Chapter XXXIII

A GALLANT FIGHT.

The weak point in the Japanese line of defence was on the right near Ponchiho, twenty miles East of General Kuroki’s main position at Yentai. To this flank General Umizawa had returned after the battle of Liao-yang in order to keep watch on the enemy’s movements. The greater part of his brigade was ten miles north of Ponchiho--an important depot--but was withdrawn as soon as it became evident that the Russians were advancing in force. The retirement began at noon on October 7th, when stringent measures were taken to prevent the Chinese from communicating with the enemy. Stores enough to feed the brigade for three days and one hundred thousand rounds of ammunition were removed during the night, and the last straggler reached Karensei at six o’clock next morning before the Russians discovered that the position had been abandoned.

The enemy did not lose much time. At ten o’clock on the 8th, infantry, cavalry and artillery appeared in front of Ponchiho, and it was manifest that General Umizawa’s small force was about to engage in a desperate struggle, upon the success of which depended the security of the whole Japanese army. On the following day the garrison found itself threatened in front and on a flank. Its position was extremely hazardous and the peril increased hourly. A battalion of infantry, a regiment of cavalry, and three field pieces had crossed the Tai-tsu with the intention of taking Ponchiho in the rear. Had the Japanese been able to command even a mountain battery they might have prevented the passage of the river, which was effected with provoking coolness under their very noses. General Umizawa at Tumentiutzu was appealed to for help, but was so hard pressed that he could spare only two companies of infantry and two field guns. The enemy on the other hand continued to receive large reinforcements and pressed the attack with fury. After a short artillery preparation they made a fierce assault on the position. Working their way up a steep and rugged mountain, three hundred Russians charged the trenches. Only fifteen lived to carry back the tale of heroism, which brought fresh troops to the venture. Overwhelmed, the Japanese had to abandon the heights. The hills on the road between Ponchiho and Tumentogling also were captured after a Titanic struggle. The field wire was cut and communication with the rest of the army was impossible. Couriers were dispatched with messages for instant aid. Most of them fell by the way, but one or two succeeded in carrying the news to Head-Quarters and returned with the command: “You must hold the position to the last man.” A Japanese soldier hardly needs to be told that. Like the Old Guard he dies--never surrenders.

But help was at hand. General Kuroki and his staff were keenly alive to the critical state of the right flank. As General Fujii graphically remarked: “My food tasted bitter in my mouth,” for he realised that unless aid was given without delay the whole army must fall back upon Liao-yang. Though he could ill spare a man from any part of the line, General Kuroki ordered the Twelfth Division to march to the relief of Ponchiho.

The advance guard under General Shimamura came upon the scene late in the afternoon and was received with frantic shouts of “Banzai” as they rushed forward to the aid of their sorely pressed comrades. But this accession by no means restored the balance, for the enemy received fresh reinforcements and showed the greatest valour and determination. Many and desperate were the encounters by day and by night. Rocky Hill, to the North-west of Ponchiho, which commanded the neighbouring heights, was assailed again and again and was finally retaken by the Japanese. A company of infantry, sleeping near the foot of the hill, was roused by its commander who had climbed the height and found the Russians in possession.

Seizing the regimental colour the officer placed himself at the head of the company. So swift and desperate was the counter attack that the enemy was swept headlong down the slope and threw into confusion the advance line of a battalion coming to the rescue. Before the Russians recover themselves the Japanese were pouring volleys into their ranks. The victory was complete and no attempt was made to recapture the position.

