and strongly fortified; we had fought for fifty-eight hours without
food, drink, or sleep, against a desperately stubborn foe. Our final
success was pregnant of many important results to the subsequent plan
of campaign. The battle of Nanshan, with more than four thousand
casualties, had been considered the hardest of struggles so far; but,
compared with Taipo-shan, Nanshan was won at a low cost. At Nanshan
the enemy had an extended slope before them, where they swept away
our attacking forces from a secure position. The nature of the ground
along Taipo-shan was totally different, built up with perpendicular
hills and deep valleys. We could defend ourselves in a dead angle, or
could conceal and cover ourselves easily. And yet our casualties here
amounted to the same number as at Nanshan. You can judge from this fact
how severe was the battle.