THE BATTLE OF KINCHOU COMMENCES[12]
The days passed monotonously. Wherever one looked one saw men--our
rough peasants in the guise of soldiers--digging and delving, not in
their native heath in the hope of a fruitful harvest, but in the stony,
sandy soil of the inhospitable peninsula. It was depressing to watch
them, sleepless and hungry, and I often wondered how many would ever
again see their fields. The monotony, however, was sometimes broken by
General Stössel's orders. On May 23 he wrote:
'Before May 28 all cattle must be removed from the country round the
town of Kinchou--_i.e._, north of the position of that name.'
Remove the cattle from country already in the possession of the enemy?
Was it a joke?
On May 24 I went to Kinchou. In the same train was the 15th East
Siberian Rifle Regiment, which had only arrived in Arthur on the 20th,
but was now on its way back to Nangalin. Lieutenant-Colonel Yolshin,
commanding the military communications, was in the officials' carriage,
and with him were Captain O., the officers of the 15th Regiment, the
railway engineers, and myself. Sitting at the common table in the
saloon, conversation turned on coming events. Colonel Yolshin, looking
out of the window, said: 'I wonder how long all this will be ours? Can
we hold out at Kinchou? Do we know how to? The enemy is advancing in
considerable force: scouts report that they have brought with them a
quantity of artillery.'
'Can you tell us, Colonel,' said an officer of the regiment, 'why we
are being continually taken into Arthur and then back again? The men
can't have a square meal and never get any sleep, and we are losing a
lot of forage. To-day we have again been sent off suddenly, and the men
had to snatch dinner at the station. Why is it all done?'
'There you are. There is the man who knows,' replied Yolshin, pointing
to Captain O.
'Yes, I can tell you. I have been made Chief of the Staff of the
Rear-Guard, of which your regiment is to form part,' said the newly
fledged staff-officer in a smug tone. He then relapsed into the
mysterious silence beloved of the staff-officer. He evidently wanted
to see what impression he had made on those present, and especially
on those junior to himself, and looked at me none too kindly, for it
behoved him to be careful of what he said in the presence of a mere
civilian, even though an official war correspondent.
I detrained at Tafashin, the head-quarters of the 4th Division, near
the Kinchou position, where I attached myself to some Frontier Guards,
and with them made a night reconnaissance towards Mount Samson, in
front of the position. This was to me exciting and novel, but the main
feature of general interest was that, though one of our objects was to
investigate Mount Samson if possible, we were suddenly recalled before
we reached our objective, as the reconnaissance had been countermanded.
We thus nearly lost the advance patrols we had sent on ahead of us, and
returned without finding out if there were many enemy on Mount Samson
or none at all. I got back to our starting-point at dawn and slept
soundly, tired out by the varied and unusual impressions of the night.
In my dreams I seemed to hear noises, which got louder and louder, till
suddenly I woke. Every one was throwing on his clothes and the alarm
was sounding.
'What's up?' I asked, half dazed, for the whole building was trembling
from the noise of firing.
'It's nothing; the enemy are bombarding us with the Lord knows how many
guns!'
Shrapnel were bursting over the position, and the hills seemed to be
smoking from the bursting shells.
Our patrols of the Frontier Guards only returned in the middle of the
day, and they reported that the enemy had occupied Mount Samson in
considerable force. They had seen their bivouac, guns, and horses, and
had heard the noise of work and the ringing of telephones.
At 5 a.m. horses were brought us, and Lieutenant Sirotko suggested
that we should go on to the position together. The fire increased, the
heaviest falling on the guns under the command of Egoroff. All the
batteries on the position kept up a hot fire; but the enemy rained
shell after shell on Egoroff's unit, literally plastering it with
lead. At times as many as ten shells appeared to be bursting above
the battery at once, and it seemed as if it must be swept away. The
Japanese field-batteries were a long way off, firing at their longest
range. At 6 a.m. the enemy opened fire from some concealed howitzers
on the left; we judged them to be of large calibre by the noise of the
bursts and the powerful effect of the explosions.
It was difficult to range on the enemy's guns, thanks to the use they
made of the ground; we were shooting by guess-work at unseen targets.
In addition to this, their fire was extraordinarily accurate and
concentrated by turns on each battery. At 6.45 a.m. the fire slacked
off, and at 7.45 there was a lull all along the position.
