THE BATTLE OF KILOMETRE TEN
After these first hostilities men and things began to move with
lightning rapidity. By October 27th the Loyalists, strongly
reinforced by Imperial troops from the north, held the situation
fairly well, fighting with remarkable persistence. What passed
during that day and those immediately ensuing should prove a lesson
to the Western world. Warfare opened at dawn, and the Imperialists,
fighting against a strongly entrenched army of Revolutionists
numerically superior but not so well commanded, won a complete
victory. The Revolutionists fought bravely, and their losses were
heavy.
As will be seen in detail later in this volume, the Revolutionists
were expecting the Imperial troops to join them as soon as the real
cause of the fighting became known to them, for it was a vital part
of the Imperial policy to keep the northern troops in ignorance of
the nature of the revolt. The Revolutionists openly declared
themselves disappointed. But as a matter of fact, even if the
Imperialists had been willing to join, there was no opportunity
presented to them. The arrangement of their troops was such that the
Honan and Shantung soldiers were in front with the Manchus directly
behind them. This was a cleverly designed manoeuvre on the part of
the Manchu officers that worked for the success of the Loyalists.
The Honan men could neither lay down their arms nor turn back--even
if they so wished. An attempt to join the {68} enemy would have
brought upon them the fire of the Manchus, and the steady advance of
the latter prevented any reverse movement.
Foreign military observers who witnessed the battle of Kilometre Ten
unite in saying that the Imperialists made their attack and continued
it in the face of stubborn resistance and in the most scientific
manner, advancing steadily under the cover of their artillery. From
a position some quarter of a mile south of the Kilometre Ten station,
the Revolutionary base, I watched for some three hours hardest
musketry and artillery fire. The deadly warfare raged across a wide
stretch of country lying to the north-east of the Revolutionary
headquarters, over swampy ricefields and half-cultivated ground. Big
four-inchers opened fire just before seven on a cold, grey morning,
and both armies, having moved slightly to the front, were within easy
rifle fire of each other. The Revolutionary Army had spread itself
in the shape of a right angle, with the bigger guns at either point,
and strong lines of enthusiastic infantry entrenched on the north
side of the railway line and well fortified behind stone embankments
and undergrowth along the river abreast of Kilometre Ten and for some
distance below on towards the oil-tanks of the Asiatic Petroleum
Company, Ltd.
The Imperialists, returning the Revolutionary gun-fire with marked
precision, found their range with the fourth shrapnel, the
Revolutionists taking much longer, and having nothing more than the
ordinary 1¾ and 3 inch explosives--their great need was shrapnel.
Far across the field was one bank of ever-increasing smoke, and of
necessity shooting was vague. But both armies, with an earnestness
and energy that one was not accustomed to see in Chinese, kept up
smart riflery for two hours, with hardly a moment's lull, showing
that the Chinese Model Army, if boasting little else, can boast of
men who face battle without flinching. {69} For two hours, at the
very edge of the field, I watched operations through my glasses, and
then saw Admiral Sah's fleet coming up-river slowly--it had been
creeping up for some time. At first it was thought that the
Revolutionary guns known to be at Kinshan, a point on the other side
of the river almost opposite Yanglo, would open fire upon the fleet,
but this did not happen, and not during the whole of the day was
there any firing from that side of the river. Shells from both camps
were being sent out at a terrific rate. Those from the Imperial Army
were seen to be bursting with deadly effect in the Revolutionary
ranks, and the poor fellows who were willing to seal the Republic
with their blood were seen to fall in hundreds.
[Illustration: THE FLIGHT OF THE GUN-JUNKS. These old-style
revolutionary gunboats scudded away at the Battle of Kilometre Ten
when Admiral Sah opened fire.]
For some half-hour it was impossible in the din and the smoke from
the firing, added to the fact that both armies were magnificently
entrenched, to tell which side was doing the more deadly work, but
for more than two hours the rattle of musketry, of Rexer machine
guns, of Maxims, and three and four inch guns told one that the
death-roll must be tremendous. Such incessant rattle was not known
even in the Russo-Japanese War. Suddenly the fleet moved upwards.
No one seemed to take notice of the move or to attach great
importance to it. A small village below the Japanese Bund was as
peaceful as if battle was removed a thousand miles from it, and the
villagers, preparing their morning rice, paid but little heed to the
gradually nearing musketry. To myself there came a fear that from my
temporary resting-place I should soon have to shift. Down behind the
stones at the Kilometre Ten station I could then see the
Revolutionary troops beginning to rise and prepare for a withdrawal.
