had no time to lose, so we came to the conclusion that the best thing
we could do now was to go to the old fort of East Panlung and fight
even single-handed, and that, if the main body had begun by that time,
we should be in a good spot to join its action. Thinking that the
occasional sound of a machine-gun that we had heard must be coming from
Panlung, and that a ravine we had found must lead to that mountain, we
started from Wuchia-fang along the ravine.
Ah, that ravine! a narrow path of less than two _ken_ in width. It was
the place where the Ninth Division and the Seventh and Ninth Regiments
of the Second Reserve had had such a hard fight the day before. What
a scene of horrors! No stretcher nor medicine chest could be brought
there. The dead and wounded were piled one upon another in nooks and
corners, some groaning with pain, some crying for help, and some
perfectly quiet, breathing no longer. We hardly found space to walk
without stepping on them. It was an infernal tunnel of the dead and
dying. We groped to the right not to step on a dead comrade, only to
kick a wounded one on the left. Where we stepped, thinking that it was
on mother earth, we found ourselves walking over the khaki-colored
dead. “Don’t step on the corpses!” I shouted to my men; but at that
very moment I was treading on the chest of one. “Pardon,” was the only
apology I could offer the dead thus unintentionally insulted. Along
this long, narrow path full of corpses, it was impossible not to step
on our poor, silent comrades.
We were almost at the end of the ravine—a few steps more would have
brought us face to face with wire-entanglements—when we stopped short
for a while. All at once the enemy’s machine-guns began at our left,
shooting out flames of fire through the dark. Presently we heard
the noise of a gun detachment; six of our guns were trying to climb
Panlung through the same ravine. In this narrow pass the infantry and
artillery men were jumbled together to escape the fire of the Russian
machine-guns.
We were now at the foot of the objective mountain, but no trace of
the main body could be found. What a disappointment and pain for us!
Where was it? Was the expected assault postponed? After a great deal
of cogitation the captain decided to go back to Wuchia-fang and wait
for further orders. This was his deliberately formed conclusion, and of
course we had to obey him, though very reluctantly. Once again we must
go through that infernal tunnel. Those corpses of the dead comrades on
which we had stepped and to which we had apologized in horror had to be
trodden on once more. We looked for the dead and wounded in the dark
and found their condition still worse and more miserable than before,
because the artillerymen had been through the same place after us,
and many dead and dying had been run over by the gun carriages. Those
who had been breathing faintly had breathed their last under the iron
wheels; those who had already died were cut to pieces. Shattered bones,
torn flesh, flowing blood, were mingled with broken swords and split
rifles. What could be more shocking than this scene!
We went back to the entrance of the ravine and waited there for a
while; at last group after group of shadows began to come through the
dark. It was our main body! Our joy was unbounded. We learned that they
had not been able to reach the place of rendezvous at the appointed
hour, on account of the constant hindrance to their march offered by
the enemy’s search-lights. We breathed a sigh of relief in thus joining
the main body at last, and rejoiced over the prospect of forming with
them the advance guard of the first general assault. This place of
gathering did not shield us from the enemy’s fire, nor was it large
enough to accommodate a great number of men; it was only protected
by a precipice that would prevent the enemy from looking down upon
us. Among the officers who were with us here was Major Matsumura, who
distinguished himself at Taku-shan after its capture by our army by
resisting and repulsing the enemy’s counter-attack. He had sprained
his right foot at that time, but would not consent to receive medical
treatment for such a trifling injury as he called it, and was still
doing the duty of a battalion commander. This night he was still
suffering from his foot; but supporting himself with a willow stick,
he walked on at the head of his battalion. Sitting down beside me, he
said, “The time it has come at last!”
Captain Segawa, who bade that sad farewell to his younger brother at
Taku-shan, was also there. Lieutenant Sone came along with a cartridge
belt round his waist and a rifle in his hand. I asked him why he was so
strangely armed. Upon which he said that he had lost his sword during
the scouting of the previous night and had therefore armed himself
like a private soldier. All the officers gathered together wished each
other success and chatted cheerfully for a while. Only a few hours
later, all of them had been killed except Major Matsumura and myself!
Whenever I think of it, I still feel as if I saw their faces and heard
their voices. Brave fellows! Poor men! My heart is full of strange
emotions when I think of them.
[Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. XXVI.]
THE FORLORN HOPE
WE all fell in under the precipice and were waiting for the order of
march, when a piece of paper reached me handed from man to man. I
opened it and read:—
“Yasukichi Honda was shot on the 19th, and when I offered him a drink of
water he shed tears and asked me to give his compliments to Lieutenant
Sakurai.
(Signed) “BUNKICHI TAKEO.”
This Honda had been my servant about a year before, and he was a
faithful fellow. His last words were a farewell to me who had done so
little for him. I was deeply affected by his loyal devotion. Even now I
regret I had no chance of giving him a farewell hand-shake, and cannot
help thinking how greatly he would have rejoiced if I could have given
him one word of good-by while he was yet alive.
I gathered my men around me and said: “I now bid you all farewell.
Fight with all your might. This battle will decide whether Port Arthur
is to fall or not. This water you drink, please drink as if at your
death moment.”
I filled a cup with water that was fetched by one or two soldiers at
the risk of their lives, and we all drank farewell from the same cup.
Soon we received orders to advance to a point half-way up the side of
Panlung. We began to move on quietly; we who had already drunk together
the death-cup went again through that same terrible ravine full of
our dead comrades. This was the third time that we had traveled by
this path, and none expected to walk over it a fourth time alive. To
die under the flying Flag of the Rising Sun, and to die while doing
splendid service to one’s country, was the wish and resolve of every
heart. Before beginning this final march to the battle-field, we all
made ourselves as light as possible; we carried with us just enough
hard biscuit, “iron rations,” to support life for two or three days;
the rest we left behind. My khaki uniform was decorated by a national
flag hanging from my belt, a Japanese towel was tied around my neck. I
wore no shoes, only tabi[56] on my feet, and my whole appearance was
like that of a dancer at a summer festival in Tokyo. I carried with
me my sword, my water bottle, and three hard biscuit. Thus armed and
attired I was to appear on the glorious stage of death.
The mere thought of this ravine makes one shudder even now. We jumped
over or stepped on the heaped-up corpses and went on holding our noses.
What a grief it was to have to tread on the bodies of our heroic dead!
I found one wounded man squatting in a corner groaning with pain. I
asked him where he was wounded. He told me that his legs were broken,
and for three days he had had no single grain of rice, nor a single
drop of water; no stretcher had appeared, and he had been waiting for
the arrival of death ever since he fought and fell. I gave him the
three biscuit I had, and told him to eat those and wait patiently for
the coming of our bearer company. He clasped his hands together and
shed tears for joy and gratitude and begged me to tell him my name. I
was deeply touched by this experience. “Farewell” was the only thing
I could say to the poor fellow as I passed on. We now came to the
wire-entanglement of Panlung-shan.
This fortress of Panlung had been captured with the flesh and blood
of the Ninth Division and the Seventh and Eighth Regiments of the
Second Reserve, and was now an important base from which a general
assault on the northern forts of East Kikuan and Wantai was to be made.
This critical spot was finally taken after a terrible struggle and a
valiant action by the men of General Oshima’s command. The sad story
was eloquently told by the horrible sights of the ravine. While running
through the opening in the wire-entanglement beyond, I noticed many
engineers and infantry-men dead, piled one upon another, caught in the
wire, or taking hold with both arms of a post, or grasping the iron
shears.
When we reached the middle of the side of Panlung, I saw the regimental
flag that I used to carry, flying above our heads in the dark. My
heart leaped at the sight of the dear flag. I scrambled up to where
it was planted and came face to face with Colonel Aoki, with whom I
had exchanged farewell salutations at the foot of Taku-shan some days
before.
“Colonel, I am Lieutenant Sakurai!”
He looked at me as if thinking fondly of bygone days, and said:—
“Are you Sakurai? I do pray for your success.”
After this word from my commander, how could I be satisfied without
doing something? I must exert myself to the uttermost.
Then I heard a voice calling my name from the top of the mountain, so I
bade farewell to the colonel and went on to the top to find Lieutenant
Yoshida, a friend of mine from the same province, sitting there alone.
I had heard of his being in the Ninth Division, fighting before Port
Arthur, but I did not expect ever to meet him. To see an old friend
just before going into a fierce engagement was touching.
