Chapter XXIX

CAPTURE OF LIAO-YANG.

The supreme moment was at hand. Thousands who lay down to rest in the trenches were destined never again to look on the face of the sun. The night was clear and no sound of strife broke the stillness. Worn out with fatigue and excitement and exposure, the soldier slept with rifle at his side. A truce had been proclaimed--the truce of the night--and darkness shrouded the dead. It was the profound calm that heralds the storm. Already preparations were being made for the great assault that was to drive the enemy from his position before Liao-yang. Engineers were at work removing obstacles with which the Russians had strewn the path. Their efforts were directed especially to the hill in front of the village named Shyaoyansui--the low hill with three broad crests and a gentle slope from the South. Three or four hundred yards from the foot of this slope ran a triple line of _trous de loups_ or circular pits ten feet deep with a sharp stake in the middle of each pit. Nearly a mile long, the line of defensive works was broken at intervals to afford passage to the Russians. In these gaps were barbed wire entanglements and _chevaux de frise_, and behind them were trenches held by riflemen, while in front were mines. At the foot of the hill were other wire entanglements, and on the top of the incline, commanding every yard of approach, ran a deep trench with a shallow trench immediately behind. Along the summit were two lines of trenches, traversed at right angles, and on the ridge beyond were emplacements for guns. A stronger and more difficult position could not be imagined or contrived by military art. It looked impregnable to assault. And, to add to its terrors, the hill and its approaches were commanded by two hills on the East and West--both entrenched and held by strong forces of rifle and artillery. The hill on the West was Shou-shan, the steep mountain of rock between the railway and the road, while that on the East lay beyond the village of Shinluton.

Against this terrible array of pits and wires and hills and trenches, bristling with rifles and guns, and swarming with brave and resolute foes, the Japanese threw themselves with the reckless courage of men who know how to die. How they passed the triple line of pits with the sharp stakes ready to receive their mangled bodies, how they avoided the mines, and how they overcame the barbed wire with its cruel entanglements, I must leave to the imagination. When they came to the trenches the work was straightforward, though it demanded heroic effort unsurpassed in the history of war. Thrice they rushed almost to the crest, trampling the dead and the dying under their feet; thrice the line of bayonets dripped bloody over trenches piled up with wounds and death. Twice they were driven down the slope wet with gore and strewn with the bodies of comrades who had fallen to rise no more. The enemy fought with the courage of despair, but nothing could withstand another onrush, and before dawn they withdrew to the trenches and redoubts in the plain. Liao-yang was won!

The Russians began to retire at two o’clock on the morning of September 1st, and the Japanese, having occupied the heights, sent a mixed force in pursuit. The main body halted to complete its preparations for carrying the line of fortifications on the plain. Very formidable indeed were these fortifications, which, in strength and design, might almost be described as permanent. Along the front for miles stretched triple lines of pits ten feet deep with sharp stakes in the centre: mines were placed for the unwary foot: the trenches were deep and traversed to give access and exit in every direction: gun emplacements guarded every approach, and at two angles were redoubts masked by moats and pits--massive redoubts against which field guns might batter and infantry perform deeds of heroism in vain. Each redoubt could hold a garrison of one battalion and might be a rallying point in disaster. But fortifications of this kind have serious disadvantages, especially on a plain and in a defensive scheme that demands as its first condition freedom and rapidity of movement. The enemy must have recognised this weakness, for it was not necessary to carry the redoubts by assault.

The fighting, which begun at ten o’clock on the morning of September 2nd, was confined to the trenches and the railway embankment, which served as a permanent breastwork. From the railway station the Russians opposed the advance with heavy guns, and from the North bank of the river many batteries opened a furious cannonade. Though the enemy held stubbornly to this last line of defence, it was manifest that they were now fighting only a rear guard action to cover the retreat of their army. Their orders were to hold the position at all costs and they obeyed. Before dawn next morning, Captain Inouye, of the Engineers, who blew up the Southern gate at Tientsin in the Boxer expedition, passed through the enemy’s lines and reached the Southern gate of the city. His instructions were to destroy the gate, but finding it open he exploded his charge of dynamite near a temple. This was the signal for the final assault.

