Meanwhile the Monocacy, moving up the river and abreast of the land force, poured a steady fire of shell through the walls and into the fort, while the howitzers of the rear-guard on the hill behind, reversing their muzzles, fired upon the garrison over the heads of our men in the ravine. The infantry and marines having rested awhile after their forced march, during which several had been overcome by heat and sunstroke, now formed for a charge.
The citadel to be assaulted was the key to the whole line of fortifications. It crowned the apex of a conical hill one hundred and fifty feet high, measuring from the bottom of the ravine. It mounted, with the redoubt below, one hundred and forty-three guns. The sides of the hill were very steep, the walls of the fort joining it almost without a break. Up this steep incline our men were to rush in the face of the garrison’s fire. Could the white-coats depress the jingals at a sufficiently low angle, they must annihilate the blue-jackets. Should our men reach the walls, they could easily enter through the breaches made by the Monocacy’s shells. As usual, slowness, and the national habit of being behind time, saved our men and lost the day for Corea.
A terrible reception awaited the Americans. Every man inside was bound to die at his post, for this fort being the key to all the [[415]]others, was held by the tiger-hunters, who, if they flinched before the enemy, were to be put to death by their own people.
Map of the American Naval Operations in 1871.
All being ready, our men rose up with a yell and rushed for the redoubt, officers in front. A storm of jingal balls rained over [[416]]their heads, but their dash up the hill was so rapid that the garrison could not depress their pieces or load fast enough. Their powder burned too slowly to hurt the swift Yankees. Goaded to despair the tiger-hunters “chanted their war-dirge in a blood-chilling cadence which nothing can duplicate.” They mounted the parapet, fighting with furious courage. They cast stones at our men. They met them with spear and sword. With hands emptied of weapons, they picked up dust and threw in the invaders’ eyes to blind them. Expecting no quarter and no relief, they contested the ground inch by inch and fought only to die. Scores were shot and tumbled into the river. Most of the wounded were drowned, and some cut their own throats as they rushed into the water.
Lieutenant McKee was the first to mount the parapet and leap inside the fort. For a moment, and only a moment, he stood alone fighting against overwhelming odds. A bullet struck him in the groin, a Corean brave rushed forward, and, with a terrible lunge, thrust him in the thigh, and then turned upon Lieutenant-Commander Schley, who had leaped over the parapet. The spear passed harmlessly between the arm and body of the American as a carbine bullet laid the Corean dead.
The fort was now full of officers and men, and a hand to hand fight between the blue and white began to strew the ground with corpses. Corean sword crossed Yankee cutlass, and clubbed carbine brained the native whose spear it dashed aside. The garrison fought to the last man. Within the walls those shot and bayoneted numbered nearly one hundred. Not one unwounded prisoner was taken. The huge yellow cotton flag, which floated from a very short staff in the centre, was hauled down by Captain McLane Tilton and two marines. Meanwhile a desperate fight went on outside the fort. During the charge, some of the Coreans retreated from the fort, a movement which caught the eye of Master McLean. Hastily collecting a party of his men, he moved to the left on the double quick to cut off the fugitives. He was just in time. The fugitives, forty or fifty in all, after firing, attempted to rush past him. They were driven back in diminished numbers. Hemmed in between the captured fort and their enemy, McLean charged them with his handful of men. Hiding behind some rocks, they fought with desperation until they were all killed, only two or three being made prisoners. Another party attempting to escape were nearly annihilated by Cassel’s battery, which sent canister into their [[417]]flying backs, mowing them down in swaths. Moving at full speed, many were shot like rabbits, falling heels over head. At the same time Captain Tilton passed to the right of the fort and caught another party retreating along the crest of the hill joining the two forts, and, with a steady carbine fire, thinned their numbers. At 12.45 the stars and stripes floated over all the forts. A photographer came ashore and on his camera fixed the horrible picture of blood.
The scene after the battle smoke cleared away, and our men sat down to rest, was of a kind to thoroughly satisfy those “who look on war as a pastime.” It was one from which humanity loves to avert her gaze. Two hundred and forty-three corpses in their white garments lay in and around the citadel. Many of them were clothed in thick cotton armor, wadded to nine thicknesses, which now smouldered away. A sickening stench of roasted flesh filled the air, which, during the day and night, became intolerable. Some of the wounded, fearing their captors worse than their torture, slowly burned to death; choosing rather to suffer living cremation than to save their lives as captives. Our men, as they dragged the smoking corpses into the burial trench, found one man who could endure the torture no longer. Making signs of life, he was soon stripped of his clothes, but died soon after of his wounds and burns. Only twenty prisoners, all wounded, were taken alive. At least a hundred corpses floated or sunk in the river, which ran here and there in crimson streaks. At this one place probably as many as three hundred and fifty Corean patriots gave up their lives for their country.
On the American side, the gallant McKee, who fell as his father fell in Mexico, at the head of his men, the first inside the stormed works, was mortally wounded, and died soon after. One landsman of the Colorado and one marine of the Benicia were killed. Five men were severely, and five slightly, wounded.