Simultaneously, from the railway away to the north, three companies
of regular troops, well in command and meaning business, came down,
orderly enough, marched out into the open field, knelt, and prepared
for fire. But what at? Eyes had been taken from the {70} gun-boats,
which were now within such distance that their operations could
easily be seen with the naked eye. They were evidently preparing to
sweep the decks of the cruisers with rifle-shot if they came within
firing distance. Field-guns appeared to be all forward with the main
fighting line, and this batch of infantry was all that was available.
The Revolutionary army was drawn up over a very wide area, stretching
from the river bank above Kilometre Ten to a point far over away from
the other side of the railway, the whole forming a right angle with
three main fortified points, and in between were companies of
infantry entrenched. The shells from the Loyalists, put in from
several guns over the whole of the enemy's right angle, were tearing
the ranks to pieces. This could be seen through the glasses. But
gradually the fighting came nearer. The men who were fighting for
the establishment of their Republic were being slowly driven back.
First one company would move a little back, kneel again, and
whole-heartedly recommence musketry fire. But the moment came, not
much after 9.30 a.m., when it became apparent that the ships were
going to add their quota--and all too deadly a quota as it
transpired--to rout the Revolutionists. First came a terrific boom,
which rent the air, even though all the firing round about ceased not
for a moment. There seemed then in the air to be for a single moment
a silence boding terrible evil. There was another bang; the shell
burst right in the railway--just in the station which had been the
pride of the Revolutionary forces as their formidable base--a flame
was seen to go up from one of the buildings in the front, and the
Admiral saw that he had got his range.
[Illustration: THE EFFECT OF A NAVAL BOMBARDMENT. This populous
village was burned to the ground in the first engagement of Admiral
Sah's fleet with revolutionary army.]
For an army well trained in the arts of war, old veterans of modern
warfare, it would be a brave thing, perhaps foolhardy, to endeavour
to stand before an army equal to itself and a naval force whose
strength was unknown. Much more would it be to expect it of {71} an
army, a great percentage made up of raw recruits, who had hardly
handled a rifle before this Revolution broke out. At the time of
which I am writing this was the position of the Revolutionary Army.
From the land forces they could expect as much as they could tackle
with the forces they had then at their base. It had been a good
fight, and they had held their ground well, feeling the need of
trained troops. In addition to that, many of the trained troops were
shot down by their own men--recruits who had been placed in the rear
lines and had shot down the regulars at the front--a most regrettable
feature for the Revolutionists during the whole campaign.
Now that warships began to pelt shells into the Revolutionary camp
with alarming precision, it seemed hopeless for them. The great
majority, however, with marked coolness stuck to their guns.
Over the land came the whistle of Admiral Sah's shells--their effect
was terrific. Soon it was seen that the Revolutionists would have to
evacuate. To stay in their present situation would have meant only
utter disaster, and they saw it was a hopeless task. Many of them
came slowly from the ranks, all muddy and disordered, tired and
forlorn, and made their way back through the sympathetic villages and
along the railway line towards Hankow native city. Then they came
away pellmell, and the Imperialists pelted them with shells as they
fled. Peking men crept up through the trenches with capital skill,
being officered splendidly, and showing by all that they did--gunners
and infantry--that they were a modern army, and to be reckoned with.
They then came away to the Racecourse; were temporarily beaten back
by a ragtail and bobtail crowd of Revolutionists, more ardent than
skilful, who had taken up a fresh stand. Firing was recommenced, and
the Imperialists, despite the fact that Maxims were turned on them
with terrific force, came up through the trenches. Their bravery was
one of the wonderful {72} features of the day, and will be handed
down in history. Hopelessly were they mown down, brutally were they
knocked out by Maxim fire, but they stuck to it and came along in a
style British regiments would not look down upon.
"Brothers!" they would exclaim in their ignorance, "we are fighting a
pack of robbers and hooligans. We must fight to save our country
from unworthy men."
Towards two o'clock, after scouting parties had been working from
both sides, they again came to close quarters by the side of the
Japanese Concession, and it was feared that the Foreign Concessions
would be rushed on the first day's fight. These settlements, however
were guarded splendidly--American, Austrian, British, French, German,
and Japanese naval contingents being stationed all over the place,
with the roads all barricaded, and every measure taken to preserve
peace and order.