On the same night the enemy approached a narrow defile, and finding no Japanese marched boldly into the Pass. Both sides of the defile however where held by men who watched the advent of the Russians and waited silently until they had entered. Crowded together in this narrow space the enemy suffered severely. Throughout the day both sides fought with indomitable courage and energy, attack and counter-attack following in swift succession. The advantage however was with the enemy, who threw upon our flank ever increasing numbers and brought to bear on our position no fewer than eighty guns--among them howitzers, against which mountain guns were as children’s toys. Our losses were heavy, and it was with profound relief that we heard that the division sent to aid Ponchiho was in sight. The arrival of reinforcements gave new energy to the gallant brigade that had so long withstood this desperate onslaught, but produced no immediate change in the situation. The force in front was still overwhelming, and had by no means abandoned the hope of conquest. Attack was therefore impossible, and for a time, at any rate, the Japanese were content to maintain their position.

The 9th of October was one of the most critical days of the war. The Japanese losses near Ponchiho had been great; important positions had been abandoned; ammunition was running short; the men were without food, and communication with the rest of the army was difficult and precarious.

Field Marshal Oyama recognised that the situation demanded desperate measures. Though anxious to await the fall of Port Arthur before taking the offensive, he felt that his hand had been forced. Orders were, therefore, given for a general attack. When I left the field on the night of the 10th it was manifest that passive resistance was at an end, and that darkness would bring important developments. During the night an attack was made by the Guards Division against the heights in front of Bastion Hill. The enemy had adopted several ingenious devices to guard against surprises. In some places they had stretched wires and chains charged with electricity of high potentiality. Their latest artifice was a string of camel bells, against which an unwary enemy stumbling announces his approach, and is welcomed with a volley.

Despite this warning and the use of hand grenades the attack was so far successful that at daybreak we had strengthened our hold on the hills North of Yentai, though the Russians continued to occupy Bastion Hill and the spurs in front.

With dawn the battle began. A mist hung over the plain and clung to the skirts of the hills, making it impossible to see what progress was on our front. Out of the white vapours came the rattle of rifles and the roar of artillery resounding through the valley like a tornado. The Pride of the Morning scattered, and the sun lit up the scene with a gentle radiance. Before us lay the broad valley with its sheaves of giant millet among the brown furrows and yellow stubble. The villages were deserted save for a few of their blue-gowned habitants who stood in terrified groups behind the outer walls. Chentow, a large village nearest the hills, was under fire from two batteries at the foot of Bastion Hill. Behind the walls lay our riflemen listening to the angry snarl of the shrapnel as it burst overhead, and laughing as they felt the solid stone masonry throb and sputter under the leaden hail. Our batteries had moved from under the hills near the coal mine. One stood in the open South-west of Chentow masked by millet, striving to silence Bastion Hill and drawing upon itself the concentrated fire of sixteen guns.

I have called attention to the grave disability under which the Japanese labour by reason of the inferior range and weight of their artillery. Never was the disadvantage more painfully demonstrated than on this day, when the infantry were in need of their support, and when the chances of a whole lifetime escaped under their very muzzles. The ground about the battery was covered with shrapnel as the tiny white clouds burst in the sky, the bases of shells throwing up brown clouds of earth, and the bullets rippling over the loose friable loam like heavy rain drops. Very terrible it looked, yet no damage was done. The men took refuge in deep pits, out of which they came occasionally to serve the guns, or to bring ammunition from the wagons. The practice of taking shelter when a battery is under fire is one that commends itself at first sight, but reflection and observation shew that it may become a vicious and a dangerous habit, and may seriously affect the usefulness of artillery in action. In every other respect the Japanese guns are skilfully handled. Happily, the Russian gunners are not without defects. Their shrapnel bursts high, and the French system of _Rafale_--that is giving each gun in a battery a slightly different range--is not a success in their hands. For several hours the unequal artillery duel went on. Occasionally the batteries at Bastion Hill would seek a new objective, and the tree tops about the villages would be flecked with white clouds. From the mountains beyond Bastion Hill to the East the enemy’s guns kept up a desultory cannonade against the hills on our front, and from one of our batteries on the plain to the West came spasmodic replies.

