CHAPTER X

REASONS FOR OUR REVERSES (_conclusion_)

Particular difficulties of the strategic situation—Defects in organization and _personnel_—Absence of a military spirit in the army, and lack of determination in carrying operations to a finish—Breakdown of our organization under the strain of active service.

It is the duty of every Headquarter Staff to work out all possibilities, and, regardless of existing international relations, to provide for war in every probable quarter. Accordingly, our general line of operation in case of war with Japan had been duly drawn up in conjunction with the staffs of the Pri-Amur and Kuan-tung districts, and had been approved. The following is an extract from the paper dealing with the subject:

“Taking advantage of her military position—for she will be more ready for war than we are, and will therefore possess in the first period of the campaign a great numerical superiority both by sea and land—Japan can afford to define her objectives only generally. She may (1) confine her attention to the occupation of Korea, and not take the offensive against us (which will most probably be the case); or (2) occupy Korea and also assume the offensive—

(_a_) In Manchuria. (_b_) Against Port Arthur. (_c_) In the Southern Ussuri district (Vladivostok).

“Should Japan decide on the first alternative, then, taking into consideration the number of reinforcements we shall need, and the adverse conditions under which they will have to be conveyed to the front, we shall be forced at first to allow her to seize Korea—without retaliative action on our part, if only she will confine herself to occupying that country, and not develop plans against Manchuria and our territory. Should she choose the second alternative, we should be obliged to fight, and ought at once to make up our minds not to end the war until we have utterly destroyed her army and fleet. In view, however, of her numerical superiority and greater readiness during the first period of the struggle, we shall have to assume a generally defensive rôle. Any troops we may have within the theatre of operations should as far as possible keep clear of decisive actions, in order to avoid being defeated in detail before we can concentrate in force.

“The numerical superiority of the Japanese fleet will probably prevent our squadron from any major active operations, and it will have to confine its action to the comparatively modest task of delaying the enemy’s landing as much as possible. The defence of our own possessions should be carried out by the forces in the Southern Ussuri and the Kuan-tung districts, which are formed for that particular object, and based on the fortresses of Vladivostok and Port Arthur. All the remaining troops, except those allotted to the line of communications and to maintain order in Manchuria, should be concentrated in the area Mukden-Liao-yang-Hsiu-yen. As the Japanese advance, these troops, while delaying them as much as possible, will gradually be compelled to retire on Harbin. If it becomes evident in the first period of the campaign that the whole Japanese effort is being directed against us in Manchuria, then the force which would be concentrated first of all in the Southern Ussuri district (1st Siberian Corps) would be transferred there.”

The two years succeeding the date on which this paper was written saw great alterations in the strength, dispositions, and readiness of our military and naval forces in the Far East. There was also considerable change in the political conditions in Manchuria and in Northern Korea in consequence of the active policy which we had begun to assume. It was therefore found necessary in 1903 to consider a revision of the above scheme in accordance with these altered conditions. During those two years our strength in the Far East had grown by the increase in our land forces and fleet, and the improved efficiency of the railways. We have already seen what was done to improve the latter. It will suffice to say here that, instead of the twenty waggons available over the whole Chinese line in 1901, the War Department in 1903 received seventy-five in the twenty-four hours, and hoped, on the strength of promises made, to have five through military trains by the beginning of 1904. The fleet, which in 1901 was considered inferior to the Japanese, was, at the end of 1903, stated, on the authority of the Viceroy, Admiral Alexeieff, to be so strong that any possibility of its defeat by the Japanese was inadmissible. But in those same two years Japan had not been idle, and had been unceasingly increasing her naval and military forces. In consequence of this the relative local strengths of the two nations were still much the same in 1903 as they had been in 1901, and it was thought prudent to adhere to the same general plan of operations as had been drawn up and approved two years previously. To give an official opinion of that time, I quote an extract from a memorandum I submitted to the Tsar on August 6, 1903:

“In the report which will be sent in from the Headquarter Staff, the conclusion arrived at after a careful appreciation of the resources of both nations is the same as that reached two years ago—namely, that in the event of war with Japan, we should act on the defensive; that the concentration and general distribution of our troops should remain the same; that although we may move troops on to the line Mukden-Liao-yang-Hsiu-yen, we cannot hold our ground in Southern Manchuria in the first period of the war if that region be invaded by the whole Japanese army. We should therefore still count upon Port Arthur being cut off for a considerable period, and in order to avoid defeat in detail, should withdraw towards Harbin until reinforcements from Russia enable us to assume the offensive. But I may add that, while accepting the same plan of operations as we did two years ago, we can now have far greater confidence in the issue of a struggle. Our fleet is stronger than the Japanese, and as reinforcements will arrive now more quickly than they could have formerly, it will take less time for us to be in a position to advance.”

In a memorandum by the Chief of the Headquarter Staff, submitted to me on February 12, 1904—_i.e._, a few days after the enemy had attacked our fleet at Port Arthur—General Sakharoff described the Japanese intentions as follows:

“The Japanese plan appears to be—

“1. To inflict a crushing blow upon our fleet so as to paralyze its activity once and for all, and thus guarantee freedom of movement to their transports. To attain this end they have not hesitated to attack us before the declaration of war (_vide_ the night operations of February 8 and 9). The transfer to them by the British of Wei-hai-wei also has given them an advantageous naval base right on the flank of any operations undertaken by our squadron.

“2. To capture Port Arthur in order to attain the same object—the destruction of our fleet.

“3. To advance on and capture Harbin, so as to isolate the Pri-Amur district from the rest of Russia, and to destroy the railway.”

Our hopes as to the promised improvement of the railway were unfortunately not realized, while our fleet, damaged by the enemy’s onslaught before the declaration of war, was not only weaker than the enemy’s, but failed even to perform the modest task expected of it in 1901. Consequently the concentration of our troops was a far slower business than we thought it would be, while the Japanese, having gained command of the sea, threw the whole of their army on to the continent. Thus, gaining the initiative on land as well as on the sea, and fired as they were with immense patriotism, the enemy commenced the war superior to us morally as well as materially. However, though the task before us was one of extreme difficulty, our resources were immensely superior to the enemy’s, and the moment when we should become completely ready for the struggle was only postponed. Notwithstanding the unfavourable conditions under which we started, after fifteen months’ fighting we were holding the Hsi-ping-kai positions, and, although we had not actually assumed the offensive, we had by no means retired as far as Harbin, which had been accepted as a possibility in the original scheme. If we had only possessed the determination necessary to carry this scheme right through, we ought not to have ended the war until we had utterly defeated the enemy. Therefore, whatever we did accomplish can only be looked upon as preparatory to the decisive struggle. One of the assumptions of our original scheme of operations was that, if a strong Japanese force invaded Southern Manchuria, we should not be able, in the first period of the war, to hold it. In the event the whole Japanese army invaded that area, but the opposition shown by our troops at Liao-yang, on the Sha Ho, and at Mukden, was so effectual that, though the enemy gained possession of the greater portion of Southern Manchuria, they did not reassume the offensive against us for six months. The difficulties which the Japanese surmounted in advancing from Ta-shih-chiao to Tieh-ling cannot be compared to those which would have faced them, in the three defensive lines which we had constructed on the way to Harbin,[9] had they attempted to drive us to that place. I reiterate what I have so often said in the preceding chapters: though the war was brought to an end, the army was not beaten. Of the great force which lay ready on the Hsi-ping-kai position in August, 1905, one-half had never been under fire. Further on I will explain how it was that we never acquired the material and moral superiority necessary to defeat the enemy during the fifteen months that the war did last.

In the diary I kept when in Japan[10] I drew a diagram, with explanatory notes, to illustrate the Japanese question and show the possibility of our being able to defend our interests in Manchuria and Korea by force. I reproduce the diagram[11] and the notes _in extenso_:

“This diagram shows Japan’s comparatively favourable situation with regard to the theatre of operations. Her base—indeed, her whole country—is only about 600 miles by sea from our shores, and 135 from Korea.

“Our territory in Asia is so vast and so thinly populated that we shall be compelled to make European Russia, which is 3,400 to 6,000 miles distant, our base. For a protracted war with Japan it is evident that the single-line Siberian Railway will not suffice; we shall be obliged to lay a second track, and to increase the number of trains in the twenty-four hours. Also, as it runs for a considerable distance along the Chinese frontier and through Chinese territory, it cannot be relied on in the event of war with both China and Japan together.”

We were glued to the railway, and could not move away without risk of being left without supplies. Our field artillery and heavy four-wheeled transport carts were unable to travel over most of the hill roads. The summer rains made the movements of the army, with its heavy baggage trains and parks, extremely difficult; teams of twenty horses were harnessed to guns, and even empty carts had to be man-handled.

But of all our difficulties, the complete command of the sea obtained by the Japanese right at the beginning of the war caused the greatest. With their three armies they cut off Port Arthur, and began an advance from an enveloping base against our army, which was still tied to a railway-line. Our southward advance for the relief of Port Arthur was threatened by Kuroki’s army based on Korea. Any movement against him was out of the question, especially for those corps which had arrived from Russia, as they were quite unused to hilly country. Our communications through Manchuria were only weakly defended, and might be cut at any moment by the Chinese, while those further west were liable to interruption (bridges destroyed, strikes, frost, etc.). The feeding of the army depended on local resources, which a hostile population could easily conceal, carry away, or even destroy; and as the amount of supplies obtained from Russia was extremely small and uncertain, the army might very easily have been starved. The chance actions at the Ya-lu and Te-li-ssu, in which our most reliable troops were worsted, still further improved the enemy’s _moral_, and lowered ours.