The number of dead in this battle, as in most of the others, was not
known.
Following on the Imperial success earlier in the day, Admiral Sah
then sent official intimation to British Rear-Admiral Winsloe, who
was nominally in charge of the foreign defences, that he would
commence to bombard Wuchang on the morrow at three p.m. A consular
circular was sent round to that effect, strongly advising that all
women and children should leave. It further said that the foreign
gunboats might drop down river, but that full guards would be landed
and kept in the Concessions for defence. The volunteers also would
remain on duty.
[Illustration: PREPARED FOR EVENTUALITIES. The Americans on guard at
the Foreign Concession while heavy fighting was going on close by.
It was feared by the foreign community that either side, when beaten,
might make for cover in the Concession.]
It was during these days that Admiral Sah played a remarkable game of
bluff. The promised bombardment did not come off, and it was
afterwards learned that it had never been intended. On board the
cruisers there was a shortage of ammunition, among the crew the
greatest dissatisfaction was openly expressed; the Admiral was not
quite sure that if he bombarded {73} Wuchang he would cause a
surrender; he also entertained the feeling that this was a squabble
of the land forces, and told the Imperial leaders he thought they
should be strong enough to end the affair themselves--and so the days
passed by without any serious interference in Wuchang of General Li
Yuan Hung's policy of sitting tight. The added moral effect of his
holding Wuchang to the Revolution was tremendous: each day brought
news of either provincial capitals or "_fu_" cities throwing in their
lot with the Revolution, and Li, far-seeing and tremendously capable,
held back the attack the Wuchang garrison was anxious to commence,
and concentrated his army on the Hankow side.
Here fighting was being carried on with a pluck which astounded all
beholders. The Imperial Army was for the first time since the
Chinese Model Army had been organised plunged into real warfare. The
Revolutionists--a teeming multitude, it is true--were for the most
part raw recruits, men who had never stood before gun-fire, whom one
could reasonably have expected to be "gun-shy." But their bravery,
because they believed their fight was one for emancipation, from what
very few of the raw recruit element knew probably, would have made
many an Occidental regiment blush with envy.
Truly were those first days of the war a season of intense excitement
and surprise.
By November 1st the Imperialists, already in possession of Kilometre
Ten and the whole line from Peking, by persevering and undaunted
behaviour, excellent discipline, and military common sense, had won
their way to the Tachimen, the railway station behind the French
Concession. That morning I was in the camp at the station.
Foreigners had been looked upon with suspicion, and as I entered the
station some of the officers looked askance at me. No other army
would have allowed me to pass the barrier without having seen a pass.
But pass I had none. As I sat chatting {74} to a crowd of well-knit
northern fellows, who seemed perfectly at ease and to have all they
wished for--except cigarettes, for which they were constantly making
inquiries--it was difficult to believe that one was in the very
centre of the topical world. The eyes of every one were turned
towards this great struggle between Chinese and Chinese. Every
newspaper in London and New York was concentrating upon the war.
China's Revolution was on the far political horizon, for what
affected China just then affected the world. And as those Imperial
fellows at their military base congratulated each other that at least
they had the chance of being actually in war, they had but little
idea of the importance attaching to the conflict. Shells that
dropped around me, however, were bringing messages of a China that
was to be.
Not a hundred yards from where I sat were four field-guns--deadly
four-inchers, the modern Krupp--sending shells into Hanyang as fast
as the gunners were able to work. The booming shook the whole city,
sending frightened children to their mothers, themselves at their
wits' ends with fear. Revolutionary batteries at Hanyang, not yet
silenced or showing any signs of giving up the fight, dropped its
shells sometimes nearer, sometimes farther, never into the battery
here on the railroad.
As an interested spectator, I sat on a few sleepers and watched where
the shells dropped from both sets of guns. It was a casual pastime,
and no one seemed to mind my being there. The gunners would, with
highest glee, explain how the four-inchers were worked, would point
away towards Hanyang Hill and tell you they were trying to pot the
temple overlooking the Yangtze, and when a shell from the enemy
dropped anywhere near there was a shout of enthusiastic mirth. They
would look at one astutely, smile, inquire into one's family
associations in characteristic Chinese style, and {75} were highly
delighted if relevantly one could carry on conversation with them in
Chinese. The average military observer would probably have declared
the Imperial Army to be a peculiar military force. Into the daily
routine the extravagant Chinese etiquette was worked in conjunction
with a discipline quite strange to Chinese, and on the face of things
it would not seem, viewed from camp life, that China's army was in
any way a modern army. But that this Model Army of China is as much
of a myth as some would have us believe, I, now in it all, could not
for a moment endorse. The foreigner has always looked upon the
Chinese as a man who would not fight him with the weapons of war; his
main attack would be the weapons of commerce, of boycott, or of
trust. But the Chinese Army to-day is certainly no myth. It is
strong enough to preserve peace with other countries, if not to enter
into any external strife with the idea of winning.
