I cannot understand how any of us could have buoyed ourselves up with the hope that our Far Eastern Fleet was a match for the Japanese.
Was it, indeed, impossible to have foreseen that they would sooner or later protect their own interests? Had we realized the situation and sent three or four more battleships[123] to the Far East, there would have been no war and above all no triumph for the Japanese.
GENERAL VIEW LOOKING SOUTH FROM 203 METRE HILL, SHOWING THE NEW TOWN AND THE HARBOUR.
p. 286]
To our own mistakes, to our own blindness, and not to the enemy’s valour, I attribute our débâcle. When we have made good our shortcomings, victory will be ours. Of this I am assured, for I know the characteristics of the Japanese, I know their army, and I know their men.
I did not notice any despondency among our officers, but good ones were becoming scarce.
An officer from Fort Chi-kuan told us that the Japanese had for some time been masters of the ditch, but, fearing to attack us, remained on that side of the parapet.
Our men were rolling 10-lb. naval mines into the ditch, and I can imagine the effect of the explosion of these implements of destruction. The Japanese tried to drive us out of the caponier of this fort by burning in it material soaked in arsenic. Our men were stifled by the fumes, and the sentries in the casemates had to be relieved every few minutes. Fort Erh-lung was in a similar plight.
On the evening of December 16 a report reached us that General Kondratenko had been killed. I refused to believe it, but a few minutes afterwards some wounded eye-witnesses were carried in—a young artillery officer, and an ensign of a Reserve Engineer Company, named Schmidt—who verified the rumour.