Chapter XLVI

COMRADES AT LAST.

AN INCIDENT OF BATTLE.

I tell the story as it was told to me by an officer of General Kuroki’s Staff. On a bare hill-top, strewn with the debris of war, lay fourteen wounded soldiers. Through the long, hot day they had fought, and now the tide of battle swept on, leaving them like wreckage cast up by an angry sea. Eight were bearded men and six were smooth-faced Japanese. The golden mist that glowed among the giant millet was tinged with crimson. Night was about to add her terrors to the stricken field. As the shadows stole up the mountain a strange fear crept into the hearts of these men. Their eyes grew wide with dread at the sights and sounds amid which they might sleep the sleep that knows no waking. Darkness could not hide the horrors that had burned into their brains. To each grim detail the waning light gave new and awful realism. Dead eyes looked out from under the peaked caps: the broken bayonets bled: grisly hands held the paper fans: crimson gashes gaped under the red shoulder straps: skeleton fingers turned over the stained page of pocket book and diary: fountains of blood welled out of rent garments and linen bands and strips of cloth that anguished hands had pressed into riven flesh: writhing forms covered the purple stains: livid arms rose from the red earth and beckoned to the common grave: the fragments of shell, the spent bullets, the empty cartridge cases and shattered rifles roared and hissed and spluttered and flashed--all the nameless horrors of the battlefield took shape and sound in the twilight.

A great fear fell upon the survivors and drew them together. It was a slow and painful muster. Shot through the legs, Sato crawled to Tanaka, whose foot had been shattered by a shell. With one arm hanging limp, Yamada tore a sleeve from his shirt and pressed it against a hole in his side. Nakamura had a bullet in his brain, and lay on his back sobbing out his life through frothing lips, about which the flies made dark, deep lines. A shot had entered Matsumoto’s right shoulder, passed through the muscles of his back, come out at the waist and lodged in his cartridge pouch. His foot slipped in a pool of blood, and he fell upon a Russian, kneeling with rifle clasped in his arms. The figure lolled over and rested at the feet of a soldier, with rigid arms stretched to Heaven, whose face was a crawling mask of buzzing flies. Kimura was mopping the blood from his brow, and had ripped up his trousers to dress a wound in his thigh.

At last the muster was complete, and the little group of Japanese began to attend to one another’s injuries. The Russians were less seriously hurt and assembled more quickly. Sato had taken off his putties and was binding them round his leg, when he saw the eight bearded men. Instinctively he looked round for a rifle, but Tanaka laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t you see that they too are wounded?”

Sato went on winding the putties and took no more heed of the enemy. The minutes dragged on: the golden mist vanished from the millet fields in the valley, and a thin line of crimson stretched along the horizon. An awful silence brooded over the hill--broken only by the sputtering of foam from the open mouth of dying Nakamura.

Having dressed their wounds, the men began to look about them, and presently the eyes of the two groups met. A few hours before they were seeking each other’s lives. They remembered the mad rush, the blistering heat of rifle, the thrust of bayonet, the wild shout, and the crimson wall that rose out of the earth and crushed them into darkness and oblivion. Long and earnestly they gazed, each striving to read the other’s thoughts. Many stories they had heard of atrocities--of murder and mutilation and horrors of which men speak in whispers. The Russians were eight and the Japanese only five, for Nakamura did not count, being as a dead man. Would they fight: would they wait until the night and steal upon them unaware: did they see how sorely stricken were their enemies: would they avenge the slaughter of their brothers?

To these inward questionings they sought answer in the faces turned toward them. “They look very fierce with their great beards, but their eyes are gentle.” It was Tanaka who spoke--he who had checked the impulse of his comrade.

“They are brave men,” added Kimura, who had bound his leg and was whisking the flies from the mouth of Nakamura. “Yesterday, when we stormed the hill, the Russians made a counter attack. They were led by a young officer who fought like a lion for his whelps. He fell, pierced by many wounds, and was about to hand his sword to Lieutenant Katsura, but our officer motioned to him to put back the weapon and said: ‘No, I cannot take from a Samurai his soul.’ The Russian understood. He was of the Samurai.”

