Chapter XXIV

THE ADVANCE ON LIAO-YANG.

A GENERAL ACTION.

By the light of the moon we mounted our horses and took the road once more to Mou-tien-ling. The valley lay before us folded in the death-like slumber that precedes the dawn. Against the opalescent sky the mountains were dark shadows, and in the pearly mist willow and birch took the feathery shape of palm. There was a brooding expectancy about the scene that worked strongly on the imagination. Our mood was attuned to the mystery of the night and we rode on in silence. Twelve hours before we were looking across the graves of wasted days. For a whole month we had camped in the squalid hamlet of Lien-chen-kwan and counted ourselves among its oldest habitants. When the Japanese army halts it halts with an air of permanence. The place is swept, houses are cleaned, bridges are built, roads made and repaired, store houses erected, trenches dug and earthworks constructed. You feel that you are settled for life, and are beginning to reconcile yourself to irresistable fate when, presto! the order comes to march.

[Illustration: Captured Russian Guns.]

“Military _attachés_ and foreign correspondents will assemble at Head-Quarters at three o’clock in the morning.” Nothing more was said, but we knew that it meant another step in our deliberate progress to Liao-yang. How changed was the scene from that of two weeks before. Then the road swarmed with armed men hurrying to the front; horses and guns swept onward in a roaring cataract and the glowing hills echoed with the thunders of war. Now we were a solitary troop of horsemen riding through a deserted valley, whither and with what purpose we knew not. Yet the breathless quiet and the dimness of the enfolding mist were filled with vague portents that touched deeper chords than those vibrated by the tumult of battle. We were conscious of the brooding presence of some mighty force which would appear and change earth and sky like a tornado, leaving death and destruction in its path.

For many days the storm clouds had been gathering on the Northern and Western horizons. Port Arthur was struggling in a deadly embrace; the army of the Peninsula was tightening its grip upon the enemy, and we were slowly drawing near to the door through which he must escape. In spite of lyrical outbursts on the courage and patriotism of the Russian soldier, despite plans devised by idle hands in distant countries, in face of hypotheses about what must happen in this and that circumstance, there was only one course open to General Kuropatkin. He must get away as quickly as possible from a situation that seemed without meaning and must end in disaster. If he could not make up his mind to escape, then the Japanese must help him. In their own practical and decisive manner they must show the Russian commander how imminent was the danger menacing his front and flank and rear, on the road between Hai-cheng and Liao-yang. With that object--and incidentally in the hope of saving the Russians from the necessity of continuing an apparently hopeless contest--the order was given for a general attack on Sunday the 31st of July.

Military historians are agreed that of all operations the most difficult and hazardous is that which demands simultaneous action by isolated and widely separated bodies of troops. The Japanese, however, are of opinion that the axioms of war are not axioms till they have been proved upon their own persons. Accordingly, with the aid of the telegraph and the telephone, and with confidence born of an unbroken series of victories, they made this concerted attack at three points on a front of sixty miles and added another triumph to their record. The force moving from the South met with no opposition and entered Hai-cheng, while the army landed at Takushan, and operating between the armies of the Peninsula and the East struck the enemy’s retreating flank and left its mark upon it.

General Kuroki’s part in these operations was more difficult. In front of him was a force superior to his own, with guns of greater range and calibre, strongly entrenched in mountainous country, directed by General Kuropatkin himself, and animated by the knowledge that upon its valour and determination rested the safe deliverance of the Russian army in Manchuria. To those who judge the strength of armies by their masses the task assigned to the First Army seemed hazardous. But, as in mechanics, the Japanese calculate the strength or momentum of their armies by their mass multiplied by their velocity--that is by the spirit of the troops and their desire to fight. This factor is of greater value than battalions, for men who are as eager to fight as the Japanese, always put themselves in the most advantageous position for fighting. It was therefore without any fear of the issue that General Kuroki made his preparations for the attack.

