So I left him lying in the splinter-proof. Probably the shell had struck the cliff near which we were standing, but I, luckily, was a little farther off, and had only received a bad blow on the right shoulder. An hour later they carried our gallant commandant away to the lower dressing station, and I felt myself very much alone.
I reported what had happened, and asked for one of the other officers to be sent up to take the place of the commandant. Although the Japanese had had more than one good lesson from us, they were not satisfied, and here and there came out of their trenches in considerable numbers, but were immediately driven back again by rifle and machine-gun fire from 203 Metre Hill and Akasaka Yama. However, with demoniacal persistence, they twice crawled through our wire entanglements, and on the left flank even got as far as the breastwork, but, decimated by hand grenades, they broke and fled, strewing the slopes of the hill with their dead.
This was a red-letter day, both for us and for the Japanese. At about 8 p.m. I had just gone up to a bomb-proof to have some food, when I heard shouts of “Hurrah!” and renewed bomb explosions, which told me of yet another attack. I rushed out of the bomb-proof, and saw our sailors and riflemen crowding on the parapet near the gorge of the breastwork, and throwing hand grenades down into it. This looked bad, as the Japanese must have driven them out of the work. I told the other officers to place the few dozen men who were on the road behind the stones and boulders near the breastwork, so as to prevent the enemy from seizing the road, and to mark at the same time the extreme point beyond which our men must not on any account retreat.
I immediately sent for the reserve, which consisted at that time of our 1st Scout Detachment. It was not an easy matter to climb such a hill as 203 Metre, nor could it be done in a moment, so a considerable time elapsed before Captain Vaseeliev came up with his men. The handful defending the gorge of the breastwork above had dwindled away considerably, and I reported that the Japanese had got as far as the left flank of the connecting trench, now completely wrecked, and had established themselves there. But apparently they had not secured a very firm foothold, and the interior of the work was unoccupied. That meant that our men, surprised by the suddenness of the attack, had evacuated the work, the front face of which had been captured by the enemy. I shouted to the defenders ordering them not to retreat another step, but to hold on for all they were worth, as I was coming immediately with the scouts to their support. An officer, who had remained in the bomb-proof in the centre of the work, sent an orderly to tell me that the enemy had occupied the parapet, but were afraid to come down into the work. Unfortunately, I was not able to find out this officer’s name.
Having told Captain Vaseeliev where to make his attack, and the necessary dispositions being made, I addressed the men briefly, and then set out with them against the point which I had decided to attack—the right flank of the left breastwork, and the left flank of the connecting trench. Of course, the gallant fellows outstripped me, and the rush of these men, together with the few left who had defended the gorge of the breastwork, and some other riflemen who appeared from somewhere on the right, drove the Japanese out of their trenches. It does not take long to tell this, but it was not done quite so quickly.
The detachment under Captain Vaseeliev, and all those who rushed forward with him, for a long time kept on shouting “Hurrah!” firing, and throwing hand grenades. The Japanese on the parapet made a stubborn resistance. Together with some other officers I remained in the gorge of the breastwork, and heard our men shouting “Hurrah!” and saw them running along the narrow trenches to the front face, which the Japanese still held. Then two explosions were heard, followed by others, and the next moment our men were on the parapet. Dozens of hand grenades were hurled after the retreating enemy, so that the very hill seemed to quiver from their violent explosions. I immediately went down to the road to give orders that all those who had descended the hill should be brought up at once. Whenever the alarm went a fair number of men were always there.
But I had anticipated matters, for a whole company—about a hundred men—were coming up the hill towards me, sailors and riflemen, led by their field-cornet, who received the St. George’s Cross from me on the spot. This was a pleasant surprise for him; but a disagreeable one was awaiting me.
Feeling that the hill was now safe again, I was standing on the road in the centre of my positions, when Captain Vaseeliev came quickly up to me and reported: “I am badly wounded, Colonel, and I can’t command any longer. Allow me to go down to the dressing station.”
“Very well,” I said. “From my heart I wish you rapid recovery. The Cross of St. George is yours.”