With the absence of a proper military spirit among our troops, and the evil influence of the many seditious manifestoes against the war circulating amongst them; with the unsteadiness shown by many units in the first fights, and with all the other defects above mentioned, a great numerical superiority was necessary—I must speak perfectly plainly—in order to defeat an enemy worked up to a pitch of fanatical excitement. But we did not obtain this superiority until it was too late—when we were waiting on the Hsi-ping-kai position, and negotiations for peace were being carried on at Portsmouth. Up to December we were fighting with what seemed a fairly large force, according to a tally of battalions; but these were greatly under strength, for in the most important early period of the war—from May to October inclusive—we lost very many men, and received but few drafts. In many cases the Japanese battalions were twice as strong as ours. While all our actions were hampered by insufficient information regarding the enemy, the intelligence we received as to what was happening in our rear—in Mongolia and in the Manchurian provinces—was so alarming as to compel us to detach a large force to protect our communications. Again, when the enemy became complete masters of the sea, we had to detail sufficient troops to guard against a landing in the Vladivostok and the Ussuri districts. All these things combined to complicate our position and give the enemy the initiative at the start, and right manfully did their whole nation strive to seize their advantage. Their land communications were safe; their sea communication with their base was quick and sure. We, on the contrary, could only put in the field a fraction of our land forces, and, till we could concentrate sufficient men for an offensive, were tied down to a definite course of action. We had—

1. To make certain of and protect the concentration of the reinforcements which were arriving, so as not to allow them to be destroyed as they came up.

2. To take steps to relieve Port Arthur.

3. To maintain order in our rear, and to guard the railway.

4. To feed the army—mainly on local supplies.

5. To guard the Ussuri district.

Had the Japanese got possession of our communications, a catastrophe unprecedented in military history might have resulted. Without any victory in the field, the mere destruction of the railway in our rear, combined with the cutting off of local resources, would have threatened us with starvation—and disaster. Such were the unfavourable conditions under which we fought for fifteen months, and our army was not only _not_ completely defeated, but grew in strength, while our communication with Russia gradually became better secured and more efficient. We had always recognized the possibility of being driven back to Harbin and beyond; but this never happened, and we held on to Hsi-ping-kai. The situation could only have been improved in one way—by a rapid concentration of sufficient troops for, and an assumption of, an offensive all along the line. While these troops were collecting, each fight—quite independent of its actual result—would have really helped us if it had at all weakened the enemy. But our departure from our accepted plan of operations began at the commencement of the war, when, instead of fighting a rearguard action, General Zasulitch got seriously engaged against the whole of Kuroki’s army at the Ya-lu, and was defeated.

In May, when the 3rd Siberian Division[12] had alone arrived at Liao-yang (besides the troops of the Pri-Amur Military District), the Viceroy, fearing for the fate of Port Arthur, instructed me to assume the offensive towards the Ya-lu against Kuroki’s army, or southwards for the relief of the fortress of Port Arthur. But the inadequate force with which General Shtakelberg pushed forward, owing to ignorance of the fact that the Japanese were in superior strength, got drawn into a serious engagement at Te-li-ssu, and was defeated. With the arrival of all the units of the 4th Siberian Corps and one division of the 10th Army Corps, it seemed possible to contain Kuroki’s army, to concentrate fifty to sixty battalions rapidly in the direction of Ta-shih-chiao, and to attempt to hurl back Oku to the south. It seemed as if our army had a splendid chance of operating on interior lines. The enemy was strung along three lines of advance—Dalny, Kai-ping, Ta-shih-chiao (Oku); Ta-ku-shan, Hsiu-yen, Ta-ling, Hai-cheng (Nodzu); Ya-lu, Feng-huang-cheng, Fen-shui-ling, Liao-yang (Kuroki). We occupied the central position—Liao-yang, Hai-cheng, Ta-shih-chiao—with advance guards thrown forward on to the Fen-shui-ling heights. We might have been able, by containing two armies and deceiving the enemy by a demonstration, to strike the third army in force. A blow delivered at Kuroki or Nodzu did not promise success, owing to our lack of training in, and unpreparedness for, hill warfare [we had no mountain artillery, our baggage was heavy, and we were uncertain of receiving supplies, owing to the insufficiency of transport material]. The only other course was to strike at Oku, who was based on the railway, but such an operation was risky, because Kuroki and Nodzu might have driven back our screens and fallen on our communications. On June 26 and 27, when only one brigade of the 31st Division of the 10th Army Corps[13] had arrived at Liao-yang, the Japanese on the eastern front (Kuroki and Nodzu) themselves took the offensive and seized the passes (Fen-shui Ling, Mo-du Ling, Da Ling) on the Fen-shui-ling heights. We opposed them in insufficient strength, and did not even make them disclose their numbers. The troops of the eastern force withdrew towards Tkhavuop, and General Levestam’s force to Hsi-mu-cheng. Our screens were thus situated as follows: on Kuroki’s line of advance, only two marches from Hai-cheng; on Oku’s line of advance at Ta-shih-chiao, four marches from Liao-yang.[14] Our position was critical, particularly if the information we had received as to the Japanese collecting in considerable force to operate against Hai-cheng was confirmed. Still, if we were able to strike a rapid blow at Oku, we might rob the enemy of the initiative, and after forcing back Oku’s army, have fallen on Nodzu. After we had driven back these troops, Kuroki’s position would have been so far forward and so far separated from the other groups that the danger of his breaking through to Liao-yang would have been minimized. But for such decisive operations the first requisite was the concentration of sufficient troops for offensive operations against Oku.

At the end of June we had altogether available against the three Japanese armies 120 battalions, and were inferior to the enemy both in the number of battalions and the number of men. Our position was made worse by an epidemic of dysentery which broke out amongst the troops at Ta-shih-chiao, and swept off a considerable number of men. The Krasnoyarsk Regiment[15] was the greatest sufferer, having as many as 1,500 men down with the disease at the end of the month. But the main thing which delayed any advance on our part was the rain, which made all moves difficult, and some places absolutely impassable for transport. It was even difficult to convey supplies to our various stationary forces over distances of less than a march. In spite of the lack of pack-saddles, wheeled transport had to be given up for pack transport, and not even pack-animals could do more than seven to eleven miles in the twenty-four hours. On the Liao-yang–Lang-tzu-shan road things were still worse, for the bridges over the mountain streams had been carried away, and communication between the eastern force (3rd Siberian Corps, under Count Keller) and Liao-yang was interrupted for some time. Far, therefore, from being ready to advance, the officers commanding the 1st and 4th Siberian Corps found the greatest difficulty in rationing their troops, and on June 29 asked that they might be withdrawn towards the positions near the railway at Ta-shih-chiao, and that the country east of the line might be left to the cavalry, with a few infantry units in support.[16]

General Count Keller was persistent in his demands that communication should be maintained between his force and Liao-yang, but we had neither the material, the means, nor the time to comply with his wishes, which would have meant the laying of a light railway and the strengthening of the road bridges. As I feared that the Japanese might make a fresh forward movement on Hai-cheng, I ordered thirty-nine battalions to concentrate near Hsi-mu-cheng on June 29. The short march from Hai-cheng was accomplished on the 28th with great difficulty through a sea of mud, and on the 29th Hsi-mu-cheng was temporarily cut off by the mountain streams in flood. The feeding of the troops collected there was found to be so difficult that as soon as it was known that the enemy, instead of advancing, had retired towards the Fen-shui Ling (Pass), certain units were ordered to return to the railway. Taking advantage, on July 18, of the screen formed by a portion of the 17th Army Corps, we attempted to advance against part of Kuroki’s army in the hope of forcing our way forward and gaining a partial success. For this Count Keller had under his command forty-three battalions, but the attempt failed. He stopped the action before any large number of our troops had become engaged. On the 29th Oku’s army took the offensive; we had to evacuate Ta-shih-chiao and Newchuang after a feeble resistance, and allowed Oku and Nodzu to join hands. When on July 23 I inspected the units of the 10th Army Corps, who were holding the position near Hu-chia-tzu, I found out how absolutely incapable of operating in hilly country the troops newly arrived from Russia were. Before sending them forward, it was necessary to train them in hill fighting, and to provide them with pack transport. On July 31 all three Japanese armies advanced, and we concentrated after a series of battles round Liao-yang. Here, in spite of our resistance, the three armies were able to join hands. Their attacks on the left bank of the Tai-tzu Ho were repulsed, but owing to the unfortunate nature of our operations on the right bank, the conditions became so unfavourable to us that I was obliged to order a retirement to Mukden. The withdrawal was conducted without the loss of a single gun or transport cart, while the enemy lost in men more heavily than we did. In the detailed accounts I have given in the first three volumes of the operations at Liao-yang, on the Sha Ho and at Mukden, our difficulties and the causes of our defeats are explained. The course of events showed that our original scheme of operations was quite a correct forecast, for in it the probable necessity of retiring towards Harbin had been foreseen. Indeed, matters at Liao-yang, on the Sha Ho, and especially at Mukden, might have been very much worse for us than they were, and might have necessitated our retirement on Harbin early in October, 1904, when, as a matter of fact, we remained in Southern Manchuria.

Clausewitz has truly laid down that an army should be inseparably connected with its base, but our base was Russia, more than 5,000 miles away. The way that this one difficulty alone was overcome will perhaps be eventually appreciated at its true worth. The very complicated attendant circumstances demanded great and patient efforts on the part of the whole nation in order to turn them to our advantage. Our reverses were explicable, and even in our defeat we exhausted our enemy, while ourselves increasing in strength. It was inevitable that a different complexion would have been put on the face of things as soon as circumstances became more favourable to us.