“Sakurai, isn’t it fearful, the fighting of the last few days?”
Wondering why he was there, I asked: “What are you doing here alone?”
“Please look at these corpses!”
There were dark shadows about him which I had thought were the recruits
of our regiment. I could not help being astonished when I found that
those heaps of khaki-colored men were the dead or wounded soldiers
of Lieutenant Yoshida’s command. What a horrible sight! Their bodies
were piled up two or three or even four deep; some had died with their
hands on the enemy’s battery, some had successfully gone beyond the
battery and were killed grasping the gun-carriages. A sad groaning
came from the wounded who were buried under the dead. When this
gallant assaulting column had pressed upon the enemy’s forts, stepping
over their comrades’ bodies, the terrible and skillful fire of the
machine-guns had killed them all, close by the forts, piling the dead
upon the wounded. The men behind, angry at their comrades’ death,
attempted a summary revenge, but they rushed upon the enemy only to
swell the number of the dead, and Lieutenant Yoshida felt that he could
not leave his unfortunate men, and was watching over their remains
with a breaking heart. Later, on the 27th of October, he fought most
desperately at Erhlung and died. This interview at the top of Panlung
was our last good-by.
As soon as we were gathered together the colonel rose and gave us a
final word of exhortation, saying: “This battle is our great chance
of serving our country. To-night we must strike at the vitals of Port
Arthur. Our brave assaulting column must be not simply a forlorn-hope
(‘resolved-to-die’), but a ‘sure-death’ detachment. I as your father
am more grateful than I can express for your gallant fighting. Do your
best, all of you.”
Yes, we were all ready for death when leaving Japan. Men going to
battle of course cannot expect to come back alive. But in this
particular battle to be ready for death was not enough; what was
required of us was a determination not to fail to die. Indeed, we were
“sure-death” men, and this new appellation gave us a great stimulus.
Also a telegram that had come from the Minister of War in Tokyo, was
read by the aide-de-camp, which said, “I pray for your success.” This
increased the exaltation of our spirits.
Let me now recount the sublimity and horror of this general assault.
I was a mere lieutenant and everything passed through my mind as in a
dream, so my story must be something like picking out things from the
dark. I can’t give you any systematic account, but must limit myself to
fragmentary recollections. If this story sounds like a vainglorious
account of my own achievements, it is not because I am conscious of
my merit when I have so little to boast of, but because the things
concerning me and near me are what I can tell you with authority. If
this partial account prove a clue from which the whole story of this
terrible assault may be inferred, my work will not have been in vain.
The men of the “sure-death” detachment rose to their part. Fearlessly
they stepped forward to the place of death. They went over Panlung-shan
and made their way through the piled-up bodies of the dead, groups of
five or six soldiers reaching the barricaded slope one after another.
I said to the colonel, “Good-by, then!”
With this farewell I started, and my first step was on the head of a
corpse. Our objective points were the Northern Fortress and Wang-tai
Hill.
There was a fight with bombs at the enemy’s skirmish-trenches. The
bombs sent from our side exploded finely, and the place became at once
a conflagration, boards were flung about, sand bags burst, heads flew
around, legs were torn off. The flames mingled with the smoke, lighted
up our faces weirdly, with a red glare, and all at once the battle-line
became confused. Then the enemy, thinking it hopeless, left the place
and began to flee. “Forward! forward! Now is the time to go forward!
Forward! Pursue! Capture it with one bound!” and, proud of our
victory, we went forward courageously.
Captain Kawakami, raising his sword, cried, “Forward!” and then I,
standing close by him, cried, “Sakurai’s company, forward!”
Thus shouting I left the captain’s side, and, in order to see the road
we were to follow, went behind the rampart. What is that black object
which obstructs our view? It is the ramparts of the Northern Fortress.
Looking back, I did not see a soldier. Alack, had the line been cut?
In trepidation, keeping my body to the left for safety, I called the
Twelfth Company.
“Lieutenant Sakurai!” a voice called out repeatedly in answer.
Returning in the direction of the sound, I found Corporal Ito weeping
loudly.
“What are you crying for? What has happened?”
The corporal, weeping bitterly, gripped my arm tightly.
“Lieutenant Sakurai, you have become an important person.”