The position of the enemy on the last day of July extended over a distance of twenty-seven miles. Their left flank was at Yu-shu-ling, East of Liao-yang, facing Chaotoa, which was wrested from them on July 19th; their centre was at Tien-shu-tien, opposite Mou-tien-ling and their right wing at Yan-shu-ling, five miles to the South-west of the Pass. The whole region occupied by the Russians was like a field over which a gigantic plough had passed, leaving mountainous furrows with abrupt slopes and narrow valleys. The Japanese right was at Chaotoa, twenty miles from Mou-tien-ling, and its orders were to capture Yu-shu-ling; the left at Han-cha-put-su, seven miles South-west of Mou-tien-ling, was to take Yan-shu-ling, while the centre at Mou-tien-ling was to engage the enemy at Tien-shu-tien with a view to assist the flanking movements. The general direction of these combined attacks was toward Liao-yang, upon which the Russians were reported to be retiring from Hai-cheng.

Nature must have some of the martial spirit in her, for she has erected many ramparts in Manchuria. Yu-shu-ling is one of them. Situated on the Sai, a broad deep river, with a tributary stream flowing in front, and flanked by precipieces, Yu-shu-ling seemed an impregnable position. Early on Sunday morning a detachment from our right was sent to meet the enemy, who were reported to be advancing in force down the Mukden road. The Russians had doubtless heard rumours of our movement, and were preparing to deliver a counter attack on our flank, about which two thousand of their cavalry and infantry were hovering. This attack was speedily repulsed, and the main body of the Japanese, dividing into two, moved Westward, driving in the outposts. At daybreak they found themselves in front of the main body of the Russians posted on the heights to the West of Yu-shu-ling. The enemy’s line faced East, and two thousand mètres before it was a strong post. Recognising that a frontal attack was impracticable, the Japanese contented themselves with holding the Russian front. Meanwhile the second force, moving from Chau-to-po-su, South of Chau-tow, made its way toward Penlin, a Pass in the range between Chau-tow and Yu-shu-ling. At Penlin were two Russian regiments whom the Japanese drove out after a sharp contest. So far the fighting had been devoid of unusual incident, and neither side appeared to have gained any material advantage. But a serious disaster was threatening the enemy; one of those unexpected blows that shake the nerves of men and leave them powerless against fate.

To the assistance of our right wing and to make some appearance of contact with the centre, there had been despatched from Gebato, North-east of Mou-tien-ling, a small force of infantry. Marching North-west they came to the Pass of Cho-bai-rai which is South of Penlin. At that moment three Russian battalions appeared, moving up the slopes of the Pass. Each side saw at a glance that whoever gained the Pass held the other in the hollow of his hand. The Japanese won the race, and seizing the crest poured volley after volley into the broken ranks of the enemy.

The attack on our left flank was not so successful. The enemy occupied a range of heights West and South of Mou-tien-ling. Their right flank was near Sui-cha-pu-zo facing South, their right near To-wan fronting East, and their centre overlooked the cornfields South of Mou-tien-ling. Upon these lofty and steep hills they had posted forty-four field guns, eighteen on the left, sixteen in the centre and ten on the right. Miles of roads had been made up the mountain sides and along the summits; gun emplacements had been constructed to sweep the valley, to search the Pass and to command the approach from the South-east, and the hills were lined with tiers of trenches carefully hidden under green branches.