DIFFICULTIES IN ORGANIZATION.

The war showed that our army organization gave us too small a percentage of actual combatants as compared with the total numbers whom we rationed. By this I mean that, in spite of the immense numbers that we maintained in the face of great difficulties, we were unable to put enough men into action to win. Our establishments of all arms, of parks, hospitals, transport corps, field bakeries, staffs, and all offices and institutions, include a large percentage of non-combatants, which was swollen in the last war by the absence of any organized line of communication troops, the necessity of carrying out a large amount of railway construction, and of appointing officers and men to newly formed supply and transport units. Even so the number of non-combatants laid down in the establishments for each unit was not sufficient to perform the duties that fell to them, and it became necessary, for reasons which will be mentioned later, to detail combatants for domestic duties. As but few non-combatants were wounded in action, the proportion of them to the combatant element became still greater after every big fight. It was usual, when a battle was imminent, to order back to their units all men who were on extra-regimental duties, but in spite of all the steps taken, the fighting number was never more than 75 per cent. of the number of men on the strength. In the beginning of April, 1905, when we were preparing the theatre of war up to the River Sungari, the combatant element of the 1st Manchurian Army actually fell to 58 per cent. of the strength. As in previous wars, the infantry, of course, did most of the fighting, and also carried out by far the greater number of fatigues and extra duties. As they also lost more men in action, their fighting strength was proportionately more reduced than that of the other arms.[17] In April, 1905, the percentage of rifles in the 1st Manchurian Army to the total number of men that had to be rationed was 51·9 per cent. When the convalescents returned to the ranks, its strength amounted by the beginning of December to 192,000 men, of whom 105,879 carried rifles; but we could only put a much smaller number in action owing to various duties, fatigues, etc. In August, 1905, the number of rifles was 58·9 per cent. of the total of men rationed.

To obviate this state of affairs, and to insure that companies should be as strong as possible in action, I gave orders on June 9, 1905 [when I was commanding the 1st Manchurian Army], that out of each of the four battalion regiments, not more than 369 combatants should be detailed for extra duties. This figure included 128 stretcher-bearers, 35 bandsmen, and 48 men for baggage guards. In addition to this, a large number of men were required for road and bridge work on the communications, for guards for the different stores, for working parties to assist the supply and medical services, for policing villages, for duty with the improvised transport units, etc. True, this had its compensations, for we were able thus to get rid of the 2nd Category reservists from the ranks; but we felt the loss in the number of rifles we could place in the firing-line. Of course, there were, in addition, the sick, the wounded, and the convalescents with units and in hospital. In this way the total of all ranks classed as combatants but absent from the firing-line, or not doing combatant work, amounted on the average to 800 men out of every four-battalion regiment, or about one-quarter of its strength. To carry on the campaign without properly organized units on the communications, without sufficient camp guards, without making roads and bridges, without allowing men for transport and baggage duties, was impossible. Notwithstanding the good payment we offered, the native population did not come forward to work freely, especially when fighting was imminent. A certain number were employed on transport, but they were very unreliable, and bolted at the first alarm, often taking their horses and carts with them. During the battle of Mukden, for instance, the whole of the hired transport of the 1st Army, consisting of 400 carts, entirely disappeared. Our attempts to obtain Russian hired labour were a failure, though the rates of pay offered were liberal enough.

The extent to which transport duties were responsible for weakening the fighting strength of the army can be seen from the fact that, during the fifteen months of war, 122 transport units were formed, and 8,656 carts, 51,000 horses, and 20,000 pack-animals purchased. For duty with these, 328 officers, 22,000 men, 1,700 hired civilians (Russians), and 9,850 Chinamen were employed. These 122 units were improvised under adverse conditions and from small cadres, and, as they had to be raised in a hurry, there was nothing for it but to appoint to them men and officers from the army.

The strength of units also decreased most marvellously in action. This was partly due to losses, but often also due to the habit of men leaving the firing-line to carry wounded to the rear. This was sometimes done with permission, sometimes without. Very often the men who retired did not have this excuse.

I have pointed out (in Chapter VII.) that the army did not receive its drafts in time, and that we had to fight below strength; this shortage was still further increased for the following reasons: The war establishment of a company was 220 rifles; but from this number had to be deducted the shortage with which units arrived at the front,[18] the sick, and those detailed for camp and other duties—a procedure which, though unprovided for by Regulations, was permitted by officers in command. Accordingly companies often went into the very first fight at a strength of only 160 to 170 rifles. For a long time the personal supervision exercised by commanding officers to insure that units took the field as strong as possible was very slack. It seemed, on the contrary, as if their efforts tended all the other way, for they left men behind whenever they possibly could, particularly those who were most necessary—_i.e._, those on whom depended the payment and regular rationing of the men. Thus, with the exception of the regimental adjutant, the staff of a regiment rarely went into action; while of the men who are classed as combatants, the company clerks, armourer-sergeant, cooks, officers’ servants, the butcher, the cattle guards and the officers’ grooms, were always left behind. The formation of a force of mounted scouts took away a certain number of men, and stretcher-bearers and bandsmen of course did not fight. Finally, owing to the peculiar nature of the country, donkeys for carrying water were provided for each company, and these required men to look after them, and one or two entire companies from each regiment had to be detached as baggage guard owing to the insecurity of our communications. Commanding officers thought it necessary to leave behind so many men for the above purposes that the orders given for them to accompany the firing-line were either quite neglected, or only half carried out. It was soon found that eight bearers per company were far too few for carrying wounded, and men from the ranks were allowed to help their wounded comrades to the rear. From this cause companies often literally melted away during a fight. There were many instances where unwounded men went to the rear under pretext of carrying away the wounded, at the rate of six, eight, or ten sound soldiers to one wounded! The return of these willing helpers to the front was not so prompt as it might have been, and was difficult to control. The result was that a company hotly engaged usually only had 100 or less rifles after a few hours’ fighting, although its losses might have been inconsiderable.

Meanwhile, as we only asked for drafts strong enough to bring companies up to the established war strength, without taking into account the above extraordinary leakage, the drafts we received did not bring companies up to their proper strength in action.

The reason why the lines of communication in the field[19] took so large a number away from our fighting-line was that we had no proper communication units, and the large working parties necessary for the light railway, road and bridge work had to be drawn from the fighting troops. It was entirely owing to the care with which the commanding officers on the line of communications—especially those in the engineers—had been selected that we were able to fight, and at the same time to make roads of some hundreds of miles’ length for intercommunication between corps. For instance, at the end of 1904 and the beginning of 1905, when the 1st Army was south of the Hun Ho, out of 180,000 men, 7,000 were on the line of communications. At the beginning of July, 1905, when the strength of the 1st Army had gone up to 250,000, and the communications stretched back a length of 150 miles to the River Sungari, there were 10,000 men employed on them—_i.e._, 4 per cent. of the army’s strength. The length of the road made on the Hsi-ping-kai positions by the 1st Army alone amounted to 1,000 miles, with bridges of more than 20 feet breadth and 50 feet span, and nearly 40 miles of embankment. Though the greater part of this was done by hired Chinese labour, even in this comparatively quiet period the troops of the 1st Army were on “works” for a period of 30,000 working “man days.”[20]

The supply service, also, as has been mentioned, absorbed a large number of men. The field commissariat were unable, at the beginning of the campaign, to work the bakeries owing to the lack of men. All the bakeries, therefore, were taken over by the troops, who had to build the ovens, buy flour, and bake the bread themselves. Thus the eight field bakeries (of which four were in Liao-yang) which arrived in Harbin and Liao-yang without transport or men had at first to be taken over by the troops. But from May, 1904, onwards the Governor-General insisted on most of the work being handed back to the Commissariat Department. The energy of General Gubur, the Field Intendant of the army, in obtaining supplies locally rescued it from the difficult position in which it was beginning to find itself owing to the constantly increasing number of mouths and to the inadequate number of supply trains. Assisted by Generals Bachinski and Andro, General Gubur took full advantage of all the resources of the country. For this, again, officers and men were necessary to guard supply depôts and collect and escort herds of cattle, and were taken from the combatant troops. A large part of the forage and meat the troops obtained for themselves, but this entailed the provision of strong foraging parties, which went far afield and often remained away a considerable time, and of permanent guards to tend the regimental cattle. When the troops of the Pri-Amur district were concentrated in Manchuria, they left a number of men behind as “base details” to look after their buildings and property. Touch was maintained between these base details and the units at the front during the whole war; from them the troops received their warm clothing in winter, and to them it was sent back in the summer of 1905. This all meant the employment of soldiers. Finally, men had to be told off for topographical work, reconnaissance, and as escorts for officers and other persons, etc.

The number for all the above duties taken together, with the wounded and sick present with units, constituted on an average 400 to 500 men per regiment. This, added to the 369 authorized “employed” men above mentioned, brought the total up to 800. Obviously such a loss of numbers must be taken into consideration in appreciating the fighting work of the army.

