COUNTER-ATTACKS ON KENZAN
KENZAN once in our hands, Shuangting-shan and its vicinity soon became ours. Through the smoke our colors were seen flying over the forces now occupying these places, whose thunder-like triumphal shouts echoed above the winds. This Shuangting-shan was as important as Kenzan—neither position must remain in the hands of the enemy. But Shuangting-shan was not strongly fortified and the Russians could not hold it long against us. It was an easy prey for us. “When one wild goose is frightened, the whole line of wild geese goes into disorder; when one company wavers, the whole army is defeated,” so says the old expression. When the Russians lost Kenzan, which they had relied upon so much, Shuangting-shan fell like a dead leaf, and Hsiaoping-tao also became ours. This island is to the left of the foot of Shuangting-shan and, as I have already told you, Russian ships had appeared in that neighborhood and attacked us on the flank; this attempt at piercing our side with a sharp spear was very effective. These ships were driven back into Port Arthur more than once by our fleet; but as soon as they found a chance, they would come back and bombard our flank. During the battle of the 26th, three or four gunboats of the enemy were in that vicinity; they greatly hindered our attacks on Kenzan and Shuangting-shan. So the left wing of our left column was ordered to take the island, and it soon fell into our hands. Thus the whole of the first line of the enemy’s defense about Port Arthur came entirely under our flag.
Every detachment of our army was successful in its attack of the 26th, and this gave us an enormous advantage for the future development of our plan of campaign. We were now in a position to look down upon the enemy’s movements, from those same heights whence they once had espied our doings. It is, therefore, no wonder that the Russians tried to recover this vantage ground. It is said that General Stoessel ordered his whole army to recover, at whatever cost, this Kenzan, which, he said, was indispensable for the defense of Port Arthur. This was quite natural for them. But we Japanese had determined not to give up the place to the enemy, whatever counter-attack, whatever stratagem, might be brought to bear. If they were ready for a great sacrifice, we were equally willing to accept the sacrifice. Brave Russians, come and attack us twice or thrice, if you are anxious to have regrets afterward! What they did was “to keep the tiger off the front gate and not to know that the wolf was already at the back door.”
The long, summer-day’s sun was going down, a dismal gray light enveloped heaven and earth; after the battle warm, unpleasant winds were sweeping over bloodstained grass, and the din of war of a short time before was followed by an awful silence, except for the scattered reports of rifles, with thin, dull, spiritless sound. This was the repulsed enemy’s random shooting to give vent to their anger and regret—it was quite an amusement for us. All of a sudden, dark clouds were vomited by mountain peaks, the whole sky became black in a moment, lightning and thunder were followed by bullet-like drops of rain; nature seemed to repeat the same desperate, bloody scene that we had presented a short while before. This battle of the elements was an additional hardship for our men,—they had not even trees for shelter,—all looked like rats drenched in water! We spent the night on this mountain in the rain, listening to the neighing of our horses at its foot.
A severe battle is usually followed by a heavy storm or shower. When the battle is at its height, the sky is darkened with powder-smoke and the whole scene is dismal and dreary. Presently a heavy shower and deafening thunders come to wash away all impurities of the battle-field. This rain is called “the tears of joy for the victor, and the tears of sorrow for the defeated;” it is also the tears of mourning for the dead comrades. Such a stormy night was almost sure to be utilized by the enemy to recover the lost position. But we were not off our guard after our victory, as the enemy may have imagined—the roar of thunder or the fall of rain did not make us less vigilant. Each time they visited us, we were sure to dismiss them at the gate, thanking them for their fruitless visit. Once we occupy a place, a line of strict vigilance is spread all around, ready to meet the enemy’s counter-surprise at any moment. This is what we call “tightening the string of the helmet in victory.”[42]
Seven days had elapsed after our taking Kenzan and Shuangting-shan, when the enemy began a counter-attack, at mid-day of the 3d of July. They seemed to be trying to recover Kenzan with an overwhelming force. About eight or nine hundred of their infantry pressed straight on from Wangchia-tun; their artillery took up their position in and about Tashik-tung and began to fire at us with great energy. We had been expecting this all the time and were not surprised. All our guns and rifles were concentrated on their front; they were brave enough to rush on in spite of this shower of shot. But our fire was too much for them; they “fell like a row of ninepins.” The officer at their head flourished his long sword high in the air and furiously rushed toward us; but he too fell. At each volley they fell like autumn leaves in the wind. The remnant of the enemy thought it impossible to face us; they ran back into the valleys in complete disorder. Their infantry had thus retreated, but the battery was not silenced so easily. For some time longer it held on and fired at our centre vigorously. Perhaps the sight of the retreating infantry made the artillerymen lose courage; the noise of their firing became less and less; soon the whole line of battle became as quiet as a dream. We shouted Banzai again and again. The enemy’s first effort to regain Kenzan had failed!
