On December 28 I again rode into the town. While crossing the bridge over the Lun-ho, I felt the earth tremble slightly and then heard a loud rumble in the distance. Looking up, I saw a huge column of black smoke hanging over Fort Erh-lung. “Well,” I thought to myself, “the fort is blown up, and possibly taken, but there is not much harm done, as the Chinese Wall is behind it.”
When I reached the staff, all the details were known. It turned out that the explosion had not been entirely successful, as we were still masters of the retrenchment, but we had lost heavily owing to the rain of shells into the fort. Rumour said that the Japanese themselves had suffered heavy losses from the explosion, that the whole of the trench nearest the fort had been wrecked, and that the men of the attacking party, who were waiting in it, had perished in the ruins.[125]
In my section everything was quiet, and we spent the evening quite happily, congratulating ourselves that the Japanese had not broken down the defence of the fort, which they could have done if they had exploded their 150-lb. pyroxylin charges under the parapets.
But our joy was premature. The following day we learnt that Fort Ehr-lung had been evacuated in the night; all matériel, cartridges, and shells had been removed beforehand. Besides the fort, we had also abandoned that part of the Chinese Wall which ran straight to the rear from both flanks, and had occupied a position on a rocky crest-line behind, and on a height to the left of it.
Our perilous situation in the centre of the line, the deadly artillery fire, the constantly repeated attacks, and the endless vigil wore out our men, and their spirits began to flag in a marked degree.
In a great battle, soldiers may make a stubborn fight, especially if victory may yet be snatched or some great prize won for the Fatherland. But if after constant fighting there is no apparent gain; if they are, each moment, exposed to deadly peril; if from each individual heroic effort is demanded, not for one soul-stirring moment alone, but ceaselessly, with certain death the only reward,—it is pardonable if hearts grow faint, if men are at times found wanting in energy and slow to carry out orders.
Then is the time for reliefs; but for us there were none available.
Scurvy, moreover, claimed its victims, bringing in its train suffering and weakness. Nourishing diet was necessary, and I do not know why we spared the artillery horses. Long ago we had lost all hope of any offensive action, so ere this the gun horses might well have furnished the men with meat once a day. They may perhaps have been utilized in other ways, though the fact remains that by this means we might have kept, fit and well in the trenches, more than another thousand men!
On December 30 we were dining peacefully, when suddenly tremendous firing burst forth from all our batteries, and the rattle of musketry along the front told us that the Japanese were making a determined attack.