Against this formidable array of quick firing guns which carry a shell weighing fifteen pounds, our left flank had five batteries of field guns and one battery of mountain guns firing eleven pound shells. But, owing to the difficult character of the country, they were unable to bring into action more than the mountain battery and thirteen field guns. Scouting parties had been sent out on the previous night to find positions for the artillery, and through the dark hours gunners and sappers aided by three battalions of infantry were making and repairing roads and constructing emplacements. Their labours, however, could not overcome the natural obstacles, and the use of double teams failed to get all the guns into position. Soon after midnight on July 30th, a detachment was sent to threaten the right rear of the enemy, and succeeded in approaching the position despite a counter attack which was repulsed with loss. At one o’clock in the morning began the general advance of our left, and at seven both infantry and artillery were engaged. The movement was mainly directed against the right flank upon which our guns made no impression, although before noon nine guns had fired a thousand shells at a range of 3,765 yards. Ammunition ran short, for it was impossible to get the wagons up the slopes and the shells had to be carried by hand. The Russian gunners displayed unwonted skill and energy; their aim was often deadly in its accuracy and drove our men to cover time after time; their guns were served with wonderful rapidity and their superior weight and range were only too apparent.

Nor did the infantry of the left fare much better. They were called upon to carry by assault a position from which most troops would have recoiled. For the first time the Russian trenches were invisible to the naked eye. Evidently they had taken counsel from disaster and have adopted that concealment which is the first principle of war with repeating rifles and smokeless powder. Near Sui-cha-pu-zo, almost at the centre of the enemy’s right flank, one regiment was checked before eight o’clock, and the first and second officers in command were wounded. Another regiment fought hard until eleven o’clock, and three companies, having lost their commanders, succeeded in establishing themselves within two thousand mètres of the enemy. Here they remained, unable to advance in face of the heavy rifle and artillery fire. At noon our left was held in check and the enemy remained secure in all their positions about Yans-huling.

It was clear that if we were to escape from this _impasse_ our centre must emerge from the passive _rôle_ assigned to it in the plan of operations. Since dawn we had watched for signs of activity in the Pass. Hitherto the only part we had taken in the advance was to seize an eminence on the Western front. At eleven o’clock on the night of the 30th, a company of infantry had dislodged the enemy from this position. The hill was steep and the Russians defended themselves with stones. An avalanche of rocks swept the assailants off their feet and did serious damage. The commander of the company was wounded as he led his men up the slope: several were killed and more were severely disabled--in all the Japanese had twenty-one casualties before they drove the enemy from the hill at one o’clock in the morning.

Hour after hour went by and from Mou-tien-ling came no sign of the presence of an army. The sun stole slowly above the horizon, scattering the morning mist and flooding the green slopes with intense light. Away in the West, beyond the white tower that rose like a lighthouse from a low spur on the Pekin road, were small parties of Russian horsemen. Their white tunics were distinctly visible and distinguished them from a few Chinese who flitted about the entrance to the Pass as though uncertain on which side lay safety.

From Mou-tien-ling the Pekin road runs West past the white tower to the village of To-wan and divided the Russian position. At right angles to it, before you come to the tower, is another road, bounded on the East by the steep slope of the Pass and on the West by a range of lofty hills. Between these boundaries stretches a broad cultivated valley watered by a shallow stream, on the West bank of which is situated the village of Tien-shu-tien. In these hills lay the enemy strongly entrenched and protected by two gun positions, one of which was between two conical peaks on a razor-like ridge flanked by a small wood.

[Illustration: Japanese Funeral Service.]

[Illustration: The Tower at To-wan.]

Six batteries were on our front--four on the ridge overlooking the valley and the village of Tien-shu-tien, and two on the slope to the south of the Pass commanding the Pekin road and the hills on either side. On the slopes behind the guns reclined soldiers waiting the order to rise and advance. The artillery duel on our left began at seven o’clock, and continued with varying degrees of intensity until noon. For four hours the hills and valleys re-echoed with the long rolling thunder of guns; ridge and slope gave forth clouds of white and brown smoke as if they had suddenly become active volcanoes; and from the blue sky descended tiny white clouds with hearts of flame from which dated a hail of lead. Now and then you could hear the music of the shrapnel like the swish of a mighty rod across the heavens, dying away to the lazy humming of bees. It is fascinating music, though, like the song of the Syren, deadly. To the mere observer, however experienced, an artillery duel affords ample scope for speculation. When a hundred guns are in action over a wide front no eye and no ear can judge either the direction or the result with any approach to certainty. More than one of the Russian gun positions remained undiscovered throughout the day, and our own gun position South of the Pass never drew a shot from the enemy.