“Let us beckon to them to come over,” suggested Tanaka. “They will then know that we have no evil design.” The signal was given, and the eight bearded men came without hesitation. Gravely saluting, they seated themselves on the ground by the side of their friends--the enemy. Of one another’s language they understood not a word. But speech is a habit, and is not to be suppressed merely because it is useless. The men talked, and their voices grew louder and louder, as voices are apt to do when they produce no impression. When your words are simple and clear it is hard to distinguish between ignorance and deafness. After a time the visitors fell back upon signs, but to the Japanese signs are as unintelligible as Sanscrit. Then they began to examine one another’s wounds, and shook their heads over the prostrate body of Nakamura, whose breath came in sharp gasps through bubbles of foam. Kimura put his hand into the pocket of his tunic and drew forth a book. It was a manual of conversation in Russian and Japanese--a collection of formal phrases and stilted sentences, such as no sane lips would ever frame. Yet they served, for presently Kimura and one of the Russians were busily turning over the pages and putting their fingers on words that seemed to embody the wisdom of the ages and the needs of the moment.

Before night came these men were comrades, sharing their black bread and rice. Sympathy gave them understanding, and though they spoke in unknown tongues it was established beyond doubt how many had left wives and children to pray for them in distant homes. Tanaka, with much labour and many searches through the manual, asked one of them if he was not glad to be wounded, seeing that he might return to his family and escape the perils of war. But Sato reproached him for suggesting that their Russian comrade was wanting in patriotism and would shelter himself behind a wound.

Thus the hours wore on, and night spread her veil over the ghastly forms that lay scattered over the hill-top and in the trenches. Very soon the wounds began to grow stiff, and fever ran like fire through their veins. Nakamura’s sobbing had ceased, and his face was rigid in death. Kimura rambled in his talk and cried for water to quench the fires within. Sato lay back, and would have groaned in his agony but for the presence of his comrades--the Russians. They understood, for one of them rose, and taking three wooden bottles, pointed to the valley. He would fetch water for his comrades--the wounded Japanese.

Now every man in that little group knew the risk of such an enterprise, for he was aware that the hill was in dispute, and that Russians and Japanese were watching for any sign that might betray the presence of the enemy. The Russian soldier walked to the brow of the hill, and looked cautiously about him. Nothing was to be seen save the forms of dead men and the blackness of the valley. Though he stepped warily, his feet often slipped in pools of blood, and stumbled into holes dug by high explosive shells. His comrades watched him disappear over the crest, and waited. The minutes passed with painful slowness. Not a sound broke the stillness. He must have reached the foot of the hill. Even now he might be filling the water bottles from the shallow stream below. Perhaps he was returning, and this terrible thirst would end.

They strained their ears to catch the first sound of a footfall. What was that? A shot rang out, and pierced the darkness like an arrow that quivered in their hearts. Then all was silence again. The wounded men held their breath and listened. No sound came from hill or valley, and they feared greatly for the brave man who had risked his life. Long they watched and waited, none daring to give voice to his fears. He would never return, for in the valley he lay close to the stream, with a bullet through his heart.

Kimura’s ravings had lapsed into unconsciousness, and Sato moaned aloud. From the little group rose another figure, stalwart and bearded. Without a word or a sign he departed. His comrades seemed unconscious of his movement, yet they felt that he had taken upon himself the agony of their thirst. He passed from the hill and vanished in the darkness, following the steps of his comrade. Hope revived in the breasts of those who watched and waited. Surely, he would return. Harm could not come to a brave man who risked his life for his enemy. Again that terrible note--sharp and clear--the note of a Russian rifle. He, too, would never return. The bullet of a comrade had dyed the stream with his blood, and the half-filled water bottles floated by.