Other things which contributed to the same result were the immense development of the different staffs and administrations, the auxiliary institutions, such as supply parks and hospitals, the congestion on the roads caused by the masses of baggage which had collected, and the fact that both our wheeled and pack transport carried less than it was supposed to owing to the hilly country and the all-prevailing mud. After heavy fighting our army corps, especially those consisting of three-battalion regiments, amounted to less than 10,000 to 15,000 rifles, and yet the immense organization, military parks, baggage, and transport, etc., for a full corps had still to be guarded. Even the regimental standards, which should have been a source of strength and encouragement in the fight, were in many cases prematurely taken to the rear under a guard of a company or half a company, the troops at the front being weakened by this number at the most important moment of an action. I was obliged to make a ruling that in action the standards should be kept with the regimental reserves, and that steps should be taken that they should be a symbol of victory in the most critical phases of a fight (as used to be the case in former wars), and a source of strength instead of weakness to the units which possessed them.

In September and October, 1905, instead of one Manchurian army, three were formed (the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd); they were all intended for operations in the Mukden area, and were based on the one railway which constituted their common line of communications. The powers of the army commanders were as laid down by regulation. Officers in command of armies were given (Field Service Regulations, 1890) almost all the powers formerly vested in the Commander-in-Chief. As regards fighting, it was laid down that “in conducting military operations the officer commanding an army should be guided by the instructions of the Commander-in-Chief, but should act independently.” This latitude would be very convenient in operating in Europe, where each army would have its own independent line of communications; but in the conditions which existed at Mukden—one common position and one line of communications for all—and with a difference of views existing between the army commanders as regards the conduct of affairs, the arrangement was, to say the least of it, extremely unsuitable. A difference of opinion upon some vital matter might easily arise, when it might be necessary either to order the army commander to carry out an operation which he thought unnecessary, inopportune, or even dangerous, or else to ask for him to be replaced. For instance, a fortnight before we assumed the offensive on January 25, after everything had been settled and all plans drawn up, General Grippenberg suddenly surprised me by his opinion—that the campaign was lost; that we should retire towards Harbin, hold that point and Vladivostok, and thence move with two armies in other directions. In which directions, he was unable to explain. The Commander-in-Chief’s instructions on many essential points, such as the danger of holding non-continuous lines[21] and the necessity for having strong army reserves, were not carried out because the responsibility for holding the defensive positions occupied by the armies rested on the army commanders. Thus my endeavours to send at least twenty-four battalions—if not the whole of the 17th Army Corps—from the 3rd Army into the reserve failed, as the officer commanding that army thought that his position in the centre would not be safe if the regiments of the 17th Corps, which was in advance, were replaced by reserve regiments of the 6th Siberians. As mentioned in the account of the operations of the 14th Infantry Division at Hei-kou-tai, notwithstanding my instructions to conceal our intention of attacking the enemy’s left flank as long as possible, General Grippenberg, for no apparent reason, and without even asking permission, assumed the offensive almost two weeks before the time that I had fixed by moving the 14th Division towards Ssu-fang-tai (on the heights by San-de-pu) on January 13, and by moving the 10th Army Corps into the advanced lines between the right flank of the 3rd Army and the River Hun on the 16th. By this the enemy was informed of our intentions before we began our forward movement, and the front of the 2nd Army was spread over thirteen miles.

With the exception of General Linievitch, our army commanders were unnecessarily sensitive to interference with their powers, and in cases where orders would formerly have been issued to corps commanders it now became necessary to reckon with the personal opinions of army commanders, and to guard against offending their susceptibilities. After the pomp and parade of General Grippenberg’s departure from the army, the relationship between the army commanders and the Commander-in-Chief became still more strained. How jealously they looked after their rights, and how strangely they interpreted their own powers, is illustrated by the following incident: On February 19 I sent for the three army commanders and their chief staff officers, in order to ascertain their views as to the plan of operations which should be undertaken under the unfavourable conditions brought about by the fall of Port Arthur and General Grippenberg’s unsuccessful operations at Hei-kou-tai. The following courses were open to Nogi’s army, no longer required in the Kuan-tung Peninsula: it might join the four armies already in the field against us; it might, together with the divisions formed in Japan and the troops in Korea, form a force of seventy to eighty strong battalions for operations against Vladivostok, or, landing at Possiet Bay, it might march against Kirin and Harbin, so as to outflank our position at Mukden. I had also been continually receiving reports from General Chichagoff to the effect that the enemy had invaded Mongolia, and, aided by numerous bands of Hun-huses, had begun to attack the railway in our rear, which had forced me to weaken the army by detailing an infantry brigade and four Cossack regiments to reinforce the railway guard and safeguard our position. In spite of these reports, Generals Linievitch and Kaulbars expressed the opinion that we ought not to change our plans, and should carry out the orders I had issued on January 25—namely, to fall on the enemy’s left flank. But when my Chief of Staff asked the officer commanding the 2nd Army—who was to commence the operation—how he proposed to employ his cavalry, Kaulbars,[22] looking upon the question as an interference with his authority, became annoyed, and said much that was unnecessary and quite beside the point. As it turned out, the Chief of the Staff had every reason to be anxious as to the employment of this Army, for its work in the battle of Mukden was anything but satisfactory.

The very large powers vested in army commanders in the matter of bestowing distinctions was both unnecessary and harmful. They were authorized to award the fourth class Order of St. George on the recommendations of committees convened by them; they could give the Distinguished Service Cross to private soldiers, and award the Orders of St. Anne, second, third, and fourth classes, and St. Stanislav, second and third classes, with swords and ribbons. As the forces were lying so close together, it was very soon noticed that the distribution of decorations in the different armies varied very much, being in accordance with the personal predispositions of the different commanders. In one army they were so lavishly bestowed as to excite general derision, and their value was much lowered in consequence. By far the worst offender in this respect was one well-known general, who for one and the same engagement [Hei-kou-tai] decorated divers officers with two Orders apiece, while, contrary to regulations, he bestowed the Distinguished Service Cross to fifteen and more men per company and battery. I jotted down in my diary my impressions after inspecting units of the 2nd Army. Amongst other things, I noted that he had awarded thirty Distinguished Service Crosses to a battery, of which only seventy men had been in action and even then scarcely under fire. Indeed, to my astonishment, as they stood on parade almost the whole of the front rank were wearing crosses. The officer in command told me that he had been ashamed to announce these rewards to the men, and to have to try and select certain specific acts for them. I told the men I hoped that they would show themselves worthy of these marks of distinction in the fights to come!

The large independent powers possessed by the army commanders in matters of supply were also superfluous in a case where there was only one railway and one tract of country in which to procure supplies. The only result was that prices were raised all round by the fact that the different armies were bidding against each other. In this respect General Grippenberg’s behaviour was most incomprehensible. As meat was very scarce in December, I advised him to cut down the meat ration from 1 pound to 1/2 pound. Instead of this, by an order issued on January 3, he increased it to 1-1/2 pounds per man per day. With the conditions that obtained generally on the Sha Ho, and if our army corps had been organized on a broader basis, there would have been no necessity whatever for three separate army commanders with their special powers; but they were appointed. And yet, after the disaster of Mukden, it was the Commander-in-Chief who was generally held responsible for everything.

DEFECTS IN _PERSONNEL_.

As regards the _personnel_, I will give in full the impressions recorded in my report on the 1st Manchurian Army at a time when the experiences of the war were fresh in my mind; my opinion in the main agrees with those of other senior commanders.

(_a_) _The Command._—No appreciation of the senior commanders—that is to say, of the work done by individual corps, divisional, and brigade commanders—can or, indeed, ought to be made at present. The personal element is too prominent. We must wait till personal feelings have died away, so as to be able to draw impartial conclusions based on authenticated facts, and on facts alone, as to what happened and who was to blame. All the same, it may be said that the most pronounced weak points amongst our senior commanders, especially in the first period of the campaign, were their lack of initiative, their ignorance of the method in which an attack should be conducted, and their want of determination. There was never any co-ordination in the operations of large units, which were really quite remarkable for their absolute disconnection. Indifference as to the position of neighbouring forces was the rule, and a tendency to accept defeat before a fight was really lost was painfully evident. Even our best commanders preferred their neighbour to be told off for the attack, while they themselves remained in support. If a column were retiring under difficulties, any other forces close at hand would withdraw also, instead of coming to its assistance; and there was practically no instance of a bold forward movement. The work of the regimental commanders was certainly better than that of those higher up, but it was impossible not to notice that they did not possess the power of making the most of a situation and finding their way about. A regimental commander detached on special duty could rarely make his arrangements without the assistance of an officer of the General Staff; he could not, as a rule, read a map himself, much less teach those under him how to do so. This was especially the case at the beginning of the war, and had considerable influence on the conduct of operations, as regiments often either arrived late at their rendezvous or went to points where they were not wanted. The lack of eye for country is partly explained by the fact that our officers were quite unused to hills. Though this defect certainly became less marked as time went on, it was still perceptible in the operations round Mukden, and even afterwards.

Though the officers lacked a proper military spirit, they were generally good in other ways, particularly those of the regular army. The best proof of their gallantry is furnished by the number of losses sustained by the 1st Army from November, 1904, to September, 1905, from which it will be seen that their proportion of killed and wounded was considerably higher than that of the men.

