Part 5

The sentinel’s cry adds to the loneliness of an anxious night. One or two shots suddenly sound through the silent darkness; it is probable that the enemy’s pickets have been discovered. Quiet prevails once more; the night is far advanced. A bank of dark clouds starts from the north, spreads quickly and covers the whole sky with an inky color, and the rain begins to fall drop by drop. This experience on the picket line, keeping a sharp eye on the enemy all the time, continued for about thirty days.

By the time our line of defense was in proper order, the enemy began to show their heads. Every night there was the report of rifles near our line of patrols.

“Captain, five or six of the enemy’s infantry scouts appeared, and then suddenly disappeared, in a valley five or six hundred metres ahead.” Such a report was repeated over and over again in the course of one day and night. Soon we began to try various contrivances to capture the enemy’s scouts on our line of patrol. One of them was this: about twenty _ken_[36] away from our line a piece of rope was stretched, to that rope another piece was fastened, one end of it leading to the spot where our patrol was standing. The idea was that if the enemy walked against the first rope the second would communicate the vibration to the patrol man. Once when the signal came, and the men hurried to capture the enemy, no human being was in sight, but a large black dog stood barking and snarling at them.

THE FIRST CAPTIVES

OUR scouts were gradually increased in number; not only from the troops on the first line, but also from the reserves at the rear, scouts were dispatched one after another. Almost always they were successful. They either came across a small body of the enemy and dispersed them, or else they came back with the report of a place where a larger force was stationed. Such a success was always welcome to the commander of the brigade or of the regiment. Because we had not yet encountered the enemy, we were all very anxious to be sent out as scouts, in order to have a chance of trying our hand on the foe.

It was on the 20th of June, if I remember correctly, that one of our officers, Lieutenant Toki, started out, with half a company of men under him, to reconnoitre the enemy about Lwanni-chiao, but did not come across any Russians. He left a small detachment as a rear-guard and started back. Unexpectedly two Russian scouts appeared between his men and this rear-guard. They were surrounded, but offered stubborn resistance with bayonets and would not surrender. They were fired at, and fell, though still alive. They were our first captives and we were anxious to question them. They were placed on straw mat stretchers made on the spot to suit the occasion, and carried in triumph to the side of a brook at a little distance from the headquarters of our regiment. This was our first bag of captives. The men swarmed around the poor Russians, eager to enjoy the first sight of prisoners-of-war. Presently came the aide-de-camp of the brigade and an interpreter. The two captives were put in different places and examined separately. This was according to the recognized rule of separate cross-questioning, so that the real truth may be inferred through comparison and synthesis of the different assertions of different prisoners. In examining them, the first questions put are, what army, division, etc., do they belong to, who are their high commanders, where did they stay the previous night, how is the morale of their army, etc. Even when we have no time to go through all these questions, we must find out what they belong to, in order to ascertain the disposition of the enemy’s forces. If, for instance, they say they belong to the First Regiment of Infantry sharpshooters, we can infer from that statement who the commander is and what is his probable plan of campaign.

Our surgeons gave the captives proper medical care and comforted them, saying: “Depend upon it, we shall take good care of you. Be at your ease and answer truthfully whatever is asked of you.”

The surgeons told us that both Russians had been shot through the chest and would not live an hour longer, and therefore that it was advisable to put only a few important questions while they retained consciousness. One of the examiners said: “Of what regiment and of what place are you?”

The poor captive answered, gaspingly: “The Twenty-sixth Regiment of Infantry sharpshooters.” “Who is the commander of your division?” “Don’t know.” The interpreter expostulated. “You can’t say you don’t know. You ought to know the name of your own commander.”

The captive showed his sincerity in his countenance; probably he meant what he said. He was breathing with difficulty, and blood was running out of his mouth.

“Please give me a drink of water.”

I was standing nearest to him and obtained a glass of spring water. When I gave him to drink he would not even look at it.

“There is boiled water in my bottle; give me that.”

I did as was requested. I do not know whether this Russian, even in his last moments, disdained to receive a drink from the enemy, but I was struck with his carefulness in observing the rules of hygiene and not drinking unboiled water. Because of this strength of character, he had bravely fought with our scouting party until he was struck down. But he was not the only Russian soldier who did not know the name of his commanding general. Afterwards when I had chances of cross-questioning a large number of captives, I found out that the majority of them were equally ignorant. Moreover, they did not know for what or for whom they were fighting. Nine men out of ten would say that they had been driven to the field without knowing why or wherefore.

No more time was allowed for questioning this captive. He became whiter and whiter, breathed with more and more difficulty; his end was fast approaching. The surgeon said: “Do you suffer? Have you anything to say?”

At these kind words he raised his head a little and said, with tears: “I have left my wife and one child in my country; please let them know how I died.”