“What is there to weep about? I say, what is the matter?”
He whispered in my ear, “Our captain is dead.”
Hearing this, I too wept. Was it not only a moment ago that he had
given the order “Forward”? Was it not even now that I had separated
from him? And yet our captain was one of the dead. In one moment our
tender, pitying Captain Kawakami and I had become beings of two
separate worlds. Was it a dream or a reality, I wondered?
Corporal Ito pointed out the captain’s body, which had fallen inside
the rampart only a few rods away. I hastened thither and raised him in
my arms.
“Captain!” I could not say a word more.
But as matters could not remain thus, I took the secret map which the
captain had, and, rising up boldly, called out, “From henceforward
I command the Twelfth Company.” And I ordered that some one of the
wounded should carry back the captain’s corpse. A wounded soldier was
just about to raise it up when he was struck on a vital spot and died
leaning on the captain. One after another of the soldiers who took his
place was struck and fell.
I called Sub-Lieutenant Ninomiya and asked him if the sections were
together.
He answered in the affirmative. I ordered Corporal Ito not to let
the line be cut, and told him that I would be in the centre of the
skirmishers. In the darkness of the night we could not distinguish
the features of the country, nor in which direction we were to march.
Standing up abruptly against the dark sky were the Northern Fortress
and Wang-tai Hill. In front of us lay a natural stronghold, and we were
in a caldron-shaped hollow. But still we marched on side by side.
“The Twelfth Company forward!”
I turned to the right and went forward as in a dream. I remember
nothing clearly of the time.
“Keep the line together!”
This was my one command. Presently I ceased to hear the voice of
Corporal Ito, who had been at my right hand. The bayonets gleaming
in the darkness became fewer. The black masses of soldiers who had
pushed their way on now became a handful. All at once, as if struck
by a club, I fell down sprawling on the ground. I was wounded, struck
in my right hand. The splendid magnesium light of the enemy flashed
out, showing the piled-up bodies of the dead, and I raised my wounded
hand and looked at it. It was broken at the wrist; the hand hung down
and was bleeding profusely. I took out the already loosened bundle of
bandages,[57] tied up my wound with the triangular piece, and then
wrapping a handkerchief over it, I slung it from my neck with the
sunrise flag, which I had sworn to plant on the enemy’s fortress.
Looking up, I saw that only a valley lay between me and Wang-tai
Hill, which almost touched the sky. I wished to drink and sought
at my waist, but the canteen was gone; its leather strap alone was
entangled in my feet. The voices of the soldiers were lessening one
by one. In contrast, the glare of the rockets of the hated enemy and
the frightful noise of the cannonading increased. I slowly rubbed my
legs, and, seeing that they were unhurt, I again rose. Throwing aside
the sheath of my sword, I carried the bare blade in my left hand as a
staff, went down the slope as in a dream, and climbed Wang-tai Hill.
The long and enormously heavy guns were towering before me, and how
few of my men were left alive now! I shouted and told the survivors
to follow me, but few answered my call. When I thought that the other
detachments must also have been reduced to a similar condition, my
heart began to fail me. No reinforcement was to be hoped for, so I
ordered a soldier to climb the rampart and plant the sun flag overhead,
but alas! he was shot and killed, without even a sound or cry.
All of a sudden a stupendous sound as from another world rose around
about me.
“Counter-assault!”
A detachment of the enemy appeared on the rampart, looking like a
dark wooden barricade. They surrounded us in the twinkling of an eye
and raised a cry of triumph. Our disadvantageous position would not
allow us to offer any resistance, and our party was too small to fight
them. We had to fall back down the steep hill. Looking back, I saw the
Russians shooting at us as they pursued. When we reached the earthworks
before mentioned, we made a stand and faced the enemy. Great confusion
and infernal butchery followed. Bayonets clashed against bayonets; the
enemy brought out machine-guns and poured shot upon us pell-mell; the
men on both sides fell like grass. But I cannot give you a detailed
account of the scene, because I was then in a dazed condition. I only
remember that I was brandishing my sword in fury. I also felt myself
occasionally cutting down the enemy. I remember a confused fight
of white blade against white blade, the rain and hail of shell, a
desperate fight here and a confused scuffle there. At last I grew so
hoarse that I could not shout any more. Suddenly my sword broke with a
clash, my left arm was pierced. I fell, and before I could rise a shell
came and shattered my right leg. I gathered all my strength and tried
to stand up, but I felt as if I were crumbling and fell to the ground
perfectly powerless. A soldier who saw me fall cried, “Lieutenant
Sakurai, let us die together.”
