A RAIN OF HUMAN BULLETS
THE bodies of the brave dead built hill upon hill, their blood made streams in the valleys. The battle-field was turned into a cemetery and hill and valley into burnt-out soil. As minutes and seconds went on, life after life was sent off into eternity. When the attacking party combines accurate firearms with ammunition powerful enough to demoralize the enemy, what is the power with which to follow up this advantage to its sure result, that is, final victory? That power is the bayonet and the war-cry together! The glittering bayonet, the hideous yelling, when combined, are what really put the enemy to flight. A correspondent of the London “Standard” has said truly: “The war-cry of the Japanese Army pierced the hearts of the Russians.” But, however much our glittering bayonets and shouting voices intimidated the enemy, I cannot help weeping at the recollection of that assault. Why? Because the glittering of the bayonet and the yelling of the war-cry became fainter and fainter in the first general assault! In spite of the great number of projectiles and the large quantity of human bullets that were spent, the storming of the forts which the Russians called invincible ended in utter failure. Nay, several great assaults after this one drained the blood of patriotic warriors and shattered their bones in vain. After all, however, this apparently useless sacrifice of a large number of lives was not without its effect. Strategically we needed to reduce the great fortress as quickly as possible, however great the damage to our army might be; so, therefore, the commanding general resolved with tears to offer the necessary sacrifice, and his subordinates willingly offered their lives and stormed the enemy with bullets of their own flesh. And these first fruitless assaults proved the necessary first step and a valuable preparation for our final success.
We noticed that our continuous bombardment of the Russian forts since the 19th, more especially of those on East Kikuan, which was our objective, had dealt a severe blow on the enemy; so the Yoshinaga battalion was ordered to march on the night of the 21st as the first assaulting column. A forlorn hope of engineers were dispatched ahead to break the wire-entanglements. Their desperate effort was fortunately successful, and a little opening was made for the infantry. Thereupon Captain Yoshinaga ordered his men not to fire a shot, not to utter a whisper, but to press on under cover of the night; and a body of dark shadows suddenly stood right against the enemy’s ramparts. The surprised Russians were obliged to retreat without offering a fight; but as soon as they had fallen back a little distance, a large detachment of reinforcements appeared, accompanied by the horrible sound of machine-guns in the rear. They forced the retreating Russians forward, and together they offered a strong counter-attack, with their shout of “Woola” shaking heaven and earth. Major Yoshinaga ordered his men not to retreat a step, and a terrible hand-to-hand fight ensued. Both parties fought fiercely with fists, bayonets, and rifles, but alas! Major Yoshinaga, who was commanding his men from the breastwork, was shot through the chest and fell. Captain Okubo took up the command in his place; soon he too was killed. Substitute after substitute was killed, and eventually not only the officers but also the men were, nearly all of them, killed. No reinforcement came to their aid, the enemy’s concentrated fire became more and more violent, and the few surviving men were obliged to retreat for a while into the ravine below the wire-entanglements and wait there for the arrival of reserves. None came to help them, and they waited vainly until the dusk of the following day, with the remains of their dead comrades before their eyes. They were right below the enemy, only a dozen feet or so away from them, and for thirteen hours they had to grasp their rifles hard and stare at the Russians, unable to do anything.
On the night of the 22d the Taketomi battalion went through the broken wire-entanglements and tried by a fierce attack to make good our failure of the previous night. Captain Matsuoka was first wounded; his thigh was cut away and he could stand no longer. First Lieutenant Miyake was shot through the lungs. The scene went from bad to worse. The Russians behaved as if trying to show that they had been waiting for our coming, proud of their success of the night before. Their search-lights went round so fast as to dazzle our assaulting detachment; their star-lights burned over our heads and made us an easy target for their shooting. “Charge! Forward! Woo-waa!” Thus crying, Captain Yanagawa rushed in most gallantly, in the light of the star-rockets. Half of his face was seen dyed with blood and he was flourishing a glittering sword in his right hand. Again he cried, “Charge!” but that was the last we heard of his brave voice. White blades flashed in the dark, like reeds in the wind, but that flash gradually ceased, the loud yell of a few moments before stopped. We heard only the shouting of the enemy behind their ramparts. They came up and danced for joy on the breastwork, while we had been killed to create a hill of corpses and a stream of blood! What grief! What sorrow!
Captain Matsuoka, who was seriously wounded as I have said, soon lost so much blood from his wounded thigh, that his breathing became fainter and fainter, and he knew that his end was fast approaching. He pulled out of his pocket the secret maps and destroyed them, and died entangled in the enemy’s wire. All who went to fetch him were also killed and went to their eternal sleep side by side with the brave captain. This captain’s glorious death was later reported to the Emperor through His Majesty’s military chamberlain. That Captain Yanagawa who rushed toward the enemy shouting and yelling, in spite of several wounds, was shot down just at the moment of leaping over the Russian rampart. He leaned against the breastwork of the rampart to die peacefully there after he had done his very best, but the cruel enemy would not allow that. They cut him into pieces and subjected him to wanton cruelties.
Nevertheless, we were determined to deal a heavy blow on some vital part of the enemy, however often and however badly we might be repulsed or routed. We were ready to sacrifice not only a brigade but even a whole division for this important object. Accordingly another great assault was planned for 3 A. M. of the 24th. For several days our company had been bivouacking in the ravine of Yangchia-kou, but now on the night of the 23d we were to leave this place and proceed to the rendezvous of Wuchia-fang. So our captain gathered together his lieutenants and said:—
“Farewell! I have no other words to say to you! I have decided to leave my body on to-morrow’s battle-field. Please take this water cup of long separation.”
Before these words from our captain we, too, had made up our minds to die this time. We exchanged the farewell cup of water from our water bottle, saying:—
“This evening our water tastes like golden nectar!”
Our company quietly left its place of bivouac and fell in under dark willows on the river bank. Thinking that it was the last time we should be together, we could not force back the tears. Soon we began our march and passed on under the dark avenue of trees, where we met a long string of stretchers carrying the wounded who had fallen during the last few days—such a long, almost endless train of stretchers!