China's Revolution, 1911-1912: A Historical and Political Record of the Civil War

by Edwin John Dingle

In the London Mission Hospital, not far away, a shell came through an open window, hitting nothing but landing in the yard. The Mitsui Bussan Kaisha shipping manager was looking up at his building and wondering what damage one shell had done as it struck and shattered some masonry and woodwork, but he found it wise to move, for another shell suddenly landed not twelve yards from him, tore an ugly hole in the roadway, and then feebly burst against the walls. On the British gunboats lying in the river they had got used to seeing shells fall short in the river, but one of the fellows on H.M.S. Woodcock, in giving impressive vent to his low opinion of the Revolutionary shelling, explained to me that he didn't mind the shells so much, but just at the moment when one broke he was sitting on the deck reading a book which had been loaned to him; the splashing of the water had spoiled the book, for a shell dropped not three feet from the bow! Fellows would come running in telling how they had seen shells bursting all along the streets in the British Concession, and as evidence thereof would draw huge pieces from their pockets, "all hot" as they would declare. So this continued hotly for a couple of hours. The Imperialists at the back, with their three big guns on Coffin Hill (a mound at the back of the British Concession), did their best to quiet the enemy, but their efforts at getting rid of the shells were about one in six. That the Revolutionists were in great form was manifest at once by the work they were doing, but their shells did far more damage to foreign property than to their enemy's ranks; but although the time had surely come when the British authorities should have made a determined effort to stop this sort of thing nothing was enforced.

Thus the battle continued for four days. The heaviest artillery work went on from all directions, but the heavy rains interfered with infantry work. The cannonading was desperate. At night, in the dense darkness, the scene was intensely fascinating. One, two, three, four guns would send out their tiny flames from one spot all in a heap; this would be followed by a heavier gun, with its brighter flash momentarily lighting up the whole vicinity, the peculiar whistle of the threatening bomb would come nearer and nearer, and all the time one's fascination was hampered by this menace. Not often is it that foreigners in a strange land have war brought to their very rooftops to watch. But such was the case now, and from flat roofs foreigners in small parties breathlessly watched the proceedings. Over the country, among the plains and the lagoons, one could hear rifle-firing, and knew that somewhere in the dark Chinese were doing their best to lay low Chinese, but where no one could say. In the face of awful riflery the Revolutionists succeeded in crossing the Han, recaptured Chiaokow, which had been a stronghold of the enemy for some days, and were bringing a battery of field-guns near to the Chinese Racecourse, where their enemy had been strongly entrenched awaiting the assault, and working meantime towards the Han. After having captured Chiaokow, the Revolutionists fortified a well-covered spot with three three-inchers, and began pounding away whilst the Sing Seng Road Imperialist battery did some excellent shelling of the Racecourse (Chinese), which they had lost to the enemy. Heavy reinforcements then were sent outflanking widely, whilst the Revolutionists endeavoured to cross over and cut them off. Those days were devilish days. Such heavy infantry, at a range of a hundred yards or so, each opposing line fighting with its very lifeblood to force back the enemy, could never have happened anywhere but in China. The ring of the Maxim was a constant sound, and the stream of bleeding wounded constantly in the Foreign Concessions told only too sadly of the heavy losses incurred to both armies. And after all the net result of each day's fighting seemed to be of no advantage to either force.

The most thrilling incident of the war took place on November 19th. Because we have been repeatedly told that the Chinese are cowards, we Westerners have come to look on them as a half-hearted sort of fighters. Some decades ago people used to think the same of the Japanese, but, equally as they showed us through their war with Russia that their courage merely lay dormant, so the Chinese constantly showed us throughout this war of the Revolution that their courage was as great and as unflinching as one could imagine in any people.

Those who had been watching closely had seen some wonderful examples of heroism, not only by the soldiery but private citizens had shown splendid heroism in many ways and devotedness to a cause they thought worthy of fighting for.

Many of the Imperialists were said to be fighting merely because some of their favourite officers were commanding them, and in the killing of a general on the field I personally saw no less than four men shot dead on the spot as they went forward two by two to bring him in under cover. All through this war many cases of exceptional bravery came under my notice, giving one cause to credit the Chinese with greater patriotism than is wont to be given them, and altering altogether the general impression that the Chinese as a people are cowards. This crowning piece of bravery, to which nothing else in the campaign can in any way compare, took place on November 19th, and will long be remembered by the thick line of Europeans and Chinese who had flocked to the Bund to watch the Chinese naval movement. For some days there had been talk that the Chinese Fleet had turned over their lot with the Revolutionists, and when in the morning its smoke was seen on the skyline and every one strained his eyes to see where they would go and what they would do, each having his own particular theory as to the probabilities of the day, it was an anxious time, for so much seemed to hang on the movements of the navy. During the whole of the morning the two cruisers and one torpedo-boat lay at anchor, neither interfering or being interfered with. Their smoke funnels in the haze certainly showed that they were there; but as to what the programme was no one knew, and towards midday one began to doubt what they would do, and whether actually they had come to fight for the Revolutionists or against them.

