“Now,” I thought to myself, “the hill is ours.” But a Japanese soldier with a flag suddenly appeared on the parapet.
“What’s the meaning of that? Surely our men are not all killed?” But it was practically so. The few that were left broke their way through to Namako Yama. And the Japanese stood on the parapet and waved his flag.
Just then reinforcements came in sight—a scout detachment of some regiment. At their head was Lieutenant Evstratov, a strongly built, tall, fair fellow with a reddish beard. The men marched quickly and joyously; but there were not more than eighty of them.
“How is it you are so few—they promised me three companies?”
“Here are the three companies, Colonel,” said the Lieutenant.
“Where?” I asked.
“Here,” and he pointed to his men. “These are worth more than three companies!”
We decided to add another small detachment that came up behind the scouts, and attack as before, sending yet another company from Namako Yama on the flank. We accordingly sent an orderly to Namako Yama with the necessary instructions. The men who had just arrived did not know the ground, so I took them on to the hill myself, and went with them until they could all see how and where they were to attack.
Our artillery again opened fire on Extinct Volcano, and we saw the man with the flag jump down from the parapet, while the summit of the volcano was wreathed in smoke from our bursting shells. We were evidently getting our revenge. After this I returned to Colonel Irman.
There were very few attackers, and we impatiently awaited reinforcements, but none arrived, and already the scouts had nearly reached the top, and firing had commenced. The officer leapt on the parapet and fired at some one with his revolver. All his men followed him, and lay down on the glacis without jumping down into the trench. Obviously the Japanese were there.