That the Revolutionists had the numbers I would have been the first
to admit, but the trained fighter is the man who wins in battle. Not
one-fifth of their troops were trained soldiers; they have been seen
to come out into the fighting line, wearing the uniform of the
military it is true, to put the butts of their pieces upon their hips
and let fly, until they saw their own men falling dead in front of
them, shot from behind. But with the Northern Army it needed only a
stroll round their camp to convince the most casual of observers that
the Revolutionary's enemy was an army, doing things as an army
should. The army defending the Throne was the product of twelve
years of strenuous work by a great genius. The Northern Army was
founded upon principles set down by Yuan Shih K'ai, the genius of
things military in China, and that genius, using his brains but
seeing nothing of the fight, was just then directing the operations
as they proceeded.
Whether the Imperialists were getting to know more about that for
which they were fighting, whether a {76} great many in the rank and
file were anxious to throw up the sponge and go back to their homes,
whether a certain section of them were anxious to change coats and go
over to the other ranks and shoot down those by whose side they had
been trained did not affect the general position. The Imperialists
were the cogs of the machine, and for their life they could not stop
fighting. They might have been half-hearted, as many said they were,
but their organisation was almost perfect.
[Illustration: FOES MEETING AS FRIENDS. A regiment of soldiers
casting in their lot with the Revolutionists against whom they had
lately fought.]
As I sat on the railway sleepers a crowd of soldiers soon gathered.
Some held their rice-bowls up to me, and with their chopsticks as
they ate asked me to _chi-fan_, and when I took a hard piece of bread
from one of the infantry and began to munch at it to show that there
was not the slightest ill-feeling they all screamed with laughter,
and each swore that I was a good all-round sort of fellow. And then
we fell to talking. "Ah!" indignantly yelled the officer, when I
asked him why Chinese were fighting Chinese, "these men are
rebels--_ding kuai, ding kuai tih ren!_[1] They are making it nasty
for the foreign Concessions, and our Government are going to put it
down. They are not real soldiers. They are only robbers and wicked
men; they can't fight. We [and the man stroked himself down] are the
fighters." And then he invited me to go a little way with him, until
we came in sight of the guns then sending out the shells. "We have
guns here that would blow those fellows into that great river, and if
they don't give up soon that's what we are going to do. We are not
going to leave a house standing; it is Yuan Shih K'ai's orders, and
in a few days it will all be over, and we shall all go back to Peking
and have a holiday. Yuan Shih K'ai," he softly said, "is down at
Kilometre Ten,[2] and {77} he will not come up farther. He is a
wonderful fellow. He has his fingers on the situation, and is merely
waiting his time. The Revolutionists think that he is afraid because
our men are not fighting to-day, but you wait; presently you will see
all the people in this city killed. We are killing anybody we can
see, and shall kill many, many more yet."
"But don't you think that that's a funny sort of _tao li_ for Chinese
to kill Chinese?" Then the man turned his head away and did a
half-hearted smile. "Ah! that's altogether another question. That
was the old style. We are a new army, and we are told to fight for a
New China. We don't want our country to fall into the control of all
those wicked men."
"Yes, I can see that right enough. But these poor fellows that your
crack shooting is knocking over are good fellows, and are all
fighting for the good of their country too----"
But he interrupted me. He would have none of it. He thought that I
was myself a Revolutionist, and ceased talking. "That's what they
tell you," he finally remarked. "If they get into power, it will be
totally different."
Again I approached him as he walked from me. "I'm afraid that you
have not got the truth of the story. These men think that they are
in the right. They are not the robbers you think them, surely.
Probably you have been misinformed, and----"
"We're not misinformed. Our officers are all good men, and our men
are the best that could be sent. We are the best in the army, and
that is the reason we were sent...."