+-------+-------------------+-------------------+ | | Officers. | Rank and File. | +-------+--------+----------+--------+----------+ | | |Percentage| |Percentage| | |Numbers.|to Average|Numbers.|to Average| | | | Strength.| | Strength.| +-------+--------+----------+--------+----------+ |Killed | 167 | 4·1 | 4,779 | 2·5 | |Wounded| 905 | 23·8 | 27,425 | 14·6 | |Missing| 89 | 2·1 | 5,684 | 2·9 | | +--------+----------+--------+----------+ | | 1,151 | 30 | 37,888 | 20 | +-------+--------+----------+--------+----------+

The losses in this army for the whole period of the war were somewhat higher:

Officers. Rank and File. Killed 396 10,435 Wounded 1,773 56,350

With the exception of those who had volunteered for the front, the officers of the reserve were not nearly so well qualified as those of the regulars; they were much behind them in tactical training, and did not always perform their duties with the zeal which should be shown on active service. Many ensigns of the reserve turned out unsatisfactory, having accepted this rank purely to escape becoming private soldiers upon mobilization; they had no sympathy with the military profession, and hated soldiering. They were absolutely without training, and some of them had no authority whatever over the men. The ensigns and acting ensigns[23] promoted from the ranks for distinguished service were excellent in every respect. Having been selected from the rank and file, they usually appreciated their rank, and had considerable authority amongst the men; they got on well with the officers, and proved efficient and hard-working assistants to the company commanders. The extent to which the acting ensigns sacrificed themselves to duty is evinced by the fact that of 680 in the 1st Army in February, 192 were killed and wounded in the Mukden battle—_i.e._, more than 28 per cent. The moral tone of the officers was quite satisfactory; during the whole period of the war only nineteen were dismissed for unbecoming conduct. In reporting on the work done by the officers of the General Staff, the majority of the senior officers in command of troops expressed the opinion that their theoretical training and intelligence stood very high, and that their work was unselfish, but that they were not sufficiently in touch with the troops, and lacked the personal, practical knowledge required to enable them to judge properly how much might be expected of men, and in what way an order would be carried out—a knowledge which is necessary if small errors are to be avoided in the transmission of orders, etc. They recommended that, to give these staff-officers the necessary practical training, they should do most of their service with troops of all three Arms, and only a part of their service on the staff; while, to prevent them being looked upon by the troops as mere clerks, they should be relieved of the mass of clerical work that now falls to the General Staff. As in other bodies of men, so amongst these officers are to be found some specially fitted for field-work, and others, again, who prefer purely staff duties, and in my opinion the two classes should be separated. Generally speaking, the General Staff officers in the 1st Army did everything that was required of them. From November, 1904, to September, 1905, their losses in killed and wounded amounted to 12 per cent. of their strength; if the casualties which occurred before the formation of the 1st Army are taken into account, the percentage works out as much as 25·7. During the whole of the above time only four were sent back to Russia on account of sickness, while the majority of the wounded returned to the front.

As regards the senior commanders, many general officers who had commanded independent units with great success in peace-time were quite unfitted to take command of large units under the stress of war. Few had even had sufficient peace practice in the actual command of divisions and corps, and many were not up-to-date in their knowledge of modern war requirements. The general characteristic displayed by most was their lack of the power of forming a decision and a disinclination to accept responsibility. Some arrived at the front actually holding important commands for which they were—either through ill-health or for other reasons—quite unfitted. From three army corps, composed of veteran regiments which had arrived earlier than others in the theatre of war, there retired, or were sent back, after the first fights, one corps, four divisional, and several brigade commanders. Amongst the reasons which contributed to complicate the conduct of operations were the frequent changes in the Commander-in-Chief, of whom there were three in nineteen months. From the beginning of the war till the end of October, 1904—for eight and a half months—Admiral Alexeieff was in supreme command; from the end of October to the middle of March, 1905—four and a half months—I was in command; from the middle of March till the end of the operations—six months—General Linievitch was in command.

The fact that I only commanded for four and a half months out of nineteen, and that this period was in the middle of operations, was not taken into account by those who last year flooded Russia with pamphlets and newspaper articles, apparently written with the sole object of proving that I, both as Commander-in-Chief and as War Minister, was the person mainly responsible for our misfortunes. In a letter to the Tsar, dated February 21, 1906, from the village of Shuan-chen-pu, I wrote on this point as follows:

“I am aware of the serious accusations levelled against me in the Press. Though there are among them many to which I would scorn to reply, I should be happy to accept entire responsibility for the disasters which have overtaken us, but that such a course would be historically incorrect. It would also be a mistake, because it would lessen the general desire of the whole army for a thorough investigation of all the causes of our partial defeats, so that we may be able to avoid them in the future.

“I venture to say ‘partial’ defeats, because there could be no possible suggestion that our land forces in Manchuria suffered defeat similar to that sustained by the fleet. When peace was concluded we had an army of almost one million men, still holding positions occupied by us after the Mukden battle, and ready, not only for the defensive, but for a most active advance.

“Information that reached us from Japan showed that the sources from which she had been drawing the men for her armies were drained dry, that her finances had been completely exhausted, that discontent at the long-drawn-out war was already making itself felt among her people, and that for these reasons her army could not reckon on further success against our superior numbers. Therefore, the most searching and exhaustive study of all our weak points cannot shake the belief prevalent in the army that our troops in Manchuria would have been victorious if only the war had been continued.

“It will be for the future historian to decide whether the troops we put into the field before March, 1905, would have sufficed for victory.

“Nowadays, with the complicated machinery of modern armies, the personality of the supreme commander is less important than it was. Without trusty, able, and energetic subordinates, without a spirit of initiative amongst all ranks, without a superiority in numbers, and, what is most important, without a military spirit amongst the troops and patriotism in the whole nation, the duty of a Commander-in-Chief is so difficult that it is far too much for a merely talented leader. It may be said that a military genius would have overcome the moral and physical difficulties we had to encounter. Possibly; but an Alexeieff, a Kuropatkin, a Linievitch, a Grippenberg, a Kaulbars, and a Bilderling were unable to do so.

“I venture to remind Your Imperial Highness that, on receiving the orders appointing me to be Commander-in-Chief, I did not joyfully express my gratitude. I replied to the effect that it was only a dearth of commanders which led Your Majesty to select me. If I still firmly believed in victory after the Mukden battle, I had, indeed, good grounds for so doing.”

The author of the cleverly written article entitled “All about Commanders” writes as follows:

“The absence of initiative, the habit of always relying upon superiors, and only acting when ordered to from above, are characteristics of junior commanders which made the work of those at the head of the army more difficult. The value of the time element in war also was forgotten.”

The modern theorist in strategy, Blume, says: “Even the greatest genius in a supreme commander cannot replace independent action by individual leaders.”

Even during actual operations numerous newspaper articles appeared, well calculated to discredit the officers. They were represented as overbearing, rude, dishonourable drunkards. Indeed, one of the most gifted of our writers—Menshikoff—went very far in this respect, for he wrote of the “blunted sense of duty, intemperance, moral laxity, and inveterate laziness” of a large body of men who never spared their lives and performed their duty almost religiously. In a diatribe against military life by M. Kuprin, called “The Duel,” private soldiers were represented as being treated with the greatest cruelty, and it was implied that it was the custom for our officers to slap and beat their men on company parades. The writer concluded by saying that the time would come when the officers would be caught and beaten in byways, when women would deride them, and soldiers refuse to obey their orders. In the great family of officers—as in other classes—there are, of course, bad specimens, but no generalization can be made from this as to the class as a whole. If some officers were seen drunk on the lines of communications or at Harbin, it is not fair to jump to the conclusion that all officers got drunk. They should be judged after they have been seen in action, in the trenches, and on the line of march, not only, as they often were, by what happened in the rear. But it is much easier to sit in St. Petersburg or Harbin and hurl abuse than it is to watch matters at the front. I have alluded to the large proportion of killed and wounded amongst the officers, which shows that their gallantry has not grown less than it used to be, and they certainly looked after the welfare of the soldier in a way that was unprecedented. The men were fed, clothed, cheered up, and kept in good fettle. The junior officers were zealous, soon found their feet under new and strange conditions, and as they grew accustomed to the local topography, became good map-readers. The most severe critic must acknowledge that the standard of our officers, both staff and regimental, has been much raised since the Russo-Turkish War.

But, according to the opinion of these same observers, the private soldier has, on the contrary, deteriorated during these twenty-seven years, for, though a better man physically, he is morally a worse man than he used to be. As I have remarked, the men with the colours were quite reliable, but many of the reservists—especially the 2nd Category men—required much supervision both in action and out of it, the most difficult material to handle being that from the manufacturing centres and large towns. Soldiers nowadays require more looking after than they did formerly, when but few were literate. Up to the present, thank God, our officers still have a good hold upon the men, based on mutual respect; but great endeavours were made at the beginning of the war to undermine this.

Kirilloff and others have made a dead set against the behaviour of the officers of our General Staff in the late war, but the majority worked most unselfishly, and did good service commanding units or on the staff. A large number distinguished themselves by their professional zeal and gallantry, while some found a glorious death in action. At their head may be mentioned General Kondratenko, the hero of Port Arthur. Among the killed also were the gallant General Count Keller, Staff-Officers Zapolski, Naumenko, Jdanoff, Pekuti, Vasilieff, Mojeiko; and of those who died from wounds were Andreeiff and Yagodkin. Among the wounded were four divisional commanders—Lieutenant-Generals Rennenkampf and Kondratovitch, Major-Generals Laiming and Orloff; also Staff-Officers Markoff, Klembovski, Gutor, Rossiski, Gurko, Inevski, etc. Altogether, about twenty officers of the General Staff were killed and forty wounded. The hostile attitude of the Press towards the officers, the endeavour of divers persons to undermine their authority, the indifference of the intelligent classes in Russia to what was happening in Manchuria, and especially the anti-Government campaign, which was conducted with the object of creating a mutiny among the troops, was hardly calculated to raise the soldiers’ _moral_, or to encourage them to perform acts of heroism. There was no military spirit in the army.

