'Take the Town Guard—make use of them,' said Stössel.
Smirnoff, seeing that the only way of getting away was to agree, said:
'All right; but I promise you by morning-tea to-morrow the hill shall be yours. Good-bye,' and departed.
Meanwhile, on the place itself the fight was desperate. One moment success was ours, the next it passed to the foe. At times it seemed as if all were lost. But no! not yet. Gathering themselves together, inspired by their officers, reinforced from the reserve, our men made a final effort and hurled the enemy down. The hill was again ours. What took place there cannot be written of with an ordinary pen—it could only be described in blood. The hopes and fears, the gallantry, the——words fail me. Some of the details are perhaps known to General Tretiakoff, the hero of that spot, and those under him. It was just now, when it seemed to be touch-and-go with the hill, that a rumour was spread to the effect that Kinchou had been recaptured by Russians—by Trans-Baikal Cossacks. It was nonsense, of course, but the men were so worn out and so hungry for good news from the north that the hope of relief by General Kuropatkin, cherished deep down in their hearts, made them believe. The third day's fighting came to an end; darkness set in, and the position was not yet lost. At tea-time on the morning of the 30th it was still ours—Smirnoff had kept his promise.
The fourth day was but a repetition of the preceding three. Shells of all sizes, from 11-inch to small quick-firers, rained upon the place. All cover, or anything that looked as if it might afford shelter, had long ago been turned into heaps of stones, iron, beams, rubbish, and mangled bodies. During the night shelters of sorts had been scraped up, only to be swept away by the first breath of iron which accompanied the morning light. The fury of the assault reached its zenith at 4 p.m. Fortunate it was that the enemy's demonstrations on the east were weak, and so enabled us to withdraw troops from that front to assist here. Bayonet fighting again took place for some hours, but at four the Japanese were compelled to fall back. The hill was still ours, but its slopes were thickly strewed with more dead, more dying. In four days we had, excluding dead, lost 37 officers and 4,000 men wounded. Among the dangerously wounded was the gallant Colonel (now Major-General) Tretiakoff, of the 5th Regiment, wounded in head and chest. When those near him implored him to go to the rear to get his wounds dressed, he refused, muttering, 'I will die where my regiment dies.'
On the morning of December 2, Colonel Irman, on receipt of a message from the top of 203 Metre Hill, telephoned to Smirnoff:
'All the assaults have been repulsed, and the hill is completely in our hands.'
This glad news was soon known, and the town rejoiced, for the enormous importance of this spot to Arthur was recognized by all, and Smirnoff's intention to hold on to it, even though thousands of lives were sacrificed, was appreciated. The north, south, and east fronts had, however, been considerably weakened, every available man that could be moved from them being taken—this hill had greedily swallowed up all, even the reserves of the reserve. The Commandant went to Fort No. 5 to make a detailed reconnaissance of the position, and after a thorough inspection of the enemy's approaches and distribution, he became more than ever convinced that things were in a most critical state. The enemy had got possession of almost all the slopes, and apparently had no idea of withdrawing. They were merely resting—bracing up for a last and final blow. The slope towards the western front, as well as the road joining it to the hill, were in our hands; all the rest was theirs. There was not the slightest doubt that the assault would be renewed with greater force and fury. Four hours Smirnoff spent in the fort, and returned in anything but a happy frame of mind, for the attack might be renewed at any moment. Exactly at midday, after an anxious respite, the bombardment again broke out.
That evening the garrison read the following order (No. 865, of December 2, 1904) by Stössel:
'I have just returned from seeing Colonel Irman. [Stössel had gone to Tea Valley, and made a speech to the men, not apparently realizing that it was no time for words.] 203 Metre Hill is all ours! Let us thank God for it. You—heroes that you are—have done what was impossible, what was only possible to brave men like yourselves. From November 20 to December 2—i.e., for twelve long days—the enemy has repeatedly launched his columns to the attack on A Battery, on B Battery, Kuropatkin Lunette, Erh-lung-shan, Chinese Wall, Chi-kuan-shan, Fortification No. 3, Tumulus Battery, Pan-lun-shan, ending with 203 Metre Hill and the position at Pigeon Bay—i.e., from sea to sea. Day and night they have come on, not sparing themselves; they have fallen under your heavy blows, but you have not yielded to them a rood of ground. What was ours on November 20 is ours to-day. In the Tsar's name, as his aide-de-camp, I thank you. You have delighted him. May God preserve him! Hurrah!'