He breathed his last soon afterward. This man sacrificed his life without knowing what for. To be driven to the far-away East, to be captured by the enemy, and die thinking of his wife and child! He brought tears of sympathy to our eyes. He was honorably buried under a cross, and Chaplain Toyama offered Buddhist prayers.

The other captive was different in his attitude and manners, and we were far from pitying him. Of course we had no personal enmity toward him, or toward any one of the Russian fighters, and therefore we were quite ready to pity those worthy of pity, to love those worthy of love. But what do you think we found in this particular one?

When the interpreter asked the man, “Where is your regiment stationed now?” his answer was something like this: “Shut up! I don’t know. The Japanese are cruel; they are merciless to those who surrender. Give me some soup to drink; give me some tobacco.”

This rude remark and behavior came, not from true courage, that does not fear the enemy, but from sheer insolence. Other men whom we captured later were worthy of a similar description.

Although the Russians had been badly defeated at Nanshan, they did not yet know what was the real ability of the Japanese army; and relying upon the so-called invincible strength of Port Arthur behind them, they made light of their small-statured enemy. They were also like the frogs in the well,[37] and did not know anything of our great victory of Chinlien-chêng and that the Russians had been entirely expelled from Korea. Even when they were told of these facts, they would not believe them. Boasting of the mere size of their country and army, when were the Russians to awake from their deluding dreams?

Day and night we tried hard to find out the enemy’s whereabouts. One time a large reconnoitring detachment was sent out, when they came across a body of Russian cavalry, many of whom were killed and their horses captured by our men. The enemy also was watching us incessantly, and away on the top of Waitu-shan a corps of observation equipped with telescopes was seen constantly giving signals with black flags. Sometimes they would send out scouts dressed as Chinese natives to spy our advance lines. At first we were deceived by their appearance and some of our patrols were killed in an unguarded moment. Then we learned to be more careful and did not allow even the real Chinese to cross our line. Upon one occasion the mayor of the village in front of us asked for permission to come within the Japanese line, on the ground that they were greatly inconvenienced by not being allowed to cross it. After that the headquarters of the brigade appointed a special committee to investigate into individual cases, and only those Chinese who had families or relatives living inside the line were allowed to come over. Of course the Chinese would do almost anything for money. There were many who had been bribed by the Russians to become spies. They caused us a great deal of damage in spite of every possible precaution.

Thus we were kept busy with necessary preparations for an actual engagement, waiting for the right opportunity to present itself. For strategic reasons, we did not take an offensive attitude for some time, leaving everything to the choice of the enemy, with the mere precaution against a surprise by the Russians. Meanwhile the enemy’s navy appeared near Hsiaoping-tao and Hehshih-chiao and tried to find out our place of encampment by firing at us at random. At last the time came for us to begin active operations. On the 26th of June, the besieging army commenced hostilities and our regiment participated in the battle of Waitu-shan and Kenzan.

OUR FIRST BATTLE AT WAITU-SHAN

FOR about thirty days we had waited for a good opportunity, fortifying ourselves strongly, and engaged in constant skirmishes with the enemy. There was, however, one thing that we could not permit, and that was that the enemy was able to look down into our camp from various high points in their position. They occupied Waitu-shan, 372 metres in height, Shuangting-shan, a double-peaked mountain, of 352 metres, and a nameless mountain, which we afterward christened Kenzan, or Sword Mountain, higher and steeper than the first two. These mountains were secure from our attack, and from these eminences the enemy could spy us very well and comfortably. They set up fine telescopes on these places and took in what we were doing in our camp, in the Bay of Talien, and in Dalny. This was a great disadvantage to us. The longer they occupied those heights, the longer our necessary preparations at the rear must be delayed and the right opportunity to advance and strike might be lost. So it was an urgent necessity to take these places of vantage, and also to take Hsiaoping-tao in order to prevent the enemy’s warships from threatening our defenses of Talien Bay. This was the reason for our first battle, an attack on Waitu-shan.

This was not a severe battle; its object was simply to drive away the enemy occupying these heights. Because of the natural strength of the place, the Russians had not done much to protect or fortify it, and it was comparatively easy for us to attack. But this was the first fight for us, and we fought it with special fervor and determination.

Late in the night of the 25th, the last day of our defensive attitude, when the watch-fires of the camps were going out, and the occasional braying of donkeys added to the solitude of the hour, a secret order was brought to us to begin at once to prepare for fighting. Why was this message given at midnight? Because of fear of the natives. It had been arranged that our march and attack should begin on the 24th, but when we began to make preparations for starting, we soon found reason to suspect the natives of having informed the enemy of our movements and intentions. So we stopped for that day, and daybreak of the 26th was assigned for the attack, so that we could begin our march before the natives knew anything of it. That night I could hardly sleep for excitement; I tossed and fretted in bed, pictured to myself the battle of the morrow, or talked nonsense with the comrade in the nearest bed. I saw the occasional flickering of small fires in the dark and knew that not a few were awake, smoking and cogitating.

