The regiment began to settle down at Chin-chou and to transfer its baggage there from Novokievsk, after which, the men having first been housed, some large buildings were run up for the accommodation of the horses and transport vehicles, both of which were in a splendid condition, notwithstanding the wear and tear of the campaign just gone through. Our two-wheeled carts were all in good repair; the horses I had bought from the Germans at Tientsin, when they offered for sale a magnificent lot of animals, brought at enormous cost from Austria and America, and, though costing us only about 80 roubles[1] per head, one could not speak too highly of them. I handed over our former small horses to our mounted scout detachment,[2] which, owing to some misunderstanding, was without any. Thus, the best-equipped unit of all our forces in China, we spent the whole of the summer of 1903 at Chin-chou.
Throughout that summer we were worried by the Hunhutzes, and not only were the scouts constantly engaged in encounters with these brigands, but we were also obliged to send out strong detachments, as the police and scouts combined proved insufficient to deal with them. The authorities at home knew very little about all this, since the local commanders refrained from sending in reports about the Hunhutze bands. Seeing that the police could not cope with them, I personally took all measures in my power against them; but when I spoke to the commandant about taking further steps, saying that I could not understand why he did not call in the help of the regular troops, the answer was always the same: “My dear Colonel, the authorities think that we do nothing at all, or else suspect us of pusillanimity; there has already been some unpleasantness about it, and the civil governor has flatly refused to make any report to the Viceroy.” So the people had to pay more and more tribute per head, and the Hunhutzes threatened our military posts as well as those of the Chinese police. In the end we had regular pitched battles with them, and the scouts and various regiments in the Kuan-tung Peninsula, as well as the 5th Regiment, lost a considerable number in killed and wounded.
“What’s their little game?” we asked.
“Ah!” said some; “the Chinese say that there are Japanese among them.”
“But what are the Japanese after?”
“They say they are going to fight us. Our people from Shanghai tell us that the Japanese officers speak to ours about nothing but politics: ‘You,’ they say, ‘must take Persia under your protection; but we will have Korea, which we have tried to obtain for centuries.’”
At the end of the summer we received orders to prepare quarters for all the companies of our regiment (except the 6th, which was at Pi-tzu-wo), and in August they all arrived. From the first moment of the concentration of the regiment it became clear to us that relations with Japan had become strained, and that a rupture might be expected. Soon after we heard it rumoured that the 3rd Battalion was going to join us, and then we heard that they were forming a 7th Rifle Division in Port Arthur. The officers spoke of war, but as, according to those who ought to know, the Japanese could only put 300,000 men into the field, we all felt quite confident. However, when it became known that General Kashtalinski’s division was going to the Yalu, we did not feel quite the same assurance, since it would be very difficult to defend Port Arthur with only two divisions. French officers, we heard, were greatly surprised that we did not think seriously of war when we really were on the very eve of it. It must be admitted that, while contemplating the peaceful aspect of Port Arthur, we did indeed forget that we were living on the edge of a volcano.
The awakening came on the night of February 8–9, when I was roused up and given a telegram from General Glinski, on opening which I rubbed my eyes as I read:
“The Japanese fleet is fifty miles from the coast and making for Port Arthur. Be on the alert.”
“Well,” I thought to myself, “there is nothing to fear; our fleet will soon make an end of theirs.”