“One can tell the dead by the way they lie,” Finacune said vaguely. “They lie crosswise and spoil the symmetry.”
Orloff was steadied a trifle by the cavalry sacrifice, and turned an erratic but deadly fire upon the Japanese.... At this instant Major Inuki pounced upon the two correspondents and carried them back toward headquarters. He made very many monkey-sounds; was quite unintelligible from excitement; in fact, at the thought of these two being suffered to see so much alone. If their heads had been cameras, straightway would they have been smashed....
Practically they had seen it all. Kuroki’s work for that September day was done. Shortly after the retirement of the cavalry, he received a dispatch from Oyama saying that Kuropatkin had ordered a general retreat. Kuroki’s end-run had won the battle for Oyama; Orloff had lost it for Kuropatkin. The latter, perceiving the havoc at the Collieries when he came up with his big force, decided not to attack the victorious flanker. Instead, he set out for Mukden, and commanded Zurubaieff, the rear-guard, to pull up out of the city, cross the Taitse, and burn his bridges behind him.
“He’s quite a little ornament-merchant, this Kuroki,” Finacune observed that afternoon, holding a very sore foot in his hands.
“He’d put out hell—he’s too cold to burn,” replied Feeney.
EIGHTEENTH CHAPTER
BINGLEY BREAKS AWAY FROM THE CAMP OF THE CIVILIANS TO WATCH “THE LEAN-LOCKED RANKS GO ROARING DOWN TO DIE”
While Feeney and Finacune were flanking with Kuroki, the “Horse-killer” was with Nodzu, whose business it was to charge the Russian centre before Liaoyang. Bingley had not shifted commands without a good reason. He had made up his mind to get to an uncensored cable after the battle was over, and Nodzu was nearer the outlet of the war-zone. Moreover, it was said that the civilian contingent with Nodzu was not subjected to the smothering system, quite to the same extent as that with the flanker, Kuroki.
Nodzu, himself, did not appeal to Bingley. He seemed like a nice, polite little person of the sort the “Horse-killer” had observed serving behind curio-counters in Tokyo. His voice was light, and his beard wasn’t iron-gray. Bingley remarked that a marooned painter would have a hard time gathering a pastelle-brush from Nodzu’s beard, and he noted with contempt that the general spoke drawing-room Japanese to his staff. The generals whom Bingley respected, roared. They not only split infinitives, but they forked them with flame.
All three officers under Field-Marshal Oyama—Kuroki flanking on the right, Nodzu bearing in on the Russian centre, and Oku pushing up the railroad on the left—had to fight their way to the positions from which the three finally took the city. Many lesser towns and some very difficult passes were picked up on the way. For instance, Oku, the left blade of the crescent, who was being watched by the chief male figure in this narrative (as Bingley was watching Nodzu), changed the flags at Kaiping, Tashekao, and Newchwang on the way, Chinese towns of filth and fatness; and shoved before him in an indignant turkey-trot Generals Stackelberg and Zurubaieff.