The survivors on the hill watched no more. Night hid their suffering and their sorrow. At dawn some Japanese scouts moved cautiously up the slope, and from the brow of the hill saw the six Russian soldiers. Two shots whistled over their heads--three, four! The Japanese knew the sound, and shouted to their comrades. The firing ceased, and the story was told.

Two nameless Russian soldiers rest in one grave, and on a wooden cross is written in Japanese:

“COMRADES AT LAST!”

APPENDIX.

GENERAL FUJII’S STUDY OF THE RUSSIAN ARMY.

General Fujii, Commandant of the Staff College and Chief of General Kuroki’s Staff, wrote this interesting study of the Russian soldier, on the eve of the war. I commend it to the attention of military students as a valuable psychological document and a model of direct and terse expression.

“Our enemy is he who burned the city of Moscow and conquered the great army of Napoleon by cold, and hunger, and exposure; who fought against China with the allied forces of England and France, and who in 1877 defeated the Turks. For nearly thirty years Russia has encountered no foe, so that Europe knows nothing of her fighting capacity. It is clear, however, from careful study of former wars and from the present organisation, training, discipline, and _morale_ of the soldiers, as well as from the education of their officers, that the Russian troops are by no means so good as many critics imagine.

Let me point out their good and bad qualities:--

The training of the men is too formal. Lack of initiative and of independent action is the weakest point of all their officers, if we except the Staff and the officers of the Guards who are a little better in that respect.

The physical strength of the men is great--especially in their legs; their shooting is not very bad; their discipline is maintained not by training so much as by the remnant of feudal influence, yet they are not in any way chivalrous. They are, in short, imperfectly educated, strongly religious, and a naïve sort of people. Therefore, if there be a great hero to lead them and set them an example in the field they are not men to fear death, as was seen at Plevna, where they piled up corpses for earthworks and dashed into the enemy’s trenches. Yet, if they meet any little reverse they are at once terrified and panic stricken, and run away in confusion. It is, therefore, necessary to frighten them at the beginning, whenever we meet them.

Strength and courage are their characteristics in battle, and we must, therefore, always be cool and careful, and never venture on any rash movement.

Attacks on a small scale they like to make in the night or at dawn.

They appear to have little practice in independent firing, and are fond of firing volleys at any distance. Such firing is not very effective.

Sometimes they occupy a position on the enemy’s flank and try to enfilade. This they call a ‘rifle fort.’

If they have even a trifling success they will strive to take the utmost advantage of it. We have to remember always that they must be beaten at the outset, however slight may be our victory.

Their outposts are usually stationed at a considerable distance from the main body, especially when they occupy a defensive position.

Their infantry often charge with the bayonet--but they have little skill in the use of the bayonet, and none at all in individual encounter.

Their infantry is not clever in making use of natural objects for cover, and fights awkwardly in uneven and mountainous country, though on the plain it is very clever.

Russian cavalry and sometimes infantry when retreating set fire to the villages, so that we cannot expect to find shelter and supplies in places they have evacuated.

The Cossacks often attack transport trains and lines of communication, and it is always necessary to keep close watch on both flanks. If once successful in these attacks they will make many attempts.

The Cossacks made no heroic movement in the war of 1877, and their reports were always exaggerated. They invariably retire when met by a stronger force. If our infantry is a little careful we need have no fear of the Cossacks.

A Russian battery consists of eight guns; they have few mountain guns. In the war of 1877 their artillery was not able to accomplish much.

When at war with the Turks their higher officers were jealous of each other’s success and fame; often they could not agree upon strategic plans, and were accordingly unable to make simultaneous movements of many divisions under one command. Notwithstanding that the Russians had a greater force of cavalry than the Turks they could not prevent the enemy from bringing supplies into Plevna.

Amid the snows of Shipka Pass the infantry suffered terrible hardships and yet made a terrific assault, but this was because the defeat of the Turks was no longer in question.

The Russians sometimes try to carry out the wildest plans; and we must neglect no point however impossible of approach it may appear.