The Russians were so persistent in their attempt at recovering the lost position, that, soon after this severe defeat, about the same number of infantry as before made their appearance on Taiko-shan. Their band playing vigorously, they approached our first line. When the distance between the two parties became only seven or eight hundred metres, they deployed, shouted “Woola!” very loud, and rushed on us bravely, encouraged by the sound of fife and drum. We met them with a violent, rapid fire, killing both those who advanced and those who retreated. One of our detachments also took the offensive. This again was too much for the enemy; they took to their heels and went back toward Taiko-shan. In spite of the clear fact that it was impossible for them to defeat us, they repeated one attack after another, making a fresh sacrifice of men each time, fully determined to recover Kenzan. This tenacity of purpose was truly worthy of a great Power and deserves our admiration. Just as we have our loyal and brave “Yamato-damashii,” they have their own undaunted courage peculiar to the Slav race. “The tiger’s roar causes storms to rise and the dragon’s breath gathers clouds in the sky.” Each of the contending parties had a worthy foe with which to compare its strength.
At one o’clock on the morning of the following day (the 4th), the enemy broke through the darkness of midnight and surprised us on Kenzan with a forlorn-hope detachment. This movement was so quick and so clever! not a blade of grass, not a stone was disturbed—they clambered up the steep ascent without a noise, and quite suddenly they killed our sentries and rushed into our camp in a dense crowd, with loud shouts, flourishing their swords and brandishing their rifles. A scene of great confusion and desperate struggle ensued; it was pitch dark and we could not tell friend from foe—the only thing we could do was to cut and thrust as much as possible without knowing at whom. We could not see anything, but each could hear and feel the heavy fall to the ground of his own antagonist. Once again our defense was too strong even for this assaulting party, who went down the hill in disappointment, though without confusion. We were all astonished at their valor and perseverance. Even those who were left behind wounded would try and resist us with rifle or sword. One of them, in particular, who was seriously wounded and on the brink of death, raised his drooping head and smiled a ghastly smile of defiance and determination.
Such a clever, well-planned surprise having failed, we thought that probably they had given up any idea of further attack on us. Contrary to our expectation, however, they still clung to the object of recovering Kenzan by some means. At the dawn of the same morning, they tried an open attack with a large force. This assault was particularly fierce. This time they showed even more determination than before; their artillery kept up a continuous fire, while the infantry made their advance under its cover. The number of men on their first line was constantly increased, and they seemed determined to wrest Kenzan from us at any cost. In spite of our advantageous position, in spite of our experience in repeated repulse of the enemy, the assault of this large body of Russians was far from easy for us to break. But we too had increased our numbers and had improved our defenses as much as possible, in expectation of just such an attack. Consequently this was almost as severe a fight as our attack on Kenzan.
The artillery of the enemy increased in strength hour after hour and occupied the heights connecting Wangchia-tun, Mautao-kou, Antsu-ling, and so on; their main strength was directed to Kenzan, and also to our infantry position in general. Their way of pouring shrapnel on us was most energetic, and they proved themselves better marksmen than ever. Without the intermission of even a minute or a second, their shot and shells rained on us in a heavy shower. From early morning both our artillery and infantry kept up a rapid fire and tried hard to prevent the enemy from coming nearer, fully determined not to allow them to enter, even one step, into the place we had once taken with our blood. In particular, those who were stationed at Kenzan had the hardest of times; they stood firm under the enemy’s fierce fire and checked with great difficulty an attempt to rush their position. Sometimes they were hard pressed and in danger of giving way; at such times the officers in front would stir them up and cry, “Shoot! Shoot!” staring at the enemy with angry eyes and spitting foam from their mouths! The men kept their eyes fixed steadily on the enemy, their hands at work incessantly with magazine and trigger. They strained all their energy and power and did not economize powder, of which they are so careful at other times.