Shortly after noon the centre burst into activity. The four batteries on the ridge to our right opened with energy upon the enemy’s position above Tien-shu-tien, while the two batteries on our left turned their attention to the hills South of Tow-an. New life had come into the fight, and through the burning air screamed a hundred shells. The ridge in front of the Pass smoked and flamed, while the cone-like peaks beyond the valley seemed to spring from a burning lake. Again the Russian gunners displayed their skill, and the range of their artillery. Into the batteries on our right burst shell upon shell, scattering the gunners and sending the infantry to closer cover down the slope. The colonel in command of our artillery was slightly wounded, and several men were killed and disabled. In vain our gunners strove to locate some of the hidden batteries that were most active, and in vain they endeavoured to silence those which were unmasked. The enemy’s guns were skilfully posted, and the gunners had taken the precaution to peel some of the trees and to measure the ranges on our front. Hence the accuracy with which they searched our positions, though they did no damage to the guns and put none out of action.

I must now return to our left wing, where the result of this activity in the centre was anxiously awaited. The infantry had been checked all along the line, though the men stuck bravely to their positions in front of the hidden trenches, and kept well under cover.

At noon the order was given for our left to advance, and after a heroic effort one regiment reached the foot of a wooded hill on which the enemy had three tiers of trenches. Beyond this point they could not go, for the slope was swept with a sheet of lead. Here they lay panting from their great exertions, and from the heat of the day. The sun beat down upon them with pitiless intensity; the ground was like an oven; the air vibrated with waves of heat like a mirage in the desert. Many were already suffering from sun stroke and heat apoplexy. The men were enduring all the torments of thirst, their lips were dry and cracked; their tongues were hard and parched, and their eyes were scorched with the glare. And to add to their agony there ran in front of them a brook, clear and cold from the mountains.

I have seen men and horses stampede at sight of the Nile and throw themselves into the yellow flood, and I have watched soldiers quench their thirst amid a hail of bullets. The risk was great, but the need was greater, and across the deadly space dashed the Japanese. Plunging their heads into the brook they cooled their parched throats and fevered skins, and came back to cover. Another regiment had worked its way painfully and with loss to a position within six or seven hundred yards from a ridge, the approach to which was like a glacis. On the ridge were five hundred riflemen. They had no trench, yet they held a whole regiment beyond that “long deadly zone of horizontal fire which is the most powerful factor in battle.” This small body of Russians was composed of determined men; they took steady and careful aim; the ground was favourable, and the result was that which we so often saw in South Africa. When a Japanese raised his head it was to receive a bullet; when an officer showed himself it was to have a volley. Against such a fire mere masses could not avail.

With European troops it is agreed that fifteen per cent. of casualties will check an advance. A greater percentage would be needed to stop Japanese infantry, but even to their reckless courage there is a limit and that limit was reached on our left. The casualties were slowly mounting up. Among the officers slain was Lieut. Shirasawa, who played a brilliant part in the attack on Hamatan on May 1st, leading his section up the hill to capture the Russians, and Sub-Lieut. Kiroke, member of a noble house, who died crying: “Long live the Emperor!”

Through the long hot hours the fight went on and still no signs of advance. From an eminence near the Temple in the Pass General Kuroki and his Staff, with whom was General Sir Ian Hamilton, looked on and received the reports of orderlies and gallopers. And always the sky was flecked with tiny white clouds and the hills in front spurted brown dust and clouds of smoke. Again the Russian gunners poured a quick fire of shrapnel into the batteries and drove the Japanese artillery-men to shelter.

It was manifest that our shrapnel could not affect the enemy’s positions: the range of the fuse was too short. Shrapnel was accordingly abandoned for common shell, which has a longer range, and once more we witnessed the destructive effect of the high explosive that Japan has invented for the field gun.