At noon there was no apparent change. Our infantry remained in the same positions; some like locusts in the hollows; others behind the walls of Chentow; still more in the brown seams of the heights beyond the valley. Suddenly all eyes turned to the flowing contour of the ridge in front of Bastion Hill. The advance had begun. With heads bent, as in a hurricane, a company of Japanese were racing up a hill, on which were two trenches. Taking them in reverse, they charged the Russians, and shot them down before they seemed aware of the approach. The fight was short and sharp and bloody. Then they vanished. Presently I saw them again coming over the brow of the hill. They descended the slope to the saddle and threw themselves into a deep gully on the flank of another eminence. Here they lay to recover breath, and prepare for another charge. Out they came in a few minutes; at first a dozen, then six, then in twos and threes. Never were soldiers fleeter of foot than these brave Japanese, and never did men stand in greater need of speed and daring. Scattering, they ran, some to the right, others to the left--all making for the summit. Bullets swept over and around and among them. I could see the tiny spurts of yellow earth that rose in their path as the zip, zip, zip of lead lashed the air with invisible whips. One fell, and another and another. Would they ever gain the crest? We held our breath. Now they have returned to the left, and are lying down hugging the ground while the leaden storm sweeps over them. They are up again, and moving forward more slowly in extended irregular line. Half a dozen men are in front. They reach the summit. Then out of the earth spring grey forms to meet them. Rifles flash and the dark blue uniforms vanish. The noble six have fallen. But their comrades are advancing. Another second, and they appear on the crest. Again the grey figures rise--a steady resolute line tipped with steel. Back fall the Japanese. Even in that terrible moment they obey the voice of their officer, who stands before them with drawn sword. They have formed line. Their bayonets flash in the sunlight. Twenty paces divide the lines of grey and blue. In the twinkling of an eye they meet. One mad rush, and they are welded together in a grip that nothing save death can loosen. For a moment I see the thrusting of cold steel and the scorching flash of rifle. Then the grey line breaks into fragments and rolls out of sight. The dark blue uniforms draw closer together. Their ranks are thinned, yet they never look back. Again they move forward, and from a second trench springs another line of grey.

They are brave men these Russians, and face death unflinching. Another rush--another wild scrimmage of steel and lead and human forms, and all that is left of the grey line tumbles like a wave over the hill. The slope is strewn with dead. Even now there is no pause in the Japanese advance. Closing their broken ranks they run to the crest of the hill, and standing boldly on the sky-line raise their rifles to the shoulder. Not until I passed over this dreadful hill could I realise what was happening in the ravine beyond. Here were trenches and gullies out of which the enemy were fleeing into the wood and along the valley hidden by low hills. The dead lay everywhere--in the trenches, in the gullies, in the valley and in the wood--shot down by the rifles on the hill. Few escaped that terrible battue. A score of fugitives we saw running for life out of this valley of the shadow of death. They had thrown aside great coat and rifle. Now and then a man would fall forward and rise no more; here and there a man would stumble and rise to limp along painfully. The hurricane of lead followed close on their tracks.

West of this ravine out of which the enemy ran in ones and twos and threes the two Russian batteries were still at their ineffectual work, and a large force of cavalry and infantry were massed. The front of the plain near Bastion Hill was black with them. After a time they moved. Column after column passed behind a grove of firs into a village at the foot of the Northern heights. Had the retreat begun? Outside the village they halted and faced to the front. Were they about to deliver a counter attack? We looked again and saw a column return and march away into the mountains. From the East along the plain beyond came more Russians--infantry and cavalry and guns. They, too, crossed the stream and made slowly for the hills. Two batteries with an escort of Cossacks and infantry came from the village and moved Eastward as if to meet some unseen danger where guns had been booming solemnly all day. There was much marching and counter-marching that brought to the lips of the observer the military adage: “Order, counter-order, disorder.” Doubtless all these perplexing movements of the enemy had their meaning. To us they admitted of one interpretation. The Russian attack had failed all along the line and the retreat had begun.