Thus weakened by the loss of one of our best battleships and three of our fastest cruisers, the rôle of the fleet might be said to have come to an end, for the sea was held by an enemy powerful in numbers as well as quality, and till the coming of the Baltic fleet our squadron would not be able to engage them in battle. All it could now do was to give us men, guns and ammunition for the land defence. Why the Pacific Ocean fleet, consisting of the best ships in the navy, had done nothing during a seven months' campaign, and why in the end it had been forced to abandon all idea of an active rôle and its chief raison d'être—to get command of the sea and interrupt the Japanese sea communications—are questions which demand an answer.
'Who was to blame?' There is but one answer.
The very essential and fundamental reforms in the navy, which had been pointed out as necessary years ago by the better and more enlightened officers, should have been introduced, and the prehistoric naval customs of the time of Peter the Great should have been consigned to oblivion. To blame the individual for this is impossible: it was the system that was at fault, as well as that official class which, like a thousand-headed hydra, sucks and nibbles at the really healthy organism of Russia. British and German officers will not believe my assertion that everything on Russian ships was neglected save the personnel, which was fairly well looked after materially and moderately well trained. The education of the higher ranks in staff duties, as well as their training in shooting, torpedo and other work, was so neglected that the majority of officers had but the vaguest notion of the practical application of theory. In most cases, owing to their constant transfer from one to another, they did not know even their ships. For three-quarters of the year these were in harbour and hardly any cruising was done, while the officers were made to work so little that at the commencement of the war they did not even know the shores of the Kwantun Peninsula.
The return of the squadron with its mutilated hulls, battered funnels and masts, had a bad effect, and on all sides was heard, 'The end will now soon come!'
OUR SECOND ATTACK ON TA-KU-SHAN—A FLAG OF TRUCE
The daily land bombardment of the town and port made every one extremely jumpy; for after our fleet's return it seemed likely that the Japanese would again bombard us from the sea, and then our position would not be enviable. There is nothing worse than uncertainty, and it was horrible work wait, wait, waiting, for decisive events, not knowing how, when, or where they would happen.
On August 11 I again accompanied Smirnoff—who was much depressed by the events of the previous day—on his tour of the defences, and witnessed from B battery our second attempt to recapture Ta-ku-shan and Sia-gu-shan. As before, far too small a number of men were told off for this attack, and, to make matters worse, by the time they had reached the foot of the hill they took the wrong direction. Smirnoff watched the failure of this second attack in silence, but his brow was black, for it was indeed a comedy that was being enacted before us. Was it wise to attack such high, precipitous hills with the fewest possible men, when the veriest tyro in military science knew that hills of such importance to us would be held to the last by the enemy? While this foolery went on the Japanese steadily pounded the town and port.