Chapter XXXIV

A HARD-WON VICTORY.

Now was the moment to strike and to strike hard. Out of the South came a double line of men. They stretched Westward across the brown sunlit plain--a far-flung battle line. War is full to the lips with horrors, yet it has its crown of glory. And this is the crown--a line of battle advancing to the attack. The blood raced hot and fast through our veins as we watched them moving over the plain. Two paces between each man; forty paces between the lines; khaki tunics and dark blue trousers; rifle in hand. Onward they marched in long steady unbroken lines. No parade was ever finer. The brown furrows and yellow stubble were crushed flat under their feet. In their path lay a deserted hamlet, over whose grey walls hung the shadows of fir trees. Near the village they halted, and knelt with rifle at the shoulder--ready for attack. The supports came up at the double. Then the lines rose and passed into the village.

A moment or two and they reappeared in the fields beyond, where sheaves of millet caught the glow of the setting sun. On the right rose a solitary grey rock crowned by a temple, whose hoary towers and crennelated walls seemed to have been hewn out of the mountain. In the shadow of a sheer cliff lay a cluster of peasant cottages, and on the Western incline was a dark grove. This was their objective, for here in trenches and among the escarpments was a rearguard of Russians ready to shed their blood for the safety of the army. Away to the left stood another grey rock, shaped like the segment of a basin upturned, and isolated on the plain. One side fell sheer into a deep bed, through which flowed a shallow stream. On the near bank behind a little grove and a few houses were posted two Japanese batteries, the escort of which covered the Western slope of the rock. The lines were advancing upon Temple Hill when the enemy’s guns found them. From Bastion Hill and from the heights to the North came the roar of artillery, and over the unswerving lines burst clouds of shrapnel. The effect was hardly perceptible, and not for a second did the guns check the advance. Swinging toward the East the lines moved steadily forward. On our front appeared another line advancing from the South-west, so that Temple Hill lay within a triangle of rifles. Shrapnel continued to rain upon the open ranks, but the forward movement went on, the lines converging upon the Temple until they faced opposing rifles. North of Temple Hill runs a road on which the Russian infantry were preparing to withstand the onset. Their rifles were already making gaps in the rapidly advancing ranks, but the progress was unchecked.

Shouting their battle cry the Japanese rushed upon the line of bayonets fringing the road. It was thrust and thrust, and in a few moments all was over. The scattered remnant of the enemy was in full flight along the road to the North. Half a company posted in a field to the left rear of the Japanese remained until the last. Few escaped. While we watched this hand-to-hand contest, the troops on the Eastern side of Temple Hill were hotly engaged. From the houses at the foot of the cliff rifles rang out, and from the heights on the North flew shell after shell. The advance over this front was difficult, for Temple Hill was strongly held and the Russians fought with the courage of despair. Flight was not less perilous than combat, and upon their efforts depended the safety of the retreating army.

While the attack was being pressed from the West a large force of the enemy came down from the hills and drew near to the Temple. They appeared to be contemplating a counter attack. But with the Russians nothing happens as you expect. Well out of rifle range they halted, faced about and retired, leaving two companies on the rising ground to check the advance on our right front. Two new batteries in the hills to the North opened fire and the air swirled with the angry snarl of shrapnel. From the trenches and walls of Temple Hill the devoted rear guard emptied their magazines and strove like heroes to stem the torrent that swept toward them. They might as well have tried to withstand the long roll of the Pacific. The wave rushed on and engulphed them. When I reached the hill it was a sorry sight. The walls of the Temple were riddled with shot: the painted mud gods through whose breasts the Russian soldiers had thrust their bayonets a few days before looked placidly down upon the broken and bleeding bodies of the scoffers. One shrine had caught fire and amid the charred ruins stood the gods shorn of paint and ornament--pathetic idols of mud in all their nakedness. Upon the slope, under the trees, lay rigid forms holding fast to rifles, and on the road below men seemed asleep.

Temple Hill was ours, but Bastion Hill was still in Russian hands, and further advance on our front was impracticable. The enemy’s troops massed at the foot of the hill had greatly diminished in number, column after column having marched North into the mountains. The two batteries, however, maintained their activity, searching the empty fields, bombarding the villages, and finally turning their attention to the guns near the rocky height on our left. Their shells did little or no damage, though they kept our batteries silent. Only towards sunset, when the Russians appeared to be making preparations to withdraw their guns, was there any display of energy on the part of the Japanese artillery. Shrapnel being fused at too short a range, common shell was used, and clouds of earth and smoke rose about the enemy’s batteries, but not for a moment were they silenced or their position endangered.

[Illustration: Temple Hill: Ruins of Temple and Gods.]