I embraced him with my left arm and, gnashing my teeth with regret and
sorrow, I could only watch the hand-to-hand fight going on about me. My
mind worked like that of a madman, but my body would not move an inch.
[Illustration: Japanese kanji Ch. XXVII.]
LIFE OUT OF DEATH
THE day of the 24th of August dawned upon a battle-ground covered with
the dead and wounded of both sides. I discovered that the man in my
arms was Kensuke Ono, a soldier whom I had trained. He was wounded in
the right eye and pierced through the side. Thinking that he could
not live, he had called my name and offered to die with me. Poor,
dear fellow! My left arm that embraced him was covered with dark red
clots of blood, which was running over Ono’s neck. Ono removed my
arm, quietly pulled out his bandages, and bound up my left arm. Thus
I lay surrounded by the enemy and seriously wounded; there seemed no
slightest hope of my escape. If I did not expire then, it was certain
that I should soon be in the enemy’s hands, which meant a misfortune
far more intolerable than death. My heart yearned to commit suicide
before such a disgrace should befall me, but I had no weapon with me,
no hand that could help me in the act. Tears of regret choked me.
“Ono, please kill me and go back and report the conditions,” I urged
him. I begged him to kill me, but he would not consent. He was almost
blind, for both his eyes were covered with blood, but he grasped his
rifle and said, “I resist your orders.”
I expostulated with him and explained our position, saying that the
enemy had changed their attitude to a counter-attack and we were
already surrounded by them; beside that, we had gone far into the
enemy’s ground since the previous night, so that if we remained in
that helpless state we were sure of being made prisoners. Then I asked
him how he felt about becoming a captive of the Russians, and told him
that it was a far greater mercy to me who could not move a limb for
him to kill me at once and make good his escape. But Ono was already
losing his reason and simply continued saying, “I resist your orders.”
There was no other help, and I resigned myself to dying where I was. At
the same time I was extremely anxious to send Ono and let him report
the condition of affairs at the present moment. So as a means to make
him go I said, “Bring me a stretcher and I will go,” and urged him to
hurry up. Of course I knew full well that, since that incarnation of
love in the shape of a stretcher company could not reach the ravine,
much less could it come to this spot encircled by the enemy, my only
hope was that he might thus have a chance of returning alive to our
main body and also of reporting my death. Ono, in a state of frenzy,
jumped up at my words, and saying, “Please wait here,” ran over to
the earthworks and disappeared. Would he successfully go through the
enemy’s investment, back to our main position? Later, when I found him
in a hospital, I was astonished at his good fortune.
I was thus left lying alone surrounded by dead and dying. This
moment was the most hallowed, the most painfully sad, and the most
exasperating in my life. I repeated to myself Nelson’s words, “Thank
heaven, I have done my duty!” and comforted myself with the idea that,
though doomed to failure, I had done my whole life’s work. I thought
of nothing else. I was only conscious that the life-blood of a man
twenty-five years of age was fast flowing to its speedy exhaustion, but
did not feel the pain of the wounds at all. A number of the Russians
were going to and fro in the trenches only a few _ken_ from me and
firing at our surviving men, each Russian using five or six rifles in
turn. While I was watching their action with wide-open eyes, one of
them turned back and noticed my being still alive. He signaled to the
others, and three or four shots visited me at once. They fixed their
bayonets and came jumping toward me. I shut my eyes. I was about to
be butchered. My body was not of iron and stone to begin with, and
its limbs were shattered and had no power to resist or chase the
enemy. I could not escape from the poisonous teeth of the wolves. But
Providence had not forsaken me yet. At this critical moment I only
heard the din of a close fight near me, but was spared the point of an
unknown savage’s bayonet. As they rushed toward me, five or six of our
survivors encountered them, fought them, and all fell. And I who had
had nothing but sure death to wait for was saved at the cost of my poor
comrades’ lives. By this sacrifice was my faint breathing continued.