A white flag was raised on the north-east front this day, and the Japanese asked for a truce to bury their dead. The Commandant at once gave permission, fire ceased, and friend and foe mingled amicably. All at once shots rang out from Erh-lung-shan Fort—it was an awkward moment for us. It turned out that Stössel, annoyed that his permission had not been asked for the dead to be buried, had therefore ordered the firing to recommence. Smirnoff was quite within his rights in not referring the matter, but Stössel's dignity had been hurt. He was now formally asked for permission, and granted one hour's armistice.
On the north-east front a white flag was again raised by the enemy in front of Kuropatkin Lunette. The fire gradually ceased, and we put one up in reply. From both sides officers and men moved out to meet each other, and they met like old friends.
THE LOSS OF THE HILL
While men were slaughtering each other in thousands on this hill the civilized world watched the tape, wondering who would win, what the end would be. How many protested or were even indignant at this legalized butchery? It is said, of course, that war is necessary and inevitable, that it freshens and invigorates national organism. This may be so, but it also brings a step closer the realization of the socialistic dream. Of this I am certain.
December 3 arrived and passed under similar conditions, except that the fight on the hill was, if possible, more exasperated. In the Fortress the feeling of alarm was intensified, and all unemployed men had been got under arms (at the time of the surrender the number of armed men had been increased by 9,000), and the other points denuded, in order to feed the maw of 203 Metre Hill. Even the hospitals gave their contribution. December 4—bright and frosty—ushered in a fresh hell. It was now hardly a fight between men that was taking place on this accursed spot: it was a struggle of human flesh against iron and steel, against blazing petroleum, lyddite, pyroxyline, and mélinite, and the stench of rotting corpses. It was the last day but one of the long-drawn agony.
A shell to-day fell into one of the hospitals full of wounded men, but perhaps the scene of horror inside was hardly increased. Were the enemy getting ferocious in their exasperation, and beginning to ignore humanity? It looked like it. By night our feelings had become deadened by the continued strain; we were almost apathetic.
On the hill our men still held on under the gallant leadership of Colonel Irman, but in spite of his bravery he did not really replace Tretiakoff, and Butusoff, by now well known to the reader, had just before this fight been given a week's leave to rest—a rest which he sadly needed. Captain Veselovsky, of the 26th Regiment, was actually commanding on the hill. The officers with him were Lieutenants Obolensky and Rafalovitch, of the same regiment. While the first-named was calmly doing his duty a splinter tore away his face right down to the lower jaw. On his body there was left a chin fringed with beard and some teeth. Rafalovitch, who was standing alongside, was untouched, being merely covered with earth and blood; but he was quite upset, and asked Semenoff to relieve him for a few hours. The latter telephoned permission, but 'not for more than two or three hours,' as the waste in officers was very great. Rafalovitch appeared at the Staff Head-quarters. He was dirty; his clothes were torn and covered with blood and spotted with whity-red bits of something. This handsome, healthy young fellow was quite unstrung by what he had been through. He was trembling as if in a fever; his eyes were bloodshot and wandering, and he could scarcely speak.