The firing from both sides became more and more violent and quick, so that birds could not have found space to fly, or animals places for hiding. Thousands and thousands of shot and shell crossed in the air and made a dull sound in the heavy-laden atmosphere; the whole heaven and earth seemed the scene of the frantic rage of demons, and we could not prophesy when this scene would come to an end. The enemy’s artillery fire was very strong; their time shells would fly to us in bundles, explode over our heads, and kill and wound our men mercilessly. The explosion of their spherical shells would hurl up earth and sand before and behind our skirmish line, raising a thick black and white smoke at the spot. The struggle of our artillery to resist such a violent, incessant attack was beyond description. They were sometimes obliged to change their position for a while. The issue of the day was still hanging in the balance; the enemy’s forces were reinforced from time to time by fresh men—they renewed the attack again and again. On our side, too, a part of our general reserve was placed on the line of battle; moreover, several companies of heavy artillery were sent out from Pantao to Hwangni-chuan, Tashang-tun, and their vicinity. Also, the marine heavy artillery corps was stationed at Shakako in the south. With this increase of strength on both sides, each party threatened to annihilate the other. The fight of the day became more and more desperate; the boom of cannon and rifle lasted from dawn till dusk—still it did not lessen in its volume. The enemy seemed anxious to take advantage of the good effect of their fire to make an assault on us under its cover. The sharper their attack, the more watchful we became, and each time we dealt a correspondingly severe counter-attack.
The melancholy rays of the setting sun shone upon the dismal scene of the battle-field, with a background of dark gray which added to the sadness of the sight. This sadness, of course, was associated with our anxiety about the issue of the struggle. Was the battle of this day to cease without any result? Nay, the enemy would not give up the attack with the arrival of night; on the contrary, because they had a plan for a great night assault on us, they continued their firing from morning till evening, in order to exhaust us both in body and resources. We were sure that this was their plan, and so at night we waited for their coming with more vigilance and watchfulness. As was expected, the enemy’s whole line began to move late at night and attempted to storm Kenzan and recover the place with one tremendous stroke. They came upon us in rage and fury: their bayonets glittered in the dark like the reflection of the sun on ice and frost; their “Woola” sounded like the roar of hundreds of wild beasts. “Now is the time for us to show them what we’re made of!” With this idea in all our minds, we began with one accord to shower on them an accurate fire; nearly all the shot told. We were almost certain that the enemy would be defeated before so sure a fire. Their cry of “Woola” became less and less loud; the flowers of their swords also faded away in the dark. At last the whole place became perfectly quiet, so that we could hear the melancholy note of summer insects singing in the grass, and the groaning of the wounded Russians left on the field. Up in the sky, thick clouds hung heavy and low, threatening to begin to rain at any moment. Our eyes rained first a drop or two in spite of ourselves—for our comrades who had died in this battle.
Later, when all the information was gathered, we found that the number of the Russians that began the attack early in the morning was about one thousand; it was gradually reinforced and became five thousand, and at last it was more than ten thousand. Added to this, some gunboats of the enemy appeared off the coast of Lungwang-tang and fired vehemently on our centre and left wing. Even this large, combined force of the army and navy could not accomplish their cherished object—all their stratagems and tricks were of no avail against us. After this fourth and hardest assault, they seemed to lose courage and hope; no further attack was made on Kenzan; the only thing they continued to do was to reconnoitre our camp, and to direct slow firing on us both day and night, accompanied by an occasional night assault on a small scale, which seemed intended to cover and protect the defensive works which they were putting up in great hurry along the heights of Taipo-shan.
Ch. XIII.