Chapter XII

THE PASSAGE OF THE YALU.

The night passed without alarm, and on the morning of April 30th the guns on the heights above Chiu-lien-cheng began to speak once more. Soon after dawn the Russian General discovered that his left flank was in danger, and withdrew it to a position North of the Ai-ho.

Up to this moment General Kuroki was undecided as to the wisdom of disclosing his gun positions. It was a question with the staff whether the bombardment should begin on the 30th day of April or should be reserved for the day of assault. If the artillery opened on the 30th its position North of the main stream of the Yalu would be known to the Russians, who would retire their own guns further into the mountains. After anxious consideration it was determined that the Japanese artillery should remain silent as long as no fire was opened upon the pontoon bridges. In the event of any attempt to destroy the bridges the guns were ordered to reply. Precisely at eleven o’clock, when the sun was at their back and the light was in favour of the Japanese, the Russian guns were directed on the pontoons.

There was no longer need for concealment. The Japanese unmasked their batteries near Wiju and on the island of Kontonto. For two hours the duel raged with increasing violence. At first the Russian guns were turned upon some infantry scouts and against the pontoons, but they speedily abandoned these targets and strove to silence the batteries. The gunners on a conical hill, East of Chiu-lien-cheng, were especially active and were distinctly visible against the sky line. Upon this hill the Japanese presently opened a severe and concentrated cannonade with field gun and howitzer. Shell after shell crowned the summit with smoke and flame. Surely nothing could live in that inferno, yet the Russians stood to their guns and answered shell with shell. But so deadly was the fire that courage gave place to discretion, and three dark objects appeared on the slope making their way toward the road that wound into the valley beyond.

They were guns and their teams. How slowly they moved through the smoke and flame, as shrapnel rained upon them and common shell rent the earth about them like some mighty convulsion of nature. Not a yard did they cover but the iron leapt upon them with the force of a hurricane. Now a horse rolled over; now a man stumbled forward to rise no more. Still the storm swept over them--one second a blue smoke in the air that told of shrapnel, and the next a geyser of brown earth that marked the explosion of common shell. The scene caught one by the throat and held the breath. It lasted little more than half an hour, but it seemed an age of agony. Life had departed from the dark objects; they lay on the hillside motionless--the dead gunners and their guns.

Meanwhile along the foot of the mountains across the river wound a thin black line like a mamba uncoiling its length out of a ravine. The sight of it called to my memory the dark cataract that flowed from the heights beyond Lombards Kop to engulf the men at Nicholson’s Nek. This was the Japanese infantry on the right who had made good their footing and were swarming up the precipitous slopes to storm the left wing of the Russian army, and to perform a feat of arms more daring and successful than that which gave General de Wet his first victory in Natal. Upward and onward they went--now vanishing in some dark depression; now visible against the bare rock, until at last they began to fall over the crest like a mountain torrent that swept down to the banks of the river Ai. The Russians could not have been ignorant of this incursion, but for a long time they gave no sign. Presently three or four mounted men came down from the low hills North-east of Tiger Hill and halted under cover of the houses near the river. Their mission was quickly apparent. The buildings burst into flame and the Cossacks rode off into the smoke, followed by shrapnel from the battery East of Wiju.

The night of the 30th was one of crowded yet silent activity on the South bank of the Yalu and the island of Kontonto. Two Divisions--the Guards and the Second--had still to cross and pontoons had to be placed. At ten o’clock all was ready and men and guns passed over. The speed and silence with which these movements were effected was remarkable. Every man knew his part and his place: there was no noise or confusion: the approaches to the river were screened and the men reached them from behind sheltering hills: the pontoons were padded with straw and matting. Meanwhile two important problems had been solved by a few gallant officers--whether the field guns on Kontonto island could be moved to Temple island, and whether the river Ai must be bridged or could be forded. In the event of disaster the guns must inevitably be lost, as there was no means of retreat across the river and the only way to reach Temple island was by pontoon ferries. Late in the night the batteries were ferried over to Temple island. For men to cross the Ai under rifle fire seemed a hopeless task, and many suggestions were made and discussed. One proposal was that the men should carry floats of wood or small tubs: another that a picked body of swimmers prepared to die should cross the river with leading ropes for their comrades.