In 1877 the men endured hardships well; the officers did not.

So changeable are the feelings of the Russians that though at one moment they may be in the depths of despair, a trifling success will make them bold again and remove all fear of their enemy.

In the war with the Turks there were many mean-minded Russian officers who placed their personal interest and comfort beyond every other consideration.

The Russians often endeavour to draw their enemy to a short distance, and then open a terrible fire of rifles and artillery. In occupying a position they pay little attention to their communications.”

This estimate of the Russian army, adds General Fujii, is derived “simply from what I have read and heard. It is, of course, essential that we should take advantage of their weak points and avoid their strong points. Their troops are by no means anything to be afraid of, yet it would be a mistake to under-rate them. The execution of our plans must always be after more than sufficient reconnaissance and preparation, but, once begun, the battle, in whatever circumstances, must be carried right through until the enemy is crushed.”

RUSSIAN ESTIMATE OF THE JAPANESE SOLDIER.

From this Russian study of the Japanese army I make the following extracts:--

“The Japanese soldier is short in stature; his physical development is imperfect, but his frame is healthy, and though a trifle slow in action he is ingenious and quick of understanding. Light hearted and ingenious, his chief qualities are perseverance and unselfishness. He can march great distances on very little. His wants are few because of the extreme simplicity of his home life. During the Boxer trouble in 1900 some of the Japanese papers complained that the soldiers were required to do long marches with heavy equipment, and were much exhausted. The Japanese are a military race; they take readily to a soldier’s life and adapt themselves easily to discipline, non-commissioned officers and men observing even the minutest detail of their training and discipline.

The training of the Japanese Army is modelled on the German system of 1880, with some modifications. The infantry, whether in company or in battalion, are clever in manœuvring; their movements are rapid and precise, and they have wonderful capacity for marching. Their non-commissioned officers are soldiers of some years service; they are intelligent and ingenious, and are capable of dealing independently with situations as they arise. Their company commanders are intelligent and skilled in the management of men.

Japanese cavalry horses are very poor, weak, and badly trained, and are not quiet in the ranks. Every man rides after his own fashion, and, generally, his seat is neither well balanced nor easy. Curb and snaffle are used all the time; the speed of the horses is not well regulated, and the horses do not trot. On the march they do not keep together. These defects show that the Japanese have no good cavalry instructors, and are not trained in the management of animals. This is due partly to the physical character of Japan, which has few wide plains, and offers few facilities for horsemanship. The cavalry equipment is not uniform, and is not scientifically made. The saddle is often on the withers of the horses, so that when they move quickly the riders are much shaken, and the animals develop saddle galls and fistulous withers.

The material and equipment of the artillery are fairly good. The horses, however, are small and badly trained, and on the march the batteries--especially those of later invention--are slow. The gunners are clever in handling their weapons, in loading, aiming, and selecting a target. They are wonderfully cool, and handle their guns with the utmost confidence, but in training and discipline they are inferior to the infantry. In shooting, their accuracy is about the same as our own.

The infantry march in column of fours; the cavalry in column of threes, and the artillery in single column. The average speed of a detachment of these arms is from four-and-a-half to five Russian miles an hour. Twenty-five paces separate battalions; forty paces separate regiments. They march in large bodies, their columns extending over a great distance, a halt of from one-and-a-half to two hours being made in each march. In war, the Japanese send in front an independent body of horsemen, usually the whole of the cavalry attached to the column. The advance guard consists of about one-quarter of the infantry, from one-seventh to one-third of the artillery, a company of sappers, and a troop of cavalry. From this is drawn the vanguard--a small detachment of infantry and cavalry. The “point” is composed of specially selected cavalry, and sends out patrols to the front. They have neither flank guards, nor fixed patrols. Occasionally they send patrols to examine the locality and to report upon the character and topography of the district. As in the Russian army, the duties of the advance guard vary with the force that follows, with the distance marched, and the physical features of the country. When the advance guard of a division is in hilly country, it always sets out one hour earlier than the main body. The component parts and order of a column are as follows:--As point, a small body of cavalry--about half a squadron--followed by a large body of infantry, all the artillery, the rest of the infantry, the engineers, and the bridging sections, followed by a small rearguard. One or more divisions advance along several roads, and the advance guard is sent from one column--generally the central. Connection among columns marching in the same direction is very weak. When retiring, the formation is the same as when advancing, though the retirement is covered by a rear guard, whose strength and distance from the main body are the same as those of an advance guard in an advance.