_The Rank and File._

The rank and file, like the officers, were of two classes: those serving with the colours, and the reservists. The former were in every respect good; they were steady in action, enduring and well trained; but the reservists were on a much lower plane altogether. In the first place, the older men were unable to stand the arduous conditions of field service, coupled with the rigours of the Manchurian climate. They suffered greatly from sunstroke and heart affections when marching among the hills, and during the hot weather. At the battles of Ta-shih-chiao, Hai-cheng, and Liao-yang, these men fell out in such numbers that their units became quite immobile, and absolutely useless for any offensive operations. Moreover, the 2nd Category reservists did not know the rifle, and had forgotten everything they had once learnt when with the colours, and it required real hard work to instruct and train them up to the level of the serving soldiers. I have mentioned their unsteadiness. Units which were almost entirely composed of these men—that is to say, those units which had been formed by expanding the reserve regiments—were very unsatisfactory: it was almost impossible to get them into action. The regiments of the 4th Siberian Corps, which did so splendidly at Ta-shih-chiao, Hai-cheng, and Liao-yang, were an exception; they were composed entirely of Siberian reservists, who, though surly fellows and poor marchers, were men of character and very steady in action. The drafts composed of young soldiers were magnificent. Most of them had only just done their recruits’ course, were single men, and possessed both staying power and activity, and, being regular soldiers, were accustomed to field-service conditions. Unfortunately, it was only after the battle of Mukden that these drafts began to arrive. But these young soldiers who did so well in small actions would have done still better in a decisive engagement.

The general feeling of discontent which already prevailed in all classes of our population made the war so hateful that it aroused no patriotism whatever. Many good officers hastened to offer their services—which was only natural—though all ranks of society remained indifferent. A few hundreds of the common people volunteered, but no eagerness to enter the army was shown by the sons of our high dignitaries, of our merchants, or of our scientific men. Out of the tens of thousands of students who were then living in idleness,[24] many of them at the expense of the Empire, only a handful volunteered,[25] while at that very time, in Japan, sons of the most distinguished citizens—even boys fourteen and fifteen years of age—were striving for places in the ranks. Japanese mothers, as I have already said, killed themselves through shame when their sons were found to be physically unfit for military service. The indifference of Russia to the bloody struggle which her sons were carrying on—for little-understood objects, and in a foreign land—could not fail to discourage even the best soldiers. Men are not inspired to deeds of heroism by such an attitude towards them on the part of their country. But Russia was not merely indifferent. Leaders of the revolutionary party strove, with extraordinary energy, to multiply our chances of failure, hoping thus to facilitate the attainment of their own unworthy ends. There appeared a whole literature of clandestine publications, intended to lessen the confidence of officers in their superiors, to shake the trust of soldiers in their officers, and to undermine the faith of the whole army in the Government. In an “Address to the Officers of the Russian Army,” published and widely circulated by the Social Revolutionists, the main idea was expressed as follows:

“The worst and most dangerous enemy of the Russian people—in fact, its only enemy—is the present Government. It is this Government that is carrying on the war with Japan, and you are fighting under its banners in an unjust cause. Every victory that you win threatens Russia with the calamity involved in the maintenance of what the Government calls ‘order,’ and every defeat that you suffer brings nearer the hour of deliverance. Is it surprising, therefore, that Russians rejoice when your adversary is victorious?”

But persons who had nothing in common with the Social Revolutionary party, and who sincerely loved their country, aided Russia’s enemies by expressing the opinion, in the Press, that the war was irrational, and by criticizing the mistakes of the Government that had failed to prevent it. In a brochure entitled “Thoughts Suggested by Recent Military Operations,” M. Gorbatoff referred to such persons as follows:

“But it is a still more grievous fact that while our heroic soldiers are carrying on a life-and-death struggle, these so-called friends of the people whisper to them: ‘Gentlemen, you are heroes, but you are facing death without reason. You will die to pay for Russia’s mistaken policy, and not to defend Russia’s vital interests.’ What can be more terrible than the part played by these so-called friends of the people when they undermine in this way the intellectual faith of heroic men who are going to their death? One can easily imagine the state of mind of an officer or soldier who goes into battle after reading, in newspapers or magazines, articles referring in this way to the folly and uselessness of the war. It is from these self-styled friends that the revolutionary party gets support in its effort to break down the discipline of our troops.”

Reservists, when called out, were furnished by the anti-Government party with proclamations intended to prejudice them against their officers, and similar proclamations were sent to the army in Manchuria. Troops in the field received letters apprising them of popular disorders in Russia, and men sick in hospitals, as well as men on duty in our advanced positions, read in the newspapers articles that undermined their faith in their commanders and their leaders. The work of breaking down the discipline of the army was carried on energetically, and, of course, it was not altogether fruitless. The ideal at which the leaders in the movement aimed was the state of affairs brought about by the mutinous sailors on the battleship _Potemkin_. These enemies of the army and the country were aided by certain other persons who were simply foolish and unreasonable. One can imagine the indignation that the M―s, the K―s, and the K―s would feel if they were told that they played the same part in the army that was played by the persons who incited the insubordination on the _Potemkin_; yet such was the case. Firm in spirit though Russians might be, the indifference of one class of the population, and the seditious incitement of another, could hardly fail to have upon many of them an influence that was not favourable to the successful prosecution of war.

Commanding officers in the Siberian military districts reported, as early as February, that detachments of supernumerary troops and reservists had plundered several railway-stations, and later on regular troops, on their way to the front, were guilty of similar bad conduct. The drifting to the rear of large numbers of soldiers—especially the older reservists—while battles were in progress was due not so much to cowardice as to the unsettling of the men’s minds, and to a disinclination on their part to continue the war. I may add that the opening of peace negotiations at Portsmouth, at a time when we were preparing for decisive operations, unfavourably affected the _moral_ of the best in the army.

M. E. Martinoff, in an article entitled “Spirit and Temper of the Two Armies,” points out that

“... even in time of peace, the Japanese people were so educated as to develop in them a patriotic and martial spirit. The very idea of war with Russia was generally popular, and throughout the contest the army was supported by the sympathy of the nation. In Russia, the reverse was true. Patriotism was shaken by the dissemination of ideas of universal brotherhood and disarmament, and in the midst of a difficult campaign the attitude of the country toward the army was one of indifference, if not of actual hostility.”

This judgment is accurate, and it is evident, of course, that with such a relation between Russian society and the Manchurian army it was impossible to expect from the latter any patriotic spirit, or any readiness to sacrifice life for the sake of the Fatherland. In an admirable article, entitled “The Feeling of Duty and the Love of Country,” published in the _Russki Invalid_ in 1906, M. A. Bilderling expressed certain profoundly true ideas as follows:

“Our lack of success may have been due, in part, to various and complicated causes, to the misconduct of particular persons, to bad generalship, to lack of preparation in the army and the navy, to inadequacy of material resources, and to misappropriations in the departments of equipment and supply; but the principal reason for our defeat lies deeper, and is to be found in lack of patriotism, and in the absence of a feeling of duty toward and love for the Fatherland. In a conflict between two peoples, the things of most importance are not material resources, but moral strength, exaltation of spirit, and patriotism. Victory is most likely to be achieved by the nation in which these qualities are most highly developed. Japan had long been preparing for war with us; all her people desired it; and a feeling of lofty patriotism pervaded the whole country. In her army and her fleet, therefore, every man, from the Commander-in-Chief to the last soldier, not only knew what he was fighting for, and what he might have to die for, but understood clearly that upon success in the struggle depended the fate of Japan, her political importance, and her future in the history of the world. Every soldier knew also that the whole nation stood behind him. Japanese mothers and wives sent their sons and husbands to the war with enthusiasm, and were proud when they died for their country. With us, on the other hand, the war was unpopular from the very beginning. We neither desired it nor anticipated it, and consequently we were not prepared for it. Soldiers were hastily put into railway-trains, and when, after a journey that lasted a month, they alighted in Manchuria, they did not know in what country they were, nor whom they were to fight, nor what the war was about. Even our higher commanders went to the front unwillingly, and from a mere sense of duty. The whole army, moreover, felt that it was regarded by the country with indifference; that its life was not shared by the people; and that it was a mere fragment, cut off from the nation, thrown to a distance of 6,000 miles, and there abandoned to the caprice of Fate. Before decisive fighting began, therefore, one of the contending armies advanced with the full expectation and confident belief that it would be victorious, while the other went forward with a demoralizing doubt of its own success.”

Generally speaking, the man who conquers in war is the man who is least afraid of death. We were unprepared in previous wars, as well as in this, and in previous wars we made mistakes; but when the preponderance of moral strength was on our side, as in the wars with the Swedes, the French, the Turks, the Caucasian mountaineers, and the natives of Central Asia, we were victorious. In the late war, for reasons that are extremely complicated, our moral strength was less than that of the Japanese; and it was this inferiority, rather than mistakes in generalship, that caused our defeats, and that forced us to make tremendous efforts in order to succeed at all. Our lack of moral strength, as compared with the Japanese, affected all ranks of our army, from the highest to the lowest, and greatly reduced our fighting power. In a war waged under different conditions—a war in which the army had the confidence and encouragement of the country—the same officers and the same troops would have accomplished far more than they accomplished in Manchuria. The lack of martial spirit, of moral exaltation, and of heroic impulse, affected particularly our stubbornness in battle. In many cases we did not have sufficient resolution to conquer such antagonists as the Japanese. Instead of holding with unshakable tenacity the positions assigned them, our troops often retreated, and in such cases our commanding officers of all ranks, without exception, lacked the power or the means to set things right. Instead of making renewed and extraordinary efforts to wrest victory from the enemy, they either permitted the retreat of the troops under their command, or themselves ordered such retreat. The army, however, never lost its strong sense of duty; and it was this that enabled many divisions, regiments, and battalions to increase their power of resistance with every battle. This peculiarity of the late war, together with our final acquisition of numerical preponderance and a noticeable decline of Japanese ardour, gave us reason to regard the future with confidence, and left no room for doubt as to our ultimate victory.

