The weather that these troops had to face was, for a while, terrible. The snow was heavy, the wind high, and camp accommodations very insufficient. Each soldier had to carry nearly a hundred pounds of baggage, and with this they struggled along, making marches of twenty to twenty-five miles a day.
The objective point of the Japanese army at that time was Ping-Yang, a place of considerable importance on the Tai-tong River. As soon as a sufficient army force was on hand, the Japanese proceeded to fortify Ping-Yang, and then more troops were sent in until, by the middle of March, there were over 80,000 soldiers in that vicinity, all forming the First Army Corps, under General Kuroki, a commander well known for his skill and daring in the art of warfare.
Gilbert had hoped to meet some of his own countrymen at Chemulpo, but he was not prepared for the surprise in store for him. One day he was near the docks, watching the arrival of a regiment of Japanese soldiers, when he noticed a body of sharpshooters having at their head a first sergeant whose face looked strangely familiar.
“Dan Casey, or am I dreaming!” he cried, and ran forward to get a better look at the individual.
“Well, be the powers, if it ain’t Leftenant Pennington!” came in a rich Irish brogue. “An’ to think we’d be after matin’ in such an outlandish place as this.” And leaving his command Dan Casey, who, as my old readers know, had served on many a battlefield with Gilbert, rushed to the ex-lieutenant’s side, and grasped his hand warmly.
“Then it is really you, Casey? I was afraid I was mistaken.”
“Sure an’ it’s meself, leftenant. I’m a bould sodger b’y onct more, glory be to the Mikado’s flag, which, by that same token, but privately, ain’t half as handsome as Old Glory, is it now?”
“Where did you enlist? I’ve been wondering what became of you after we parted in the regular army.”
“Sure an’ I’ve been dhriftin’ around, along with Carl Stummer. First we wint to the Philippines, thin Korea, an’ thin to Japan, workin’ whin we had to an’ seein’ the soights whin our pockets were lined, which same was not often. Both of us were down to hard-pan whin this war broke out, an’ says I to Carl, says I, ‘Lit’s go to th’ front.’ ‘Done wid ye,’ says he, an’ the next day we puts our names to a paper two yards long an’ covered wid plasters.”
“But you are a first sergeant?”