Five or six military cyclists are attached to each regiment, and do the work of orderlies and patrols. Sometimes cyclists are with the advance guard or with the point. In a country like Japan, where roads are good and horses few, there is room for military cyclists to compete with mounted orderlies. The first baggage follows the regiment; the second baggage is two miles behind the rear guard. A divisional train is divided into two lines, the first line of wagons being a day’s march from its main body, and the second line two days’ march behind the main body.

In choosing quarters the Japanese are nearly always indifferent to their distance from the enemy, and to any other circumstance. The infantry are placed in front, then the artillery, and after these the cavalry and transport trains. The advance guard is stationed about one mile from the main force, and goes into quarters. The soldiers, when in quarter, never undress.

In the service of security, from one to several companies of infantry are used. Each company sends out a small number of sentries, who are posted at a distance of two miles from the main body. About half a mile behind these is a larger number of sentries. Each post has three men, one of whom patrols a short distance in front of the post. From the picquets patrols are sent along the line of sentries. Picquets and patrols--large and small--go into quarters, but are ready for battle at any moment. When the post of an advance guard reaches the line of sentries, the men engaged in the service of security rejoin the main body.

The duties of reconnaissance and cavalry patrols are the same as in the Russian army. Their reports are usually very detailed, accurate, and trustworthy. When a cavalry patrol meets an enemy it takes up a defensive position, but retires if threatened by a small body of infantry. Japanese infantry patrols are clever in reconnaissance.

The method of fighting, as observed in manœuvres, is after this manner. The fighting body of skirmishers, firing line and supports. There is no separate support attached to these. Each company sends out skirmishers to the number of two sections, and as they are not in extended order they are practically in close order of one line with a short space between the sections. In the firing line the men usually lie down and take advantage of any cover. Non-commissioned officers and commanders of sections kneel on one knee three paces behind the firing line. The supports take their place from forty to fifty paces behind the firing line, and when the skirmishers are stationary for some time the supports kneel on one knee with the rifle close to the leg. Before the firing line extends for an advance the officers go forward to reconnoitre the ground and conditions, thereby exposing themselves and offering a good target.

When a company of infantry is ordered to take a position it advances in close order, and on reaching the position sends out skirmishers, but has no flank guards. Infantry fire is independent or by volleys. Volley firing is adopted at long range, independent fire within a thousand paces. Fire discipline is regulated by company and section commanders, who point out the target and give the range. Their estimate of distances is often wrong. Independent firing is ordered by whistle of the company commander repeated by non-commissioned officers. In sighting and loading their rifles the men are quick and accurate. To reinforce the firing line the supports are added. The supports form in extended order and fill up the spaces between the sections. If additional reinforcements are needed the supports extend and move forward between the companies which are already in extended order. When still further help is required a part of the supports form a second extended firing line behind the first line. In this case the first line lies down, while the second stands or kneels. The reinforcement of the firing line is very quick after the fight has begun. In short, within a few minutes after the firing has commenced the skirmishing line can be strengthened, and the firing line consists of many extended lines; and all the supports are in action within twenty or twenty-five minutes. In executing this manœuvre the fighting force must move in front of the enemy, quite exposed, to extend its flanks.

We have observed that when on the defensive there is great confusion if the flanks are threatened by a turning movement. In advancing, the firing line moves at the ordinary pace until near the enemy, when the advance is at the double. Rushes are made forty or fifty paces from the enemy. Sometimes each body rushes forward independently. All the supports double after the firing line, and the advance is usually confused. The men crowd together and move forward obliquely, exposing their flank. They seldom fire when advancing; the retirement of the firing line is always disorderly and too quick; they do not fire until they have returned to their original position.