In both Russian and foreign papers numerous articles have appeared in which the Commander-in-Chief has been accused of a lack of determination in the conduct of various battles. Without any real basis for their statements, critics have represented that orders to retire were for some unknown reason more than once given by him at a moment when victory lay in our hands. Comments upon his indecision and frequent change of orders were so common that the idea became universal that it was Kuropatkin, and Kuropatkin alone, who prevented the army and corps commanders from defeating the enemy.

My first three volumes supply the answer to the most serious of these accusations: in them are described the tremendous efforts we had to make to prevent our operations ending worse than they did. I have never been one of those who believe that an order once given should not be countermanded or modified. In war circumstances change so quickly, and information received so frequently turns out to be false, that it would be fundamentally unsound to insist, in spite of changed conditions, on keeping exactly to an order once issued. An excellent example of this is given by the operations at Hei-kou-tai. The order received by the officer commanding the 1st Siberians to rest his troops on January 27, and to occupy the line Hei-kou-tai–Su-ma-pu–Pei-tai-tzu, was founded on the incorrect supposition of the commander of the 2nd Manchurian Army that San-de-pu had been captured. The former was more than once told not to attack. Yet, even though news was received that San-de-pu had not been taken, he insisted in carrying out the orders given, in which, by a mistake, a village held in force by the enemy was appointed as our halting-place. The result is known: we fought all day, lost 7,000 men, and at daybreak on January 28 were compelled to retire. With regard to the accusation that the late Commander-in-Chief[26] constantly countermanded his own orders, it is interesting to note that General Grippenberg, in his article, “The Truth about the Battle of Hei-kou-tai,” points out that, although he did not agree with him as to the necessity for retiring the right flank of the 2nd Army to take up a more concentrated position, he did not express this opinion to the Commander-in-Chief, because he and all his staff knew that Kuropatkin would never countermand an order once given.

Upon the point as to whether we might have defeated the Japanese at Liao-yang or Mukden we shall remain unenlightened, in spite of the publication of my book, till we know in detail the actual movements of the Japanese in these actions. As regards Liao-yang, I can only express my personal opinion. An important decision, such as that leading to an order for troops to retire, cannot be given upon the inspiration of a moment. All the attendant circumstances have to be taken into account—the results of the previous engagements; the physical and mental condition of the troops; the strength and dispositions of the enemy; the results which he may attain if the fight is continued; the reports from the front, flanks, and rear; the extent to which the reserves have been depleted, their readiness for action; the amount of ammunition in hand, etc. At the battle of Liao-yang Kuroki’s army, in addition to Nodzu’s, might easily have been pushed across to the right bank of the Tai-tzu Ho, just as the Japanese boldly threw the greater part of Oku’s army, in addition to Nogi’s, across on to the right bank of the Hun Ho at Mukden. This was all the more possible because our attempt to assume the offensive with the troops stationed on the left bank on September 2 ended disastrously. If there is no hope of worsting an enemy by an offensive counter-stroke, it is very important for a defending force, circumstanced as we were,[27] to retire in good time, and not to hold on until an orderly retirement becomes impossible to carry out. We retired under very difficult conditions along roads deep in mud, but not a single trophy was left behind, not a prisoner, not a gun, not a transport cart.

If we had delayed a single day, our retirement might have resembled that of the 2nd and 3rd Armies, which were in so awkward a plight at Mukden. For the reasons explained in my third volume, the 2nd Army was, on March 7, almost surrounded on flanks and rear. Great efforts were necessary in order that we might extricate ourselves from the position in which we were placed without being utterly defeated. But these efforts were not made, and the situation of our whole force on March 7, 8, and 9 became worse, and the danger of a considerable part of the 2nd Army being surrounded by Nogi’s troops still more imminent. Comparing the condition of our men with that of the Japanese on March 7 and 8, as well as the positions occupied by the two forces on the 8th, and taking into account the moral superiority of the Japanese, I should have given up hope of a victorious issue from the battle on the 7th and 8th, and have arranged for a retirement to Tieh-ling before the army became disorganized. The future historian will probably accuse me of having held on too long. I did not give the order to retire till March 10, and according to events and the opinion of my staff, the order should have been given a day earlier. If we had retired on the 9th, the army would probably have fallen back in complete order without losing anything (except wounded); indeed, we might have taken with us a fairly large number of prisoners and captured guns and machine-guns. In my report upon the battle of Mukden to His Majesty the Tsar, I acknowledged that I was primarily responsible for our reverse, and admitted that I should have more accurately gauged the difference between the men of the two forces and the qualifications of the commanders, and that I should have been more careful in making my decisions. Hoping against hope to defeat the enemy, despite the disastrous operations of the 2nd Army, between March 2 and 7, I gave the order to retreat too late. I should have abandoned all hope of eventual victory at Mukden a day sooner than I did, and our withdrawal would have been effected in good order. Thus, the general conclusion regarding the battles of Liao-yang and Mukden could, in my opinion, be expressed as follows: If we had retired from Liao-yang a day later than we did, the result would have been much the same as at Mukden; if we had retired from Mukden a day sooner, the result would have been much the same as at Liao-yang.[28]

I might also have been blamed for not holding on longer to Tieh-ling and fighting there, and for ordering the troops to retire on to the Hsi-ping-kai position. My reply is given in detail in my third volume. It is sufficient to say here that, when it was decided to retire from Tieh-ling on March 12 and 13, according to the officers commanding those units of the 2nd and 3rd Armies which suffered most in the battle of Mukden, we only had an effective strength of 16,390 rifles in 114 battalions.[29] If I had accepted battle there under such conditions, it would have been most dangerous, as we might have completely lost the cadres of many units. How long it would have taken us to re-form for a new battle can be judged from the fact that the officer commanding the 3rd Army stated before a committee assembled as late as May 17 [two months after the retreat] that he thought the acceptance of a general action even then on the Hsi-ping-kai position itself was inadvisable.[30]

I will bring the present chapter to a close by quoting literally my farewell address to the officers of the 1st Manchurian Army. In this address, with fresh impressions of all that we had gone through and had actually felt during the war, I outlined those of our defects which prevented us defeating the enemy in the time at our disposal. But while indicating our weaknesses, I also brought out the strong points of the troops which I had commanded—points which gave every reason for a belief that we should have won in the end.

“_To the Officers of the 1st Manchurian Army._

“In a few days the 1st Manchurian Army will be broken up, and I must now bid farewell to the glorious troops which I have had the great honour to command for two years. Upon you fell the arduous duty, in the beginning of the war, of withstanding the attack of a numerically superior enemy, so as to gain time for our reinforcements coming from Russia to concentrate. You had the good fortune to be present at the battles of the Ya-lu, Te-li-ssu, Ta-shih-chiao, Yang-tzu Ling, Lang-tzu-shan, and also at the long-drawn struggles of Liao-yang, the Sha Ho, and Mukden, and by your conduct during those fights you earned the praise of the rest of the army.

“With a comparatively weak establishment of five and a half corps (160 battalions), or an average fighting strength of 100,000 rifles and 2,200 officers, the 1st Manchurian Army lost up to March 14, 1905:

Officers. Rank and File. Killed 395 10,435 Wounded 1,773 56,350

or a percentage of killed and wounded amongst the officers of 91, and amongst the rank and file of 67, per cent. of the average war strength. In the independent units the losses in killed and wounded were:

Officers. Rank and File. 34th East Siberian Rifle Regiment 89 3,243 36th East Siberian Rifle Regiment 73 2,531 3rd East Siberian Rifle Regiment 102 2,244 4th East Siberian Rifle Regiment 61 2,170 23rd East Siberian Rifle Regiment 50 2,290 1st East Siberian Rifle Regiment 71 1,920

“The particularly gallant conduct in action of the officers is apparent from the fact that the percentage of killed and wounded is considerably higher than that of the men, while many single units proved that it is possible to continue fighting after a loss of two-thirds of the fighting strength. And yet, despite these sacrifices, despite all our efforts, we were unable to beat the enemy. Undoubtedly we had to fight against a very brave, energetic, and most martial foe. So careless were the Japanese of life that they piled the bodies of their comrades on our obstacles, and endeavoured to reach our positions by climbing over these masses of corpses. For a long time also they were able to bring superior forces against us. But we became tempered by misfortune, and gained wisdom by experience, and our numbers grew until we finally became so strong in mind and spirit last summer that victory seemed assured.

“The intervals of comparative peace between the great battles were employed in strengthening the army, and many positions up to and including Mukden were fortified with immense trouble. After that battle the defence of the left flank of the whole force was entrusted to you, and three very strong defensive lines were constructed by your labours up to the River Sungari. These lines, particularly the first and second, were, on account of their fortifications and the nature of the ground, in every way suited either for a desperate defence or for the attack. Although our army was not quite ready to assume the offensive by last May, it would have welcomed orders to advance. The enemy, shaken by their losses at Mukden, kept their positions for six months, and waited for us to move forward. We inaugurated many improvements based upon our previous experiences in the war, and the tactical training of the troops made immense progress. We not only filled up our weakened ranks by means of the drafts which reached us, but expanded all the rifle regiments into four battalions. In the way of reinforcements, the 1st Army received the 53rd Infantry Division, the Cossack Infantry Brigade, and the Don Cossack Division.