[Illustration: A Manchurian Scavenger.]

Meantime Bastion Hill began to give signs of life. Hitherto it had been only a prominent feature in the landscape, though its tactical importance could not escape recognition. At five o’clock dark figures suddenly appeared on the sky line along the Northern slope. They grew rapidly in multitude and began to descend. Pouring over the edge of the height, they spread like a flood on the Southern slope. What a target for guns! How the Japanese artillery-men must have fretted and fumed to miss such an opportunity. Along the foot of Bastion Hill stretches a deep gully into which the Russian infantrymen dropped. Presently a few emerged and ran forward into another nullah within easy range of a bluff held by the remnant of the gallant company that had stormed the lower height and wrought such havoc earlier in the day. Again we looked for an attack by the enemy and again we were disappointed. At Ponchiho, on our extreme right, the struggle had continued all day with increasing fury. The Russians had pushed forward reinforcements and four divisions with eighty guns were engaged. Our comparatively small force suffered heavy losses, but succeeded in holding back the enemy who made no further progress on that flank. At night when hostilities were suspended our position was this:--Our left flank had moved some miles along the West of the railway; our centre threatened the Russian line of retreat from the East; the pursuit of the left wing of the Eastern army was checked by a crossfire from hills North of the Temple, and from the foot of Bastion Hill, while at Ponchiho, on our extreme right, the position was still critical. There were unmistakable evidences, however, that the attack on the Russian centre had shaken the confidence of the enemy, and that they were already making preparations to retreat behind the Sha river.

Ponchiho continued to be a source of the greatest anxiety. Though the brigade which formed the original garrison had been reinforced, the enemy showed no disposition to relax their hold. On the 11th they renewed the attack with great energy, and on the following day made a supreme effort to capture the range of hills North of Ponchiho. This position was held by a single company of reserves of the Guards. At four o’clock in the morning, a large force of Russians attacked the hill from three points. As they approached the Japanese sprang out of the first trench and charged with the bayonet. But what were fourteen men against so many? The first line of trenches was quickly in the enemy’s possession, and the remnant of the Japanese company formed up on the crest of the hill. In the darkness took place a terrible scrimmage. Friend was indistinguishable from foe. Despite heroic efforts the Japanese were driven back and the heights appeared to be lost when another company came to the rescue. The officer who led these reinforcements came to the crest of the hill shouting, “Slay! Slay!” and fell instantly with a bullet through the heart. Colonel Ota and his adjutant were wounded and the colour bearer fell. Lieutenant Kiritani seized the flag and the gallant remnant of the company fought till dawn. On the first streak of grey in the East, the Japanese guns opened on the position and the Russians retired, leaving on the hill eight officers and one hundred and forty men dead.

To add to the difficulties a new and unknown force came up from the South on the morning of the 12th and Ponchiho was surrounded. But when things looked most serious an unexpected change happened. The enemy who had crossed the Tai-tsu began to return and the pressure from the South was relieved. It was clear that the Russian infantry brigade and cavalry regiment had met with some disaster and that the attempt to strike from the rear had failed. The explanation was to be found in the action of Prince Kun-in’s cavalry brigade. When news came of the danger threatening Ponchiho, his Royal Highness marched from the neighbourhood of the coal mine, crossed the Tai-tsu, and appeared in the rear and on the flank of the enemy. Coming upon the Russian reserves, who had posted no vedettes, the Prince took them by surprise and opened fire with his machine guns from the cover of a wood. In a few seconds three hundred dead lay on the field and the whole force of the enemy retreated in confusion across the Tai-tsu. The Cossacks made no effort to retrieve the disaster, but fled East, pursued for thirty miles by the Japanese cavalry.

This is the first occasion that I have known cavalry to be of service in Manchuria except for reconnaisance work and masking the advance of large bodies of infantry. In the mountainous region, where the movements of cavalry must be confined to bad and often impassable roads, it was admitted that the Cossacks had no chance of displaying their boasted dash and prowess. When we approached the plains and when the harvests were reaped we looked for some activity on the part of Russian horsemen: but the furrowed fields of friable loam, bristling with millet stubble, hard as bamboo and sharp as razors, evidently acted as a strong deterrent. Save when dismounted to cover the flank of the army retiring from Liao-yang, the Cossacks have done nothing more than demonstrate how great a reputation may be built on tradition. On the other hand, further observation has tended to modify the opinion of experts as to the quality of the Japanese cavalry and to acknowledge that it has some merits.

On the South, then, Ponchiho was saved by the cavalry brigade, but North of the Tai-tsu the situation was unchanged. The strength and determination of the enemy were undiminished, and though the Japanese fought with courage and skill they could do no more than hold their positions.