I was struck by the calmness and endurance of the gunners during the
whole time of this, their first artillery battle; whence did they get
it? No exhibition of fear for their lives was at all visible. It was
not that they did not realize the danger, and had not yet seen any
wounded, because up to the end of the siege they behaved in the same
way--like men. If we bow before the heroes of the late war, we must
first bow before the gallant defenders of Port Arthur.
While our leaders were still playing, writing endless letters, long
orders, reports, etc., the enemy made the most of the valuable time;
while we were thinking about making reconnaissances, issuing orders
for them, and then countermanding them, they came right up to Kinchou;
while our General was delaying on the Kinchou position they occupied
Mount Samson, whence they could see all we did distinctly; they had
concentrated the previous night and were getting their guns into
position right under our very noses. And we? The majority of the
gunners told me that the fire suddenly opened on the position came as
a complete surprise, for at 5 a.m., when it commenced, everyone was
peacefully asleep.
After this morning's artillery duel silence again reigned. It was only
at 3 p.m. that a few guns began to fire on separate bodies of the
enemy, which showed up in the valley of Kinchou and near Mount Samson.
Lieutenant Solomonoff opened from his battery, but he did not know what
was happening, for he was not connected by telephone to the position.
He sent off a mounted orderly for information, but the man had to go
two miles. At last it was plain, for dense columns could be seen at
the foot of Mount Samson, between the nearest peak and the old Chinese
houses. The enemy, extended in thick lines and endless ribbons,
commenced to advance against our right flank, under cover of the
houses, without firing a single shot; but it was only a demonstration.
They wanted to attract our attention to, and make us concentrate our
reserve on, that flank.
The whole area was not more than two square miles, and everything could
be seen distinctly. The history of warfare throughout the whole world
cannot produce another instance where such a big fight, and one with
such vital consequences to a war generally, has been waged in such
a confined arena. We could not make a single move without the enemy
seeing it, for from Mount Samson, which we had presented to them, the
Japanese saw everything.
At sunset Solomonoff's battery ceased fire, and orders were received
that when night came on the companies were to occupy the trenches
on the right flank, and 'be particularly vigilant.' Solomonoff
declared that if the position were stormed his battery must at once
be destroyed. 'We have no bomb-proofs; instead we have tents, which,
though pleasant in summer, are not effective in action. I have nowhere
to give shelter to the wounded or to protect the ammunition.' By 9
p.m. every one was ready, and the companies fell in. Saying good-bye
to Colonel Radetsky (when I next saw him he was lying naked in a cart,
dead), we started for the trenches, and in an hour we were in them.
Here thousands of men were waiting for the foe; thousands of eyes were
trying to penetrate the darkness. In front of us were the enemy, who
were close, and clearly about to attack very soon. We waited anxiously,
wondering when and where the blow would be delivered. The narrow neck
of land joining the Kwantun Peninsula with the mainland gradually
became enveloped in a light fog. The movement of the machine-guns
could alone be heard, as troops continued noiselessly to occupy the
first and second lines of trenches. The men were very silent, peering
ahead over the parapet. Towards the centre of the position were
heard occasional shots, rockets flashed out, and the beam of a small
searchlight swept the front: the large projector had come up too late
to be mounted, and was lying in a ravine. Away down in the valley the
advance on the town of Kinchou had commenced, and fighting was going
on between the enemy and three sections of the 10th Company of the 5th
Regiment.
The sky became more and more overcast, and a strong south-east wind
blowing in fitful gusts brought up clouds of dust. It was midnight,
and it grew darker. Having said good-bye to the Frontier Guards in
the trenches, I went on towards the guns on Lime Hill. The Commanding
Officer was lying down in his tent, fully dressed. We went on to the
battery, and found everything quiet and the sentries by the guns. The
air seemed oppressive and charged with electricity, and in the distance
we heard the growl of thunder. There was a blinding flash of lightning,
then another, and the rattle of thunder shook the earth: we ran to the
tent. The rain poured down as if out of a bucket. By 3 a.m. it had
stopped and all was silent; the darkness of night was giving place to
the rosy light of the approaching day, and a blanket of haze lay over
the valley towards Mount Samson.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 12: Also known as the battle of _Nan-shan_.]