Upon the navy in the first great engagement at Kilometre Ten lay the honours of the day, for no man could stand against its guns, and all knew that the side to be pounded were in for an extremely heavy bombardment, which would probably easily spell the total failure of the enemy. Therefore, when the big two-funnelled Hai Yung raised anchor about two o'clock and began majestically to steam full speed up-river, it was not curious to find every one tiptoeing in expectancy. What was she going to do? Was she drawing up nearer to bombard Wuchang or was she coming peacefully away to be fired upon by the strong Loyalist battery on the Kilometre Ten line? Slowly she came at first, then steamed full away. Through my glasses I could see her flag—the Revolutionary flag—yet when she came within the battery's firing-line no guns were opened upon her. The Imperial gunners could be seen watching her movements through their glasses, as on she steamed close in to the Wuchang side. Gradually she came proudly abreast of the Kinshan forts, then farther up, and farther, until at last she was abreast of the Japanese Bund line, and out of danger. Certainly it seemed strange that the Imperialists did not attempt to shell her; but they didn't, and away she went up past Wuchang, dipping to the foreign gunboats, and above the Concessions turned to rest. Meantime the other cruiser had cleared off down-river, and all that remained was the solitary torpedo-boat. It was now her turn, and she, thinking that the larger boat had found no opposition, evidently expected to sail up clear too. But she had misreckoned, for as soon as she began to steam the Royalists opened furiously upon her.

Shell after shell from the three-inch guns were poured around her, shells dropping about her as peas would drop if one threw a handful in the air, and she seemed doomed. But in the thick of the batteries, within excellent range, with no cover and no hope of getting clear, she had nothing to do but to keep ahead; and this she did as hard as her panting engines would take her. As hard as coal would steam her she steamed, and for the quarter of an hour during which she was under fire nothing nobler could be imagined than the behaviour of her crew as they brought her up. In front of her, behind her, falling short of her, shooting far over her came the shells at the rate of one in three seconds; they whistled around her, some hit her minor deckwork and glanced into the water; one was seen to hit her square on the bows, another hit her aft and damaged her steam gear; but, fleeing from what seemed her death-trap, she steamed desperately on. On the Bund the Chinese watched in bewilderment. Such a thing they had never seen before. Some of them were looking on a Chinese torpedo-boat in action for the first time, and a grunt of keenest satisfaction went up as she came abreast of foreign territory and the Imperial guns ceased fire. All the time, however, the Kinshan forts, at equally rapid a rate as the Kilometre Ten battery, kept up the return bombardment upon the Imperial base, and there must have been some heavy damage—what it was impossible to tell.

But now the torpedo is up opposite the Concessions, and, slowing down, seems to take breath before she puts in alongside the shore and drops anchor for a time. The crew tend their wounded comrades, the hilarious men shout and yell and tell each other how it was done, and urge each other on with patriotic sentiment.

It was a magnificent piece of work—quite remarkable in its way, for at the point where she was hugging the Wuchang shore there is an exceptionally strong current running, so that her difficulties were thus considerably increased. Foreign naval men who watched the cannonading declared that they had never witnessed anything quite so courageous, and as one gazed on it the fact that China is a peculiar country and the people a peculiar people was slowly borne in upon one as he realised that all this bravery was being put forward by men who a month ago had fought against the cause to which they were now so faithfully espoused. What the mission of the armoured cruiser, still lying farther up the river, might have been I do not know, but she was now seen to move and make for down-river again, and one fancied that one could see anger writ large upon her iron sides. Quickly I doubled to take up a position on the top of a huge heap of coal, below the Concessions, from which I had a commanding view of the river and the whole of Kilometre Ten Station. Down came the cruiser close inshore on the Hankow side, and it seemed curious that she should have come so close. Down she came in a businesslike fashion, seeming to gird herself for the onslaught. Every one held his breath. Foreign men-of-warsmen admired all that she was doing, and the gunners on board were itching to open fire. As soon as she dropped down beyond the Concessions they did open, and then, as quickly as one could count, she fired her six big guns—four six-inch bore. The first two shells dropped bang inside the station at Kilometre Ten, the next three fell in among the battery on the foreshore, the next few—they came so quick that I lost count—set some buildings burning. The Imperial batteries, with indomitable bravado, returned as briskly as they could. The Kinshan forts sent over strong cross-fires. On farther went the Hai Yung, seeming like a big brother to tell the Imperialists that her little brother had been hit and now her turn had come to do the hitting. And this she certainly did. Whether she hit the things she aimed at I do not know, but I know that she literally rained in shells among the enemy's batteries.