Chapter XL

TO PORT ARTHUR.

The reader is now asked to transport himself on the magic carpet of his imagination to that great fortress at the Southern extremity of the Kwantung Peninsula, whose occupation by Russia must be regarded as the _fons et origo_ of the war. I have already described how little the Mikado’s strategists suspected that Port Arthur was capable of prolonged resistance against determined and repeated assault; how materially their plan of campaign would have been modified had their calculations been more accurate; and yet how essential it was to their complete command of the sea that this ice-free port should pass into their hands. It was on October 8th, a month after his retreat from Liao-yang, that General Kuropatkin exhorted the army in Mukden to renewed efforts, by the assurance that the time had come for a triumphant advance, and that the Czar had at length given him a sufficient force to command victory. But we know that the dismayed and distracted Ministers at St. Petersburg had commanded the General to strike one last despairing blow for the relief of the fortress. We know, also, that on the following day Field-Marshal Oyama was obliged, by the seriousness of the Russian movements, to engage in battle, although his own desire had been to refrain from action until the expected news of the fall of Port Arthur had arrived. In their estimate of the garrison’s capacity for further resistance, the Russians were more correct than their foes, for had he carried out his predilection, Oyama would have lingered in his position till the dawn of the New Year. As will be shown in the following chapters, the condition of the stronghold was by no means so desperate as was imagined by friend and enemy alike; and, as a matter of fact, the surrender, when it did come, was, in the opinion of many competent to arrive at a verdict, premature, and not the occasion of sheer necessity.

The Japanese in Manchuria, however, seemed confident that the end was at hand. One heard the capture spoken of as an impending event, that might any morning prove to be a reality; and I have little doubt that in the background of the Field Marshal’s schemes lay the expectation that he would soon receive the welcome reinforcement of General Nogi’s legions. I owe it to the exceptional kindness of the military authorities that they fell in with my request to be allowed to detach myself from General Kuroki’s command and to turn my steps southward. When we correspondents were released from the wearisome and exasperating detention in Tokyo, and were at length allowed to land in the theatre of war, we were given clearly to understand that each must remain with the particular command to which he was allotted, and that any attempt to break away and attach himself to a different portion of the army would render one liable to condign punishment, in the form of a restricted or cancelled permit. These conditions involved less of a lottery than might, superficially, appear to be the case, for the scale of operations was so gigantic that there was fair reason to hope that everyone would witness a good share of the fighting. Some might miss this engagement and some that, but as it was evident that every available Japanese soldier would be required at one point or another, there was not much risk of being left ingloriously on lines of communication, or of eating one’s heart out in inaction when stupendous doings were being enacted at another part of the area of warfare. Still, I must own to a peculiar sense of gratification when the permission arrived for me to proceed to Port Arthur, and need hardly say that I lost as little time as possible in availing myself of the privilege. Of course, it entailed the loss of witnessing the fierce struggle before Mukden--even a war correspondent cannot be North and South at the same time--but I had seen my share of the fighting between the armies in the field, and was confident of the result. The surrender of Port Arthur was a far more important and stirring episode in the history of the war than another defeat, on however grand a scale, of Kuropatkin’s gallant but disheartened soldiers.

I will not delay the narrative by describing my progress south to General Nogi’s command. Suffice it to say that fear lent wings to my feet--fear, lest I should arrive too late. But, however eager my desire to proceed with all speed, the means available, the state of the country, and the war conditions prevailing, did not conduce to rapid travelling, and I arrived almost on the eve of the surrender, and counted myself highly fortunate in doing so. My credentials at once obtained for me the kindest reception from General Nogi and his Staff, and I was privileged to be an eye-witness of the proceedings that attended the handing over of the proud fortress to the triumphant Japanese. Of the awful fighting that for months preceded the final act it is not my duty to speak. The assaults by land and sea, the mines and counter-mines, the spade work above ground and below, the gradual advance of the trenches, the nearer approach of the crescent of siege artillery, the ferocious bayonet struggles in attack and defence, the ghastly stories of empalements on merciless stakes, of destruction of life by grenade and bomb, of living bodies torn to shreds on barbed wire entanglements--these have been described by other pens, wielded by those who have the authority of personal knowledge. I simply present to the reader the record of my own experiences.