The moment had arrived for decisive action. The centre must push forward and relieve the pressure on the left. At five o’clock the order was given and from behind the guns rose the ranks of the infantry. Descending the ridge they crossed the shallow stream before Tien-shu-tien and moved up the green slopes toward the enemy’s position. As they advanced they opened out into two lines of extended order, so as to form two sides of a triangle. From a pyramid-shaped hill to the South of the white tower sprang another battalion. All day they had lain like brown stones on the brown slope--hidden from the enemy’s view yet well within range of their guns. With a shout they descended into the valley, crossed the road, and, scaling a hill, threatened the right of the position at To-wan. The left was already menaced by the advance from the Pass through Tien-shu-tien. The Russian guns no longer spoke: they had begun to descend the hills in haste. The position was at our mercy, and the left was free to move. But caution was still necessary, for on a wooded hill commanding the advance stood a resolute body of men who seemed to have charmed lives, neither rifles nor plunging fire of shells could drive them from their trenches until they saw that the situation was indeed hopeless. Then only did they retire and join their comrades on the way to Liao-yang.

The battle was ended and once more victory was with the Japanese. Yan-shu-ling, Tien-shu-tien and Yu-shu-ling--all the objectives were in our hands. The enemy still held a Pass five miles North, and our left flank bivouacked near in the hope of attacking next morning. But in the night the Russians withdrew and we halted at To-wan and Tien-shu-tien. Next day we heard that General Keller, who succeeded to this command after the passage of the Yalu, had been mortally wounded by a fragment of a shell while visiting one of the gun positions. Chinese reported that in the retirement the Russians carried two rich Chinese coffins from which it was inferred that two officers in high command had been killed. We also learned that General Kuropatkin was at Am-ping whence he had directed the operations. Two guns had been abandoned in the flight, and in the gun emplacements were many live shells. One of the guns lay on the Pekin road near To-wan. Its story was written on the upturned limber and the muzzle jammed hard against a tree at the foot of a steep hill. The gun was coming down the slope when the horses were shot or scared by rifle fire, and it went crashing down the height into the road. The breach block had been removed; otherwise the gun was intact. Another gun had been hurled down a hill and had buried its muzzle deep into the earth; the breach was open and in it was an unexploded shell. Of the Russians 6 officers and 506 men were buried on the field, and 150 prisoners were taken, including the colonel of the 121st regiment. The Japanese casualties were 861--9 officers and 132 men killed; 33 officers and 687 men wounded.

[Illustration: After the Fight.]

[Illustration: The Red Cross at Work.]

From the presence of General Kuropatkin at Am-ping, and the despatch of a force down the Mukden road, it may be reasonably concluded that the Russians intended to deliver a counter attack on our right. No fewer than twenty-four battalions were directed against that flank which they hoped to crush by superior numbers. The attempt failed signally owing to the skill of the Japanese in manœuvring among the mountains and to the fortunate chance that placed the detachment from our centre in possession of the cliff under which the enemy was compelled to retire. On the right and centre the Russians fought well and showed greater energy and determination. But they were sadly wanting in initiative and enterprise.

A great soldier would have seized the opportunity when our left was held in check to deliver a counter attack on our right centre where there was a manifestly weak point. The distance between our centre and our right wing was great, and the only defence was a regiment of cavalry and one battalion in reserve. There appeared a clear opening for breaking through and turning our whole position. The advantages of situation, and of artillery were decidedly with the Russians. They had had weeks in which to prepare roads and emplacements, and their guns were, for the most part, skilfully placed, though, as usual, they affected sky-lines, so that their fire was visible. The Japanese gun positions were not well chosen. This defect was due partly to the inferior range of their artillery, and partly to the extremely difficult nature of the country in which they were suddenly called upon to make selection. They, too, exposed their guns against the sky-line, not having learned thoroughly the lesson of indirect fire.