Very soon the whole atmosphere of the camp was filled with quiet activity; officers and men jumped out of bed and began to fold tents and overcoats as noiselessly as possible. Putting on our creaking knapsacks with the utmost caution, we crept with stealthy tread across the grass, and gathering at one spot stacked our rifles. The sky was inky black with summer clouds; the bayonets and the stars on our caps were the only things that glittered in the dark. Though their eyes were dull and sleepy, all were eager and determined in spirit.

“Have you left nothing behind? Are all the fires out?”

All at once the whole line became silent and began to move on at the command “March silently.” We had to keep very still until we were fairly out of the village, so that when the Chinese got up in the morning they would be surprised at our absence. This was the time for us to put in practice the quiet march, in which we had had much previous training. Even a month’s stay in the place had endeared to us, to some extent, the rivers and hills; the village had come to seem a sort of second home. How could we be indifferent to the tree that had given us shelter and to the stream that had given us drink? Among the villagers there was an old man by the name of Chodenshin, a descendant of a refugee of the Ming dynasty. He had helped us very faithfully, drawing water in the morning, and kindling fires in the evening. This good man discovered that we were going, and worked all the night through to help us. When we began the march, he came to the end of the village to see us off. Of course we could not forget such a man, and every now and then we used to talk about his faithful services.

The morning mist enshrouded the sky and the sun had not yet risen. The Sun Flag was at the head of our long line of march. Far away toward the right flank several shots were heard. Had the battle really begun?

At this moment both the right and left columns of our army began action, the right one to attack the height to the southwest of the village of Pantu, and the left to attack the enemy’s entrenchments on the heights to the east of the village of Lwanni-chiao, that is, from the 368-metre hill (Kenzan) on the north, along the ridge to Shuangting-shan in the south.

Our—that is, the middle—division of the left column was assigned to attack Waitu-shan. We marched quietly, binding the horses’ tongues, furling our flag, and trailing our arms. When we came close to the place, the enemy poured a fierce volley on us from the top of the hill and offered stubborn resistance. Brave, worthy foe! We responded with a brisk fire and sent showers of bullets and shells. They were on an eminence and we at the foot of the hill; their shots fell like rain on our heads and raised dust at our feet. At last the curtain of our first act was raised. This was our first chance to compare our strength with theirs. The coming and going of bullets and shells became fiercer and fiercer as time went on. The exploding gas of the smokeless powder filled the whole field with a vile smell. The sound of the opening and shutting of the breech-blocks of the guns, the sound of empty cartridges jumping out, the moaning of the bullets, the groaning of the shells, wounding as they fell, how stirring, how sublime! The cry “Forward! Forward!” rises on every side. Steep hills and sword-like rocks are braved and climbed at a quick, eager pace; the cartridges rattle in their cases; the sword jumps; the heart dances. March and shoot, shoot and march! The enemy’s shot rain hard; our bullets fly windward. The battle has become fierce.

Until we have pierced the body of the foe with our shot, we must continue to harass them with our fire. The bayonet is the finishing touch; the guns must play a large part in a battle. So, therefore, we must be very careful in shooting. When the fighting once begins, we begin to dance from the top of the head to the tip of the toe, we lose ourselves in excitement, but that does not do. It is very difficult to act coolly, but the aiming and the pulling of the trigger must be done deliberately, however noisy the place may be, however bloody the scene. This is the secret determining who shall be the victor.

“Pull the trigger as carefully and gently As the frost falls in the cold night,”

is the poem teaching the secret. Such a cool, deliberate shot is sure to hit the mark. The enemy fall one after another. Then follows the final assault (tokkwan), then the triumphal tune is sung, the Kimi ga yo[38] is played, and Banzai to the Emperor is shouted. This is the natural order of events.

The spirit of the men on the firing line improved steadily; the battle-field became more and more active. The number of the wounded increased moment after moment. Cries of “A-a!” sounded from every side, as the bullets found their mark and men fell to earth unconscious.

The final opportunity was fast coming toward us; the enemy began to waver. One foot forward, another foot backward, they were in a half-hearted condition. ‘T is time for “Tokkan! Tokkan!”[39] the time for a shout like the beating on a broken bell and for a dash at the foe. Lo! a fierce rain of rifle-shot falls, followed by the shouting of a hundred thunders; mountains and valleys shake; heaven and earth quake. Captain Murakami, commander of the company, shouting tremendously and brandishing his long sword, rushes forward. All the soldiers follow his example and pierce the enemy’s line, shouting, screaming, dancing, and jumping. This done, the Russians turn their backs on us and run for their lives, leaving behind arms, powder, caps, etc. How cleverly and quickly they scamper away! That at least deserves our praise.