“The firing-line of the 1st Army was in August last stronger than it was at the beginning of the war, before the September battles on the Sha Ho, and, thanks to the great exertions of those in command, and the unselfish work of the medical services, the health of the army remained excellent throughout. It was, indeed, fortunate, for if any great sickness had broken out we should, owing to the few drafts then arriving, only have had very weak cadres for the field. It was absolutely essential, therefore, that no expense or efforts should be spared in order to keep every man fit for the ranks, and I am happy to say that our common efforts met with unusual success, for our losses from sickness were less than in killed and wounded. In the 1st Manchurian Army we had lost up to August 14, 1905, 2,218 officers and 66,785 other ranks killed and wounded in action, and 2,390 officers and 58,093 other ranks from sickness. I draw your attention to the fact that while the percentage of losses from action should naturally be higher among the officers than the men, they ought, on account of their better living, to lose less from sickness. The converse was the case with us, which shows that our officers were not sufficiently hardy, and did not know how to preserve their health. To this we must pay particular attention.

“In material matters the army was also excellently situated in August. Clothing and equipment of all sorts were on the spot and plentiful, while all technical supplies had accumulated. Never have we been such a formidable force in every sense as we had become by the summer of 1905, when we were suddenly informed of the unhappy negotiations at Portsmouth, and that peace had been concluded. Doubtless this was necessitated by the state of the interior of Russia; but it was heart-breaking for the army. I remember with what grief the news was received by all ranks. Life seemed to die out of our bivouacs, and all our minds were filled by one sad thought—that the war had ended before the enemy had been beaten. Looking back on the trials we have recently gone through, we can find consolation in the feeling that we have done our duty to Tsar and country as far as has lain in our power; but for many reasons the time given us has turned out to be insufficient. These reasons we must fearlessly search out, and discover what—beyond mere numerical inferiority—prevented our success before peace was concluded. Before all others, I, your senior commander, am guilty because I did not succeed in rectifying our many moral and material defects during the war, and in making the most of the undoubted strong points of our troops. The material defects are known to all of us—the small number of rifles in the firing-line per company [partly owing to lack of care to put as many men as possible into action], the insufficiency [at the beginning] of mountain artillery, the lack of high explosive shells, of machine-guns, and of technical stores of all sorts. By last August the majority of these deficiencies had, through the great exertions of the War Ministry, been made good. Our moral defects I attribute to the different standards of training among the troops, their inferior technical preparation, and the great numerical weakness of units in action. We also suffered much from inadequate reconnaissance of the enemy’s position before a battle, and the resulting vagueness as to how to conduct the action [particularly in the attack]; and, most important, from the lack of initiative and independent thought in individual commanders, the absence of the military spirit in officers and men, of dash, of mutual co-operation between units, and of a general determination to carry out a task to a finish at any sacrifice. The tendency to accept defeat too soon—after only the advanced troops had suffered—and of retiring instead of repeating the attack and setting an example, was highly detrimental. Such retirement, instead of calling forth increased efforts from the neighbours, in most cases only served as a signal for their own retreat.

“Generally speaking, there was in all ranks a great dearth of men of strong military character, with nerves tough enough to enable them to stand the strain of an almost continual battle lasting for several days. It is evident that neither our educational system nor our national life during the last forty to fifty years has been of a nature to produce men of strong independent characters, or more would have appeared in our army when wanted. Now the Tsar has given us the blessing of freedom. The nation has been released from the leading-strings of a bureaucracy, and can now develop freely, and direct its energies to the good of the country. Let us hope that this blessing of freedom, coupled to a well-thought-out system of education, will raise the material and moral forces of the Russian nation, and produce in every sphere of national activity stalwarts who are enterprising, independent, possessed of initiative, and strong in body and soul. By an infusion of such the army will be enriched. But it is not possible for the army idly to await results which are the work of a generation. Knowing now our strong and weak points, we can, and ought to, start on self-improvement without delay. The war has brought out many men [especially amongst all ranks of the 1st Army], from modest company officers up to corps commanders, on whose energy, zeal, and ability the Russian nation can rely; and I notice with pleasure that not a few of those amongst the 1st Army have received good appointments in the Far East and in Russia. This should serve as a fresh proof that the Tsar is diligently watching our efforts, and is losing no time in employing the most worthy of you to the advantage of the whole army.

“You have first-hand knowledge of the difficult conditions generally under which war is now conducted, and of the moral and physical effort that is required to carry on an almost continuous battle for several days. You also know by experience the exact value in action of all kinds of technical equipment. All this makes it necessary for you to endeavour to perfect yourselves. With the exception of the cadet corps, our schools take no pains about the physical development of children; consequently, many of our officers, as was evident in the war, are physically feeble. Pay attention to gymnastics, to fencing, to singlesticks, and to musketry. An officer should not be a mere spectator of the physical exercises of the men—a thing I have often noticed—but should himself set the example to those under him.

“The relations between officers and men have always been of the closest. Like fathers to the men, our officers have won their affectionate respect. Remember that to our soldiers the word ‘father-commander’ is not merely an empty phrase; they believe in it. Remember, also, that a commander only wins the heart of his soldiers when he is their father-commander. It is quite possible to be strict and at the same time look after the men’s welfare, for our soldiers are not afraid of severity, but respect it; in the majority of cases a just severity is a deterrent against crime. But the simple-minded soldier is particularly sensitive to injustice, and soon sees through any deceit practised on him. You who shared with the men all the hardships and dangers of field service are very favourably situated. The men having seen you in action—always in your place, giving an example of unselfishness—will forgive much, and will follow you through fire and water. These links which bind the ranks must be carefully maintained, and officers who have been in the field with units must not be removed from them unless absolutely necessary. Guard the military traditions acquired by regiments, and do your best to preserve the memory of the gallant deeds done by companies, squadrons, or batteries collectively, or by individual members of them. Keep in close touch with the private soldier; try to win his full confidence. You will gain it by your constant care of and your affection for him; by your strict, and at the same time fatherly, relations to him; by knowing your work; and by your own example. Only by these will you be able to take advantage of all his good points, to correct his defects, and guard him from the harmful influences which will be more numerous in the future than ever. The recent cases of military mutinies should be constantly in our memories. I turn to you officers in command of regiments in particular. You know the great responsibility which falls upon you in action. How often has the issue of the battle depended on the way a regiment has been led. It has often been enough for an energetic, gallant, capable man to get the command of a regiment to change its character utterly. The selection of men for these appointments must, therefore, be carefully made, and those chosen must work incessantly to educate all those under them.

“Up to the present our regimental commanders have, unfortunately, been too much taken up with routine and office work, and have been unable to give sufficient time to the practical military side of their duties, to that intercourse between officers and men which is so valuable. Some seem to think that their chief duty is to look after such details as the colour and the repainting of the transport carts, and not the training of the men. The constant strain of how to make both ends meet with the money granted, how to maintain the clothing and other funds, has increased to such an extent, and worries some commanders so much, that they scarcely get to know their own officers, and do positive harm to their men by trying to increase funds at the expense of their rations, and therefore of their health. In the late war the Supply Department carried out their difficult duties so well that they have proved that they deserve to be implicitly trusted in peace-time; we can therefore give over to this department much of the work of supplying the troops (clothing, equipment, transport, food). Then regimental and company commanders will stand out as real flesh and blood commanders in the true sense, and will cease to be “office” automatons and mere inspectors of stores and depôts, and the work of training and education will progress.

“I would invite the special attention of all commanding officers to the necessity for thoroughly studying the characters of those under them. With us, men of independent character and initiative are rare. Search out such men, encourage them, promote them, and so encourage the growth of the qualities which are essential for all soldiers. Men of strong individuality are with us, unfortunately, often passed over, instead of receiving accelerated promotion. Because they are a source of anxiety to some officers in peace, they get repressed as being headstrong. The result is that they leave the service, while others, who possess neither force of character nor convictions, but who are subservient, and always ready to agree with their superiors, are promoted. Remember how much our inattention to the opinions and evidence of those under us has cost us.

“The greater part of the 1st Army is to remain in the Far East, and I am convinced that the glorious Siberian regiments of the 1st Manchurian Army, which have been such a tower of strength in action, will now, under the new conditions of peace, still be Russia’s bulwark in that quarter.

“In bidding you farewell, my dear comrades in the field, I sincerely hope that the war experience you have gained will be of great advantage to the army and the country. Devoted to Crown and country, always ready to maintain law and order, and to uphold the authority of the Government, holding yourselves aloof from the intrigues of political parties, and knowing your own weak and strong points as shown up by the struggle we have all been through, you will, I believe, quickly heal your wounds, and lead the army in its struggle towards perfection. Although in the future you may be denied the recollection of victories won, you can remember—and this should be a consolation and an encouragement—that you were ready, without fear of sacrifice, to continue the struggle with the gallant enemy till you had beaten him. You, officers, believed that you would win, and you succeeded in instilling this belief into our grand soldiers.

“May God assist you in the duties that lie before you, which are as important for our dear country as any we have already performed, even though they be in peace. Farewell. Accept my sincere gratitude for all your self-denying service in the field, and express to the men my thanks for their services, and for the many proofs they have given of devotion and loyalty to the Tsar and Fatherland.

“SHUAN-CHEN-PU, “_February 18, 1906_.”