* * * * *
It soon became evident that a threat of the {78} Imperialists would
be carried out. Their first threat was that they would get Hankow
the first day, Hanyang the second, Wuchang the third. Hankow would
soon be taken. Everybody knew that. Whether Yuan Shih K'ai would
allow his army to burn it to the ground, as was stated was his
intention, was, however, another matter. None believed that such
savagery would be allowed; but that was the threat, and, after all,
fires are common in wartime.
[Illustration: TACHIMEN, WITH IMPERIALISTS IN OCCUPATION. This was
the Imperialist headquarters till the withdrawal of the Northern Army
from the Wuhan centre.]
The Rev. A. J. McFarlane, Headmaster of the Griffith John College,
who remained some distance from Hankow during most of the heavy
fighting, gave me the following account of a somewhat dangerous ride
he had along the road at the back of the city. It will serve to show
the conditions around the country during the time the fusillading was
hardest:--
"On Sunday, October 29th, the Imperial troops had fought their way
all along the railway line from the Sing Seng Road to the River Han
at Ch'iaokow, and from the College we heard the bark of the Maxims
for the first time on Sunday evening, and that night there were fires
in nine places around the railway line. But by Monday evening a
counter-attack of Hunan troops seemed to have carried the tide of
battle back again to the Tachimen Station; and local rumours said
that the Imperialists were all cut to pieces, or had surrendered.
Certainly it was evident from the firing that they had fallen back a
long way, and as we had had no news from Hankow for four days, and
were in need of silver for salaries, and for the scholars' food, I
decided on Tuesday to try and get through to the Concessions. (We
had continued a few classes regularly till Saturday, but on Sunday
the last two Chinese masters left.)
"The three-mile ride to the beginning of the native city was marked
by the signs of recent fighting, and I had to make a detour where
some Imperialists were said to be concealed in a hut, and sniping was
going {79} on. I got to the Ma-loo, on the old city wall, and found
the whole place deserted; even the mud huts of the beggars were empty
and half-burnt; and in place of the usual crowd of foot-passengers,
bearers, and rickshaws there was not a human being, not even a stray
dog in sight. Hankow native city seemed like a city of the dead--it
was not burned till the next day, Wednesday--and there must have been
still thousands hidden away in the houses. After about a mile of the
road, where signs of the stern resistance--shell holes in houses and
strewn cartridge-cases--were on every side, I came to five or six
Hunan soldiers, lying in the shelter of the parapet by the roadside,
waiting for snipe-shots at Imperial soldiers, who were in possession
of the railway bank, running parallel to the Ma-loo, about half a
mile away. They waved me forward in a friendly way, evidently not
wishing to reveal their presence to the enemy. So I continued the
lonely ride, and passed the mangled body of a black-coat, covered
with flies, and a heap of unused shells, telling their tale of defeat
and hasty retreat. The silent air was heavy with the smell of death,
and the odour of burned flesh and wood was everywhere. Suddenly a
flash and the bang of a rifle from the railway bank, and as I did not
know whether it was meant for me I dismounted and walked forward a
little to show myself as a foreigner, but as nothing more followed I
cycled on again, and soon passed another ten black-coats, lying by
the roadside, waiting for pot-shots at the railway bank, and a few
more in the shelter of a house, firing through the ruined windows.
There were one or two more dead Revolutionists, and a half-burned
pony or cow among some ruined huts, and farther on a dead woman by
the roadside, evidently of the beggar class, lying half-naked in a
pool of blood. As I neared the Water Tower there were two or three
small stalls open, and a few people about; and I caught the first
glimpse of a squad of {80} grey-coats, moving, some way off, among
the huts. The Marines, at the end of the Ma-loo, helped my bicycle
over the barrier of sacks and bricks there, and the report of a
cannon firing close by just at that moment emphasised the heavenly
sense of safety and relief as one trod once more on Concession soil,
where all was peace and quiet.
"At 3 p.m. as the conditions seemed much the same, and I had done my
business and secured the needed dollars, I rode back again the same
way without any adventures, save for a jumpy, tightening feeling
round the heart as a few sniping shots passed backwards and forwards
again, till I got beyond the city to the comparative safety of the
deserted countryside, and to a hearty welcome from the School."
[1] "Very bad men" in the literal Chinese.
[2] It was about this time that Yuan Shih K'ai, in compliance with a
strong invitation from the Throne, took office. He was appointed
Viceroy of the Hu-kwang, and was instructed to quell the rebellion.
The report was that he was now at Kilometre Ten, but he was really at
Siaokan. Perhaps readers would care to read the chapter dealing with
Yuan at this juncture.
{81}