Waitu-shan became ours once for all. We did not fight a very hard fight, but this our first success was like a stirrup cup. “Medetashi![40] medetashi!” We raised our hearty Banzai to the morning sky at eight o’clock on the 26th of June.

THE OCCUPATION OF KENZAN

WAITU-SHAN being taken with ease, the emboldened thousands of our soldiers now began to chase the fleeing enemy along the long, narrow path leading from Ling-shui-ho-tzu to the 368-metre hill, that is, Kenzan. The object of this march was to attack the Russians occupying Kenzan, and our men were more eager and enthusiastic than ever, and fully expected to take this hill with one single stroke.

Kenzan is a very steep, rocky, rugged peak, and the path on our side was particularly steep and rugged, so much so that one man on the path could prevent thousands of men from either climbing or descending. This hill had had no name originally, but the Russians themselves christened it Quin Hill. After the place was taken, General Nogi gave it the name of Kenzan, “Sword Hill,” after the famous steep hill Tsurugi[41]-ga-miné of Shikoku, near our home barracks, in order to perpetuate the fame of the regiment that took this steep place. We did not know at first how large a Russian force was stationed there. We had only ascertained that there were some infantry and more than ten guns for its defense.

Our regiment, as the reserve force, went round the foot of Waitozan and stopped in the cultivated fields near the seashore. At this time it was burning hot in Liaotung; moreover, there was no stream of water to moisten our mouths, no trees or bushes beyond the village to give us shade. Our position was even without grass, and we were exposed to the red-hot-poker-like rays of the sun, which seemed to pierce through our caps and melt our heads. We, however, consoled ourselves with the idea that this horrible fire-torture would not last long, and that soon we should have a chance of real fighting. But we remained in the same position from 9 A.M. till 3 P.M., all the hottest hours of the day. Far away to the left was visible the rippling water of the eastern sea—how we longed for a cold bath before going forward to die on the battle-field! We could not help our mouths watering at the distant sight of the sea!

After a while, a Russian gunboat appeared near Hsiaoping-tao, an island to our left, and began to fire at our reserve force. Many circles of smoke were scattered high in the air, the air itself made a whirling sound, and the shot fell on our position with a tremendous noise. Shot after shot, sound after sound! Some would hit rocks, emit sparks, spread smoke around, and the rock itself would fly in pieces. Seen from a safe distance, it is a heart-stirring sight, but we would not have welcomed a real hit. Nearly all this shot came very near us, but fortunately none of us was wounded. Soon we began to hear the booming of guns and cannon in the direction of Kenzan; and we knew the attack had begun. We were anxiously longing to march and join the battle.

How eagerly we welcomed the order, “Forward, march!” As soon as it was heard, all the men jumped up with a spring and turned their eyes to the colonel’s face. The commander’s brave bearing is always looked up to by his men as their pattern. Especially in a critical moment, when the issue of the day is to be settled, his undaunted attitude and steady gaze will alone inspire his men with the courage and energy which lead them to victory.

Now we were to march. Our heavy knapsacks would have hindered our activity. The men hurried to put about a day’s ration into a long sack to be fastened to the back, and fixed their overcoats to their shoulders. I pulled out two or three cigarettes from a package and started at once. Without any special order from anybody, our pace became faster and faster—we marched along a long road toward the place where the roar of cannon and rifles was rising. We came nearer and nearer to the noise of the battle-line. When we reached the actual spot, how our hearts leaped!

The steep hill occupied by the enemy rose in front of us almost perpendicularly. Our first line was incessantly exchanging fire with the Russians. As the fighting became harder and harder, the number of the wounded increased in proportion; they were carried to the rear in quick succession. Bloodstained men on stretchers, wounded soldiers walking with difficulty, supporting themselves on rifles—the sight of these unfortunate ones made us fresh men the more eager to avenge them.

The struggle became still fiercer. Our artillery tried hard to silence the enemy’s guns; our infantry were clambering up the steep height one after the other—they would stop and shoot, then climb a little and stop again. The whole sky was covered with gray clouds—white and black smoke rose in volumes; shells fell on the ground like a hail-storm. After a short time, our superior artillery effectively silenced three or four of the enemy’s guns. Our infantry came quite close to the enemy, when two mines exploded before them. Our men were enveloped in black smoke and clouds of dust—we feared great damage was done. Strange to tell, however, not one of our men had fallen when the smoke-cloud cleared away. The enemy had wasted a large quantity of precious powder with the mere result of raising a dust!