The main army of General Kuropatkin was already on its way to Mukden. Over the many bridges thrown across the river had passed guns and equipment and stores. What remained was of little consequence and was now committed to the flames. Several huge sheds stocked with flour and wheat and oats began to blaze and unmistakable proof was given that Liao-yang had been abandoned. But it was still necessary to gain time in order to avoid pursuit. A strong rearguard continued to hold the trenches in front of the city. Against these our infantry advanced early on the 3rd of September. With heavy loss they came to within three hundred yards of the trenches. One or two battalions moved closer, but could make no impression. One method alone promised success and from that the Japanese, with their inherited love of the _arme blanche_, never shrink. The order was to fix bayonets and charge. Up sprang the fighting line with a shout that must have quickened the steps of laggards on the bridges and with a mighty rush the last trench was carried. Again our casualties were many, but the road to Liao-yang was open at last. Rapidly and in good order the Russians retired across the river, destroying the bridges, burning their pontoon train and the woodwork of the railway bridge. Next morning we entered Liao-yang and found to our keen disappointment that it was not a Sedan. Historians who are prophets after the event, will doubtless prove to their own satisfaction that General Kuropatkin’s retreat was in conformity with a premeditated plan to entice the Japanese into the heart of Manchuria; that from the first it was his design to avoid a decisive battle at Liao-yang, and that the losses sustained by his army were the natural results of a rearguard action. In this theory they may find support among Japanese Staff Officers who become suddenly anxious to explain the failure of their Sedan by affirming that as early as the evening of August 30th, they discovered indications of General Kuropatkin’s intention to evacuate Liao-yang. To penetrate the designs of the enemy, and to frustrate them is the part of military wisdom, and it is not pleasant to have to acknowledge want of foreknowledge as well as failure in achievement. It is easier to appear wise after the event, and some Japanese Staff Officers succumbed to the allurement. Yet the fact remains indisputable, that until the morning of September 3rd, the Japanese never suspected the Russians of any intention to flee from Liao-yang. Under that conviction they developed their attack on the triple line of redoubts and entrenchments before the town, and made heroic though vain attempts to destroy the enemy’s communications with the North.

If Field-Marshal Oyama discovered on August 30th that it was the enemy’s purpose to retire on Mukden, to what end did he sacrifice the lives of thousands of men by hurling them in frontal attack against redoubts and trenches upon which his artillery had made no impression? If he believed that General Kuropatkin was already retreating, then with what object did he reduce General Kuroki’s army to one-and-a-half divisions, and send him across the river with orders to seize the heights commanding the railway and cut the Russian communications? When your enemy has bolted the door and is escaping by the window, surely it is wasting time and strength to break down the door while you may be at the window. The truth, I fancy, will be found in the fear of the Japanese Commander that the Russians would not merely offer a stubborn resistance, but would attack his own communications with the South. Under the influence of that fear he concentrated nearly the whole of his great force in front of Liao-yang and made a feeble demonstration against the railway. His tactics were foredoomed to failure. As to General Kuropatkin’s real purpose, it must be judged not from his defeat and retirement, but from the conditions under which he accepted battle. For several months he had been accumulating supplies and concentrating troops at Liao-yang; he had guarded the approach to the town with a triple line of trenches, redoubts, pits, entanglements and military obstacles of every kind; he had many field and heavy guns, and he had chosen for his first line of defence the low hills South of Liao-yang which have been always recognised as an excellent position from which to oppose an advance. These are obvious material considerations which I admit would not weigh one grain in the balance against the security of an army. But their value as evidence of General Kuropatkin’s intentions is undeniable when we recall the stubbornness with which they were defended, and above all when we consider the heroic efforts and sacrifices made to destroy the force on his flank North of Liao-yang, and to regain a position that he must have known was of no strategic and of little tactical importance to the Japanese. History, I think, will confirm the conviction that General Kuropatkin intended to make a decisive stand at Liao-yang, where he hoped to check the invasion and to take the offensive, and that Field-Marshal Oyama’s purpose was to surround his enemy and to add capture to defeat. In achievement both fell short of their designs.