Happily neither of these adventurous schemes proved necessary. A ford was found; the water came up to the neck and was under rifle fire, yet that sufficed for the Japanese. On the night of the 30th the Twelfth Division occupied a position with its right on Sandoan and its front toward the river Ai at Ishiko: the Guards Division was north of Tiger Hill on the South bank of the Ai: and the Second Division formed on the South-west of Temple island. Small wonder if the Russians were surprised by the rapidity of this manœuvre. According to the story told by prisoners, they believed that at least a week would be required by the Japanese to complete their crossing to Temple island, and they did not credit the report that they had with them heavy guns.

It was on the morning of the 1st of May that the Japanese won their great victory on the Yalu. A strange stillness haunted hill and dale as we rode from camp to the scene of the final struggle. The path across the cultivated plain was deserted: the sentries had left the bridge unguarded, and only deep ruts and hoof-prints told that an army had passed. Wiju was a city of the dead.

We entered through the stone arch which was a gate in the olden time, and the tramp of our horses’ hoofs echoed along the silent streets of mean houses. Taking our appointed places near the tower overlooking the river, we awaited the attack. The sun rose upon a scene that banished all thought of war. At our feet flowed the rivers that form the delta. The central and main stream of the Yalu has the deep blue of the _lapis lazuli_, and shone like a girdle between the yellow sand and the dark green bush.

Away beyond the river plain rose the bare and silent hills, in the shadow of which slumbered the village of Chiu-lien-cheng with its tiled houses and walls of light stone. Only when you looked very closely could you discover signs of the impending conflict. Among the shrub near the island lurked dark forms denoting men and howitzers; behind the charred ruins of houses on Temple island lay more dark figures; they filled the dongas, the trenches and the broken ground. The stillness was uncanny and the question rose to every lip: “Have the Russians fled?” The moments crept on and still our eyes and ears sought some sign of the presence of the enemy. A few scouts were sent forward and were not fired upon. Was it the design of the enemy to draw the Japanese across the river and fall upon them unexpectant? If that was their hope it was destined to fall. At last the silence was broken by field gun and howitzer, but it was from the Japanese side. The batteries posted under Tiger Hill and the howitzers on the South island sent their shells screaming through the air to the heights beyond the river. Shot after shot was fired, yet drew forth no response save the echo of their reverberation among the mountains. Surely the enemy had retired, and the order to advance would be given. But the Japanese were not lured into recklessness. The bombardment went on systematically. The foothills in front of the Russian position have many spurs and ravines. To the slopes East of Chiu-lien-cheng was turned the fire of thirty-six guns from Tiger Hill while the howitzers bombarded the heights above the position. Every nook and cranny was searched again and again; the slopes obverse and reverse were rent with common shell and rained upon with shrapnel; and the crests spurted flame and smoke. To anyone without experience of shell-fire and its effects it must have seemed that nothing could live in such a hell. For more than an hour--from half-past five until nearly seven o’clock--the hills were ransacked for sign of the enemy, but not a sound came back.

The order for the general attack was given and from the plain rose the small sturdy figures of the Japanese infantry. Their dark blue uniform showed up against the sand and bush. What targets they were for gun and rifle! Surely the Russians must sleep or have gone upon a journey! The line extended Eastward from beyond Chiu-lien-cheng, nearly ten miles, with a front of six miles, and the right flank--four miles long--thrown forward. You saw the skirmishers advancing steadily in open order and behind them the fighting line with the reserves well under cover in the rear. Near to the left flank a little to the East of Conical Hill the troops were in echelon column of company and began to deploy only as they approached rifle range. On the left the formation was much closer than experience in South Africa would have led us to adopt, but the Japanese had no faith in what it pleased them to call “Boer tactics.”