To defend a position the infantry form a long firing line in extended order, and the supports are quickly extended. When there is time they dig trenches deep enough to enable them to fire kneeling. If there is no time to make trenches they take cover behind the line of defence, and each section sends out one man to a distance of twenty or twenty-five paces to watch the enemy. The man remains kneeling until the firing begins and then rejoins the line.

Japanese infantry never attack with the bayonet. They believe that against the modern rifle, bayonet attacks are impracticable, and that the issue must be decided by powder and shot. Accordingly they employ rapid fire. The rapidity of the fire varies with physical features of the country, and at distances of from three hundred to eight hundred paces. The fire tactics in defence are as follows: When the enemy approaches within eight hundred or three hundred paces, a special signal is given and the firing line leaves the trenches, shouting, “Yah!” fixed bayonets, advances forty or fifty paces. At the same moment the supports draw near to the firing line, forming a second line and open fire standing. Leaving cover the defensive force is exposed in the open--an easy target for rifle and artillery.

The cavalry take little part in actual fighting, and rarely keep watch on the flanks. They are always anxious to seek shelter behind the fighting line, and do not take advantage of any opening to attack the enemy. Even when they see an excellent opportunity they do not ride rapidly forward, being more anxious not to fall off their horses than to quicken their pace.

The artillery take up an independent position, and in defence of the guns--about one third--are held in support. Generally speaking the choice of positions is very bad, and the field of fire is very narrow and limited. In the open field the artillery constructs empalements. When advancing to a fighting position the order is not good; the speed is slow and the guns are exposed to the enemy’s fire. After reaching a position from three to seven minutes elapse before they open fire. Though the firing is regular and orderly, though the gunners are brave and the handling of the guns is cool and collected, the practice is slow. The artillery does not change position during a fight, so that it cannot give proper assistance to the infantry in attack. On the defensive the artillery does not open fire immediately, even though it may see an effective target, but waits for the enemy’s fire. The ammunition wagons are placed near the guns, and the rapidity of the fire increases more or less as the battle proceeds. In the fight at Peichilii in 1900 the Japanese papers complained that the artillery was generally unsatisfactory.

The engineers belong to the advance guard. They repair the roads and lay the telegraph and telephone wires between the advance and rear guards. The telegraph and telephone communications are quickly made. The engineers do active work, taking the chief part in constructing cover and empalements for the gunners. The work is done quickly and looks substantial, though not always suited to the local conditions.

The chief characteristics of the different arms are summed up in these sentences.

In defence they like to take a position with a wide range of front.

In offensive movements the order and position of the different arms are the same whatever the conditions.

In marching, as well as in fighting, the flank guard is imperfect.

On the march the main body is separated by a long distance from the advance guard, which, unaided, must engage the enemy for some time.

The objective in attack is not definitely pointed out.

They use their supports too quickly, and exhaust their strength to repel the enemy when the latter attempts a flanking movement.

They do not recognise the necessity of continuing a fight until within reach of the bayonet.

They avoid covered places, especially in mountainous country.

They make frontal attacks without attempting turning movements.

In defence they are at little pains to avail themselves of natural cover, and are content with trenches and empalements.

When a retreat is ordered the main body of the infantry is first to retire, then all the guns, and finally the remainder of the infantry.

They do not like night attacks or night marches.

In an army of more than two divisions each division has a commander, so that there is no connection among the divisions, and the action of each is independent.”

FINIS.

A. C. FOWLER, Printer, Tenter Street, Moorfields, E.C.

Transcriber’s Notes:

1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been corrected silently.

2. Where hyphenation is in doubt, it has been retained as in the original.

3. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have been retained as in the original.

4. Where appropriate, the original spelling has been retained.

5. Italics are shown as _xxx_.