Still the mountains in front are silent, though the sound of artillery and rifle fire came feebly back from the extreme right, where the enemy was apparently on the defensive. At half-past seven o’clock the infantry on the left advanced at the double and began to ford the river. A cheer resounded over river and plain as they dashed into the stream. The water reached up to their necks. With rifles held high in the air, the Japanese plunged through the Ai-ho, many of them stripped to the skin. Then the hills spoke. From the upper ground and foothills about Chiu-lien-cheng: from the slope and base of Conical Hill: and from the higher ground came the burr-burr of machine guns and sharp volley of rifles. Many rolled over in the river and were swept away, but the line formed on the further bank and went on. Again volleys flew toward them and machine guns rattled. The effect of this sudden awakening of the hills was to check the advance and to send the front line of the Japanese back at the double. They retired in good order, opening out as they came and taking cover where the nature of the ground permitted. Many fell, however, and there were significant gaps in the line when it reached shelter. Once more guns and howitzers came into action, and the foothills were searched with a destructive fire. While this artillery preparation was in progress the troops East of Chiu-lien-cheng extended by the left, and changing front advanced upon the hills. They met with considerable opposition, but held steadily on their way.

The spur of the hill East of Chiu-lien-cheng, which guards the ravine along which the road ascends was held tenaciously. The narrow and precipitous gorge was entrenched along the base and slopes, and the crest was crowned with earthworks and empalements. Toward this point the left, having rallied, advanced once more. Steadily, and in more extended order, they moved across the plain with their backs to the river. Officers on horseback directed their movements as calmly as on parade, and men, now singly, now in groups, dropped into the river and forded to their comrades. In a few moments the line was moving toward the spur in the shape of a bow well strung, and a shield of rifles was cast about the foot of the hill. Here they remained and fought with the utmost bravery and stubbornness, suffering heavily, as one could see from the gaps in their formation. Twice the fighting line was reinforced, and all the time over their heads sang the shells from the howitzers, rending the earth about the trenches, and covering the hill sides with clouds of brown dust. Thus the minutes passed, and the shield drew closer and closer about the spur. But the resistance was desperate, though unaided by artillery, and it was clear that the position must be taken in reverse. The left centre was already well forward, and was rapidly approaching the foot of the ridge from which stands Conical Hill. The opposition here was feeble, for the enemy was retiring, and made only one effort to reinforce the trenches in the pass. Once across the flat, the left centre swarmed up the slope, a flag marking their progress. Away on the extreme right the Twelfth Division was pressing home the flanking attack, and the guns on the high ground north had been silenced by the batteries on Tiger Hill.

[Illustration: A close View of the Yalu.]

The position was taken. On the reverse slope East of Chiu-lien-cheng the Japanese were now in force. Their flag was climbing higher and higher up the hill until it waved proudly from the crest, and thunderous cheers echoed from the walls and towers of Wiju. The left was still advancing on Chiu-lien-cheng under cover of guns that searched even crevices in the hills beyond. In a moment more they reached the line of stone houses, and were moving toward the hills, while others tending to the East rushed the shoulder of the heights on the West of the pass. Upon this spur, sheltered from observation by the peak of the hill they stood in dense mass. Suddenly hurtling through the air came two shells. A spurt of brown earth sprang from their midst, and the mass breaking into fragments scattered down the hill. Sixteen inanimate forms showed where the shells had fallen short. It was an accident common enough in battle--one of the kind witnessed at Elandslaagte when our gunners shelled our own advance.

Hard pressed on both flanks, their communications threatened by the rapidity with which the movement of their left was developing, there was nothing left for the Russians but to retire. Some, who had remained in the trenches, fled up the pass. You could see them hurrying along the brown road, pursued by shrapnel and common shell. The gun empalement on the summit was wreathed in flame through which men passed unscathed, and disappeared over the ridge. One man I saw turn back for a wounded comrade. He did not return. The gorge now swarmed with dark uniforms, and an officer carrying a flag--white, with the red sun for centre--mounted the crest, and planted the Japanese ensign on the Russian earthworks amid shouts of “Banzai.”